Prince Vince flipped to a page in a dusty old tome on a stand nearby while mixing a horrid looking liquid in a cauldron. BJ picked his teeth in a corner, watching with only mild curiosity the woman's image in the crystal ball as she made similar preparations.
"Yo, Princey, how much longer? Who knows what that creep's doing to Lydia!" he snapped.
The Prince's brow furrowed angrily. "You could help me, you know."
The comment was ignored in favor of fevered pacing and a furious chewing of nails. "And you're sure there's no other way? This chick can't just call me in a mirror and then I can juice you over?"
"My classification is a suicide, Beetlejuice. I cannot leave the Neitherworld, even with the magic of a poltergeist. If you wish me to accompany you, it must be done this way. Are you having second thoughts?"
"No!" BJ shouted indignantly. "No… I mean, just… the room of lost souls isn't the most fabulous vacation spot is all…"
"Steel yourself, fool," said the Prince, tipping a vial gently into the cauldron for just two, three drops. "Love is perilous, but worth the danger."
Suddenly the cauldron exploded upwards with a billowing yellow smoke. Seconds later the cauldron depicted in the crystal ball did the same. Mrs. Smith approached the globe, hobbling with her cane at her side. "It is prepared," she announced. "I will begin when you are ready."
The Prince nodded at her and began to ready himself - removing his crown, he donned a dark leather hood, blackened with age and weather, along with a leather vest. Then he loaded himself down with weaponry - two quivers filled with silver arrows, a large crossbow, a dart gun, vials of holy water, and white oak branches. To his wrist he strapped a strange device that looked like a reloader for the dart gun, so that a continuous stream of ammunition could be fired. When he was finished, BJ hardly recognized him.
"Whoa." he blanched. Prince Vince turned to him briefly, locking and loading the first arrow into his crossbow.
"What is it?"
"You… almost look bad ass. Pfft. Who knew?"
The Prince sneered at the comment and changed the subject back to business. "He will most likely have set up traps to hinder your power."
"How do you figure?"
"Because Lydia has not summoned you to her, which can only lead to the conclusion that she cannot. That means the vampire is indeed a hunter."
Or it means Lydia just doesn't want to see me. Beetlejuice thought to himself. It broke his heart to think that she wouldn't want to call him now, even when she was in trouble. The pain in his chest caused him to clutch at the skin there, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Does she really not trust me anymore? Will she ever?
"Stop brooding and listen," the Prince snapped.
"Look who's talkin', this is the first time you haven't been brooding in a thousand years!" he quipped back.
"I can't give you holy water, because as a poltergeist, it will burn you." the Prince continued. "But you may handle the silver. Here."
He handed Beeltejuice a silver dagger, embossed with the blazing heart of some saint or another. He nodded and tucked it into his trench coat breast pocket. "Been a long time since I stabbed anybody," he grumbled.
"What is the expression? Like riding a bicycle?" the Prince said bitterly. He snatched a short sword from off the wall and spun it in his hand before sheathing it in his belt.
"Whoa, dude. What kind of weird shit did you do when you were alive, anyway? And why are you such a wuss now?"
"As I said, Beetlejuice, love is perilous. Now, let us begin."
Mrs. Smith opened a small handbook and began to read from it. Beetlejuice recognized the cover immediately, and shuttered at the words.
"Hands Vermillion, start of five, bright cotillion, raven's dive…"
It started to thunder and lighting outside Mrs. Smith's window. Beetlejuice turned paler than possible - he raised his hands in protest, shaking them wildly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone! Time out! We're not doing this, okay? If this spell gets messed up in the eensiest teensiest bit, we get blasted right to the lost souls room!"
"Mrs. Smith is educated, as am I." The Prince answered. "It will not be 'messed up.' Now drink."
He handed Beetlejuice a glass with a fraction of the foul contents of the cauldron bubbling inside it. Grimacing, he wasted no time in downing it, anxious to get what he was sure to be disgusting, even for him, past his taste buds. To his surprise, it tasted of cockroach innards, which caused him to smile and smack his lips in a pleased way.
"Hm, like a roach shake."
The Prince rolled his dark eyes. "Of course you would find the taste delightful."
Mrs. Smith cleared her throat and finished her incantation, the thunder outside her home now cracking with a force that shook the chandelier above her.
"Nightshade's promise, spirits strive… to the living, let now the dead come alive… "
It was then that Beetlejuice experienced something like nothing he had ever felt. It was like someone had hooked him from his belly button and was pulling him backwards through a black hole - there was an enormous vacuum sucking him through light, color and wind. At last he found himself, covered with some sort of strange clear mucus with just the slightest purple tinge, on the carpet of an old French house with a roaring fire nearby. He was in Mrs. Smith's house, in New Orleans. The Prince was already on his feet, wiping the goop off his face and brushing himself off. Mrs. Smith was good enough to hand them both towels.
