But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!);
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Michael felt the first inklings of genuine unease when it became clear that the pantry was empty. When the door slammed shut and things started to escalate, he began to seriously consider the idea that maybe this wasn't a bad joke, and that maybe there was truly something, he hated to even think it, supernatural going on. That thought both unnerved, and angered him. He didn't want to know that something other than aliens existed – his life was complicated enough as it was. Not to mention that whatever issues this ghost had, they were interrupting his first chance at having a sex life in three years. Hell no.
Unfortunately, while confident in his abilities to blow up anything or anyone physically threatening them, he wasn't so sure his powers would have any effect whatsoever on an incorporeal spirit, other than pissing it off even more than his careless words already apparently had. He felt Liz shiver against him and tightened his grip on her. "Hey, if we survived those damn skins attacking us in Frazier Woods, we can survive one angry ghost."
The rattling grew louder and the temperature dropped again. Liz's giggle turned into a groan. "You really need to stop talking."
He chuckled, silently agreeing that maybe he shouldn't be testing the temper of something fundamentally lacking a sense of humor, and began to walk the two of them towards the door. If he couldn't talk, he could act, and while he might not be able to blow up a ghost, he could damn well blow up a door if it wouldn't open. He reached his arm up the stairs and tried the doorknob first, twisting and pushing futilely against whatever force was holding them captive.
"You're gonna have to replace your door, babe." He whispered into her ear, turning them around so that he was between her and the door. She groaned again, but nodded. He curled himself around her and reached one hand behind him, drawing on and focusing his power. Before he could unleash it, he felt a sudden breeze on the back of his neck as the door swung silently open. "Why do I think this is a bad sign." He muttered, dropping his hand with a sigh.
Liz smiled weakly up at him, barely visible in the dim light now filtering in from the kitchen. "Because, contrary to popular belief, you do use your brain sometimes?"
He glared at her half-heartedly. "Smart ass."
She grinned and stood on tip-toes to kiss him on the lips. "But I'm your smart ass. Now come on, let's get out of here before the ghost decides to kill you after all." He growled softly, but returned the kiss, before slowly leading her up the stairs, hand held out defensively in front of him. They managed to get up the stairs and back into the kitchen unimpeded, but the moment they stepped onto the linoleum, the table on the other side of the room, still tipped on its side, came flying towards them.
"Fuck!" He exclaimed, yanking Liz to the floor and letting loose the stream of power that had been itching to be unleashed, the table breaking into several, equally lethal pieces still hurtling towards them. Liz grabbed his hand, feeding him some of her own power, and he shielded them with a thin barrier of telekinetic force, the chunks of wood clattering to the floor, vibrating restlessly for a moment before falling still.
His heart was pounding and a familiar mix of fear and fury was burning through his veins, a form of tension he hadn't felt in two years, not since the last time their lives were threatened. This had just gone from a slightly spooky, frustrating encounter, to an actual threat, and all traces of humor faded as he stared down into Liz's white face. He was not going to lose her, not now.
Cautiously standing up, he pulled her to his feet, cradling her to him with one arm while keeping his other extended protectively in front of them. He eyed the pieces of wood warily for any signs of movement as they slowly edged through the debris, making their way slowly but surely towards the hallway, and the front door at the end of it. They were almost all the way through, Liz keeping an eye on the wood behind them, when the four wooden chairs suddenly flew into the air, not towards them, but towards the entrance to the hallway, stacking themselves into a strangely menacing barricade, chair legs pointing towards them and vibrating with what could only be seen as sinister intent.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Liz spat, making Michael chuckle shakily at her unusual use of foul language, no matter how much the situation warranted it.
He scratched at his eyebrow and sighed; this was only going to get worse. Liz only knew those horror movie clichés because of the multiple movie nights during which the girls had lost choice of movies to the guys, and while he was more of an action flick guy himself, Kyle and Alex seemed to have a fetish for horror movies ranging from cheesy to, occasionally, actually chilling. Meaning that he knew their chances of getting out of this alive, much less unscathed, depended entirely on the fact that they weren't completely human, and were both extremely stubborn.
