Dear Izabelle, thank you so much for your comment! Since you're a guest I can't answer to it, but I wanted you to know I appreciated it a lot: you made my day. Milefanis-cullen, ate my answer! I'll rewrite it on Sunday T_T sorry for the delay, but tomorrow I'm not at home
WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 10
Walking stealthily Pitch came out from the shadows and stepped into the hallway of the house he had chosen. He advanced cautiously, sliding on the floor without producing the slightest noise and deftly avoiding every obstacle, then he reached two doors decorated with children's drawings, but he passed them without any hesitation: he wasn't aiming at them; going on he arrived at the end of the passageway, where a peeling wood hid the access to a third bedroom, and there he stood, reaching out his hand to open it. It took him a few seconds to turn the handle knob, open the door just enough to creep in and close it behind himself, and at that point he stopped, holding his breath as he turned his head towards his victim.
He had chosen them with great care, just like all those who had preceded them in the three days of big game just passed: he was making something special, something he had never done before, and to carry it out he needed special people, like her. She was a girl of Irish descent, the freckles clearly visible on her cheeks despite the bad light and the red hair untidily abandoned on the pillow; a girl with delicate features, the drawn face perfectly proportioned to the thin neck and the arms so slender to show every tendon; a girl lean and emaciated, too big for the bed in which she slept, and too small for the responsibilities she had decided to bear.
It was enough, for the Boogeyman, to briefly look around to recall the long months of agony she had experienced: although she had endeavoured in every way to cover the walls with the drawings her four brothers had made for her, on them there were still imprinted the small dents happened during the countless times when her father had shoved her, the blood stain he had made her lose after brutally beating her, and the hole which, in a fit of rage, he had opened with a punch. The man had witnessed several times the abusive parent's outbursts, shamelessly taking the opportunity to feed himself on fear fit to burst while he reflected on the human spirit's volubility, and he had never been worried about the submissive attitude of the colleen, who, instead of reacting, merely raised her arms to protect her face; it was precisely for this reason that, at her eighteenth birthday, he had been greatly surprised to see her taking the lead on that issue. Like every Mondays' night he had crept into the house, ready to enjoy the unemployed father's umpteenth outburst on his blameless daughter, but instead of finding her knelt on the floor, intent on taking all the punches and kicks without whining and doing anything in order to prevent that monster to torture also her little siblings, he had seen her shoving with decision the drunk parent, literally throwing him down the entry's steps and tossing a suitcase after him; albeit amazed, however, Pitch had waited her to fall asleep, keeping the usual Nightmare ready to ensure himself a restoring night, but with great disappointment he had verified that this no longer worked with her, and he had had to leave her empty-handed; too stubborn to give up he had then spied on her, making one of his servants heel her to study her every move, and in the end he had solved the mystery: she had done nothing but suffer her father's brutalization, attracting all his rage on herself and never contacting the authorities, just to avoid the risk her brothers could end up in different foster families, being separated, and she had waited to rebel when she had been certain to have the legally required age to take care of them all ¹. Obviously the situation, albeit better than before, had remained tense for the young woman, always busy in devising new ways to look after her siblings, to serve them nutritious meals and to meet all the expenses, and the Boogeyman hadn't taken much to modify the black sand he commanded, so as to adapt it to the changes in his victim: now he perfectly knew what chords to touch and what to avoid, and he was determined to take full advantage of that information.
With a soft gesture he opened a portal of darkness into the wide open cabinet's shade, shuddering at the current of cold air which it generated, then he turned, holding out his arms to welcome the one he had evoked; he didn't have to wait for long: after few seconds a shadow darker than the others stirred in the midst of that teeming tentacles, quivering and vibrating, as if it was settling down, and finally what turned out to be a beautiful Pureblood in full of its powers emerged.
With his irises shining with expectation the man watched it moving forward in a hesitant pace, slowly stepping back to leave it a better view of the room and, at the same time, induce it to enter, and he rejoiced when he noticed the absence of the mane and the double pointed beaks which adorned the corners of its lips: only a Haunter answer these two characteristics, and a Haunter was exactly what he needed in order not to fail.
Seeing that the creature still hesitated he bent his fingers to invite it and, trying to control his voice, he ordered: «Come».
Hearing the call the animal moved, finally coming out the portal and looking around to familiarize with its surroundings, and, as soon as it spotted the girl lying on the bed, he snorted, dilating his nostrils and opening his mouth in an eerie imitation of a smile; without further ado it stamped a hoof, clearly intending to crouch in order to pounce on her, but Pitch quickly stopped it, rising in front of it and drawing its neck in a lustful embrace.
