Hey guys! Here's chapter 7. Oh and a quick note- this is set about a year after the events of the mystery of stone. Luke has recovered and the Triton family have moved back to London. Just in case you didn't see the note at the end of chapter 1! The main story part will commence at the end of chapter 8-I promise! Enjoy! XD XD XD
Chapter 7- Betrayal
It took several moments for the true message to sink into the professor's mind, as he was still extremely worried about the sudden change of personality in his bright and feisty assistant. He had never seen Emmy like this before and to say that it was scaring him would be an understatement. The woman was crying more vigorously than ever now, clawing at her chest as if to rip her very heart out as she howled in emotional agony. The professor's eyebrows furrowed as he reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling them to a safe distance where they couldn't pierce her flesh. Her whole body twisted around as she locked eyes with the professor, her irises now containing traces of mingled fury.
"Emmy! Please, be rational about this!" he said firmly as she wrenched her hand from his grasp, "You're going to hurt yourself if you—"
"THEY TOOK CLIVE!" she yelled, balling her fists as she scrabbled at the sharp rocks around her until her fingers began to bleed, "DO YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, EXPECT ME TO SIT BACK WHILE HE GETS TORTURED TO DEATH?!"
Layton's arm fell uselessly to his side as he stared into the furious eyes of the hysterical woman in front of him. He let out a gasp of horror as he peered guiltily into the distance, pulling his hat over his face in regret. As others would put it, they had won the battle but lost the war. As the professor would put it, they had accomplished absolutely nothing: the sorceress had gotten her revenge and succeeded in terrifying the village. The majority of the villagers were injured, if they hadn't been killed and claimed by the Death Dogs. Building had been destroyed and fires had taken out their fury on the surviving debris. Now his friend had been injured and Clive had been claimed by those wretched monsters…
"Emmy, I—"
"HE TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU COULD'VE SAVED CLIVE! THAT'S WHAT A GENTLEMAN DOES, ISN'T IT?!" she spat as the tears clouded her vision once again.
Her words had the desired effect, as the truth and horror of the situation finally sank in to the professor's heart.
Clive. The young, intelligent and cheerful youth, with his cheeky personality and his close bond of friendship amongst all else, was gone. He, the gentlemanly Professor Layton, had stood aside and watched whilst the poor boy was dragged to his doom, flailing and screaming, hoping that he would be able to rescue him. Clive had been mistaken to trust his beloved professor. He didn't even blink an eye or offer any form of help when Emmy charged headfirst into chaos, risking her life to save the boy, whilst he had ordered her to stop. The amount of guilt that Layton felt now couldn't be described in any form of words.
He should've helped her; maybe they would've both been able to fend off the beasts and rescue him. Instead, the Death Dogs had slipped through his fingers, with their prey in tow, back to where they had come from. As for the current state of the boy, Layton didn't even want to imagine what he was going through now…if he was still alive. One thing was certain: every word that had come out of Emmy's mouth in the last few minutes was true.
The professor knelt down beside his assistant, his face contorted with inconsistent emotions. He knew better than to embrace her, after her previous reaction, or try to calm her down. A long silence issued between the two for several minutes whilst the wind's low howl blew the woman's hair around her shoulders, as if it was showing its grief at their predicament. Emmy closed her eyes and choked back the rest of her tears, still refusing to turn towards the professor.
"I'm sorry," she breathed in the voice of an elderly woman, "I shouldn't take it this out on…you, Professor. It's…It's me. It's my fault…"
She forced open her eyes and gasped, as if the realisation had just hit her.
"It's my fault," she repeated in a quieter hushed voice.
Grinding her teeth together, she threw back her head as the deafening words erupted from her throat.
"IT'S MY FAULT!"
"Emmy!" the professor exclaimed, moving to try and calm her down, "Please! It's not—"
"IT IS MY FAULT, PROFESSOR! THE LAST THING I NEED IS SYMPATHY! I WAS CLIVE'S GUARDIAN! IT WAS MY JOB TO PROTECT HIM, TO MAKE SURE THAT NO HARM CAME TO HIM-TO TREAT HIM AS A MOTHER WOULD TREAT HER OWN SON!"
Layton paused at these words, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He hated to see his assistant like this; he would've given his own life just to see her smile again…at least it would pay for Clive's death, if he had been killed-and that was most likely.
"I VOWED TO PROTECT HIM AND I HAVE FAILED HIM-FAILED HIM AS A GUARDIAN! HE'S PROBABLY DEAD NOW-DEAD OR BEING HALF TORTURED TO DEATH AND IF I HAD BEEN THERE FOR HIM THEN THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED!"
His assistant was acting more out of character by the minute. If the professor didn't do something to calm her down shortly then she could do something unthinkably reckless. To have another of his assistants harmed, or killed, would torture the professor himself beyond repair.
"Emmy! Please listen to me!"
