Author's Notes: I'm so, so sorry that it took me so long to update; suddenly I got a crap load of things to do so I didn't get to write as much as I liked. I'm one of those people that need to "get in the mood" before writing so time is really important XD BUT the chapter is here so all I got to say is I really hope you like this one! :D
Hopefully this exorcism is creepier than the one before. Please enjoy!
Super duper thanks to all of you guys again! You seriously have no idea how much your support means to me; and thanks to everyone who made rainbows in my days! ;)
I highly suggest trying to imagine the sounds as you read the chapter, especially during the exorcism. =D
~o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~
"My name is Sarah Boyer," The woman said, sipping on a cup of tea.
After bringing Sarah to Hedgewood, Alfred suggested everyone to go to the small café Arthur had found instead of staying inside the rather hostile-feeling hotel.
They were crowding in a corner in the small, soft-lighted place. The American sat across from the stiff-backed woman, notebook and pen out, gazing attentively. Arthur sat beside him, eyes glancing at the notebook every once in a while, wondering what Alfred was scribbling in it this time.
Francis was lounging comfortably in the loveseat sofa on the woman's left, an arm wrapped loosely around Matthew's shoulders as the Canadian blew silently at the cup of steaming hot chocolate he held in his hands.
Yao sat on the woman's immediate right, stirring his tea absentmindedly. It wasn't his favourite kind, but it wasn't bad. Ivan, with childish delight, sat on a high stool he took from the long table looking over to the outside, appearing a little menacing as he towered above everyone.
Matthew briefly wondered if this was his idea of "sitting down" when someone talks to him so he wouldn't be "looking down" at anyone. Frankly it didn't make much difference, as the Russian was still quite tall balancing on the small stool and its long legs.
"I wasn't born in this town," The woman continued in a rather monotonous voice, eyes holding a faraway look, "When my mother was still young, my grandfather took her and moved to another state, where I was born. I never knew who my father was, so I was quite close with my grandfather, and when he died, it was devastating to me." She sounded rather detached, telling strangers an overlook of her family history, "He requested to be buried here, where he was raised, and gave me his wedding ring as part of my heirloom. Ever since…Ever since stepping foot into this town I've had a…a horrible feeling so strong that it-it convinced me to never come back."
She stopped abruptly, a dark look shadowing over her eyes, and sipped on her tea.
Opposite of her, Alfred scribbled with a serious expression, and, Arthur, looking over, hid his exasperated look as he saw a spaceship being sketched into the notebook.
"Apparently not coming back's not enough," Sarah gave a weak laugh absent of humour, "It seemed that the ring attracted something from here that's been following me ever since. I have a feeling that…I have a feeling that it's mistaken me for my grandfather…"
Arthur nodded; that made sense. It was possible that when Sarah came to the town, she attracted one of the spirits enslaved and instructed by Eileen Boyer to seek out her husband. It was highly likely that one of the most significant attachments to Richard Boyer's identity was his wedding ring.
Luckily for Sarah, that was perhaps the only matching attachments, hence why she was still alive.
Pawns being controlled are often rather, for the lack of a better word, stupid, and linear in logic, rendering them sometimes rather ineffective. It helped that Eileen Boyer probably didn't know what she was doing in the first place, trying to control something she knew nothing about and having no distinct consciousness except for seeking revenge.
Arthur snorted; how pitiful.
"Long story short," The middle-aged woman sighed, "I forced myself to come back, for the last time, and return the ring to my grandfather, hoping that this would bring an end to…whatever that's been happening to me." She shook her head as if in defeat.
"You can definitely put an end to this, Ms. Boyer," Alfred began to briefly explain what the team had figured out, glossing over details that might upset the woman.
On the loveseat sofa, Matthew blinked and turned to Francis.
"I've been wondering, eh…" He whispered, "Why would Eileen hurt her granddaughter? I mean, she should at least realize that Sarah's related, eh? Having the ring and all…couldn't she have figured it out? That Sarah's not her husband?"