«Hush, my beauty, hush» he whispered directly into its ear, stroking its jugular to calm it down; «I know you can't wait to pounce on that pathetic girl and devour her, but these matters need patience: if you attack her without thinking you'll go hungry. Let me give some advices to you: I studied her for months and months, and now I know perfectly what manages to scare her enough to get her out of his mind. Don't you think that something is missing in this house? Don't you feel the total absence of adults around? This is not a temporary situation: she's alone, the only guardian of four children. Her mother fled away years ago, chasing yet another lover she had been duped by, while his father has moved away a few months ago. He didn't left in a fit of madness: he did it out of exasperation. After more than a decade of loving care given to his children, in fact, he lost his job and they began to despise him, calling him "failure", insulting him whenever he came home without having found a new employment and complaining about the pocket money cut which he had imposed to them for obvious reasons and which prevented them from buying all the toys they wanted. He has endured the situation for about five months, then he couldn't handle it any more and he decided to leave his ungrateful offspring: pretending he had found and accepted a job abroad which would have allowed them to live comfortably he took leave, promising to send them part of his salary, then he went away without ever looking back. At first the children believed him and lived it up behind him, but after some weeks passed without receiving from him neither news, nor, least of all, his money, they started to get scared. This girl, who's the eldest of the five, took-charge of her brothers in order not to risk seeing them being separated and sent to different families, but soon she realized she's not up to the task: the work she started is not profitable enough to sustain such a large family, and the account assigned to her where the parent had deposited a sum to allow her go to college has almost dried up. Among all them she's the one who most hopes that her father, sooner or later, will come back, and that he escaped only to prove them that, without his presence, they are not able to survive: you must play on this. Kill her hope, fling the truth at her, obsessively show her her father fleeing and abandoning her until she beg you to stop, and then go on, rage on her, picture him elsewhere with a new family, intent on having fun while he forgets his past, and display her the sad future which awaits her and her brothers: make her cry and squirm from the pain of this truth she doesn't want to accept. Good luck, my beauty».
With an impatient snort the Pureblood bowed his head in front of Pitch, out of gratitude and respect, but when it saw his master opening his arm to allow it acting it didn't need to be asked twice: with a grim neigh it reared up, arching its neck in order not to lose sight of its goal, then it lunged at her, covering in a single bound the distance which separated it from the bed and landing on it with the forelegs. After it had settled down its hooves on the mattress and slightly bent its legs to have a better balance it crouched over the victim, sniffing her stomach, her breast and finally her neck, to begin to weaken her defences just with its mere presence, and seeing her shivering it opened its mouth, placing itself literally in front of her face and spreading its jaws even more to completely cover it, as if to devour it in one bite.
Well aware of what was happening Pitch hastened to support his creature, stroking its side while it was absorbing from the girl those few, very recent memories it needed to reconstruct her father's features and voice, then he rested his cheek on its shoulder and, closing his eyes, he immersed himself in its conscience, in order to better guide it in what it had to do and not to miss any scene of the show he had planned.
After a few seconds he saw again appearing in front of himself the bedroom, but with less details, less definition, few colours apart from black and grey, and less depth: it was not the real room, but the nightmare's embryo the beast was making, and still required several mendings. Moving his hands in sinuous gestures the Boogeyman began to fix it, adding details and nuances where necessary, correcting the errors, and even recreating the main corridor, then he stepped aside, leaving to his servant full liberty of action, but continuing to whisper advices to it in a low voice.
In less than a minute he heard heavy footsteps coming from the passage, and saw out of the corner of the eye the colleen waking up with a start, sit up and start looking around warily.
«Who's there?» she shouted in a firm voice.
No answer came to their ears, but after a few moments the father's figure appeared at the door, proud and almost solemn in his solemn stateliness, but with a sardonic smile on his face.
«You? You're back?» she asked, incredulous.
«Yes and no. I'm back, but not to stay. I forgot some important documents when I left, and now I need to recover them: once I've taken them back I'll forsake you again, and this time for good» said with satisfaction the parent.
«There is nothing yours left in this house, so you can immediately turn your heels and go» replied the young woman.
