The Silverchurch Mystery - Part 11
Thanks to Mrow, Swampy, and MrCoopy for reviewing.
= Be John Egbert
You are John Egbert. Which means that you were at one point having an incredibly bizarre nightmare. It was so vivid, almost like it was actually happening. You and Miss Pyrope were running through the woods together, being chased by a terrible, wolfish beast! It had almost gotten you a couple times, but luckily you'd had been able to pull a fast one on it, like Houdini's slippery ghost.
Speaking of ghosts, what happened after the terrifying chase was paramount to pure ridiculousness. Vaguely, you recall escaping from the monster by hiding in the silver church and then there had been this hole in the ground, an old as shit pipe organ, and of course... the spooky ghost.
At the moment, you're laying flat on your back, the cold and unyielding surface of the floor pressing up into your sore shoulder blades. Your head is absolutely killing you, pulsating with the worse headache you've ever felt, as if someone has stuck a fork in the side of your head and stabbed deep enough to scratch at your very brain. What's worse is that you're pretty sure sleeping on the floor like this is going to give you serious back troubles later in life, and that's the last thing you need.
A gentle voice pierces your hazy veil of pain like a dull axe, only worsening your headache.
"Doo wop. Doobie doo wop. Doo wop do waahh. Blue days, black niiiiiights. Doo wop, do wahhhh..."
The rest of the song fades away above you.
Miss Pyrope must have been taking some singing lesions behind your back, or perhaps she's having a concert on the roof? You wouldn't put it past her, the little devil. You decide you'll finally give her a piece of your mind later; you're more than a bit upset that you weren't invited to her concert.
Opening your eyes, you fully expect to see the crisscrossing rafters that support the ceiling of your office back at four-thirteen. Instead you're greeted by the high arches of a church, and floating among the arches, is none other than the silvery apparition from your dream.
It all comes back to you quickly. The events of the past few hours have not been a stress-induced fever dream, but real life things that, against all odds, have actually happened. You're currently in the silver church, Miss Pyrope has disappeared below ground to do god knows what, and- fuck. You think you're going to cry.
The ghost hums lazily to itself- er, herself, as the specter is most decidedly feminine in nature. Every once and a while, words will come from her mouth, actual song lyrics, before descending back into incoherent hums, as if she's trying to sing a song who's words she's long-since forgotten. You must let out a little whimper, or sniffle, or something else horribly un-masculine, since she suddenly notices you and stops singing.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" She drifts lazily down from the sky, her voice a perfect monotone. "I thought you'd never wake up."
"I- I…" You stammer.
"You look distraught. Are you afraid?" She asks, as if she won't be troubled either way.
Words are a little beyond you at the moment, so you just settle for a feverish nod. Perhaps your brutal honesty will win her over? For the first time, the ghost smiles and you can't tell if that's a good thing or not. She could be smiling because she's friendly, but then she could also be smiling at the total beating she's about to give you with, like, a ghost baseball bat or something.
Whatever her reasoning would be behind giving you a beating, you have no idea. Maybe for breaking into her ghost home and passing out on the floor. Whatever her sinister plan is though, you just hope she gets it over with soon.
God you're so tired.
"It's funny." She alights, half an inch above the floor by your side. "I'd think that you'd be less afraid in here. All the real monsters are outside, after all."
"Y-yeah."
"But then again." The ghost continues, musing. "This old place has a few monsters of it's own, doesn't it? Everywhere does."
With some difficulty, you push yourself into the sitting position, careful to keep your broken hand cradled against your gut. You would need a sheet of paper a mile long to list all the places on your body that hurt, but fortunately no such paper exists, you haven't got the time or energy to write so much. Instead, you settle for closing your eyes briefly and letting out a low moan.
The ghost watches you.
"Are you… being metaphorical with me right now?" You wonder. "Or are there actually monsters in here?" She responds by gesturing silently to herself. "Oh. I see. Well, in that case, I think I'll be going now."