The woman fell back on the floor, her head hanging low in shame, racked with sadness and guilt. She slowly forced her head towards the professor, her tears glistening like obsidian in the moonlight. Tentatively, the professor placed a shaking hand on her shoulder, pulling himself closer to his assistant.
"Look, my dear, I—"
The professor was immediately cut off as the woman threw herself on him, burying her damp face in his jumper and wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly that he could've suffocated. Layton was shocked beyond words, but resolved to carefully embrace her as she sobbed pitifully into his jumper. It was almost as if she had turned into a small and terrified child, making the professor seem more like the loving father whom she relied on for comfort. The professor's jumper was soon drenched with her emotions as she gently rocked backwards and forwards in order to calm herself down. The professor patted her back in a comforting manner as the woman's sobs became shorter and less identifiable.
"Shh…Shh," he said whispered softly, "Please don't be upset, Emmy. I am the one to blame. I shouldn't have let any of you come with me. If anyone is to blame, then it is I."
"Pr…Professor—"
"It is my fault," Layton repeated in a firmer and louder tone, "However, there is a possibility that Clive is still alive, but even that…is a mystery at the present. It's highly frustrating that she left no clues or any lead—"
"Except that she's targeting the Reinholds because she wants their family treasure…"
The professor turned around and forced a grateful smile at his apprentice as Luke quietly made his way towards them. Emmy made no signs of movement, her face obscured in her mentor's clothing, her hands gripping the professor's flesh like a vice. Luke paused in his tracks, also being shaken by Emmy's drastic change of appearance and character. He bent down to offer some form of support but the professor simply shook his head, looking sadly at the boy.
Upon scanning the scene for several seconds, the teenager instantly put two and two together.
"Wh…where's Clive?" he choked out in a timid voice, although he could already guess the answer.
Emmy hiccoughed and slowly shook her head, which almost started her crying all over again. Luke opened his mouth to say something but at the moment, there didn't seem to be any word in existence that would make her feel better…and there wasn't one that would make the professor or himself feel better either. Clive…one of his best friends…the boy who was like the elder sibling he had never had. Luke fought valiantly to hold in his tears, wishing to appear strong, for Emmy's sake at least.
'Why does life have to be so unfair?!' his mind screamed at no one in particular.
The professor closed his eyes and turned back towards Emmy, studying her tired face and trembling palms. Taking the edge of his jumper, he took her hand and began to gently clean the scarlet rivers that trickled down her fingers. Emmy's breathing gradually returned to normal as she sat silently, watching the professor wipe the thick substance off of her. Her dress was stained in blood and dark shades, a similar colour to the dark streaks of hot ash and smoke that covered almost every inch of her skin, apart from her face as her tears had stripped it clear of foreign substances.
Luke coughed slightly as the professor and Emmy looked up at him, now acknowledging the look of intense fear on his face.
"D…Dad's getting worse…," he stammered shakily, "I think…he might be infected…"
Layton shot him a reassuring glance as he gestured to the shaking woman, now allowing him to approach her. Luke bent down and steadily pulled his friend to her feet, carefully supporting the left part of her body whilst his apprentice supported her other side. Even on her feet she was unstable, as her body lurched forwards and her knees buckled with the effort it took just to stand up. She didn't seem to be paying much attention but was just going along with whatever was going on around her, as if she was a puppet being jerked about on her strings.
Between them, the professor and Luke managed to carry the woman back to where Bruno and Dahlia were trying to revive an unconscious Clark. Luke took one look at his father's still body and another at his mentor, peering up at him with wide shining eyes.
"Th…th…there is still hope…is…isn't…there?" he asked, swallowing the sobs that threatened to escape from his throat, "Clive could…still be alive, r…right? Father could...get better…couldn't he?"
Layton nodded, sighing in an almost-defeated manner, but it wasn't worth giving up on hope before he'd even started.
"Of course, my boy," he whispered to him and Emmy as she craned her neck upwards to listen, "I promise you both, that there is always hope-nothing is impossible. For all we know, Clive could be listening to us at this very moment."
The tiniest smile appeared on Emmy's lips, putting the faintest ray of hope in her heart that the boy was still alive.
"As for Clark, I think that he'll be fine with some rest and medical attention. It doesn't look too deep but who knows what these creatures can do?"
"The people who were claimed by them," Luke muttered under his breath so that no one else could hear him.
"First thing tomorrow morning, we shall venture out and search for clues and evidence," he explained, "but for now, we should be returning to the inn; it's late and we all need rest. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can check your father's injury, Luke," he said softly to his apprentice as Luke wiped his nose and blinked gratefully.
Emmy murmured quietly under her breath, trying to straighten her posture.
"Are you okay, Emmy? Are you uncomfortable?"