Clearly taken aback the father gasped, clutching the jamb, as if he needed a support to stand, and catching his breath; shortly after, however, he recovered, and with a cruel grin on his face he barked: «Sheridan, you live up to your name: you've always been wild, and wild you'll remain! I left you to punish your irreverent behaviour, but I see it was all for nothing: you have not learned to pay respect to me even after you've realized I'm indispensable. Do you think that, by continuing to walk all over me, you'll manage to entice me to reverse my decision, perhaps driven by some kind of guilt? No, it will not happen: I will leave you alone, and without me you'll end soon in the gutter».
«Indispensable?» demanded the colleen; «Indispensable? Is that how you like to call yourself now? Was it indispensable for us seeing you coming home drunk every night? Was it indispensable for the babies hearing you screaming and smashing the furniture almost every evening? Was it indispensable for Phelan, who's already thin, watching you stealing the food from his plate at every meal? Was it indispensable for me to be beaten every day? No, none of this was indispensable. I'll admit it, I'm struggling to sustain the family without your salary, but, actually, it has been like that since you've lost your job, with the only difference that now, at least, I don't see the little money I gain disappearing in bottles of wine. I have to make many sacrifices to be able to buy the medicines for the twins, and I'm often forced to serve only rice and beans for dinner, but the babies are much more serene and happier than before and they help me as best as they can: now we are a real family. I'm sorry, father, but you are not indispensable: we live better without you. It pains me to say this, because, although you've always been severe, I know that you loved us, but now you've changed, and I can no longer let you harm me and the others. Get out of here, father. Get out of my life, and get out of my dream: I'm not afraid of you any more».
With a sharp sound Pitch was thrown back, expelled from the dream to return to reality, and he realized he was still beside the bed, gasping and bewildered by the sudden change of perspective; instinctively he clung to the Pureblood, looking for a firm support to rely on to recover, but, as soon as he touched its side, he heard it bucking and neighing in pain, and when he turned he found himself in front of a show as wonderful as terrible: the beast was dying.
Miserably defeat by its own victim it paid the mistake with its life, disintegrating in thin rivulets of fine sand which branched off from every spot of its body, stroking it gently before falling to the ground, but consuming it, slowly corroding every muscle and tendon like an acid erodes the metal; enchanted the Boogeyman stared at his servant in decline, letting the black sand now unusable cover himself, grasping the last spark of life burn out in those eyes of flame no more eternal, and hearing the desperate neighs being stifled by the creaking of the bones become as fragile as gypsum, and when these fell apart, rolling on the sheets and vanishing into the darkness, he couldn't endure any longer.
Feeling his strength failing he fell, slipping to the ground without a lament and collapsing sprawled against the dresser, careless of the awkward position he had taken, because the pain he felt in the chest was so stabbing he couldn't perceive anything else, then, panting with difficulty, he brought a hand to his heart, sinking his fingers into the shoulder just to relieve the aches, and he opened his mouth in a vain attempt to catch his breath.
After a few seconds he felt the girl stirring and sitting up, so he looked up and found her just turned toward him, but he noticed immediately that her eyes had something strange, and it didn't take long to him to figure out what's going on: she were no longer able to see him. The man was able to catch every single shade of those beautiful green irises veined with copper and gold, but these didn't linger on his dark figure, passing over, through his flesh to stare at the drawer's knob which was stabbing him and then sliding careless on other details of the room, to check that everything was in place: now Pitch had become invisible to the wild Sheridan, and he would have had to work hard and for long to hope to feed himself again on her fear.
An acute sob shook the Boogeyman's chest, making him start against the piece of furniture and jabbing even more those wooden sharp edges in his back, and his expression got deformed into a grimace of pure pain, but when his mouth opened what came out was a loud, sick and gurgling laughter: he had won. Oh, it had been so easy deceiving that Haunter, exploiting his own sensuality and authority to convince it to listen to him and flattering it with compliments and caresses to induce it to lower his guard, so simple rehashing the information in his possession, retaining the general characteristics in order not to be discovered, but making small changes to some details to distort them completely, so incredibly natural seeing it being consumed like a flash in the pan: now he had lost count of the Purebloods he had destroyed, driven to an involuntary suicide by the lies he had whispered in their ears, and he didn't encounter the slightest difficulties in accomplishing this self-imposed task. He was perfectly able to control his own thoughts, closing those concerning his plans in the dark recesses of his own consciousness, out of the reach of anyone but himself, and he expertly manipulated his servants' minds and moves: he would have soon be able to eradicate this horrible species, recalling every adult individual to wipe it from the face of the Earth in a light breeze, and at that point Jack would have been safe from the Nightmares.