You attempt to rise, but your wobbly legs protest vehemently. It's when you've gotten yourself onto a half-kneel that you feel yourself beginning to tip over onto your side, like a bicycle that's been left without it's kickstand. The ghost reaches out to steady you, which you think is a little weird, but you accept it quickly as her fingers dig into your shoulder and keep you upright.
"I wouldn't move just yet." As quickly as she had grabbed you, her hand retreats. "You're obviously in shock. If you try to leave now you'll only hurt yourself more."
"How did you do that?" You're looking warily at where her fingers made contact with your coat. "I mean, ghosts aren't supposed to be able to touch things, right?"
"It takes some effort, but…" She reaches out and presses her palm against your chest, shoving you back onto your tail bone painfully. "Oops sorry. I didn't mean that."
"It's fine, really." You wince. "Just… how about we don't touch from now on?" She raises a ghostly eyebrow. "It's not you! I mean, not entirely. It's just- strangers and stuff. Personal distance."
"You really are out of sorts, aren't you?" Folding her legs, the phantom curls in the air and rests her chin idly in her hands. "People don't typically react this way when they see me."
"How do they react?"
"As you could probably imagine. Usually there's a lot of screaming and calling the town priest to conduct a cleansing of evil spirits. That's always interesting to watch. If I had to make a guess right now though, I'd say that you're going to fully process this in about five minutes, and then that's when the screaming will start."
"I'm actually feeling a little better now. " And you do. The more you talk to this ghost lady, the slower your heart races. It's currently no longer attempting to punch it's way out of your chest. Maybe it's the way she's acting or your muddled brain, but you don't think she's going to attack you any time soon. "What's your name?"
The ghost gives you a blank stare.
"Er- what do I call you?" You try again.
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters! Exchanging names is the first step on the road to friendship!" You offer her your hand. "And I've never been friends with a ghost before. My name's John. I'm new."
The ghost takes your hand and grips it firmly. It's an odd experience, shaking hands with a ghost, a little bit like grabbing a rubber glove full of ice water.
"You can call me Aradia, since that's what's written on my tombstone. I don't identify very much with that name however. It belonged to… the old me."
"The you that was alive?"
"In some ways."
"You enjoy being cryptic, don't you?"
"On occasion. In this particular situation though, things are simply just too complicated to explain. Being dead has it's perks, John, one of which is an abundant amount of time for introspection. I've learned more about myself as a ghost than I ever did as a person."
"You're still a person!" You argue, already taking a liking to Aradia the ghost. "You're just… different."
Aradia shakes her head.
"You're different." She says. "Terezi Pyrope is different. I am something else entirely, and not ashamed. What's the point in being afraid of who you are when nobody cares in the first place?"
"Oh man!" Only part of what she said registered with you. "Miss Pyrope! In all this excitement, I completely forgot about her. She went down into that hole ages ago."
You indicate the hole in question. Nothing about the dark space has changed, although now that you've noticed your boss is yet to return the blackness below seems infinitely more sinister and threatening. If something happened to Miss Pyrope while you were up here napping and chilling with ghosts you… you don't know what you'd do.
"Uhm, Aradia." You rub the back of your neck. "You wouldn't happen to know what's down there, would you?"
Aradia regards the hole disdainfully, as if the missing pieces of floorboard somehow offend her personally.
"The snooty-looking man with his fancy clothes and pretentious attitude goes down there often, hiding secrets, plotting, committing evils. I would not go down there if I were… dammit, are you even listening to me?"
You've already clambered to your feet and gingerly approached the edge of the chasm. From a few feet away, the hole appears to stretch down to the very center of the earth, but upon closer inspection, you can see that there is a steep slope that runs directly beneath the church, incredibly steep, but a slope nonetheless. You could traverse it easily if you had a grappling hook, or if you were Miss Pyrope and just didn't give two shits.
Jumping headfirst into god knows what, honestly, what is wrong with that woman?