"No, it's okay. I'll…I'll walk…," she stuttered, waving her hands dismissively, "I can walk. I'm…I'm okay now, but…thanks. Besides, Clark's unconscious and weak-he can't really jump up and run a marathon at the moment, can he? A lady must always put the needs of a gentleman before herself…which I should've done with—"
"Understood, my dear. Whatever suits you best," Layton interrupted in a voice he was hoping to make kind, desperately trying to keep her thoughts off of the poor youth who may or may not still be alive because of his mentor's, not his guardian's, actions.
Luke released his grip on her and the woman stood up straighter and sighed sadly, unable to take her eyes off of the image of Clive's screaming face and the ghastly pale statue-like appearance of the man lying at her feet. The professor slowly bent down and carefully picked up his friend, trying not to harm the man further by the way he was clinging onto him. He was heavier than he'd remembered, but the most important thing was that his assistants were back safe at the inn with Flora and Brenda…
The thought of the sorrow on his daughter's face when she noticed Clive's absence and the pained look of betrayal on Brenda's when she saw the state of her husband only made the professor more determined to find out the truth behind this complex mystery.
Supporting Clark in his arms, the professor slowly lead the way back to the inn, their safe haven from this madness and evil, not even turning back to bid farewell to the two figures as they called after him frantically. Emmy trailed behind, Luke's arm encircling her waist as her own wrapped tightly around his shoulders, with her head bowed, teeth gritted with fury as only one thought flashed through her mind.
"I hope you're enjoying using your magic, witch," she spat venomously, "because by the time we're finished with you, I'll make you regret every second of your wretched life!"
Mystery 4- Death Dogs
Upon facing the Sorceress of Darkness for the first time, she summoned a strange race of creatures known as Death Dogs, designed to eat their victims souls and kill anything in their path. They showed despicable power to kill, burn and cause suffering and misery-which includes claiming several of the villagers, including Clive. Are these creatures entirely what they seem?
The door was flung open just a millisecond after the knock announcing the professor's return sounded across the corridor. The faces that met them were contorted with worry and terror, with a few tear stains identifiable on their faces. Flora clung onto Brenda's shirt with a trembling palm, letting out a huge sigh of relief at the welcoming sight of the professor and her friends. A few stray smudges of makeup, which hadn't been completely removed even though she'd scrubbed at her skin for hours, ran down Brenda's face and looked eerily like large bruises blossoming on her skin. She was tugging at her shirt roughly, probably to keep the anxiety away from her. Her eyebrows raised in relief at the sight of their faces before an exhausted sigh escaped her lips.
"Thank goodness! You've been gone for…I don't know how long! Flora thought that you'd been killed by the sorceress or fallen into her trap or something ridiculous like that!" Brenda exclaimed in a shaky voice, "Flora was in hysterics as the hours wore on! I kept telling her that you'd be fine but—"
She broke off in mid-sentence, her eyes flitting across the poor state of the group until they came to rest on the unconscious being hanging limply in the professor's arms, her gaze instantly being held captive by the fear that had seized her, so that she could focus on nothing else but the terrifying sight in front of her.
"H…h…how—"
"He was…t…trying to s…save me from the…b…beasts…," Luke stammered, tears forming in his eyes again, "and he took full…impact of their…cl…claws…"
Brenda's eyes widened as she immediately lunged for her husband before tenderly carrying him in her arms, oblivious to everything else around her. The professor rushed to her side and supported his friend's upper body as he and Brenda carefully carried him across the room and slowly deposited him on one of the beds.
The blood seeping from his wound coloured the fresh sheeting around him in dark stains of pain and suffering in a matter of minutes. His breathing was irregular, deep and straining, but it showed no sign of ceasing just yet, which in itself was a slightly comforting sign. His body remained still and motionless, clearly showing that he was still unconscious, or had blacked out from blood loss. Brenda collapsed on the bed next to him, her lips quivering as she gently placed a shaking hand on his forehead, sending a fire through her arm as she quickly jerked her arm backwards and stared helplessly at his closed eyelids.
Luke staggered towards her, peering down at the floor the whole time as the professor hugged his daughter tightly, reassuring her that everything would be okay.
"M…Mum?" Luke asked cautiously, "Will he be…alright?"
Brenda blinked back her tears and threw her arms around her son, her now emaciated fingers gently caressing his face.
"I don't know…but the wound isn't too deep," she murmured thoughtfully before she removed her hands from his face and repeatedly began checking him for injuries, "How about you? Did you get hurt?"
Luke shook his head sadly.
"Nothing major…just…I wish I could've taken that injury for Dad—"
"Don't be ridiculous, Luke," his mother said firmly as she ran her finger along the thin white scars covering the boy's face, "If you'd have taken that blow then you probably…wouldn't have survived…and to think of you suffering like you did then…"
She trailed off as the teenager bit his lip to drown out the sudden stinging pain from the scars and the cuts that pop marked his skin. They had healed incredibly well, but they couldn't be removed completely, so they remained as a reminder of that torturous pain from the year before. On the whole, Luke had recovered very well from the ordeal; his leg had healed in just six months and he was able to walk and even run again, his scars and scratches had been patched up so that they were barely visible, but this couldn't hold back the still existent nightmares that the boy still got even to this day…
Brenda hugged him once more, as if reading his mind, as she sat up and looked at the professor carefully. He didn't have time to start before the words were out of the woman's mouth.
