Hello everyone in Fanficland! To start off with something a little off-topic, I would like to dedicate this chapter to J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter series. Seeing as tomorrow truly marks the end of an era with the release of the eighth and final film, I feel compelled to dedicate it to them. In this chapter, the Sons attempt to perform a ritual that has only been performed twice in the entire history of the secret society. I had a great time writing this particular installment, and I hope that you'll enjoy it!
The senior commons was filled to capacity. Foot traffic was heavy due to the fact that it was between classes. Students went about their business, unaware that something was about to happen.
Nick Corwin was casually leaning against the wall, as if waiting for somebody. Jeff Honeycutt and Blaine Anderson were across the room, Blaine removing his guitar from its case and Jeff admiring the beautiful instrument. Trent Nixon was directly across from Nick, and the two nodded as Blaine began to pluck out some notes on his guitar.
Heads began to turn as Blaine played a funky blues riff. It wasn't until Jeff, Trent, and Nick started singing back-up and snapping along in rhythm that a crowd began to gather.
Jeff stepped forward from the other four as he began to soulfully sing the lyrics:
"If I could reach the stars, I'd pull one down for you…
Shine it on my heart, so you could see the truth…"
The crowd of students started clapping along in rhythm. Even a couple teachers had stopped to immerse themselves in the catchy song, swaying to the beat.
Jeff threw his hands up as he sang the words with feeling.
"…That I can change the world, I would be the sunlight in your universe, you will think my love was really something good, baby if I could change the world…"
Blaine launched into his guitar solo. The crowd cheered. Trent and Nick exchanged grins as they continued with the backbeat.
The song was coming to a close as Jeff sang out the last words with heart-wrenching passion.
"Baby, if I could change the world! Baby, if I could change the world! Baby, if I could change… The world."
Jeff improvised a soulful gospel finish while Blaine plucked out the final notes on his guitar. Trent and Nick finished with just as much soul as the crowd around them burst into applause. The four boys smiled and embraced, waving and thanking their public for the appreciation.
The senior commons was just about to clear out when Headmaster Kane's shrill, hoarse voice called out over the discussion. "What's all this?"
Blaine had just put his guitar away as the creepy man emerged in the senior commons. Everyone, teachers and students, froze. "I could have sworn I just heard singing." He scanned the room, doing his best to pick out any of the Warblers he automatically assumed were the culprits. His eyes stopped on the four in one particular corner of the room. "You weren't singing, were you?"
It was Nick who responded. "No, sir." He visibly gulped, but perhaps the headmaster was too thick to notice.
"Well, that's good news," the headmaster replied in mock relief. "Because I know I surely would hate to have to expel you boys from Dalton Academy." The silence in the room was thicker and heavier than pea soup. The headmaster flashed a dangerous grin at the quartet.
Allan Kane's gaze surveyed the room. "As you were, gentlemen!" The boys seemed overeager to escape the clutches of the madman they called headmaster. He turned once more and nodded at Jeff, Trent, and Nick, signifying that they were free to go. The three boys nodded at Blaine, indicating that they would see him later.
The boy turned to face the hideous man. "Mr. Anderson, to my office. Now. Your study session is due to start in a minute anyway." The headmaster swiftly turned on his heel and proceeded out the door of the senior commons. Blaine shot him a venomous look of scorn and hatred as he followed Kane out the door.
The three-quarters moon disappeared behind a thin veil of cloud cover. The bright, milky blue light that had bathed the grounds only minutes earlier was gone, leaving almost complete darkness in its place. There wasn't a breeze stirring. It seemed as if the earth were holding its breath.
A dark, cloaked figure swiftly ran from one tree to another, searching the grounds for any sign of movement that could have been a night watchman on lookout. The hood was pulled back momentarily, revealing Kurt. He took a quick look at his cell phone clock. 11:49 pm. He reread the mass text he'd received from Wes that afternoon: Important Sons meeting tonight at midnight in the woods behind the old church. Be careful! Kurt was still startled at how brazen this meeting was likely to be. To be outdoors and out-of-bounds was a setup for disaster. Should information about this reach the headmaster… No, he didn't want to even consider the consequences.
Kurt screamed as a hand covered his mouth. He kicked and flailed at the empty air as he was being spun around to face his attacker.
"Kurt, Kurt, it's me! It's Jeff Honeycutt!"
The boy was shaking him. "Damn it, Jeff!" He shook himself off, still rattled. A muffled apology was all Jeff could muster.
Kurt stopped struggling, but his expression remained confused. The blonde Warbler was wearing a Guy Fawkes mask that concealed his identity completely. He also had the hood up over his head, making him even harder to recognize.