"Spirits bend on revenge are hardly logical, Matthieu," Francis explained, voice a low rumble; "Had they not lost all except for the belief that their only purpose is to bring justice to themselves, they would never bring misfortune to their children. They are not bound here by will or choice as we perceive them, but by their vengeful resentment. They are hurting, though they don't realize it. It is a very unfortunate fate."
Matthew nodded, heart suddenly feeling heavy as he looked over at the woman listening to Alfred.
Francis, watching Matthew's expressions carefully, rubbed the Canadian's shoulder reassuringly with his arm wrapped around the smaller-framed man.
"Not to worry, Matthieu," He turned, whispering into the strawberry blonde's ear, "That is why we are here; that is why we must do what we do, hmmm?"
Matthew blinked, eyes pensive, and nodded.
"So, you'll help us?" Alfred's hopeful voice cut through Matthew's thoughts.
"Yes, definitely," The woman sat up straighter, eyes determined, "I don't know how I feel about this whole situation, but I know my grandfather loved his wife, and wouldn't want to see her suffer her sickness even after death." She then sighed, giving her head another light shake; "This is overwhelming…I can't believe she would—…"
"I think this is enough for tonight," Alfred offered a supportive smile, to which the woman returned, "Just drop by tomorrow at Hedgewood and leave the rest to us. Let's bring an end to this."
That's right…Matthew thought, this case had gone on for far too long…
Shaking hands with Sarah and bidding goodbye, the team walked back to the hotel, wondering what the next day could hold, and hoping it would wrap up the case with success.
~o0o0o0o0o~
The day was dark; it reflected the heavy atmosphere drenched over the hotel building perfectly.
It was almost as if the gods above watched with gleeful interest at what was about to unfold.
Matthew sighed, deciding not to be cynical towards the gods on a day like this.
They were quite a sight, standing in a loose circle in the lobby, waiting for Ms. Boyer to show up.
Arthur was, once again, in his dark, warlock cloak with a serious expression on his face, though, Matthew noted, his jaws were set a little too tightly and his hands clenched into themselves a little too harshly. Yao also wore a robe, though Asian themes obviously dominated it. It was loose fitting and hung on the slender man's shoulders; the Canadian was surprised at the graceful manner in which the Chinese man carried himself under what looked to be layers of fabrics floating around him as he moved.
"Thank you, but this is not my actual ceremonial robe, aru," he had answered, blushing a little, when Matthew complimented him on it; "I'm only helping today, but wearing something suiting for the occasion makes me feel better." They were all nervous after all.
Ivan, sporting his usual long scarf, wore a soft, cream-coloured suit jacket dropping well below his knees. Black, leather boots and pale-coloured pants could be seen as the tall Russian moved, but most were covered under the coat-like top he wore. The material didn't look very thick, but it was perfectly pressed and hung nicely around the tall man's frame. He looked quite majestic, almost shinning in the dark, vast room, holding his water pipe in one hand and cooing at the fish in the fish tanks.
Francis, once again, looked like he just hopped off from a runway show. Complimenting fabric textures and colours blended and contrasted harmoniously from top to bottom. He wore a makeshift cravat around his neck by a thin scarf, with a pristine shirt and a patterned vest snug around his figure. Beige-toned dress pants followed, thin lined and fitting. A light blazer completed the look, and Matthew wondered why the Frenchman even bothered dressing so nicely for an occasion like this, where clothes could become torn beyond repair and dirtied. His hair was even carefully done, not a strand out of place, shimmering as if reflected by sunlight like always.
Even Alfred wore an ironed dress shirt with a dark, form-fitting biker jacket, their dissimilarities not clashing as Matthew had thought they would. Dark wash jeans followed, sturdy and comfortable. His sharp, blue eyes glowed, slightly thoughtful and piercing, and sparkled in pride when the Canadian asked about his outfit.
"Of course I'd dress up for the occasion! You gotta look good when you're the hero!" The American flashed a bright, sunny smile, "Besides, these materials lessen the chance of injuries." Matthew marveled at just how optimistic he could be while saying something like that.