"No, it's not your fault, Hershel," she said, in answer to his prepared question, "You were trying to keep everyone alive and you couldn't have known what would've happened. Anyway, Clark is strong and determined. He'll recover fairly quickly."
She smiled reassuringly at him before a grave expression replaced it.
"What happened? What did she do if she appeared tonight? Luke mentioned something about…'claws'-was it some type of demon creature?"
The professor let go of Flora as she carefully backed away, walking over to Luke with a pitiful expression on her face. He forced a small smile and locked his hand around her wrist. The girl smiled again at him, pulling him closer as she squeezed his hand tightly to reassure him that everything would be okay.
"Well…yes…she did come," the professor explained slowly, pulling his hat down so that part of his face was hidden from view, "She came as she said…and demanded the Reinhold fortune. When Bruno and Dahlia refused her she started threatening to go after Flora…that didn't work…she summoned these 'Death Dogs', beasts from the depths of Hell itself, to tear the village apart."
Brenda held her breath, listening intently to his every word. Luke knelt down beside the bed and grasped his father's scarlet hand tightly, not wishing to relive the horrifying moments as the innocent robots watched their friends die gruesomely and not even be guaranteed that they would rest in peace. Not wishing to see the sorrowful looks on their faces as their homes were reduced to nothing. Not wishing to remember the beginning of the destruction of their beloved village.
"St Mystere was…helpless-the beasts destroyed almost every building and home…as well as at least half of the population of the village. We tried our hardest, Flora. We really did."
Flora nodded, half listening to the professor's words. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't avert her gaze from Emmy; she was refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room and...
Was it just a trick of the lamplight, or did the strong and determined young woman really have fresh tears of sorrow dripping down her cheeks? The professor himself looked terrified and shaken, Clark still showed no signs of responding, Brenda and Luke were trying to cling onto the hope that they could heal him and…that was it…
The room seemed empty and lifeless…as if not everyone was present. Flora's eyes desperately scanned the room in the hope that she could confirm her worries to be pointless, but she was met with the opposite. She let go of Luke's hand instantly, turning on her heel so that she was looking into the serious face of the professor.
"P…P…Professor?" she asked shakily, "Where's Clive?"
Layton pulled his hat even further down his face, but he acted as if the girl hadn't even spoken.
"We started to fight for the villagers as the fires raged. We fended off the hounds and rescued the wounded residents…it was horrible…Luke was cornered by the creatures and I couldn't save him. That was when Clark shoved him out of the way to protect him…I regret that I couldn't have—"
"Clive didn't come into the room…Professor—"
"Helped him," he continued in a hoarse voice, "By then we were succeeding and—"
"Where is he?" Flora demanded in a louder tone.
Brenda seemed to have acknowledged it too as Emmy gave a light sniffle and continued sobbing again. Flora locked eyes with the professor as his hands started trembling. The answer couldn't have been more obvious, judging by their body language and their gestures.
"We heard the s…s…scream but didn't…k…know th…that it belonged t…to—"
"WHERE IS CLIVE, PROFESSOR?!" Flora screamed at him, clenching her fists with tears streaming down her face, "YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED SO JUST SAY IT!"
The rest of the room stood silent, shocked at Flora's outburst, before immediately training their eyes on the professor. He closed his eyes tightly, letting a single tear fall down his face.
"The…creatures dragged him…away," Layton faltered as invisible daggers stabbed at his heart, "Before we could rescue him…the sorceress cast a spell and…vanished—"
"W…w…with…C…C…Clive," choked Emmy, letting her body collapse onto one of the beds before she sank her face into the soft fabric, immediately drenching it with tears heart ache.
Flora and Brenda gasped simultaneously in horror and the realisation that the boy was gone. Flora wiped her face with the back of her hand, as her face gradually turned the colour of chalk and exposed the dark circles already forming under her eyes. Layton let himself fall onto the chair, bowing his head low in shame and misery.
"I'm sorry, Flora…I really am—"
"Don't be. I know how we can get him back."
Emmy slowly removed her head from the fabric, taking slow rasping breaths. The others looked dumbfounded, but the professor studied her face closely, immediately shaking her head.
"I know exactly what you're thinking, Flora," he said in an extremely serious tone, "and I would never let you do it if it was the last thing you could ever do!"
Flora reeled back, slightly startled, but she kept a strong posture and glared at the professor.