Glaring fiercely at the pile of possessed chairs, he glanced down at Liz, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head towards the remains of the table behind them. She nodded her understanding and turned away from him slightly, both hands raised to protect their back. He smiled grimly and raised his own hands towards the still vibrating barricade. "Game on." He muttered, and then drawing on every ounce of his rage and protective instinct, sent a wall of glowing white power towards the chairs, demolishing them into pieces barely bigger than a splinter. Sharp splinters that remained hovering in the air before viciously flinging themselves towards his tender flesh.
He frantically waved his hands, remembering long ago lessons with Tess and set his powers to vibrating the molecules until the pieces of wood burst into flames, the last few crumbling into ash barely an inch from his face. He slumped in relief and Liz slipped one of her hands into his, squeezing it comfortingly while her other guarded them from the still potentially lethal remains of the table. "You know, Parker, I think you need to seriously reevaluate your decision to purchase this house."
She chuckled wearily. "You think?" Before he could reply, she bumped her hip against his. "Now get moving, we still have a hallway to get through and I'm getting extremely sick of being attacked by a house."
He grunted in amusement and began to slowly walk towards the now clear entrance to the hallway, gaze bouncing back and forth between the front door and the living room across the way, afraid that the couch or extremely heavy oak coffee table would join the ranks of suicidal furniture. Nothing so much as twitched and miraculously, they made it to the front door without so much as one more incident. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.
"You ready?" He murmured, gently squeezing Liz's hand before dropping it, so that they would each have both hands free for defense. She nodded, giving him a grim and brave smile he hadn't seen since that horrific night in Frazier woods, a memory that wasn't exactly comforting even if they had all made it out alive.
"Okay." He said slowly, reaching for the door handle. Amazingly, he managed to open it without resistance, and breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the clear, though dark, sky outside. His relief was only momentary, as the malevolent force made itself known once more, shoving him through the door so hard he crashed painfully to his knees on the wooden porch, the door then slamming shut behind him, leaving Liz trapped on the other side.
And travelers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh-but smile no more.
Liz's heart seized in her chest when Michael was yanked away from her and flung from the house. The door slamming shut with an ominous crack almost drove her to the ground, tears pricking the corners of her eyes until anger overwhelmed her fear. How dare this ramshackle collection of boards and paint, one she had purchased with her Grandmother's money and been nothing but complimentary towards until it tried to kill her, how dare it attack them, how dare it try to separate her from Michael?
Her hands clenched into fists and she scowled darkly at the door. "I'm getting out of here even if I have to burn you to the ground to do it." An eerie and somehow angry groan echoed through the house and her glower intensified. Before she could snap off another comment, and possibly irritate it into trying to kill her again, sudden pounding began to shake the door and Michael's muffled voice could be heard on the other side.
"Michael!" She called, pressing against the door and twisting the knob, a few frustrated tears leaking out as it refused to give, leaving them separated from each other by just a few inches of surprisingly sturdy wood. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but she could feel his reassuring presence through their connection, and it helped her fight off the encroaching despair. Despair she realized, that wasn't entirely internal. In addition to blocking the door, and preventing her from communicating with Michael, the spirit or presence or whatever the hell it was, was influencing her mood.
As if noticing her regard, the feeling of hopelessness increased, almost choking her with a rising tide of dark emotion. She gasped for breath, leaning against the door as a pit of misery threatened to swallow her whole. A spark of warmth burned inside of her, the memory of the kiss she had shared with Michael just feet away and less than an hour before, and she drew on his presence, a bond the spirit couldn't sever, to fan that spark into a full flame, burning away the malevolent presence until she could breathe again.
Her victory seemed to infuriate the spirit and the walls began to shake, thuds, bangs, and the high pitched shatter of broken glass sounding from the kitchen and living room. She tried the doorknob again, smashing her fist against the door when it remained stuck, and then cursing as sharp pain shot through her hand. That hadn't been the best idea. Light flickered at the edges of the door and she smiled grimly when she realized that Michael must be attempting to use his powers to open it, attempting and failing.
Slumping against the wood, she stared down the darkened hallway. "So, house, are you one of those restless Hollywoodesque spirits who wants revenge for the wrongs done to you? Or are you just a mindless psychopath?"
The walls flexed and the damn thing chuckled in response, an odd grating sound that made her shudder. The whispering started up again, louder, clearer, and so close to her ear that a muffled shriek escaped her throat. It was you.