A pang took his breath away at the memory of what had happened to his little snowflake just three days before, assailed by the infernal beast just when he was completely helpless and defenceless, and just when he was in one of the safest places in the world, and Pitch couldn't help but feel himself drowning in guilt again: he had been the one who had created the monster, the one who had refined its technique, the one who had lost sight of it, the one who hadn't spotted the danger, the one who had failed in destroying it. He had been the one who had made a mistake, the one who had awkwardly remedied to it, the one who posed a threat for his mere presence: he should no longer allow himself to dare, to stay close to the boy with the risk that the shadows could attack him again, nor he could let his most fearsome servants free to roam everywhere.
While he confused brush up on the project he had conceived while fleeing away from North's Palace, a very slight hum reached his ears, piercing and more and more intense, and he gasped, looking around to find a hiding place; discarding the cabinet, which, albeit comfortable, was much too far from him, he opted for the bed and, leaving himself literally fall on the floor, he began to crawl, painfully dragging his tired body.
Driven by the strength born of desperation he managed to reach the dark refuge, burrowing himself as best as he could among the boxes, the books and the other objects crammed under there, and while he was still settling down Baby Tooth burst into the room, taking advantage of the air passage to get around the closed door.
Trying to keep self-control the man froze, concentrating on the sound produced by the unwanted visitor's wings to understand where she was and in which direction she was turned to, and only when he was certain she had reached the other side room he dared to withdraw the foot, the only limb still uncovered; holding his breath he patiently wait for her to summarily rummage in every corner, slowly opening the palm to release the little magic sand left and wrap it around himself as a protection, and he nearly fell into a panic when he perceived her grab the blanket and pull it to browse even under the bed, but luckily for him the fairy contented himself with a quick peek, after which she flew away faster than a hummingbird.
Heaving a deep sigh of relief Pitch relaxed, but he still didn't dare to come out of the hiding place: Toothiana's little helper had clearly entered in there to look for him, and it was possible that she was lurking somewhere to surprise him, or that, more simply, she was still studying other areas of the house. What brought him to this conclusion was not only the absence of a plausible reason, for a creature who collected milk teeth, to pay a visit to an eighteen years old girl, but also the certainty he was wanted by the Guardians: these, in fact, had been hot on his heels right away, chasing him relentlessly over the three days which had passed since his escape and exploiting all their powers to find him. Such obstinacy was more than understandable to the Boogeyman, considering that Jack had seriously risked to die because of the accident of which he and only he had been the cause, and he would have gladly given himself to them and let himself being punished for that terrible default, but he couldn't do it now, not when so many Purebloods still wandered free in the world: he had to be sure to kill them before paying for its own negligence.
After he had carefully kept an eye out and made sure that no living being, apart from Sheridan and his four brothers, had lingered in that house, the man groaned, shifting with his foot a small wooden chest behind which he had got stuck and starting to crawl out of that uncomfortable refuge; after a tiring minute of pushing and puffing he finally managed to emerge and climb on the dresser, in order to avoid the risk of falling because of a lightheadedness, then he limped to the window to observe the neighbourhood, and what he saw astonished him.
Every street and house he could see had been literally invaded by swarms of chirping fairies, every field and garden was full of coloured eggs in motion, the night sky was lit by the innumerable creatures of golden sand's contrails, and in those few areas which seemed forgotten roamed patrols of Elves and even some lonely Yetis: evidently the Guardians were more hardened than he expected and they had decided to exploit their helpers to carry on the hunting.
Sighing heavily Pitch slumped against the shutter's frame: there was finally explained Voluptas' delay, that, despite being called more than two hours earlier, hadn't still showed up. As the intelligent creature it was it probably had not encountered difficulties in leaving the Palace, taking advantage of a little moment of distraction to slide away along secondary corridors, or exploiting the element of surprise and starting to gallop even before those present could realize what it was doing, but once outside it shouldn't have had it easy: simultaneously monitoring the sky and the ground was complex even for a beast as smart as it, and hiding its body, slender but equally impressive, had no doubt forced it to move with caution and significantly lengthen the path to get around the most dangerous areas. In the light of this the Boogeyman regretted not having stopped his transfers, finally realizing that he had confused his horse and compelled it to continuous double backs, but he dispelled his guilt in few seconds: continuing to search victims to destroy his Pureblood have the priority over everything, even on the welcoming of his favourite, and in the end having to mount the same Nightmares he wanted to kill had helped him to further improve his self-control.