"I have to! It's the only way that she'll stop—"
"Handing yourself over to the sorceress in exchange for Clive will not achieve anything!" he argued in a raised voice, "I forbid you to even think about it again! Do you understand?!"
The girl nodded quickly, the tears once again threatening to fall. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from falling over as she clenched her fists until the blood drained from them. If this was what the sorceress could do to an entire village, then absolutely any form of torture or agonising death could be inflicted on her friend in the blink of an eye. There was no hope. He was lost forever.
A quiet moan brought everyone back to their senses as Luke peered hopefully at the slowly stirring form of his father. Brenda sank to her knees, gripping her husband's other hand painfully as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
"Ugh…it's Saturday, Bren…can't I have an extra…five minutes?"
Brenda began laughing with relief; it was all she could do not to jump on top of him and hug him to death. The professor jumped out of his chair as if someone had given him an electric shock. Luke stood up slightly so that he could get a better view of his father, a smile creeping on his lips.
"Clark?" she asked hopefully, "We're all here…"
Clark slowly opened his eyes, surveying the blurry image of the room around him, trying to collect his thoughts.
"B…Brenda…is that you?" he asked quietly, trying to reach out to her, "Is Luke o…okay? What happened after I…you know—"
"I'm okay, Dad," Luke answered quickly with a smile, "you got injured after you saved me from those creatures. The wound isn't too deep but you did lose a lot of blood…and it may be infected. We're…we're back at the inn again but…the sorceress got Clive…"
The boy looked across to Emmy, who had now gone back to sobbing into her pillow. Flora sighed and carefully approached her, slumping down on the bed next to her and patting her back in a supporting manner. Clark closed his eyes, an expression of sadness and pity imprinted on his face.
"I…I'm sorry…the poor boy…," he murmured, swallowing hard, "He's gone?"
The professor could only nod in reply as he put a hand on his friend's head.
"The sorceress took him. There was nothing we could do. However, we shall try and find clues tomorrow morning…it's the least we can do…," Layton explained before a gentle expression replaced his currently serious look, "How do you feel?"
"Ugh…weak…and tired," Clark added, moaning slightly as he tried to pull himself into a more comfortable position, "The scratch feels like it's burning and-argh!"
"Take it easy, Clark," Brenda said in a soothing tone, "You really gave us a scare there…you'll be feeling better soon though! I promise!"
Clark smiled gratefully at his wife as the professor placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.
"My boy, if you want to help Clark, could you go downstairs and ask Beatrice for some bandages and a first aid kit, please?" he suggested kindly as he patted his shoulder, "Do you think you could manage that?"
Luke jumped a little at his father's occasional moans of agony, but he needed help as soon as possible. He managed a small nod as he leapt to his feet and straightened his cap.
"Of course, Professor! I'll try and be as quick as I can!" he announced before turning to his mother, "I'm going to fetch some bandages. Will you be okay?"
Brenda nodded, smiling gratefully at her son and the professor as she kissed his forehead lightly and watched him cautiously as he ran out of the door swiftly.
"Please, don't you get lost and don't run!" Brenda called after him in a stern manner, but she was supressing a small smile.
Clark let out a light chuckle as the professor smiled at him.
"They never learn, do…they, Hershel?" he grinned as Brenda turned back to him, "How were you and Flora…whilst we were out there?"
"Well…it would be a lie to say that it didn't take long for her to calm down," Brenda answered truthfully, peering at the young girl from the corner of her eye, "but she was fine in the end. She was…asking me to tell her stories…like how I met you…and what it was like when we had Luke…and when we knew the professor…it seemed to really cheer her up. It still makes you smile every time I mention it! You do remember some of the times we had, don't you, Hershel?"
"Ah, yes; how could I forget the time that you beat me in that fencing match back at Gressenheller? Then of the time Clark would go on about nothing but your beautiful face…yet he waited for several months before he plucked up enough courage to ask you out—"
"Hershel!" Clark hissed as bright patches of red blossomed on his cheeks.
Brenda swallowed hard to contain her laughter.
"Oh, really?" she asked slyly, raising her eyebrows, "I never heard about that one, Mr Triton!"
The two adults laughed quietly, whilst the professor focused on his daughter and his assistant; Emmy had her arms wrapped around the girl's neck, as Flora hugged her even tighter and whispered comforting words to her. Emmy removed her face from her dress and smiled gratefully at her.
"That's a…beautiful tune…," Emmy murmured quietly as her eyelids dropped, "Very…pretty…"
"My mother used to sing it to me whenever I had a nightmare. I've remembered every word ever since…think of the song and you shall eventually feel peace…"
The professor watched the scene with a smile; Flora always tried her hardest to comfort everyone, even in situations when there seemed to be no hope. Emmy seemed to be recovering slightly; whatever words were in that song must have been incredibly powerful and emotional to have calmed her down. Flora did have a beautiful voice after all…everyone in St Mystere said that also…
"Hershel?" Clark asked, "Could you...give me a puzzle to…remind me of old times?"