She turned her head frantically, terrified at the thought of a physical manifestation, and cried out in frustration. "What was me? I just signed the papers yesterday!"
So much power. The walls shook again with the strange disembodied laughter. Just a little taste, and then you came back with him. You woke me.
Liz's mouth fell open in horror. This could not be happening. Evil alien shapeshifters and heartless FBI agents should be the worst things they had to worry about; having the power to awaken angry spirits was so not part of the package. Not to mention the fact that if it was telling the truth, the longer she was trapped, the stronger it got. She groaned, angrily running a hand through her hair as her mind raced for ways out of her impossible situation; her night was not supposed to go like this.
That spark of burning essence that was pure Michael still glowed on the other side of the door and she reached for it, seeking courage and inspiration. She found both. She didn't know if it was her fear, or desperation, or just the new understanding between them, but that latent bond flared to life with a strength it had never possessed before, and suddenly she couldn't just feel him, but could hear him as well. He could see everything she'd just been taunted with and she felt his grim, comforting humor wrap around her. 'If it likes power, I saw we see how much it can handle.'
He fed her every bit of electric energy he had through their new connection, and it mingled with and increased her own until she felt like she would burst from the sheer amount of tingling power coursing through her veins. Turning around and ignoring the strengthening vibrations from the floor and walls, she raised her hands towards the door, focusing all of that power on one thing. Pain flared across her back from an unseen attack, and she stumbled slightly but otherwise ignored it, waiting until she knew that Michael was safely off the porch before unleashing the energy.
The door flew off its hinges with a satisfying crack, skidding across the porch and slamming through the railings onto the grass below. The breath she'd been holding exploded in relief and she took one shaky step forward, then another, ignoring the frustrated howling behind her and not stopping until she reached the stairs, when sharp, stinging pains in her back reminded her that she'd been injured and she felt her knees weaken. Michael reached her before they gave out and slipped an arm around her waist, careful to keep it low, then helped her across the grass towards the car.
Leaning against the car on her forearms, she winced when he carefully pulled the back of her shirt up, the material sticking to the blood trickling down her skin. "I am going to tear that house down with my bare hands." Michael growled, the fierce anger in his voice at complete odds with the tender way he was touching her.
She tilted her head so she could see him over her shoulder, a move she instantly regretted as it tugged on the wounded skin of her back, and pouted at him. "I love my house Michael, you can't tear it down." His hands, already beginning to glow with healing energy, stopped moving as he stared at her in disbelief. She giggled, partially out of amusement at his expression, and partially because the tension of the night was the catching up to her, and clarified. "However you can totally tear the spirit up with your bare hands, or however you want to kill it."
"It sliced you up with several dozen glass shards; it'd better hope all I do is kill it." He muttered, turning his attention back to her wounds, a soothing golden glow removing both the remaining pieces of glass, and the pain, making her slump against him in relief. His hands continued to caress her bared skin making her moan softly as the adrenaline in her body shifted its attention to other things. "What do I get for killing it?" He whispered into her ear, fingers making gentle circling motions as his hands moved up her sides beneath her shirt, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts.
"You mean what do you get when you make Alex look up an exorcism for you?" She gasped out as he dropped a kiss on her neck, his mouth trailing down her throat, licking and nibbling at her sensitive skin.
"Yes." He admitted unashamedly, his large, warm hands cupping her breasts as his index fingers lightly teased her nipples, making her bones melt as another moan escaped her. The porch rattled ominously behind them, a clear reminder as to why giving into their desires right then and there would be a bad idea, and she sighed in disappointment when he lowered his hands, then wrapped his arms around her, dropping his chin onto her head. "So, Parker, how do you feel about getting a hotel until I can get Whitman to drag his ass down here?"
She laughed and turned in his arms so that she could face him, a maneuver that required tilting her head back far enough that she instantly resolved to increase her collection of high heels. "I don't know, Michael, it is Halloween." She drawled, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Are you sure you don't want to go trick or treating?"
He chuckled and brushed his lips against her, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to her core. "I think we've had enough tricks for the night. I'm ready for my treat." She giggled again and kissed him back as he swung her into his arms and carried her towards his car. "Although I won't turn down involving candy if you're feeling kinky."