At this point, however, he could no longer postpone the meeting, so he looked around to find a good place to wait for it; after a few minutes e spotted a tract of bushland particularly dark, which the group of hunters had already summarily combed, and he decided it was suitable for his purpose. Hobbling he reached the door, levered on the hinges to open it without letting it creak and he walked down the corridor, heading for the kitchen; manoeuvring among the chairs pushed aside and the children's schoolbags ready for the next morning he proceeded towards the exit, raising his robe in order not to get wet while he stepped over the dishwasher's open door and then flattening against the curtain to peek through its laces' holes; finally, sure the way was clear, he turned the handle and went out.
After cautiously descending the steps leading to the lawn he darted into the grass, dissolving himself only partially in order to glide more easily from shadow to shadow without getting tired, then, following at first a hedge and then a long fence, he managed to proceed smoothly up to the grove he was aiming to.
He stayed there, crouched between a rock and a wild boxwood, for an indefinite time, rather long, considering how the stars had moved throught the sky, but as short as a blink of an eye for his mind completely blank, but in the end a faint patter woke him from the slumber into which he had fallen. Raising his head over the foliage behind which he was hidden he glimpsed Voluptas walking solemnly among the logs in all its majestic beauty, but he didn't linger to admire it: he was far too tired to indulge in ecstatic observations, but, above all, far too overburdened by more important tasks.
Crawling under the fronds he got next to it, clung to its mane and, staring into its wide, golden eyes without pupils, he whispered: «Good, Voluptas. Have you struggled to reach me, haven't you? There's no road, around here, which isn't full of the Guardians' servants: you have been very good to get there without being glimpsed by them. Now you'll have to bring me in a small village on the west coast, the one perched on the cliff and with the row of coloured stilts on the beach, do you remember it? Right there. Now bend your legs a little, honey: I'm too tired to climb on your back».
Without rebelling or snorting the beast obeyed, bending its legs and pushing its nose on Pitch's backside to help him up, and this, albeit more awkwardly than usual, finally managed to get into the saddle. While he was still settling down, however, he heard heavy footsteps coming from a point behind him, and he exclaimed in a low voice: «We've been discovered! Let's get out of here!».
Without further ado he dug his heels into the horse's side, causing it to start at full gallop with a loud whinny, and this was the warning signal to all the hunters who were in the vicinity: the whole neighbourhood woke up, echoing with acute tweets grunts, bell trills and delicate ticks, and all these noises began to converge towards the woods. Spurring the Pureblood to a mad rush the Boogeyman guided it, deftly dodging every obstacle and log, and taking care to stay away from the hiss which announced the arrival of the Guardians' helpers, but soon he realized he had been surrounded and, unable to escape in the sky, where Sandman's golden sand was gathering more and more to floodlight the forest, he had to surrender and retreat.
Stretching out his arm he evoked a large amount of black sand, as much as he could recall in those few seconds which separated success from failure, then it threw it to a narrow fissure he had spotted among the rocks in front of himself and urged Voluptas to leap into it.
Not frightened at all the creature dashed into the crack, jumping to enter where it was larger, and when it landed it found itself in the main hall of Pitch's lair, on a narrow, raised platform well-hidden behind a giant stalactite.
Cautiously leaning out the Boogeyman saw that also that cave had been invaded, controlled on top by a small flock of fairies and on the bottom by very organized cohorts of eggs, but he didn't get worried: he had expected from the beginning a troop of guards, and, since he was in a place he was familiar with, he knew exactly how to evade the surveillance.
Before deciding what to do he tried to find the iron Globe, willing to study it in order to assess which part of the world visit, but when he saw a dozen Elves busy on climbing on it to play he had to admit defeat: those small creatures moved around continuously, preventing him from having a clear view of the lights which adorned it, and there was no way to shoo them without being noticed.
Feeling now exhausted the man decided to take a short break, just a few hours of rest to recover his strength and hope that Santa's helpers could find a diversion less annoying and hampering the mission he had imposed to himself, so, albeit reluctantly, he turned his horse and made it walk down a flight in ruins. Deftly avoiding any prying eyes he managed to reach a hidden entrance, proceed without problems through the maze of corridors which appeared in front of him and seal every opening with special spells, then he got into his bedroom, dismounted and collapsed on the mattress.