Looking down at himself, he felt extremely underdressed.
He wore a simple shirt and his usual red hoodie, just because it was soft against his skin and warm. He could move in it easily too. Faded jeans were cozy around his legs. Adjusting his glasses, he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hug something and nuzzle against it.
He was perhaps the most nervous of the team; his heart beat loudly inside his chest.
Now that he'd taken in everyone's clothes, he needed something else to occupy his mind with while they waited for Ms. Boyer's arrival. The woman had called and said she was on her way, which meant she'd be here very soon.
Joining Ivan in fish watching, much to the delight of the joyful Russian, Matthew was laughing with the tall man as he tried to herd all the fish to one corner of the tank, despite of the fact he was on the other side of the glass, when Ms. Boyer came through the front doors of the hotel.
She was perhaps more anxious than Matthew, giving a small smile and saying hello.
Rejoining the group with Ivan, Matthew was idly aware of a light conversation Alfred stroke up with the woman in pleasantries before Arthur interrupted.
"As glad as I am that you actually have it in you to be polite, Alfred, I think we should begin." He said, voice tight, though it meant no offense, as his eyes never left the square table making up his altar in the middle of the lobby.
Nodding and giving Ms. Boyer one last encouraging grin, Alfred followed Arthur and took his place on Arthur's left while Yao stood on the right, both men a step or two behind the British man.
Urging the woman to follow with a soft voice, Francis instructed her to stand between Alfred and Yao, a direct behind to Arthur.
As she stepped into her position, Arthur took a deep breath.
"Is everyone ready to begin?" He said, "We can't go back once we start."
Alfred looked around; seeing nods, he answered, "Yep, never been readier."
Arthur gave a weak laugh, but did not comment. Parting his legs a little to shoulder width, he firmed his stance, and closed his eyes, arms rising slowly with palms up.
Mumbled Latin words left his lips in a muffled chant, and immediately, the large lobby darkened dramatically as a deep, rumbling sound started to growl in the background.
Ms. Boyer looked around, eyes wide with fear, and Alfred extended a hand to hold hers, and gave a slight squeeze. The woman sighed, trying to calm herself, and squeezed back gently.
Arthur's chanting rose in volume, and the words became even more undistinguishable. Whispers and voices echoed in the hollow feeling room, and the British man's form began to emit a faint glow, pure in colour, and the air around him seemed to immediately feel lighter and fresher.
However, a putrid smell of decaying organs and burning flesh rose from the corners of the room, and a new voice, amongst the deep growling and whispers of spells, began to breathe.
It was labouring, as if heaving wheezed gasps, after many years of breathless existence, and its sounds began to climb in intensity rapidly.
Arthur's voice rose in synchronization, and, giving a last shout of stringed words, he cringed, and abruptly fell forward.
Alfred jolted in alarm, a hand shooting out to grab onto the Brit before he crumbled to the ground.
"NO!" Yao shouted over the noise shifting around the lobby, "You mustn't touch him!"
Alfred startled and jumped a little on his feet at the sudden shout from the Chinese man. Eyes snapping to the shorter, dark-haired male, he questioned with a frown.
"…Look closely, aru…" Yao's voice dropped to a whisper, eyes never leaving Arthur's back.
Alfred turned, and, expecting Arthur to be kneeling over or something similar, could hardly gasp.
It was as if time had stopped existing around the shorter, blonde male. He was leaning forward, ready to fall, but was halted, suspending in the air while only his toes brushed against the floor. His arms were no longer raised, but dangled in front of him limply.
Arthur had stopped breathing.
The growling in the background dropped to a minimum, and Matthew's hands tightened around Francis' arm.
All life in the room waited as a buzz of noise simmered.
Suddenly, the body still in the air jerked into a retching, deep inhale. The sound was long, dragged, and hitched as though its airway were partially obstructed. Arthur's chest expanded in a warped manner, and his shoulders bore backwards, head tilting slightly towards the ceiling.