"I've got to go down there." You proclaim, the quiver in your voice not quite matching the steadiness of your resolve. "If you're telling the truth, then Miss Pyrope could have accidentally walked into something really nasty. She really should be back by now too. She told me that she'd be back."
"I only know what I've heard." Aradia floats by your side. "I've never been down there myself. I cannot leave the confines of this church."
"Are you sure? I mean, have you ever tried?"
"Well, no. I've never tried before, why would I ever want to?"
"Because there's lots of stuff out there to do besides hang out in this dusty old church all the time. How do you know that you can't leave if you've never even tried?"
"I just know, alright? Those are the ghost rules."
"Sounds like bullshit to me." You squat down near the edge and gingerly begin the arduous process of lowering yourself below ground. Every bone in your body creaks dangerously as you bend and twist, gripping the floorboards as your shoes scrabble at the dirt wall of tunnel, trying to find purchase. "I could- umph- really use your help." You grumble, ridiculously teetering half above and half below ground.
"What could I possibly do to assist you?" Aradia folds her arms and watches you with disinterest. "Also: why?"
"You could help me because, in all honesty, I have no clue what the hell I'm doing." You gasp. "Also you and I are pretty much frieeEEEEEEEEEENNNNDDDDSSS!"
The last word of that sentence turns into a startled shout, as your arms suddenly decide to give out and you find yourself sliding backwards into darkness. The hole in the church floor turns quickly into a small disc of moonlight as you speed away down the bumpiest, roughest, least-fun slide that you've ever had the pleasure of riding.
All too soon, and with incredibly painful results, the slope abruptly shits to flat ground and you find yourself sprawled out on the hard dirt floor of a subterranean cave. Now that you think about it, you probably should have looked around the church for some rope or something, anything that you could use to lower yourself down gently.
Oh well. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.
You probably won't be able to go up the same way you came down. Hopefully you'll find Miss Pyrope soon. Being trapped alone below ground is definitely on your list of least favorite things to do.
"That was impressive. Are you an athlete or something?" Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look to see Aradia drifting down the tunnel after you. "Or perhaps you're just naturally graceful?"
"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not." You respond honestly.
"Here's a hint: I'm definitely being sarcastic."
"Oh." Groaning, you climb to your feet and dust yourself off. "Look at this though: you're outside the church! I guess you aren't bound to one specific location like you thought you were. Ghost rules really are bullshit."
"Apparently so." Aradia looks away from you and further into the cave. "The tunnel leads that way."
"How can you tell?" You squint into the shadows. "I can't see a thing down here."
And you can't. Aradia's the only thing giving off a bit off light, and that's only her ghostly aura. Down here, you're pretty much as blind as Miss Pyrope, minus the years and years of training dedicated to navigating the world without sight. You're screwed unless you drum up a light source quick.
"I have ghost night vision." Aradia explains simply. "Sometimes when I'm bored, I'll look out the church window and watch the townsfolk from afar. They all really are pathetic people."
"Hey! Some of those pathetic townsfolk are my friends."
"Friends." She repeats. "Like… me?"
You've begun rummaging through Miss Pyrope's bag again, still luckily hanging from your shoulder, but you look up to cast a quick glance at Aradia. She doesn't look bashful or embarrassed or even all that interested. If you had to label her as anything, you'd say that she's just casually curious about the state of your relationship.
Apparently she had heard your scream as you tumbled away into the unknown.
"Yeah, you're my friend too." You find what you're looking for: the raggedy matchbook. "And I'm yours. We're all friends."
"I haven't had friends in a long while." She informs you.
"Well you can't say that anymore!" With a flick, you illuminate the cave. The tiny match struggles feebly, an orange star amidst a sea of black. "Come on. I want to find Miss Pyrope and get out of here as soon as possible."
"Sure."
Together, you and Aradia set off, following the path of the tunnel. The ground is flat and smooth, while the walls and ceiling are sharply curved and composed of jagged rocks and the tail ends of long roots, probably belonging to trees two dozen yards above your head. Someone or someone's have obviously taken quite a bit of time and care to prepare this secret tunnel and the further you travel it's length, the more you begin to think that you might be in over your head. This thing is a real piece of work!
