Chapter 3: By the Bridge
"Hey there," Mabel said, deepening her voice to sound like the over exaggerated baritone of a man. She held out a hand as she continued walking, speaking to an imaginary person. "I was wondering if you've seen another guy that looks just like me around here." She smiled, waiting for her imagination to reply.
The two weeks she had spent walking through the woods were dull, and she had taken up the habit of talking aloud to herself to fill the dead air and, more importantly, practice speaking like a guy. The other travelers she had met seemed convinced of her act, though none of them had seen anyone who sounded like Dipper. She refused to lose hope, though. She knew that Dipper had to be out here, somewhere between the leaning trees of the Unknown.
She pressed her lips. She still could barely recall anything about her past. Sometimes, she received flickers of a memory- the changing sunlight inside a moving car, the tune of an old radio –but anything beyond that was a complete blank. Perhaps the secret to finding her brother laid in those forgotten memories and if she could only access it…
A breeze sent dead leaves scratching against the dirt road. A few birds cawed in the distance. Bushes twitched with the scurry of animals. Everything around her felt alive, and yet...
Of course, there was still the matter of her single gloved hand. She dared not take it off in the openness of the woods, but she had seen what lied under the worn leather when she had done her disguise at Auntie Whisper's cottage. It was a tattoo sketched on the corner of her hand. Although the innocent image reeked of forbearance, it was nothing mysterious or paranormal. It was only a blossomed Baby's Breath with unfurled white petals. In the dim lighting of the cottage, she had noted that the flower was in line with a freckle on the opposite end of her hand, but she didn't think much of it then. Now, in the loneliness of the woods, she wanted to look at the comforting design, but a voice in her head warned her against it. She had not taken off the glove since she first put it on and she had the feeling that was the right thing to do.
"You don't care much for conversation, do you Squeakers?" Mabel looked up ahead, realizing that she was coming upon a bridge that spanned over a shallow river.
A white-faced girl with a hooked nose sat by a drinking horse, her legs tuck beneath her. Her hands stayed before her on her lap, tied together at the wrist. The rope chapped her skin as it lead from her like a leash to the gloved hand of her captor.
Mabel paused in her steps.
The captor was a tall man, lean bodied and haughty in stature. He balanced against a nearby tree, flicking the cuffs of his bright yellow coat. The color matched his hair impeccably. Black dress shoes and slacks gave the hue an extra smack to the eyes. Strong jawed and crooked nose, the corners of his crafty smirk threatened to touch the edge of his triangular eye patch. Mabel stared at him for a long moment, feeling as though she had seen the elegant man somewhere in her life before.
She did not have much time to think about it. The man continued speaking, unaware that he was being watched. "I'm not a big fan of it either, but you should do best to speak when you are spoken to."
The girl looked at the man with fearful eyes, her throat muscles contorting as she swallowed. Her lips moved as though she was talking, though Mabel couldn't hear what she said.
Neither did the man. "Speak louder," he barked, yanking on the rope. The girl fell forward, her face dragging in the soft mud
She lifted her head, daring to glare at the man. "My name is not Squeakers," she said, spitting the mud from her mouth. "It's Lorna."
The man's lips pursed in contempt. "Well, Lorna." He placed his foot on her head, forcing her back into the mud. She struggled to lift her face away, if only to breathe, but he did not relent. Rage flared in Mabel's chest and, not caring that she had no means of defending herself, ran towards the man. "If you address me with such disrespect again—"
"Hey!" At first the man seemed not to care that a lonely traveler was interrupting him, but when he saw the face of the approaching girl, his brows shot up his forehead in surprised. Then, just as she was upon him, he gave the slyest look of pleasure. Mabel tried to ignore it, but something about his new wave of confidence disturbed her. "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded, pushing him off Lorna.
He stumbled away, lifting his arms in surrender. It seemed sarcastic—that is, if gestures could be so. "Calm down, Miss. I was only teaching this servant girl a lesson."
Mabel knelt down to her, gently helping her out of the mud. "You don't need to be abusive while doing it," she snapped back. "Just who do you think you are?"
The man swept an arm through the air as he bent into a low bow. "Bill Cipher, at your service," he said. Mabel pulled out the handkerchief Auntie Whispers had made her and used it to clean Lorna's face. She had a scarce second to wonder if this was the same Lorna that the large woman had cared for when the full impact of the name hit her.
Bill Cipher.
She could not say for sure why the name made sweat prick the back of her neck, or why she felt the need to grab a weapon for defense, but something about the name definitely triggered an instinct. Why that impulse came to be, she was not sure.
Bill watched her clean Lorna's face for a moment before quite suddenly becoming occupied with his nails. "What, may I ask, brings such a fragile girl wandering through the woods alone?" he asked. Mabel jolted with shock, realizing all too late that she had forgotten to use her man voice. "Aren't you afraid of the Beast?"
Mabel grimaced, standing to her feet. "Everyone in the Unknown knows that the Beast only preys on those who lose hope," she sneered. "And, if you are from the Unknown, you would know that I am not a girl. I'm a man."
"You don't sound like one—"
"Puberty is a bitch."
"Then, you are nothing more than a boy." Bill threw Mabel the rope. "Take it. You can return Squeakers here to Duke Endicott for me. Just tell him to stop sending suitors to my cousin. She is not, and never will be, interested in a Beast-obsessed freak like himself." He sauntered past Mabel, bumping his shoulder into hers as he went. She watched him pull his spotted horse from the stream and mount it with a jaunty swing of the leg.
He grinned at her again and, though it seemed to be from complete benevolence, his eyes gleamed with something vicious. "I'll see you again, Shooting Star." He whipped the reins before she could react and galloped back through the woods, not losing speed until he was out of sight.