Layton adjusted his top hat and nodded, smiling lightly.
"Of course, Clark," he answered as Brenda leant in to listen, "I don't know if you remember this one but I think that it should do the trick…"
Puzzle 9-Temple trek (40 picarats)
A group of archaeologists are on a special expedition to explore an ancient temple. After walking from their camp site for about 600 metres, the leader realised that all of their water had been used up and they had to return to their campsite and walk a quarter of the distance that they had travelled so far, in the same direction to reach the nearest lake. After filling up, the group walk back to where they originally realised about the lack of supplies and continued walking two thirds of the distance that they had travelled in total. At the end of the day, the archaeologists returned back to their camp site to examine their finds.
In total, how many metres did the group travel that day?
(Get this right and you will have 350 picarats)
"You do make them hard, Hershel!" Clark exclaimed with a grin, "but after careful calculations you should find that the answer is 2400 metres in total! There is a lot of adding and dividing to do though!"
"Excellent, as always, might I add!" Layton congratulated with a smile, "You always were one to like puzzles as well, Clark, and so in reality I didn't expect any less from you!"
Brenda beamed proudly at her husband as Luke ran into the room panting. He thrust the first aid kit on the bed next to his father and looked hopefully at his mother.
"They have several spare…it's a good job too!" he exclaimed before he turned his attention back to his mentor, "How do you think we can cure my father, Professor?"
Layton scanned the contents of the first aid kit for several moments before he frowned, shaking his head as he picked up a sturdy looking bandage.
"I can honestly say that I don't know the correct…answer," he said truthfully, pulling his hat over his eyes, "All that I know is that the wound should be cleaned and bandaged but I have no idea how to do so—"
"I can do it," Brenda answered assertively as she scooped out a clear bottle of sharp smelling liquid and poured a few drops onto a piece of cotton wool, "My parents used to work as doctors. I learnt a few techniques from them and applying bandages is just a matter of where to tie it and how much material is needed-a bit like textiles."
Clark clung onto her arm tightly as the woman knelt down beside him, applying glistening liquid to the swollen area of the skin before then carefully selecting a fresh white bandage and wrapping it securely across the long gnash on his shoulder. It was in quite an awkward position, so she carefully removed his undershirt so that she could place it more efficiently. The professor placed a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder, watching in awe as Brenda's soothing fingers stitched up the bandage in a matter of minutes, her eye brows furrowed in concentration. It was if she and her patient were the only people in existence as she blanked out everything else around her as if it didn't exist.
"Wow," Luke said quietly, watching his mother's movements with fascination and longing, "I never knew that she could do that!"
"Brenda always was…one to be there willing to help anyone in need," Layton explained with a smile as he watched her place an ice pack on Clark's forehead to help ease his discomfort, "I think your father is in the best hands."
"Mhmm...You're right there, Professor. It's just that…he saved me and—"
"Because he wanted to and he couldn't live without you," he interrupted, looking at the boy with a serious expression, "He'll be feeling better by the morning…I think…"
Clark let out a long sigh of relief as all of the throbbing pain inside of him gradually subdued.
"Does that feel any better?" Brenda asked with a smile as she planted a kiss on his numb forehead.
"V…v…very…Thank you, Bren."
"My pleasure," she answered, "However, you broke your promise to me; you said that you wouldn't go getting yourself injured and look what's happened?! Seriously! When will you learn to keep your promises, eh?!"
"They'd have killed Luke if I hadn't done anything—"
"I'm joking, Clark," she replied quickly in an uneasy voice, "The wound is bandaged and the ice should numb the pain for a while but you may be in for an uncomfortable night…"
Clark nodded thankfully as he squeezed her hand tightly. Luke let out a quiet yawn as Layton rubbed his eyes. Clark smiled at them, despite the amount of pain he was feeling.
"Rosa wasn't exaggerating," he said with a laugh, "You do need to think about getting something called 'sleep', Hershel! You too, Luke. It's been a long day and I imagine it's past your bedtime also."
"You're right, Dad…," Luke responded, yawning again, "Professor, I think we should go to bed now. We're going to…need energy if we are to find clues against this…sorceress…"
"Well spoken, my boy," he answered, ruffling his hair gently, "but what about you two? Surely you need sleep too, Brenda."
The woman waved her hand dismissively, carefully picking up a large bottle of water from off of the table.
"I'm fine," she replied truthfully, "I had a nap with Flora earlier and I need to tend to Clark. I'll be fine. I promise."
The professor opened his mouth to protest but then decided there was no point; Brenda was smart and knew if what she was doing was the right thing. If she felt happier doing the right thing, then who would the professor be to argue?
"Alright, but I'd advise you to get some rest tomorrow. Understood?"
Brendan nodded obediently and extended her arms towards Luke. The teenager ran into them swiftly and hugged her, trying his hardest not to cry.