The thunder went on and on outside as she grinned. "Goodness, I haven't had so much excitement since my grandmother was alive." she said. Her teenage granddaughter with the blue hair cowered in the corner, her eyes practically falling out of her head.
"Please forgive us if we inconvenienced you." The Prince was hasty to say. "We will quit your presence immediately, and trouble you no further. I just ask you burn this log in your fire."
He opened a small bag and produced a thick twig, hardly a log. She promptly threw it in, which caused purple smoke to rise.
"I thank you for your time, madam." The Prince said in farewell and bowed with a flourish. The smoke enveloped both ghosts. A few sparks flew before Beetlejuice's eyes, and then they were next to a hearth in a historic home somewhere, shut up from tourists for the day, crimson ropes surrounding the area they were standing in.
"The hell are we?" Beetlejuice coughed. "All this hocus pocus is riding my nerves, Princey."
"We are in New York, on the outskirts I believe." declared the Prince. "Upon my death, this was all forest land, and yet undiscovered. Remarkable, isn't it?"
"I forgot you're not a frequent flyer round these parts."
"It is at my own peril I stay to explore, but the temptation is very strong. We should depart."
BJ paused as he watched him head down a hall in search of an exit. He almost felt sorry for him, suddenly. As a poltergeist, filled with anger and unfinished business, he could come here pretty much whenever he wanted. The others of his kind weren't so lucky. The whole thought inspired him to jog up to the Prince, anxious to start up a conversation.
"It must suck being a permanent installment down there, huh?" he asked. "I got a pretty good idea, I mean… I spent a few centuries puckering around till I figured out how to play the game. But for you… there's no way out I guess."
"Not until the universe meets its end." he replied. His usual despair did not frost his words however - he seemed calm and accepting of his fate.
"Pfft. No wonder you're so depressed."
"It comforts me little that you will now judge me less harshly than the rest of the denizens of our world. Your opinion means nothing to me."
"Well," BJ scoffed. "nice talking to you, too."
Quickly the Prince hushed him and pointed forward, gesturing that they should both crouch down out of sight. There was a building up ahead, its tin roof recently soaked with rain. A heavy padlock chained the metal door shut; ugly graffiti covered the walls. An occasional car drove by, rolling through the wetness of the street, but otherwise the area was silent.
"He is there." said the Prince.
"How can you tell?"
He responded by quickly pulling out a red pendant from his vest, strung on a gold chain. The little stone glowed and vibrated outwards.
"There's a nosferatu tooth inside." he explained. "It tracks them."
BJ paused for a moment. "Bad ass."
After rechecking his cross bow one last time, the Prince's eyes lowered and he spoke with a new sense of gravity.
"What you said just now, Beetlejuice… it surprised me."
"Huh?"
"You eluded to the idea that you felt sympathy for me. You've changed. The old you would have never said anything of the kind."
"Yeah well… don't get used to it." BJ scoffed again. The Prince smiled, just briefly.
"She's made you a better man, it seems."
BJ didn't know how to respond, so he didn't. Instead he replied, "Let's get going. It's showtime, Princey."
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Lydia, hugging her knees on the bed, struggled to keep her tears away. Hours, maybe even days had passed, and she was no closer to freedom, or even the objective of her captor. She kept seeing her lover's earth-stained fingers, and kept feeling his weight against her back, hugging her from behind. It reminded her of the nights she had spent alone, during those eight years, that she wished for him. She would touch herself in such a passion, imagining his lips on her lips and his voice in her ear. Where was he? What was happening outside? Did anyone even know she was missing? Did Beetlejuice even care?
All the turbulent, doubtful days where they both hadn't known the other's feelings seemed to return, and all the isolation with it. She couldn't know how he was feeling now, if he had finally resigned from her, and buried himself for good. Were her words too harsh? Had she done all the damage she could, and forced him to leave? She shivered in the cold, though her legs were covered in black thigh-high hose of thick nylon. A lace band at the top kept them from slipping - her skirt was so short that when she hugged herself the hem revealed where the lace ended, but she couldn't feel modesty, or much of anything else, when she was overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty.
Abruptly the television flashed on and Mythras' face appeared once more. The hood over his head made him a dark triangle - wherever he was, it seems he was near a window, and it was black outside.
"Your knight approaches." he said in a strange, pained way. "Forgive me, I cannot have you call out so he will hear."
The silver chains on her ankles took on a life of their own - they shook and pulled her legs taught as she let out a scream. Two other shackles clamped over her wrists and pulled, and a cloth tied itself over her mouth. Her arms, now pulled straight above her head, were useless to her now, as was her voice. Her fear escalated to terror; tears finally escaped her eyes, and she did not try to stop them. She couldn't do anything else.
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The poltergeist and ghost slithered their way against one of the walls of the structure under a window. Beetlejuice heard a small, interrupted shriek - his ears perked up immediately.