He paused as his lungs could no longer inflate, and, equally as painful sounding and nerve-wrecking, he exhaled, shoulders slumping down and head flopping to face the floor.
Another long breath was taken, and Alfred felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, the twisted, deformed sound forever etched into his mind.
Arthur inhaled once more, and stopped. His lips moved, and a horrible, stretched voice as if croaking from a throat that had rotted and not spoken in ages passed through them.
"…You left me…"
No one dared to move or speak.
"…You left me to die…You left me to die…" A dry chuckle followed.
Matthew's legs shook, and he clung to Francis' arm as if a lifeline, eyes wide and unblinking.
"…and now I am dead…" Arthur giggled, shoulders quavering, though it was not his voice that gargled out from the back of his throat.
"…White walls…white, blinding walls…days and nights and days and nights and days and night and days and nights—" Arthur's body started to slowly revolve in a lazy circle, toes barely touching the floor as the voice repeated its words as if a mantra.
"…a lifetime of white walls…concaving, twisting, whispering, glaring, laughing, mocking, crying, sneering but you…………I never forgot your face…" Teeth baring, Arthur hissed, the sound echoing in the vast room.
"…Oh Richaaaaard~~~~ …I know you're heeere~~~~" An eerie, singsong tone now laced the voice speaking gleefully.
Ms. Boyer's right hand clenched around the wedding ring her grandfather gave her, and bit down on her lips.
"…Richaaard~~ …Richaaaaard~~~~" Arthur continued to call, head swinging a little as it tilted to look sideways.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, Alfred spoke up in a confident voice, sound suddenly stark and cuttingly clear; "Your husband is dead."
Yao winced; way to go for a careful approach…
The singing voice instantly stopped, and Arthur was still once more.
All held their breath, waiting for the next move to be made.
Abruptly and at a neck-breaking speed, Arthur sprung around and flung himself towards the American, face snapping to a stop millimeters away from Alfred's horrified face.
His eyes were wide open, pupils completely dilated, eyeballs glassy and unmoving as he stared.
It took all of Alfred's heroic bravery to not cry out and fall down onto his butt out of fear.
Instead, he stood his ground, the hand holding Ms. Boyer's leaving hers, staring back into Arthur's eyes as he could look nowhere else, and swallowed down the terror seizing his heart.
"…Careful what you say, son…you tread on dangerous grounds…" The voice was still light and tuneful, but gained an edge as Arthur's eyes glinted, flashing in the darkening room.
"Your husband is dead, Eileen Boyer. He passed on to the world beyond, and you should join him instead of staying here, meddling with innocent lives." Alfred's voice was even, but his hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into his palms as he forced them to not tremble.
Arthur growled, and Alfred pushed on.
"Stop this, Eileen! You're doing nothing but hurting yourself and your—"
A sudden flash of silver, and a pained, bitten back cry.
Blood dripped to the floor, its metallic scent strong in the air.
For a dreadful moment, Matthew had feared the worst, but as Alfred bit his teeth, harsh breaths leaving his nose and eyes blaring in anger and fright, he finally took sight of what had happened.
Arthur held his ceremonial dagger in one of his hands, when he had gotten it Matthew did not know. It shook as he aimed to plunge the weapon deep into Alfred's gut, but the American, at the last moment possible, stopped him by grabbing onto the blade, pushing onto the hilt.
Fingers clutching around the shinny metal shook badly, but did not relent their hold as blood seeped from between them. Soft grunts of intense pain could be heard, but Alfred's eyes never left Arthur's. The dagger shifted back and forth in trembles as opposing forces battled each other, but, eventually, the American began to win as the tip grew further and further away from his body.
There was an increasing puddle of blood at Alfred's feet, and Yao quickly intervened.
"He is right; you have no place here, Eileen Boyer! Leave at once or we will pass rightful judgment to your actions!" He shouted.
Arthur growled, and his eyes flashed away from Alfred's, his push on the dagger wavering.