"I hope you'll be alright, Mum," he said softly, kissing her on the cheek, "Sleep well. You too, Dad…and…thanks…for earlier—"
"It's okay, Luke. I'll be fine-I have a professionally trained nurse for a wife, haven't I?!" he laughed as he patted his hand since he was too weak to hug his son, "Sleep well too-same goes for you, Hershel."
"Of course. Goodnight to you both…"
Luke staggered over to his bed, collapsing onto it as the professor slowly slid into his covers, being too tired to undress, as disturbing memories and images of the previous day burned through his mind like the fires that were determined to destroy the village, before he finally entered a world of darkness…
"EMMY, HELP ME!"
The woman threw herself forwards roughly, sweat streaming down her face as a hoarse cracked scream issued from her exceedingly dry throat. Her hair completely covered her face, a blanket of darkness waiting to suffocate her in her sleep. She clenched her fists together tightly and screwed her eyes shut, letting her tears fall swiftly but soundlessly. Mind still throbbing with the endless echoing screams, she shakily traced the silky pattern covering her smooth nightgown with her index finger…
Nightgown?
Emmy slowly opened her eyes, disorientation and confusion finding her with every movement she made. The room was normal. Nothing else had changed. The professor was sleeping in his own bed, fully clothed as usual, Luke and Flora were cuddled closely together and fatigue must've finally overcome Brenda, for she too lay slumped against her husband on the bed. Only one of the beds in the room was unoccupied…the one next to hers…the one where its occupant would be sleeping…if the events of several hours ago hadn't happened. Emmy swallowed hard and tried not to cry again, wishing to stay strong for the boy's sake. It was what a lady did...but why was she wearing a nightgown? She had no knowledge of putting one on…maybe Flora had done it for her before she fell asleep…before she had had that heart wrenching nightmare of the exact same person suffering the exact same fate…
She slammed her hands on her pillow; it was just a dream. There was a slim possibility that he was still alive, but she doubted that anyone would've survived those beasts. The nightmare was more terrifying than in real life, with the youth's face haunting her mind, but it felt so…real…
"It was just a dream...," she told herself, "It wasn't real…Clive is gone—"
"Oh, I doubt that highly," a loud echoing voice called from the corner of the room.
If the woman hadn't been holding onto the railings then she would've fallen off of the bed in shock. Heart pounding against her ribs, her lungs breathing in enormous quantities of air, she shakily turned around with wide and unbelieving eyes to see the most comforting, yet the most disturbing, sight in all of her life.
There was no mistaking it: the golden gleam of his hair as the starlight illuminated it; the tall lean posture as he stood expectantly in the doorway; the dark colour of his eyes…it was definitely him…
The figure smirked, but it sounded more like a mocking jeer.
"Really, is this the way for a lady to react? I expected something a little more…emotional…"
"C…C…C…C…C…Clive?!" Emmy stammered, her lips steadily turning numb with the immense wave of shock that had hit her, "It's…it's…it's…it's really…y…you!"
"Ha! Tell me something I don't know!" he sneered in response, stepping closer towards her into the light.
Conflicting emotions crossed the woman's face, but her look of glee, surprise and relief instantly vanished when she surveyed his appearance closer: dark smears of blood covered parts of his head, running like rain down his pale skin. Every vein could be identified; even through the many cuts and gnashes that enveloped his main features. His suit was torn, ripped and smothered in blood. His hands were screwed into tight fists, but most disturbing was the evil sneer he wore on his lips and the unmistakeable scarlet glint in his eyes that seemed to burn into everything around them.
Emmy shrank back in terror against the wall, now trembling vigorously; this wasn't the Clive she knew…this was someone completely different…and dangerous.
'Clive' laughed cruelly and approached her menacingly.
"I barely made it out of that fire…," the youth hissed in a captivating voice, "The beasts crippled me for life…and I became this…this…creature!"
He smashed a nearby painting and flung it across the room, missing Luke's bed by just centimetres.
"All because of you-Miss Altava!" he spat, glaring into her very soul.
Her mouth fell open and she groped around desperately for something to hold on to.
"I…I…I don't know what you mean—"
"You know EXACTLY what I mean! I called out for help. I trusted you! I thought that at least my guardian of all people would come running…but you didn't…you left me to the creatures…I was deserted by even the one who I trusted the most, who I depended on in a vital time of need…and you weren't there!"
"I…I…I…tried, Clive! I swear I did! I...I…I couldn't forgive myself after what—"
"Is Professor Layton's 'number one assistant' actually showing her true colours?" he jeered, now just an arm's length away from her, "He's ashamed of you! I know he is! Everyone else is too! No one likes you anymore, Altava! Don't even think of going all sappy and apologetic on me-I have changed. I've seen you for who you truly are…and to think that all of this time I actually thought you cared about me! Well, how mistaken I was then!"