Shooting Star. She felt like that named belonged to her, and not because Bill Cipher had the audacity to call her it. Somewhere in the three syllables was another memory that she could not reach, another link to a life that she could not remember. Mabel knew that she had been wishing for clues, but for two of them to appear from the same ruthless man made her weary.
"Thank you for saving me," Lorna said as she cleaned her face of the last of the mud. She looked down at the handkerchief, exclaiming. "My! I know this needlework well. Auntie Whispers gave you this."
Mabel smile, kneeling next to the hook-nosed girl once more. "Yeah. She helped me out a while ago." She smiled. "I'm Mabel, by the way. You must be Lorna."
"Aye, I am Lorna. Though I never met a boy with such a feminine name before."
Mabel laughed. "No, I'm actually a girl. I'm just pretending to be a boy. Here." She gave Lorna her hand and helped the girl back to her feet. Mabel reached into her knapsack and pulled out a dinner knife. In retrospect, she should have used this against Bill Cipher. "I'm trying to find my brother, Dipper," she said as she cut away the rope. "Have you seen a moody teenager who just happens to have the same face as me?"
Lorna shook her head. "Nay, I have not." The rope fell to the ground and she rubbed her red sore wrists. "Will you come with me to Endicott Manor?" she asked, checking the bag hanging off her shoulder. "It is a few hours' walk away and I would much enjoy the company."
"Of course I'll come with you, bro." Mabel lightly punched her shoulder, earning a nervous laugh. "I was planning on heading there anyways. Figured good old Endicott would know something about my brother."
"The Duke himself would not know much," Lorna said, waiting for Mabel to throw her bag over her shoulder once more. When she did, Lorna extended a hand and led her across the bridge. "He is, as they would say, 'off his rocker.' Unless your brother has an association with the Beast, Wirt would not know either."
Mabel puffed her cheeks. "Well I'm hopingDipper avoided the creeper," she muttered. Wirt Endicott was her only lead and she didn't know what she would do if it was a dead end. Auntie Whispers only gave her enough food to last the journey to the Endicott manor and Mabel had politely declined any monetary donations. She could only cross her fingers and pray that there was some news of Dipper waiting for her at the end of this road.
She realized that Lorna was giving her a concerned look, forcing her to return to her previous happy expression. "Say, what were you doing with that Bill Cipher jerk anyways?" she asked, skipping over a tree root.
A frown etched onto Lorna's face. She looked at the ground passing beneath her, dismal. "I was sent by Wirt to give the Lady Wendy a token of his affections."
Mabel blew air out her mouth as she rolled her eyes. "What? You gotta be kidding me."
"Nay, I speak the truth," Lorna said, earnest. "For many months now, Wirt has been in love with the Lady Wendy Cipher. She refuses to return his affections—much less, see him—so he sends servants in his steed." Lorna reached into the bag hanging off her own shoulder, pulling out a thin box. "He made her this record to play on the gramophone, but she has refused to accept it every time. Today happened to be my turn to try my luck and, as it goes, today is the unfortunate day Wirt's persistence invoked the anger of her cousin."
"Bill Cipher," Mabel supplied.
"Aye, Bill Cipher. He wanted to 'return' me to my master himself and so forth. Now we are here, ready to give the bad news to his lord." Lorna down casted her gaze once again, releasing a hopeless breath that told Mabel all she needed to know about the girl.
The brunette spun in a circle, the ends to her coat twirling around her like an open flower. "So it's a case of unrequited love. How romantic."She struck a pose and winked. "In more ways than one."
A pink blush flared on Lorna's cheeks. "Nay, I protest! The relationship between my lord and I is strictly professional."
"What about before he was a duke? Auntie Whispers said something about meeting him beforehand."
Lorna grabbed her arm, chuckling nervously as she shrugged. "Tis but a passing affection," she explained. "Whatever Wirt and I had was nothing more. Besides, his heart found other loves."
"Besides this Wendy chick?"
"Aye, Beatrice Vogel. She rejected him and, for a time, they worked together in hunting the Beast. They disagreed over some matter or other and they parted ways. Now she works for the fair Lady Wendy."
Mabel whistled. "Wow-zeers. I gotta meet this Wirt punk now. He sounds like a heart breaker. How far is the manor from here again?"
"About a two hours. A quarter of that on horse."
She brushed it away. "Pssh. Like we need a horse. We have two good pairs of feet. We can walk. Plus, I wanna hear more about the Endicott household. How does Gregory play into all this?"
Lorna smiled. "Not many call him Gregory. Most refer to the youngest nephew as Greg…"
MW: So we're at goal number two of this story, though technically I haven't really achieved it yet. I wanted Mabel to be the one to go against Bill since people tend to make Dipper his archenemy. I've always seen Mabel as a bigger opponent for Bill, so I really wanted to give her the opportunity to be the force that takes him down.
I should also note that I wrote Bill with a different speaking pattern from his normal one since I headcanon Bill automatically adopting the dialect of the time period he's been summoned into and, hey, most people of the unknown speak a weird mixture of old fashion and modern. Whatever.
Once again, thank you for reading and showing your continual support. See you again next week!
Notes
-I was originally going to have Bill call Lorna "Whispers" since she speaks in such a soft voice, but I was afraid that she might be confused for Auntie Whispers. Thus, "Squeakers" became his nickname for her.
-Beatrice's last name (Vogel) is the German word for bird. I couldn't find a popular fan surname for her, so I'm sorry if it's not one that you're used to.
Thank you once again for checking this story out. We finally meet the Endicotts next week!