He remained in that position for some time, one arm hanging down and his face buried in the cold blanket which now didn't have any scent, trying not to think about anything except for rehearsing what were the most suitable houses to visit, but after a whole minute of continuous memory lapses he resigned and whispered: «I need to sleep, Voluptas. Stand guard for a few hours, then wake me: I don't want to risk losing too much time».
After making sure that the Pureblood had understood the command, nodded and taken position in front of the entrance, the man sighed, turning on a side to breathe more easily, then he closed his eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
«Wake up!» shouted a loud voice.
Wincing with fear Pitch opened his eyes, instinctively trying to sit up to look around, but, as soon as he raised his back, he felt something grab him by the neck and drag it back down; stunned he rolled his eyes, trying to familiarize with his surrounding, and what he saw left him speechless: he was in the centre of a large, circular room, the floor of stone adorned with runes arranged in concentric circles that which faded in the darkness, and heavy chains were tied to his limbs, considerably restricting his movements and forcing him into an uncomfortable crouching position.
While he was still trying to work it out he saw North, Sandman and Bunnymund emerging from the shadows and he exclaimed: «You!? You found me?».
«Don't you say?» scornfully asked the Pooka; «It took us a bit, but in the end we succeeded: we could have never allowed you to get away. Tooth, show him what he has missed, and make sure not to omit anything».
A vibrant wings' whirr announced the Boogeyman that Toothiana was behind him, but before he could even think to react he sensed her land next to his head and press her hands on his temples, and in that moment his sight went black.
While he arched to escape her grip he perceived also the other senses failing, leaving him in a state of absolute vulnerability and causing him to fall into a panic, but just when he feared he was about to go crazy a little light appeared in the distance, trembling a little, and then exploding in thousands of brilliant sparks. When he finally managed, a little by waiting and a little by blinking, to make the dazzling stain which had been impressed on the retina fade away, the man realized he was in his room at North's Palace, heated, as usual, by a crackling fire, and it took no time to him to find Jack lying sprawled on the blankets.
«Jack! Are you... how are you...?» he asked hesitantly.
The boy, however, ignored him, staring at the ceiling while hot tears run down his cheeks, and a few seconds later he had a spasm: pressing one hand on his stomach and one on his he mouth let out a heavy hiccup, then he lept down the mattress, grabbing a metal basin and leaning on it to vomit, while violent tremors shook his bony shoulders; before Pitch could reach him, however, he stood up, his eyes still full of tears, but his mouth perfectly clean, and he began to limp towards his lover, holding a bump far more bulky than the one he had until few moments before.
While the Boogeyman stared at him, puzzled, trying to understand the reason of the sudden change, he saw Frost stumbling and lose his balance and he lunged towards him to catch him, but just when he was sure he had him in his arms he distinctly felt him passing through himself, piercing it as he was made of air and violently falling on the floor, and he understood: this was not the reality, but the memory of an event already happened, and he, who had not been present at that time, had no way to change it, nor to interact with the characters in it.
With a suffering grimace on his face he turned and looked at the boy standing up by leaning against the bed's frame, feeling a pang every time he lost his grip and slid again to the ground and holding back a moan when he saw him giving up and starting to crawl; after few feet, however, this slumped again, wrapping his arms around his belly shook by contractions while screaming all its pain, and Pitch almost fainted when he heard him desperately asking for assistance and not receiving any answer: he had never felt so guilty in his entire life
Just when he was about to leap forward and try anyway to do something the scene faded, gliding into a new one set in the same place, but with two main characters: Jack sitting on a stool, and a small, faceless human being nestled on his lap.
«Where's Daddy?» asked the latter in a childish tone.
Pitch saw the boy's face clouding over, overwhelmed by sadness while he was probably looking for a plausible excuse to justify the absence of a figure so important, but just when his lips parted a violent tug brought him back into the room decorated with ancient symbols, and North blurted out: «Do not sweeten the pill, Tooth, he must know stained with guilt he is!».
After pushing away the fairy Santa Claus firmly grasped the chain tied around the Boogeyman's neck, pulling it up to tear it off the floor, then he did the same with those which trapped his wrists and ankles; without giving him time to recover he intertwined together the three connected to the upper part of his body, wrapping them around his forearm and dragging him on the ground, therefore, reached the outside, he threw them down and said: «Here, look at what you've done: look at your default's result».
Disentangling himself in that pile of metal rings and limbs bent in unnatural positions the man finally managed to turn around, and when he did he froze on the spot: in front of him loomed a small gravestone, and on it, under two little snowflakes, it was written: "Here lie forever Jack Frost and the child he has never been able to give birth to".