Emmy's heart shattered into endless pieces. How could he think all of these things about her? She wasn't bothering to hide her tears now.
"That's…that's…that's…n…not…t…t…true!" she cried, looking at the bloody creature in front of her with horror as she pressed her back into the wall and began to slowly edge away from him.
'Clive' laughed and muttered a few words under his breath, catching the woman completely off guard. As soon as the words left his lips, the railings on the bed immediately broke free, gaining an elastic soft texture. Emmy tried to sprint to the other side of the room, but the railings were on her before she could resist, dragging her back to the other side of the bed. She let out a distorted gasp of pain as they wrapped themselves around her wrists, instantly hardening once they had their prey ensnared. The metal cut deep into her wrists, causing rivers of liquid to flow plentifully down her arms. She struggled and tried to wrench herself free, but the figure opposite her just laughed.
"Oh no, I don't think you're going just yet, Miss Altava…" he chuckled, enjoying the look of pain on her face, "In fact, this is only the beginning. I haven't even finished my introduction…and the end I have planned for you…the outcome will be priceless…"
Emmy thrashed against the railings, staring in horror at his twisted smirk of blood thirst.
"C…Clive! Pl…Please! I…I love you! I…tried! I'm…s…so…sorry! I was never meant to be your…g…guardian! Please, forgive me! I…I—"
"Oh! You admit it, do you?!" he sneered, "Well, I'm glad that we're getting somewhere! Well…I am very touched to hear that…but unfortunately for you…that won't get you anywhere…"
Emmy shot a glimpse in the opposite direction; the professor was stirring slightly, his top hat askew. Luke and Flora stretched before turning on their sides and continuing with their restful sleep. A realisation suddenly hit her; there was one action that could save her life…if she was loud enough…
"PROFESS—"
Another part of the railing had in the single second it had taken for her to speak wound around her neck, slithering across her lips and immediately hardening, cutting her plea for help off instantly.
She fought valiantly and tried to force out any form of words, but none came. The youth had figured out her move a second before she'd reacted. He clapped his hands evilly and threw himself on the bed next to her.
"I think you'll have difficulty speaking with that in your mouth, Miss Altava," he laughed as she peered at him with terrified eyes, "Such a coward."
He reached out and held Emmy's face in his hands, his smirk growing wider and wider.
"There are words that I have wanted to say from the moment you betrayed me…left me to die a horrible death…"
Emmy squeezed her eyes shut, frantically trying to cover her ears, even though she knew it was fruitless when her hands were suspended high above her. 'Clive' grinned, pushing his lips directly against her ear before the agonising deafening pain, emotional and physical, followed…
Hours seemed to pass with nothing but the heart wrenching words flooding into her ears. By now the woman was shaking with the sobs that racked her body, tears seeping down her cheeks and muffled pained sobs barely managing to escape from her mouth.
"I. HATE. YOU!"
Those words were by far the worst…and had the desired effect on his prey. 'Clive' soaked in her sobs, her pleas for forgiveness-everything that she tried to offer. He paced up and down the room silently, listening to her for several moments before he finally turned back towards her, his eyes now redder than those of the Death Dogs. He leant in close to her, brushing the hair out of her red closed eyes.
"Oh, no. I want you to witness your gory end, Miss Altava…it is the least you deserve!" he cackled, lifting his sleeves up as Emmy began thrashing against the metal holding her in place again.
"MMPH! HRMMPHH! MRPPH!" she yelled as the youth locked eyes with her again.
"Oh yes, you should be afraid all right, Miss Altava…and your end shall be the same that was intended for myself..."
He caressed her face once more, listening to her rapid and irregular breathing for the last time as his nails, now resembling claws identical to those of the beasts, sprouted from underneath his flesh. Emmy froze, oblivious to all but the creature, whom she had loved so much, that would claim her very soul.
"The only thing a bully understands…is force," he whispered quietly, "and now…goodbye, Miss Altava…"
Before the words were even out of his mouth, a low snarl issued from his vocal chords as his eyes glowed like embers from a fire. His teeth slowly grew in length, each ending in a pointed tip that would rip through any material in existence upon contact. The claws grew even more until they could've been considered as the deadliest weapons in existence. No matter how hard she tried to look away, her eyes were glued to the gory transformation that was occurring. The creature roared, spraying her with blood, tears and foam as it threw itself on top of her, its eyes boring into her own.
It was pointless to struggle or try to break free…it would only result in more pain…
As fountains of rubies exploded from the gaping hole in her neck and the shredded clawed remains of what used to be her athletic and attractive body slowly became drenched in the same substance, the pain forced her into bottomless cavern of agony and hallucinations. As her body slowly began to decompose and her soul was ripped from her body into the creature's waiting claws, a final mocking jeer of victory resounded across the room, mixed with the muffled helpless screams of agony, pain and betrayal from the nearby corpse, drowning in its own blood…
