Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but my internet has been a real bitch this week. I'll still be posting a new chapter on Tuesday, as scheduled, so no worries. Enjoy!
Arthur had done a lot more than explore the bar. He had strolled into the next room and met the sallow manager of the motel, questions memorized like a hymn. He knew Merlin had already briefly talked to the miser, but knowing Merlin (or remembering him, anyways) he often neglected certain tasks when something more interesting cropped up, as it had in the form of Mary Xhu.
He had knocked on the welcome counter, and sure enough the stalky man appeared from behind the curtain labelled EMPLOYEES ONLY, holding a dirty bible and smoking what Arthur could only guess was another cigarette.
"Hello," Arthur greeted with confidence, "I'm in room 203 – I was wondering if I could just ask–"
"Your friend already 'as," puffed the manager, his bloodhound-like eyes sweeping over Arthur as he continued to smoke.
"I know, I just wanted to know – the Tylers, do you know them well?"
"Everyone does," he answered curtly.
"How well do you know them?" pressed Arthur.
"Well enough," he replied without elaboration. Arthur stared him down until he continued.
"I know his father better than anyone else," he continued, blowing smoke from the corner of his tight-lipped mouth, "we used to be neighbors."
"Neighbors? Where?"
The manager shrugged, looking down at the bible in his hand when he said, "before Gillan."
Arthur narrowed his eyes, and had then continued to interrogate the manager. Soon he discovered, though, that the man wasn't too fond of being pestered by customers, so Arthur changed his tactic. Instead, he switched to idle conversation about the town of Gillan, broadening the subject to general inhabitants of the village. To this, the manager was much more open. Eventually the subject fell to Lily Fisher, the pregnant woman who had been bitten by the snake near the pond.
He was suddenly very closed about the subject, obviously defensive of his, whom Arthur found out to be, adopted daughter. Fisher was walking with him, in fact, when the incident had taken place. And the bite it had left over?
"Disturbin'. Teeth marks unlike an animal or reptile of any sorts."
Arthur thought long and hard about this and other formalities that night, as he laid down on the hard floor of the motel. He was trying to fall asleep as peacefully and distractedly as possible, as he was worried about being attacked by nightmares again and, more importantly, Merlin finding out he was having fits in his sleep.
Essie though… she troubled him. How she knew exactly what his nightmares entailed, he had no idea. He could only guess that she had witnessed him before, and that he may have let words slip as he experienced the constant doubts in his mind in the form of night terrors. She was perceptive. Too perceptive. Perceptive enough to make him incredibly uncomfortable.
He turned and punched his flat pillow into shape, then tried again to put himself to sleep. He glanced at the open window, its lace curtains dancing in the light breeze. Essie was sleeping directly under it, her face turned like she had fallen asleep gazing outside. Next to her, leaning against the wall, was his sword Excalibur, glinting in the moonlight.
He fell asleep almost peacefully staring at his sword, a sigh escaping his lips. He felt his body floating…
Suddenly his body went rigid, and he felt the overwhelming sensation of falling. He couldn't jerk himself awake, and for another rare time, Arthur Pendragon was afraid.
He saw again the faces of those he had loved and lost, and was forced to listen to the accusatory screams of his people. He knew them well, and their names tasted salty on his tongue. Arthur was twisted in his sheets as he tried vainly to escape the dead.
Then he felt a warm gentle hand placed on his clammy forehead, and relief poured like a flood into his mind. His heart beat slowed down a little as he heard a soft voice telling him to sleep. Arthur smiled, thinking of his perished mother.
The night sailed on tranquilly, and Arthur was, for the first time in what he could remember, peaceful.
Essie was almost too frustrated to speak. She watched with crossed arms as Merlin and Arthur readied themselves to go meet the Tylers, as she sat and chewed angrily on a dry bagel. She had gotten up extra early, her inner alarm clock jerking her awake as if someone had splashed ice cold water on her face. She had then gotten up and fetched breakfast, knowing the boys would complain for food the second their eyes opened. She had glared at Merlin sleeping peacefully on the bed, then frowned at the king who looked like he had been knocked out onto the floor.
About two hours later, both of them had woken up to a pot of lukewarm coffee and half-melted butter on cardboard bagels. They ate it without complaining, Essie's glare hot on their backs.
"I still don't get why I can't come," she said for the hundredth time, as she scowled at Merlin's smile he had tried in vain to make her crack a smile as well. He always did that but it never worked.
"We have to get as much done as possible, and quickly," Merlin fibbed, "We go see the Tylers, and you do some more research. You're better at research."