"So, Aradia." You have to pause to light another match. "You've been up in that church for a long while, right?"
"Time is an arbitrary invention that no long matters to me, in the grand scheme of things."
"Uh- I'll take that as a yes. So then you must have seen the guys who made this tunnel. Was it that snooty fellow you keep mentioning?"
"As a matter of fact," Aradia scowls. "It was. The pompous fool spent many months excavating under the church, making a terrible racket. He owns the land, of course, so no one ever came to put an end to his little project."
"Eridan." You mutter.
"Is that his name? Seems fitting. He comes through the church a few times a week. Like I said, I've never been down here before, but he sure does waste a lot of time doing whatever it is he does, dark magic most likely."
"All of this information really would have come in handy like five minutes ago."
"You didn't ask before."
"Yeah, but…" Your second match flickers out and you quickly fumble for another. "I shouldn't have to ask! I'd hope that you'd just share relevant information like that when I'm about to go exploring mysterious caverns and stuff."
"Excuse me for not reading the situation well enough for your liking. I don't exactly strike up conversation with people that often."
"Have you ever talked to Eridan?"
"Of course not. Why would I? I've seen him come and go enough to know that he and I wouldn't jive well. I feel the same about all the other Silverchurch-ians. I only talked to you tonight because you looked about as close to death as possible when you and Terezi Pyrope stumbled through my doors."
"You know Miss Pyrope though?" You recall Aradia mentioning her by name earlier.
"I know of her." Aradia shrugs her ghost shoulders. "Everyone knows of her."
You press the hand not in charge of your match to your forehead, cradling the poor throbbing mass of confusion and pain. Your headache is getting worse and you seem to be no closer towards the end of this tunnel, or anything for that matter. Out of everything in the world you could wish for at the moment, more than anything else you just want to sleep, mull everything over, and talk to Miss Pyrope about… well, everything.
"First murders and monsters, then seers and stakeouts, and now ghosts and secret tunnels! I don't know how much more I can take, Aradia. I really don't." You drag your hand down your face, stretching the skin. "Blech. I just want it all to be over. I just want to turn a corner and see an exit and- OOOFFF!"
You walk nose-first into flat, stone wall and rebound like a basketball, staggering backwards into Aradia, who catches you in her frigid arms. The purple mess that was once your nose begins to ooze blood once more.
"You were saying?" Prods Aradia, dryly.
Raising the match over your head, you adjust your glasses back on your nose and investigate the new obstacle. You have, quite coincidentally, indeed reached a corner in the path. A right turn, as sharp as a knife, is the only way forward now. Quickly, with a stubborn glimmer of hope still riding in your chest, you follow the new path with Aradia hot on your trail.
The darkness begins to fade, the ground begins to slope downward once more, but you're too intrigued to fully notice. Suddenly, to your great surprise and pleasure, the tunnel explodes outwards into an underground cavern, larger than the silver church you left behind up above.
You come to a slow halt at the end of the tunnel. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the sudden presence of light, but you don't have time to wait. Your eyes are blown wide in an attempt to take in everything you can lay your eyes on. The match you're still holding burns down to a crisp and singes your fingers, but you scarcely care now. You simply drop it to ground and look to Aradia. The ghost is floating by your side, scanning the room as well.
"So, what did you say about Eridan and dark magic?" You ask.
The cavern is home to what can only be described as Tesla's laboratory crossed with the sanctum sanctorum. The walls are lined with aging books and candelabras, whilst the center of the room is home to many steel tables laden with all sorts of scientific equipment. A large, wiry antenna, positioned above a bulky plinth, stretches up towards the ceiling and seems to vibrate with an electric charge. A lightning rod, perhaps? There isn't a skylight to the surface that you can see, so what Eridan could possibly be using that for is currently beyond you.