Kurt stifled a chuckle. "What are you wearing that mask for?"
Jeff smiled as he removed the mask from his face. "Are you kidding? When I received Wes' text this afternoon about an outdoor meeting, I decided not to take any chances. I had to go incognito."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, that certainly does the trick."
The boy smirked in response. "Leave me alone. It sounded like a great idea at the time." He replaced the mask over his face, reminding Kurt that he had somehow misplaced his copy of the graphic novel V for Vendetta. "Come on," Jeff said. "We'll be late for the meeting."
The moon emerged from behind its misty veil, once again illuminating the grounds and lighting the way to the woods. Kurt stayed close to Jeff's side as they ran, for he had never ventured anywhere near those woods just outside the Northern campus grounds. Besides, he was a bit terrified about what could be lurking within their darkest depths.
They both stopped once they reached the edge of the wood. "When Warblers are lost, they call to one another," Jeff said, temporarily removing his mask to speak. "Watch this." He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a bellowing wolf cry. Kurt, heart pounding, turned around frantically to be sure that no night watchmen were after them. Jeff saw and smirked. "Relax, Kurt! Wolves are native to the surrounding regions. If anything, the watchmen will think it's an actual stray wolf." From somewhere within the forest, they heard a call in response. "It's David. They're not very far off. Let's go."
Jeff put the mask back on and fled, Kurt in tow, towards the middle of the woods. Kurt was surprised that the blonde boy could even tell who had issued the response call. They must know each other very well by now, he thought to himself.
After only a couple minutes of running and dodging low-hanging branches, Jeff and Kurt reached the other Warblers. They were all gathered in a clearing that must have been dead-center in the middle of the woods. Some were sitting on logs while the others stood, holding candles, around a simple gravesite. Kurt noticed that the small headstone belonged to Ignatius Dalton, for his name was etched into the gray stone surface. A shiver ran down his spine.
"We're all accounted for now, Wes," David said, facing the leader.
"Good, then we'll begin." Wes raised his hands for silence, causing the whispered conversations to immediately cease. "Brothers, we are gathered here tonight for a very important ritual. As I'm sure you're all well aware, Ivy Caplesmith, out of the goodness of her heart, has vowed not only to cover for us, but has provided our transportation to and from Sectionals on January 20th!"
The boys burst into cheers and exclamations of joy. "Also," Wes continued. "In even more exciting news, our newest addition, Kurt Hummel, has been chosen for the solo performance at the competition this year!" More spontaneous applause followed as Kurt sheepishly looked around the group and waved. Wes held his hands up once more for silence. "Therefore, tonight is the night we choose songs for our set-list!" Wes nodded to Thad and David, who were passing out blank sheets of paper and markers. "I want all of you to write down as many song ideas as you can on your sheet of paper. When you are all finished, turn them into me, and we will go from there. Don't forget to separate the solos from the group numbers!"
Kurt took a piece of blank paper and a marker from David as he passed. He then noticed that Blaine was trying to get his attention somewhere to his far left.
"Kurt! Hey, Kurt! Come sit here!"
Kurt smiled, watching Blaine excitedly gesture to the empty space on the log he sat on. He reminded Kurt of an excited little boy spotting his best friend on the playground. He took his seat next to the handsome Warbler.
Blaine nosily looked at Kurt's paper. "What songs are you going to choose?"
Kurt held the paper to his chest, appalled. "I'm not showing you! Besides, I haven't written any yet." Blaine smirked, and even as Kurt rapidly scribbled song titles, he tried desperately to peer over the boy's shoulder.
In the dim candlelight, Wes read through some of the selections the Warblers had chosen. "These are all very excellent choices," he said, intrigued. "However, tonight, the decision is not ours to make. The choice lies with Ignatius Dalton himself."
A confused buzz of conversation ventured around the circle of Warblers. Wes smiled vaguely before he pressed on. "This year marks the 100th anniversary of our first headmaster's death." A respectful silence came over the group as they watched Wes place his hand on the tombstone that bore Ignatius Dalton's name. "Tonight, we all, including myself, will bear witness to a unique ritual that has only been performed twice in the entire history of the Sons. We will summon the spirit of Ignatius Dalton and see which songs he chooses for us to perform at Sectionals."
Kurt glanced nervously at Blaine. Blaine merely smiled. "Don't worry, Kurt. It's not like we haven't seen him before."
Kurt nodded, slightly reassured. He had, indeed, seen the ghost of Ignatius Dalton before. He knew that there was nothing to be afraid of. Besides, who knew if this ritual would work? It had, after all, only been attempted twice in the entire history of the Sons of Ignatius Dalton. Let's just wait and see, he thought, his heart gently pounding.