Just as the injured blonde made to take the short sword from the British man's hand, a rush of will flung its possessed body around at air-splitting speed, shrieking in anger as it aimed for the Chinese man's heart.
Yao had been prepared, and, abruptly tilting his body and eyes narrowing, grabbed onto the wrist with one hand and chopped down with the outer edge of the other. It hit Arthur's hand, and the dagger fell with a loud clank. Arthur screamed in anger, and Yao kicked the bloodied weapon away with his foot.
Suddenly, screeches and howls erupted from all around them. Ms. Boyer screamed, hands shooting up to cover her ears. It was suddenly stifling hot; the walls began to darken as if burned by fire; the air almost melted from heat.
Arthur swung his arms upwards, grabbing onto his hair, and screamed louder, voice breaking at a shrill pitch.
"DIE! DIE! DIE! UNFAITHFUL BASTARD! SUFFER! SUFFER! BURN! BURN! BURN!" He repeatedly shrieked, and suddenly, flames burst forth all around them from dark corners.
Shadows writhed and cried out, flying from their hiding places and cutting through the air in a deafening chorus of pain and torment. Matthew closed his eyes, hands tight against his ears, as Francis looked around, trying to find a safe place to stand, away from immediate danger of catching fire.
Ivan watched the twisting figure of the possessed British man with eerie stillness and silence, his fingers tightening around his faithful water pipe.
A surge of dark shadows flew past their heads. As if sensing their presence, it turned in midair and charged down towards them.
Hugging the shaking Canadian close, Francis shielded Matthew with his arms and shouted out to the unmoving Russian.
"Ivan! Behind you!"
The Russian's eyes flickered, and, in a swirl of movements, he wielded the pipe between both hands and swung it against the incoming shadow.
A nasty sound of splattering flesh reached Matthew's ears a second later, and, opening his eyes, he gasped in shock.
Ivan was still once more, looking down at his hands as blood and bits of unrecognizable clumps of soft tissue covered the entire front of his body, with large smears on his hands, arms, all over his chest and calm face. His pale hair, where hit by the exploding blob of fleshy matter, hung down and stuck to his cheeks. Dribbles of blood slid down along the silvery handle of his water faucet.
He looked up, eyes shinning brightly.
"…This is fun, da~?" He said, his childlike voice ringing with strange clarity as he looked over at Matthew and Francis, a large grin stretching across his face.
The other two didn't know what to say, staring with wide eyes.
Beating the faucet against his leg gently as if to shake away dirt, he did not seem to notice his clothing catching more blood, and slowly walked towards the shadows surrounding Ms. Boyer and her protectors.
Alfred's eyes shined with alertness as he dodged the attacking shapes, careful not to leave his spot as to break the ritual. Ms. Boyer knelt down on the ground, hands still over her ears, shaking and yelping. Yao was shouting, though it was unclear what the slender man said, but the shadowy forms trying to hurt the quartet, if counting the possessed Arthur, seemed to become deflected by an unseen shield, though it was wavering.
It was hard to concentrate with all the piercing sounds around them.
Arthur, suddenly silent amongst havoc and glaring at Yao in murderous contempt, reached towards the altar and grasped onto one of the unused, tall, metal candle holders. His face split into a gleeful grin as he turned towards the Chinese man, body still dangling in the air as if a puppet hanging from unseen strings. Yao, trying to fend off the shadows and keep the barrier up in all angles at the same time, did not notice that small development.
Ivan, however, spotted it, and immediately his smile disappeared into a scowl, and a dark, piercing look overcastted his face with enough menace to completely freeze a burning furnace.
Both hands tightening around the rod-like item, Arthur swung his arms back, eyes rolling up dementedly and cackles erupting from his throat, and aimed to kill as the brought the candle holder down towards the Chinese man's head.
There was a loud pound of metal against firm flesh.
Arthur was still, and, slowly, his head tilted up.
Ivan, clenching the candle holder in one hand and his water pipe in another, stood beside Yao, who had just noticed the possessed man's attempt at ending his life.