Essie knew he was saying that to make her feel better, but it didn't work. She simply continued to scowl.
Arthur didn't say anything to her, except a curt nod and goodbye as they both left in a hurry, eager to get to the Tyler abode before they were intercepted by nosy neighbors. Essie didn't nod or say anything back, but instead stared at the closed door, breathing silently in an empty motel room.
It was like déjà vu.
She sighed as she got up and gathered her things, preparing to go on a quest to find a computer, or any other form of technology that may aid her in her research. She grabbed a small pouch of home-picked juicy berries she had hidden from the boys in spite, her notepad, a few newspapers, and some pens. She was about to reach for her blue Arthurian storybook, but she hesitated. She eventually decided it wasn't worth taking with her.
She left the room with her materials in a small satchel and a stick of gum in her mouth. She muttered a string of curse words as she struggled to lock the door behind her, and her curses simply grew louder when she dropped the rusty keys.
"Well, well, well."
Essie whipped around and nearly fell over when she bumped into someone. She looked up and saw a familiar face chuckling at her profuse apologies.
"If I knew I was going to run into you again I would have dressed better," came a fluid voice. Essie blushed darkly.
"N-Nickson?"
"From the thrift store, yes. Hi."
"Hi," Essie stuttered, straightening herself out and shaking his outstretched hand. His fingers lingered on hers as she pulled away shyly.
"What are you doing, lingering in Gillan? I thought you were on your way to Winchester?"
"Just a brief pit stop… we're just staying a bit longer for my birthday" she lied easily, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. She pulled out the unchewed stick of gum as she drew back her hand, and dropped it in her satchel without him noticing.
"Oh, well, happy birthday!"
"Th-thanks."
"How old, if you don't mind me asking-?"
"No, not at all!"
There was a pause, and he raised his eyebrows waiting for her response before Essie sputtered, "21! I'm turning 21."
Essie felt the heat in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face as she chewed her lip. She cursed herself for not just chewing her gum. It would've been so suave.
"How about you? What are you doing in Gillan?"
"I live here," he replied obviously, "a little down the street, near the pond… I work at the pharmacy."
"Oh." Essie nodded, unsure of what else to say. He glanced down at her notepad which she was clutching so hard to her chest.
"What's that for?" he tried. Essie raised her eyebrows, and looked down at her weathered notepad.
"I – I sketch," she blurted out. She mentally kicked herself – she could've said anything else, and she went with drawing.
"Oh, cool, so do I. Can I see?"
"No," she said too quickly, before recovering and saying, "I don't like showing them to anyone."
"Understandable," he smiled, which Essie returned airily.
"I, er," she cleared her throat as she looked nervously to her feet, remembering herself, "I actually need – something, erm – do you know where I can find a computer?"
He exhaled sharply as he squinted, thinking hard. Essie found herself absent mindedly smiling again.
"There should be one in the motel employee room," he told her, scratching the back of his head, "I can give you access."
"You can?"
"Sure, I know Martin personally, so he shouldn't mind."
"Martin?"
"The motel manager."
"Oh."
He smirked and gestured for her to follow him. Abandoning the door, she followed him to the stairway, as he continued to try and make conversation.
"What do you want the computer for, anyway?"
Essie inhaled and answered, "just a bit of research about Gillan, you know."
"How come?"
"It's – interesting."
"Right, well," he shrugged as they skipped down the flight of stairs, "if you wanna know a good place to have a birthday, you bet is probably in Winchester. They have some restaurants, at least."
"Yeah, that's what I'm researching – venues," muttered Essie.
"What?"
"Nothing."
They exited the stairs and ended up in the lobby again, Martin the manager sitting behind the counter like he had never budged in years.
"Martin, old man," greeted Nickson.
"Hello, Nick," he returned gruffly, as he scribbled something down in a small notepad.
"I was wondering if we could borrow the computer – We just wanna search up a couple of things."
Martin looked up to his then peered at Essie, raising a heavy eyebrow.
"We won't be long."
Martin looked to Nickson, trusting his gleaming sea-blue eyes. He puffed a cloud of smoke, before nodding.
"Thank you."
He gestured for Essie to follow him again, and they both stepped behind the counter and into the EMPLOYEES ONLY room.
It was dark inside, and it smelled like old bananas. Essie spied numerous newspaper clippings pasted to the wall, mostly small headlines concerning the motel's history, and some about locals. They were yellow and peeling under the dim incandescent light.
"Here," ushered Nickson, pointing to the dinosaur computer on a small desk in the corner. It was bigger than her TV box at home, Essie remarked. She sat on the creaky chair and clicked the mouse a few times, bringing the computer screen to life. Blue light flooded the small room.