Unable to keep his self-control in front of a scene so annihilating Pitch screamed with all the strength he had, expressing the pain and despair he felt in a lament so sharp and strident to hurt even his own eardrums, and so shattering it didn't stop even when he managed to wake up, sitting up and emerging suddenly from that terrible nightmare. As soon as he realized he was still in his room, stiff and shivering on the bed completely drenched in sticky cold sweat and with his chest shaken by sobs, Voluptas came to his aid, going next to him and lovingly licking his left cheek, and he took heart a little: all the terrible visions he had had were just a bad dream, and they had never happened, or, rather, they hadn't happened yet.
Fallen prey to a blind fear the Boogeyman grabbed the Pureblood's muzzle, forcing it to bend down to stare into its eyes, then he stammered: «Voluptas! Voluptas, you're here... Jack... Jack is... I've been an idiot, an idiot! How could I abandon him? For three days I haven't heard anything about him, I would have had to keep an eye on him, check him from afar to see how he was! I cannot leave him like this, I had promised to help him, to make that belly he never wanted disappear, and yet I still haven't done anything: I have to go back, I have to see in what state he is and retrieve new tomes to read! I'll observe him without showing up, and I'll continue to destroy my Purebloods to make sure they couldn't hurt him, but I have to keep my promise before disappearing forever from his life: I cannot risk to let him suffer because of me, neither with my presence, nor with my negligence. Let's not waste time: bring me to him».
After rubbing his sweaty hands on the blanket, in order to avoid the risk of slipping, the man hugged Voluptas' neck, accepting more than willingly the help which had been quietly offered to him to stand up, then he climbed onto the mattress and, not without difficulty, he slid his right leg over the animal's rump, clinging to his mane to pull himself into the saddle. Without farther ado he spurred the horse, making it advance at a trot along the corridor and gradually dissolving the various protection spells he had previously raised, but when, at a crossroads, he guided it to the right, this put its hooves down, snorting and pulling towards the other direction.
Struggling against its stubbornness Pitch exclaimed, his voice cracked: «Voluptas, please, it's not the right time to throw a tantrum, we must go, we must take the corridor to the exit without being discovered... Voluptas!».
The reproaches, the threats and the tugs served no purpose: the Pureblood didn't want to obey the commands, and in fact, blatantly ignoring its rider, he walked along the other passage; too tired to fight the Boogeyman gave up, consoling himself with the fact that, albeit decidedly more uncomfortable, even this second route was safe to leave the lair without being noticed, and he dropped the reins, letting the rebel beast have its way.
After about a minute the two came out in a small cave, at the end of which, illuminated by the moon, was visible a narrow shaft leading to the surface, and the man blurted out: «Now tell me, how will we climb this? I was driving you in the opposite direction just to arrive at a most comfortable exit and avoid wasting my powers in unnecessary stunts!».
Visibly annoyed he dismounted, going right towards the duct to assess, in order to go up it, whether it was more convenient dematerializing themselves or evoke a platform of magic sand, and when he noticed a figure slumped on its bottom rolled his eyes and snorted: he had now lost count of the animals fallen down there, dying from their wounds or from starvation, and the mere idea of having to move yet another rotting corpse to clear a path filled him with disgust.
Praying it were an individual with horns or, at least, dead very recently, Pitch approached it, but soon, in the midst of the dry leaves which covered its body, he spotted a blue strip: a decidedly unnatural colour for a wild animal's fur. With anxiety growing in his chest he rushed towards that not identified pile, fell on his knees and started to dig, and in less than a second he found exactly what he feared most.
«Jack!» he shouted in a voice cracked with panic.
The boy, who had let himself being uncovered and embraced without a lament, turned the head dirty with mud and dust with difficulty, and he took a moment to allow his bloodshot eyes to focus on what was in front of himself, but when succeeded he brighten up and whispered: «Pitch... I knew you'd have come back...».
Trying to ignore the pain he felt the Boogeyman pulled him even closer to himself to observe him, checking with his irises if he had visible injuries and stroking him with the palm to see if he had suffered internal lesions, but when he arrived at his abdomen he stiffed: the little belly which had grown, much more swollen than it was when he had left him and always pleasantly warm, was as cold as ice.