Face unsmiling, the Russian stared down at the small form, eyes bright against a shadowed face; "Playing sneaky…not a good idea, bad child, not a good idea…da?"
Arthur actually looked frightened, as the fires roared inside the lobby higher than before. Sweat rolled down his face, but all onlookers couldn't decide whether it was from the overpowering heat or cold fear of the towering man.
The fright in the British man's dark eyes was only temporary before a glower deformed his pale face. He tried to wrench the candle holder from Ivan's hand. He failed to do so, and, fury erupting, he opened his mouth; a skull-splitting scream of rage left it.
Alfred fell to his knees, head spinning from the sudden blast of sounds, his still bleeding hand smudging blood all over one side of his face. "-A-ARGH—!" He grunted, but the sound was lost through the storm of noise.
Yao shook like a thin leaf, hands reaching to cover his ears, and turned away, lips apart in a silent gasp as his eyes squeezed shut.
Ivan was unfazed and still.
In an instant, shapes and flying spheres of shadows all paused in their paths and shot down towards the Russian.
The decision had been quick, more of a reflex than anything really. Ivan, yanking the candle holder out of Arthur's hands and throwing it far away, turned towards Yao, and pulled the shocked Chinese man into his arms.
Body shielding Yao's slender form, he did not move when the explosion of formless, attacking energy blasted down onto him.
"IVAN!" Alfred's scream was almost unheard as the earth itself shook. Coughing and gasping as rotten matter splashed all over his body and burned like hot coal upon immediate contact, he was vaguely aware of Ms. Boyer's figure curling into a fetal position before he had to shield his face from flying debris.
Matthew, crying out in fear and alarm, tried to run to the aid of his friends, but could not tear himself out of Francis' arms, which were suddenly strong and relentless.
"LET ME GO! FRANCIS LET ME GO!" He screamed, pushing at the Frenchman.
"Stop it, Matthieu!" Francis tried to keep his voice level, but it trembled horribly. His face was unusually pale, ocean-blue eyes unblinking, glued to the place where Ivan and Yao had stood, now the place where everything had gone a disastrous turn.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" Matthew thrashed with all his might, tears falling from his eyes, droplets splashing onto the ground only to sizzle to nothing from the dire heat. "LET ME—"
"-WHAT CAN YOU DO?"
A violent spasm shook through the Canadian.
Slowly, he tilted his face, tear-filled, disbelieving eyes looking upwards.
He never expected Francis to yell like that.
"…I'm sorry, Matthieu," A much softer voice continued, "I'm sorry to yell; I'm sorry I cannot let you go. We'd only make things worse. Please, understand." Francis did not look down to catch his eyes and give him a reassuring smile like all the other times when things went wrong.
The shadows faded, dissipating in thin air. And Ivan's bent-over figure was seen, still as before the attack, and stained beyond recognition.
His light-coloured jacket was completely soaked; dark crimson and brown spots covered his body. His hair was drenched, dyed an ugly shade of red. Steam seemed to rise from his form, and Matthew could only imagine how much it must've burnt.
"…I…I'm alright, aru…" A soft, shaky voice could be heard, muffled against Ivan's broad chest.
Ivan must've whispered a question.
Alfred slowly loosened his arms around himself, and opened his eyes.
Ms. Boyer was seen uncurling her limps from around herself, strangely unharmed, though badly shaken. One of her hands was tightly clenched into a fist, no doubt around the wedding ring that was a part of her heirloom.
It's as though nothing except for us are aware of her existence…Matthew thought, blinking in confusion. Now that I think about it…Arthur never turned around to look behind him…
Just as everyone started to think the worst was over, Arthur gave another shrill, hysterical laugh, and shadows began to gather again.
"Oh, come on!" Alfred exclaimed.
Swirling and growling, they hung in the air only for a brief second before shooting down once more towards Ivan.
"AHHH SHI—" The American could be heard hollering, before another voice cut in.
"-STOP IT EILEEN! STOP IT!"