"That's Lydz!" he yelped. The Prince's eyes went wide as he yanked him downwards, clamping his hand over his mouth.
"Quiet!"
"We gotta get in there now! She's in trouble!"
"Keep a cool head! You have no idea the dangers we are exposed to. If you don't keep quiet they'll be no one left to save her!"
Much to their mutual surprise, instead of an ambush, they were greeted by a door creaking open to welcome them. Beetlejuice instantly bounded inside, the Prince clamoring after him.
"No wait, it's a tra -"
BANG. The door shut behind them, and they were plunged in darkness.
Beetlejuice reached out to feel anything near him - his eyesight in the dark was better than the average ghost, but this darkness was all encompassing, almost drowningly so. He heard nothing, saw nothing. His fingers found a wall, but that was the extent of it.
"Princey, you around? Hey! Can you hear me?"
His voice sounded pathetic even to his ears. How could he rescue Lydia when he himself needed rescuing?
At last a few, scattered fluorescent lights flickered on above him, giving the room a dim, green tinge. He found himself in a hall of mirrors, some warped, some normal. Grinding his teeth, he started to run towards what he thought was an exit, but he soon ran painfully dead on into one of the mirrors, his own reflection cursing back at him.
"Damn, what the hell is this?" he screamed. "Come out and fight me, vamp! I ain't scared of no blood sucking pansy!"
"You challenge me in ignorance," a voice answered. It reverberated on all the walls and mirrors, making it seem like it was coming from every direction. BJ whipped his head around like an owl, revealing nothing about his opponent's whereabouts. "But I must give you credit for bringing the legendary Hellsing with you. An extremely intelligent move on your part."
"Shut up and tell me where Lydia is!" BJ cried. He realized after the fact that he had just demanded two opposite things - he stuttered briefly, then shook it off. "I mean, just… let her go, all right? And me and his lowness will go easy on ya."
There was silence for a while then, and for the first time in centuries, Beetlejuice felt nervous. He swallowed, drawing the tiny dagger the Prince had loaned him, backing up toward a wall so nothing could surprise him. He listened hard for even ambient noise, but he heard nothing. Not even the hum of an air conditioner, or a car from outside. At last he took a breath.
"Look, can't we just get this over with, bub? The sooner you get out here, the sooner I save Lydia and we get out of this hell hole. Quit stallin' already."
"And you are certain she will want to go with you?" said the voice. "I saw the fight you two had. There was a finality to it, do you not agree?"
"Even if she doesn't, I'm not gonna leave her here with you, creepy."
There was a short, thoughtful pause, then Mythras' voice rang out once more, reverberating against the walls of the maze. "If I may, I would like to pose a question."
BJ laughed bitterly. "Why not… go ahead." This stalling for time, he thought, might make it easier for him to search the dark for the vampire. Better keep him talking as long as I can.
"You don't think she belongs with someone who is living? Is it not against everything the world of the living and the world of the dead believe for you to be seeing one another?"
"Look bub, that kind of thinking kept us apart for eight years, okay?" he snapped. "We're done with that horse and pony show. Angst is not our thing. She's happy, I'm happy. That's what matters."
As the words came out of BJ's mouth he realized their irony. He and Lydia had gone through all of that damned angst, only to break up over a stupid party mishap. The expression he had was one of thoughtfulness.
Mythras' voice was intrigued. "What are you thinking?"
BJ smiled. His posture was corrected, and he carried himself suddenly with an air of confidence he hadn't experienced since the break up.
"I was thinking I should thank you, asshole, for making me realize there's no fucking way I'm going to give up Lyds that easily. I'm not gonna let some mishap at a party, or some arrogant vampire, ruin what we got. So I've decided I'm gonna do three things."
"What are they then?"
"First, I'm gonna rescue Lydia. Second, I'm gonna win her heart back. And third, I'm going to kick your bony white ass."
As soon as his sentence was finished, Prince Vince came crashing through a wall to his left, somersaulting on the floor and running directly for Mythras, who was well cloaked in shadow only a scarce few feet away from BJ. When the green fluorescents hit the vampire's face, his expression was one of genuine surprise - he had not even considered that the Prince might be able to see him. Silver arrows went flying, avoided easily by Mythras' speed. The two figures flipped and tumbled around one another, dodging blow after blow. Mythras spewed a grey cloud of mist from his mouth, meant to envelope the Prince - he dissipated it with an oriental fan with strange writing on it. While coughing the remnants of the cloud out of his lungs, he turned to Beetlejuice.
"Find Lydia! I will distract him! You must go, now!"
"Don't have to tell me twice, bub!" he answered. He transformed into his own puff of smoke and rematerialized in a basement directly below where he had been. There were doors and hallways everywhere - the whole effect was even worse than the maze above. Still he took a deep breath and resolved himself to check every door until he found her.