Aradia sighs.
"You know, I didn't actually believe Eridan practiced dark magic. That was- like, a poor attempt at a joke." She admits, then mutters under her breath: "An underground lab, honestly."
Smooth stone steps lead from the mouth of the tunnel down to the cavern floor and you descend as quietly as possible, despite you and Aradia apparently being only people- er… souls in the place. Something about the laboratory, a particular aura maybe, urges you to tread lightly and avoid making too much noise, like maybe a shrewd librarian will jump out from behind one of those cabinets and shush you for being too loud.
"Do you know what any of this stuff is?" You ask, examining a large flask resting on a workbench, bubbling with some purplish solution.
"These books are written in gnomish." Aradia answers, scrutinizing a few books on one of the nearby shelves.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Gnomish is an ancient language created by the scholarly gnomes of the thirteenth century. I used to be able to read it." She frowns, white eyes growing more unfocused, if such a thing is even possible. "Used to…"
"Well there's no harm in trying to read it again, huh?" You abandon the workbench and join Aradia. A large, leather-bound book with strange symbols written down the spine catches your eye and you point to it. "What does that say?"
Aradia holds her face close, mere inches from the book's spine.
"Woodland…" She begins deciphering with some difficulty. "Woodland h-herbs and… Aquatic-"
"Aquatic spices to counteract impotency. Ha!" A certain someone finishes from your side. You wheel to see a pair of angry red sunglasses standing uncomfortably close. "Not the type of book you'd like sitting out on your coffee table. Hehehe."
"Miss Pyrope!" You screech, flinching away in surprise. "For fuck's sake! Stop sneaking up on me like that. I'm half dead already."
"Oh, a few more grey hairs won't do you any harm. Hehe" Your employer grins and swiftly reaches up to scratch at your scalp. "What are you doing down here, John. I told you to wait up in the church."
"You didn't come back!" You angrily swipe her hand away. "I had no idea what you were doing. You could have walked right into a trap!"
"I'm mildly flattered by your concern." Drawls Miss Pyrope with a tone that clearly insinuates otherwise. She turns her attention back to the bookshelf and runs her fingers up and down the spine of another book. "But there's no need to worry that unusually large head of yours. As always, I've got everything one hundred and ten percent within grasp. We'll have to address that hero complex of yours later though, my dear assistant. It's bound to get you into trouble one of these days. Who's your new friend?"
You splutter for a second, caught between arguing with this ridiculous woman and demanding that she answer some of your long-wondered questions. Eventually, it's your subordinate nature that wins out.
"This is Aradia. She's a ghost." You introduce glumly. "Aradia meet Miss Pyrope. She's a real jerk."
"A ghost?" Miss Pyrope snaps away from the books quick enough to stir up a small breeze. "You don't say."
"It's true. I exist in the realm between realms." Aradia speaks likes she's reading from a cue card. "It's nice to finally meet you, Terezi Pyrope."
"Come here, you lovely creature. Let me get a feel for you." With a grin nearing uncomfortable levels of pleasure, Miss Pyrope extends both her hands as if trying to preserve a pool of water. Aradia ponders for a moment, and then dutifully places one of her own hands in the detective's palms. "Ha! Amazing. A true level seven ghost!" Miss Pyrope gently turns Aradia's hand over and over in hers. "A spirit composed of pure ectoplasm, encased in a malleable shell of ethereal energy. Oh the stories you can probably tell. How old are you, may I ask?"
"Time is an arbitrary invention…"
"Booooo." Jeers Miss Pyrope sourly, releasing Aradia. "You're one of those ghosts, huh?"
"Not so fun being on the receiving end of all that cryptic mumbo jumbo, is it?" You can't help but elbow the detective in the ribs gently. Miss Pyrope shoots you a glare, missing by a few inches.
"It simply doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." Explains Aradia simply.
"It matters to me!" Argues your employer.