The attacking shape abruptly exploded in midair before it even touched its target, sending its contents to spray out everywhere.
Matthew quickly slapped off all that got onto him before they burned too bad; Francis lifted a hand and shook his hair clean of the revoltingly-smelling slime, grimacing and shuddering in disgust.
Ms. Boyer had flung herself forward, arms wrapped tightly around Arthur, who was suddenly stiff and still.
On her ring finger, something glinted, reflecting little light from the dimming fire.
"…Stop it…Eileen…" Ms. Boyer's face was hidden, buried against the curve of where Arthur's neck met his shoulders.
"………Richard…?" Arthur said, voice suddenly soft, but expression completely stunned. The one who possessed him did not know, after all, that Sarah had been behind him the entire time, hidden and protected by laws of the ritual.
"…Yes, it's me…" Ms. Boyer answered, voice quavering.
"…You traitorous bastard!" An angry expression contorted Arthur's face as he tried to turn around, but found himself unable to.
"That's not true!" The woman's voice rose slightly, and Arthur stilled. "…That's not true…We have a child, a family…It's no one's fault."
Arthur did not answer.
"…I missed you…You don't deserve to suffer like this," Sarah's voice dropped down to a whisper, "…I love you—"
"LIES! LIES! YOU'RE LYING—"
"-Eileen! You silly woman!" There was a small pause as neither party spoke; "…didn't I say I'd come back for you…? But you…but you didn't wait for me…you never waited for me…"
"…You…You left me…You left me for her…You left me to-You left me to—"
"-To do what? Left you for whom?" The one possessing Arthur could not find an answer; "There was never anyone else! It was all inside your head!"
Arthur shook; he bit his lips, eyes staring intently forward.
Sarah leaned back a little, temporary not knowing what to say. Blinking, she caught sight of the ring she wore on her hand, and lifted it high in front of both of them.
Arthur gasped, and tears streamed down his face.
"…Do you see this?" The calm woman said in a soothing voice; Arthur nodded. "Do you see, Eileen…? …For all my life, this had never parted from me…"
"…Then why did you…Then why did you not come back?"
"I did, but you were already gone…I tried to save you but—…It was too late…It was too late…" There was a moment of silence, and all was still except for the flickering, but dying flames. "…You passed away, Eileen…why do you still insist on staying here…?"
"I—…I don't…" Arthur shook his head, confused and troubled, "I-I don't know why I'm…I thought…I don't know what I'm…where I'm…"
"-Find me, Eileen," Sarah, encouraged, pressed on in a gentle, caring tone, "Find me beyond." With that, she took off the wedding ring, and slipped it onto Arthur's ring finger.
Arthur tilted his face down, and took a long look at the ring.
A long while that felt as though hours passed.
Suddenly, as if death had claimed him, his eyes rolled back and, completely limp, fell towards the ground.
Ms. Boyer let out a small yelp of surprise, trying to hold the man upright but struggling, grunting in effort.
Alfred was immediately at her side, helping her set the British man onto the ground carefully.
Ivan shifted, turning his head, eyes no longer glittering in anger, but in wonder. His face was covered in soot, and, now that Matthew took a closer look, realized what was previously blood and gore was now ash and grime, black and gritty as if the Russian had just walked out of a fire. Yao's head could be seen poking out from between his wrapped arms, face a little dirty in places, but generally unharmed and a lot cleaner than his protector.
Alfred sat back, cradling Arthur's head and looking around; "So…that's it? …That was all we had to do after…all of this?" Blinking, he huffed a scoffing sigh of disbelief. "…This is—...This is—…goddamned unbelievable!" He looked almost disappointed, but resorted to pouting instead.
Arthur suddenly coughed, interrupting the American's pout.
"Arthur?" Alfred's eyes lit up; "Arthur! We did it! She's gone now!"
"I know, dimwit!" Arthur groaned, wincing and rubbing his head; "Ugh…for Pete's sakes, why didn't you stick to the original plan and just have Ms. Boyer talk to her? Instead you went about your bloody way to make her mad, is that the only thing you can do, Jones? To make people mad?" The British man opened his eyes and glared. "You could've killed us all!"