Half closing his eyes to focus better the Man in the Moon leaned over the magic water's basin through which he could see everything, he moved his hand to recall the moonbeam he had used to illuminate Jack and then he whispered: «Oh, Pitch, Pitch, you've changed so much: I struggle to recognize you, and yet I find you more and more familiar».
Light footsteps accompanied by a slight metallic clang interrupted his trail of thoughts, inching closer along a secondary corridor, and when they got by his side a manly voice, but not particularly deep, said: «I've done what you ordered me, my lord: I moved Jack's staff on the top of a ridge which is visited only by small animals and I have instructed some moonbeams to guard him. If any child will dare to climb up there I will move it anywhere in no time. Do you need anything else?».
Without troubling himself to turn around the man smiled and murmured: «Very well. Come here and watch with me: the prodigal son is coming home».
Obeying without any hesitation the interlocutor reached him, placed a hand so white to seem shining in its own light on the base made of stone, in order not to lose balance, and leaned forward, peering closely at the liquid's surface; holding his breath to avoid rippling it, he stared at it for a long time, following with his eyes the image of Pitch wrapping Jack in a blanket, rushing up the shaft and then hastily jumping into Voluptas' saddle, and he commented: «He looks pretty worried».
«Oh, he is» replied the master of the house; «Jack is very weak, he fell for seventy feets before landing at the bottom of that shaft, and his belly is as cold as a piece of ice: he has every reason to be worried».
Wincing the other asked: «Did something happen to the baby?».
«No, no» promptly reassured him the Man In The Moon; «I would never let them die, especially for a stupid reason. Actually Jack's belly it is as hot as ever inside: I just cooled a little his skin».
«It was you!?».
«Yes» simply replied the man.
Perceiving a turmoil in his subordinate he turned to look at him, briefly examining his armour of steel and white gold and the spear he always carried around, then he remarked: «You look worried: do you have something to ask me?».
The warrior hesitated a long time before speaking, the light grey irises restlessly roaming along the floral decorations which adorned the pedestal next to which he stood, but in the end he managed to gather the courage and asked: «My lord, don't you think you overdid it?».
Raising an eyebrow to show all his perplexity and hide the annoyance that that question had caused him the master of the house ordered: «Explain yourself».
Taking a deep breath the other explained: «You forced Jack to give birth to the new Guardian without giving him any choice, you tied him up and beat him, you made him fertile in an almost traumatic way, you've been aggravating the symptoms of pregnancy and obstructed his every action, you never stepped forward to help him or Pitch to deal with the situation, and now this... isn't it too much? Wouldn't it have been better explaining them clearly what the world needs, or at least avoid raging on two creatures who were already suffering?».
«Since when did you start to become compassionate towards Pitch, huh, Nightlight?» mocked him the Man in the Moon; «The last time you met him you haven't been very understanding with him, or maybe you've already forgotten the battle we fought centuries ago? It's not time for mercy, nor for patience or affectation: it's time for action, and in order to achieve what we need we must be determined and resolute».
Coming at attention Nightlight answered: «I beg your pardon, my lord: I've been a fool. It's obvious that you've been thinking long and hard about how to move, and that you've well weighed the decisions and actions to be taken: I will never doubt you any more. I take my leave: it's nearly the time to check out the pools to extract the new moonbeams. For any requests, do not hesitate to call me».
After a deep bow the boy walked away without waiting for an answer, but the man didn't scold him: he was well aware that it was better not to delay too much the release of the new moonbeams, and, anyway, he knew that the other felt towards him solely and exclusively respect.
When she saw him entering the corridor, however, a shade of sadness crossed his face and he called out: «Nightlight!».
The other quickly turned, stepping forward to better show himself to his sight, and asked: «Yes, my lord?».
Firmly staring into his eyes the master of the house said: «There is a reason behind my actions: a very important reason, which is not the personal entertainment. For now I haven't yet explained much, because I've been busy growing the baby and keeping an eye on the situation, but soon I'll tell you everything and you'll finally understand. Do not betray me, Nightlight: stay close to me».
«I would never betray you, my lord, nor I would ever leave your side, for no reason at all» promptly assured the warrior.
After nodding the Man In The Moon dismissed him with a gesture, carefully following his light footsteps receding down the corridor, and when he was certain he had finally gone away he let out a deep and suffering sigh, turning with difficulty to peer the revealing water.
¹ In Italy the required age to officially gain the permission to take care of your young siblings is eighteen years old
I hope you liked this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment, if you want to. Next chapter will be published on the next Friday. Have a nice evening