"I've lived in the silver church for too long to remember, before you ever arrived on the scene, detective. I've picked up tales about your exploits and I have no desire to become another one of your projects."
"Someone's got a chip on their ghost shoulder." Miss Pyrope sneers. She twirls her cane like a baton and marches away towards the center of the room, motioning for you to follow. "If I had known what kind of night this was going to turn out to be, I'd have packed a lunch. Sheesh! To think, I've combed every inch of this town looking for things worth my interest and the last place I would have ever thought to look, the lame-ass silver church, is actually a veritable gold mine! A secret underground laboratory and a ghost living upstairs! Ha! What do you think, John?"
"Um. About what, Miss?" You question.
"'About what, Miss' He says!" Miss Pyrope cackles. "About everything, you dunce. While you've been screwing around with the undead, I've been doing my actual job. You know, investigating? I've drawn up a rough conclusion, something I'll have to explore later, but I'm interested to hear what you're thinking. So what's tickling your brain there, mister?"
You take a moment to wrack your brains as Miss Pyrope moves about the room, poking at this and that, and waiting for you to answer. Aradia has chosen to remain over by the books and is attempting to decipher some of their meanings, so you won't be getting any help there.
"That's a good question." You eventually non-answer. "I mean, it certainly seems like it all has to fit in somehow. The murders and the monster, then this lab. What if…"
"What if?" Miss Pyrope urges.
"What if Eridan is our culprit! What if he was experimenting on himself and accidentally mutated himself into some type of wolf-man. Then, every night he transforms, loses control, and just starts murdering people. Miss Pyrope, we have to help him!"
The edges of Miss Pyrope's lips quirk in opposite directions, causing her mouth to look remarkably like a sideways letter 's'.
"John." She says. "That has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"What do you mean? It makes sense, right?"
"Not in the slightest." Aradia chimes in from across the room.
You feel heat beginning to rise in your cheeks, creeping up your ears.
"Well excuse me for speaking my mind." You snap. "You asked what I thought and I told you. It makes sense to me. It would explain why no one has seen beast during day time and why it just came out of nowhere."
"Yes but it's honestly the most ridiculous theory I've ever heard about anything." Miss Pyrope pats you on the shoulder. "It's alright. If everyone was a super detective, then there'd be no assistants. I appreciate your input, but I'm looking for something a little more practical, more blatant. What are some of your observations?"
You scan the room, frustrated, tired, and pained. Tonight has been so thoroughly shitty, you can scarcely muster the energy to care anymore. With a grunt, you wave at the largest object in the room.
"There's a lightning rod or something right over there." You indicate. "Is that blatant enough for you?"
"Indeed." Miss Pyrope taps her cane towards the center of the room and locates the base of the antennae-like structure. "It's definitely mechanical and it definitely runs off electricity, but a lightning rod this is not."
Despite yourself, you're still pretty interested to watch the detective work. She walks around the large pedestal that the antennae is mounted on, feeling it's smooth surface with her fingers. It's as she feels along the side nearest to the door that she finds it: a small trap door fitted into the side of the large box.
"Screwdriver please." She extends her hand in your direction and, after a moment of searching through her bag, you pass her the requested tool.
With nimble fingers, she slots the tip of the screwdriver under the edge of the small door and flips it open. Inside is a console, that much you can easily tell, which folds out on a small tray. Knobs, switches, little gauges, and even a keyboard from a typewriter are attatached to the machine like some sort of control station.
"What is it?" You ask.
"Some sort of control station, you idiot."
Miss Pyrope runs her finger over one of the gauges, taps randomly at a few keys, and then cranes her neck as if examining at the antenna that stretches up towards the distant ceiling.
"But other than that… I don't know." She eventually mutters. "Draw a sketch, would you?"
"Er- of course."
You pull a notebook and pen from Miss Pyrope's bag and take a seat on the floor as she marches away again, her smile gone. Something about this machine gave her the creeps, you can tell. How she got such an impression by just fooling around like she did, you'll never know, but you're inclined to trust her intuition.