Alfred gave a sheepish laugh; "…Sorry…" He scratched the back of his head of messy hair, the wayward strand sticking upwards stubbornly bobbing.
Giving the American a lingering, hard stare, the Brit sighed and looked away. "Forget it…just be glad we didn't die…" Eyes closing, he added: "…How's your hand?"
"My hand?" Alfred blinked before realization dawned over his features; "Oh! I totally forgot about it!" Laughing at himself, he looked over his injuries. "It still hurts, but it's kinda scabbing now." Giving the one using his lap as a pillow an incredulous look, he asked, "You knew about it?"
"Of course I knew about it! I was possessed, not dumb!"
Alfred, blinking a few times and breaking into a cheeky grin, nudged the British man. "…Are you worried about me?"
Eyes remaining closed, Arthur gave a weak scoff. Trying to hide his reddening cheeks, he ignored the question, opened his eyes once more, and sat up with help from Alfred and Ms. Boyer.
"…What inspired you for that…erm…little speech, Ms. Boyer?" Arthur asked, curious.
The woman seemed to snap out of a daze; "—Oh? …W-Well…my grandfather…when he was alive, told me a lot of things about my grandmother, so…I just tested my luck…" Her shaky voice faded off, and, trying to give a weak smile, she looked down, eyes glazing over once more.
The poor woman was still in shock.
Matthew was next seen by Arthur's side, a relieved Frenchman following behind him slowly.
"How are you feeling?" The Canadian asked, biting his downer lip with a small frown on his face.
"Reasonably horrible, but that's not important right now," Arthur looked up towards the ceiling, "We still have work to do."
"-What?" Alfred was taken back, dismay clear on his attractive face, "What are you talking about? Didn't we just—" Following Arthur's eyes, he abruptly stopped in mid-sentence; "…Oh…"
Sprawled out on the ceiling and watching them with keen interest was a vast, dark form with glowing, yellow eyes.
It did not look threatened, but was, instead, rather curious.
Crackling energy surrounded the demon shaped vaguely like a fox, and Matthew's hopes to finally returning to New York to warm pancakes with maple syrup and a warm bed crumbled, sinking low inside his stomach.
…How are we supposed to do an exorcism on something like that?
~o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~
Ending Notes: What? You didn't think it was gonna be over just like that, did you? ;p
While I had little time to write, it was super fun to write this one. Have I mentioned before that I love Ivan? I donno why but I'm loving the idea of him playing with his fish; anyone else like fish as pets? I used to have a goldfish when I was small, and I seriously loved that goldfish. I swear to God I could talk to it. But then I had to give him away to a friend, and I was so sad. However, the good thing is that friend has like a lot, and I mean a lot, of goldfish and she took care of them super well, so my darling fish went to a good home. :)
Sorry I talked so much; I just had to get that out there. XD
Anyways, once again, please tell me what you think! You know I love you guys forever, SO I have something for you!
I'm thinking of writing a Halloween special (sounds like some happy meal), 'cause Halloween's like the most kick-ass holiday ever. Well it would be the most kick-ass holiday ever if we get a day off, but yeah, can't have everything, ya know.
So, here are some of the things I'm thinking of writing, lemme know which one you guys'd like to see (by the way they're all gonna be kids in this):
-1- Arthur takes Matthew to the forest on Halloween night to see fairies moving from their old home to somewhere else (haven't figured out where that somewhere else is yet)
-2- Alfred says goodbye to his alien friend Tony and finds out how crop circles are made
-3- Ivan goes on a search for Vodka (yeah, when he's like what six years old? LOL) and stumbles upon a parade of supernatural beings (haven't figured out what they are yet)
So yeah, please drop a review and lemme know, 'kay? Please? You know I love to hear from you guys, like, seriously. Omigawd Feliks is like totally taking over my brain like to the max.
Okay I shut up now. XD