"Wow," she breathed, as Nickson leaned by her, brushing against her shoulder. Essie glared straight ahead, her mind on task and refusing to budge. She slid her mouse and waited for the internet to connect, before turning to Nickson and saying, "Thanks for helping me find a computer. I can handle myself now."
"I'm sure you can," he got back up, grinning unabashedly, "call me if you need anything else, alright?"
Essie blushed and looked away, before reminding him, "I don't have any means of calling you."
"Oh, yeah," he chuckled, "you ran away before we could exchange numbers, right?"
Essie didn't reply as she typed in her local library search engine into the taskbar.
"Here," he took one of her pens which she had placed next to the computer, and scribbled a string of numbers on the corner of a newspaper, "my offer still stands."
"Thanks," Essie mumbled, stalling her mouse before she could type in any keywords which had nothing to do with venues in Winchester. He left silently, and Essie's ears pricked with the familiar sensation of uneasiness sliding around in her stomach. She gulped as she typed in 'shapeshifter' and 'mythology' into the search bar. She always assumed anything like these cases that concerned Merlin and Arthur had something to do with myths.
Hundreds of results cropped up. Essie rubbed her chin and added the word 'water'. The search narrowed down a little, but not enough for her to find anything relevant. She thought long and hard again, and decided to erase 'mythology' and replace it with 'folklore.'
Sirens, of course, dominated the majority of the results. As she skimmed through the list of ebooks and online material Cameron's local library could offer, something caught her eye. One of the results was purple instead of blue. Suspicious, she brought up the result which must have been clicked on before.
The material was about German folklore, specifically concerning very small bodies of water. She scrolled through it idly, pulling out her notebook to make a few notes about water conditions suitable for different creatures. Turned out Gillan's little pond met all the specifications, except maybe one – an abundance of prey.
She continued to scroll when another word in the text stood out. She noticed it was also purple, the word being nixe. She clicked on it, but the internet was slow so it took forever to load.
"What the hell…?" she muttered to herself as she waited, curious as to why these sources had already been visited on this computer. She could only guess someone was researching whatever could be dwelling in the lake aside from her.
She had a sudden idea. She opened a new tab and pulled up the website history of the computer. She waited for it to load, and when it finally did, she gasped.
Nearly all the results had to do with not only the pond and possible dwellers, but also numerous residents of Gillan whose names she recognized from her perusal of old newspapers. She examined a couple of the ones she brought with her, losing Nickson's number as she flipped through the worn pages. Most of the names were here, and all the ones that were had been attacked by whatever was in that lake. Lily Fisher, Cindy Wallow, and, most recently, Austin Tyler.
She looked back at the web page that had finally loaded in the other tab. When she opened it up, all the answers were suddenly very clear.
She took a few hurried notes, excited to show Merlin and Arthur when they got back from what she selfishly hoped was a fruitless interrogation. She was scribbling the abundance of information when she heard a sudden loud thump of a door snapping open behind her.
She whipped around, heart in her throat. It was Martin the manager.
"You done in here?" he asked gruffly, glaring at her notes and messy newspapers. Essie was frozen, her eyes sliding to the cigarette tray by the computer, and the very recent ashes inside. Alarm bells started going off in her head, telling her to get the hell out.
"I – yes, I am," she said slowly, her eyes sliding back to his stalky figure. Only his bloodshot eyes were clearly visible in the low light. Essie gulped and gathered her things, taking care to close her web pages and quickly erasing her history as she left, careful not to leave any traces. She did this very quickly, as she had been very used to doing just this so long ago.
"Thanks for the computer, it was very… resourceful," she stammered, beginning to gather her papers. Martin shuffled nearer, looking over her shoulder. Essie noticed and hastily grabbed her open notebook. Martin raised a thick eyebrow.
"I'll just be –"
He suddenly grabbed her forearm, just around the scar from boating accident Merlin had saved her from. She winced, gripping her things to her chest.
"Whatever you were doing here, just know this," he muttered to her, his thick ungodly breath blowing directly into her face, "this town ain't a pixie. Everyone's got secrets, so keep our head down… or pay the consequences. Understood?"
Essie nodded, noting his sudden accent change. She narrowed her eyes, and shook him off.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said coolly, trying to play it like she wasn't the least bit shaken up. She stalked out of the room, then proceeded to run as soon as she was out of his earshot. He stood in the dark room lit mostly by the blue computer screen alone, glaring at the seat she had vacated. She had left something behind.
He smiled to himself, snickering.
Do review! Cheers.