You better draw the machine and it's accompanying control panel quickly. The sooner you get out of here, the better. If whatever this is makes her uncomfortable, you can only imagine what it would do to a normal person.
"Alright, Miss Pyrope." You draw the final lines of your sketch. "I'm all done now."
"Good work." She smiles and cracks her knuckles. "Now, I say that's enough snooping around mysterious caves for one night. What do you say? Wanna head back to the house and compile our evidence?"
"Sure! As long as that beast isn't waiting for us as soon as we step foot outside."
"Check your watch." She commands. You do so and see that it is well past seven-o-clock in the morning. You've been out and about the entire night. "I'd say we're safe now. Whatever that thing was, it's gone home hungry with it's tail between it's legs and a nice reminder not to screw with us. Ha!" She jabs her cane in the air for emphasis. "Come, John. On your feet."
You jump up and stand with Miss Pyrope in the center of the room.
"Heh, so uh- how do we get out of here? I don't think we can go back up the tunnel through the church."
"Not without a grappling hook." She agrees.
"Have no fear, warm bodies." Aradia calls from her position over by the bookcase. She grabs one book in particular, a slender green tome, and pulls it from the shelf. The whole display swings open like a door, revealing a secret passage. "I think I may have found the back door."
"A secret passage behind the bookcase." You grin. "Aradia, you're a genius!"
The ghost smiles.
"I'm a little surprised that you didn't think to look here, detective." Aradia comments, as the three of you enter the passage. You're sure the pull the bookcase closed behind you. Hopefully if Eridan comes back he won't be able to tell that a single soul has passed through.
Miss Pyrope heaves an exasperated sigh.
"I didn't look behind the bookcase because I was nearly positive that no one would be stupid enough to make use of that cliché. Unfortunately, I momentarily forgot who we were dealing with." She explains. "Let's just hope he doesn't have anything else like that up his sleeve."
"Oh I wouldn't speak just yet, Miss Pyrope." You add. "I saw the eyes of a painting move just a few minutes ago."
"Har har."
The passage leads down a hallway, up a spiral staircase for what feels like miles and eventually to a second door. After a bit of shoving, you all find yourselves mercifully above ground, albeit on the far outskirts of Silverchurch. Apparently Eridan had seen fit to build a secret entrance to his base amidst the rocky cliffs overlooking Jade's tower, which funnily enough, is where you started last night's events in the first place.
You're too tired to appreciate the irony.
"I don't think I'll be traveling with you any further." Aradia says, hovering just inside the passage and out of the early morning sunlight. "I don't think many people would take too kindly to a ghost floating through the streets at this hour… or any hour for that matter."
"You don't have to stay below ground though, or in that shitty church." You respond. "You told me that it doesn't matter to you what people think. So why not just come with us?"
"Because we need her in the church." Miss Pyrope states firmly, before Aradia can respond. "We'll need to know if Eridan returns to his lab. If you see him pass through then…" The detective thinks for a moment. "Then ring the church bell! We'll know what it means."
"And what will you do then?" Questions Aradia.
"I don't know. But hopefully by then I'll have figured everything out."
"I see."
"Good." Miss Pyrope fires a finger gun through Aradia's chest. "Now get going. We'll touch base with you soon enough, our ghostly pal."
"Alright. Farewell, John."
"Bye, Aradia!" You wave, even though she has already turned and floated away back towards the lab without so much as a second look. Oh well. Baby steps. You suppose that everyone, even the undead, need some time to mull things over. "What a friendly ghost."
"A friendly ghost indeed." Miss Pyrope snakes her arm through yours. "Now let's get going. There's much to do and I don't know about you, but I need a nap! Hehehe."
"Yeah. I agree." You sigh and begin the trek back into town.
The majestic uforin, being the badass that they are, drew some delicious fanart of this story that I would turn into a book cover if this warranted becoming a book. Grateful times, my friends :) check it out on my tumblr.
Thanks for reading.
- Mike