Wes gestured for Thad to step forward. "Thad here is somewhat of an expert at conjuring spirits." The boy hung his head in modesty. "His grandmother is a spiritual healer and has taught him the proper way to summon the ghosts of those who have passed." Wes stepped aside and indicated for him to begin.
"Thanks, Wes," he said in a shaky voice. He turned to face the other boys. "All I ask is for absolute silence. I need as much concentration as I can to attempt to bring Dalton to us." The Warblers nodded and watched as Thad turned his back on them.
It was clear that Wes and Thad had rehearsed the ritual. Kurt shot Blaine a nervous side glance. Blaine caught it and smiled kindly in response.
Thad began to chant softly in Latin. "Resurrectionem ex mortis," he said repeatedly. Kurt recognized the incantation. Literally, it meant "Rise from the dead," but it was commonly translated as "Come back to life" or "Come back to us." Over and over, Thad repeated the words, slow and soft at first, then faster and louder. The words echoed and reverberated through the woods as a sudden breeze picked up, disrupting the stillness of the night air. All the candles blew out and Kurt watched, intrigued and wide-eyed, as glowing blue orbs began to emerge from the earth surrounding the gravesite.
Thad, who had broken into a sweat, was now screaming the words as the last of the orbs emerged from the grave. They floated momentarily in the air before forming into one long stream of ghostly light. The pale trail playfully flew around the clearing for a moment. Jeff removed his Guy Fawkes mask to fully take in the unbelievable spectacle that was unfolding before his very eyes. "My God…," he whispered.
Blaine rose from his seat on the log and turned to face Kurt. "Wow, that's pretty cool, huh?"
Kurt's eyes widened in horror as the beam of otherworldly light flew directly for Blaine's back. "Blaine, look out!"
The boy turned to face the oncoming spirit, but it was too late. The light hit him square in the chest and he fell over with a thud onto the soft ground.
"NO!" Kurt screamed, throwing himself at Blaine's side. Wes and Thad quickly ran over to the fallen Warbler. Wes put his hand on the boy's wrist, checking for a pulse. "His heart rate is really slow, it must be…"
Wes never finished his sentence, because Blaine sat straight up, his eyes literally glowing as his body acted as spirit medium to Ignatius Dalton's ghost. Blaine's body flailed and danced as his and Dalton's soul conflicted within him. Kurt covered his mouth in fright and tried to pull the boy back as he rose from the ground.
Wes and Thad exchanged a look. "He's channeling Dalton. Blaine's channeling Ignatius Dalton!" They held Kurt back, trying desperately to console the sobbing boy.
"No! Let me go, damn it! We have to save him!" Kurt tore away from the powerful grip, but the hands were back on him within seconds, keeping him at bay. All he could do was watch in horror as his best friend was being manipulated by a ghost. Don't hurt him, Dalton, he repeated in his mind. Please don't hurt him…
The other Warblers simply looked on in disbelief. They had never seen anything like the event that was taking place before them. Nick felt as if he might faint. Jeff stood glued to his spot. Trent was holding a terrified David in his arms. Their eyes followed Blaine as he continued to convulse and spasm. Then, like the stillness that comes when the eye of a hurricane passes over, Blaine's body went rigid. He stood up straight and immediately began to search for something. He picked up a stick and furiously began writing something in the soft soil of the clearing.
As the boys gingerly gathered around the crouching figure, they saw that he was spelling out words. David called Wes and Thad over. "He must be choosing the songs!"
Thad, Wes, and Kurt ran over to where Blaine was sitting. By the time they were close enough to read, one song had already been written. The Keane classic "Somewhere Only We Know" was etched into the moist soil. The Warblers nodded in approval and whispered excitedly amongst themselves.
Finally, after what seemed many tense moments, Blaine rose and dropped the dirt-covered stick. The other song choice had been written, and the boys began to chatter even more excitedly as they saw Sara Bareilles' "Love Song" in the dirt.
It was Wes who spoke first. "Which one is which? Which is the solo and which is the group number?"
Blaine's glowing blue gaze turned in Wes' direction. He gestured for the boy to come closer. Wes, standing over his shoulder, watched as Blaine pointed to the Keane song and then pointed directly at Kurt. The Warblers cheered and Kurt stared, wide-eyed, at the song choice. He smiled sheepishly in response.
Wes smiled. "Brothers, we have our set-list for Sectionals!" The boys applauded and called out in joy. As the sounds of their celebration filled the clearing, Blaine's body began to flail once more. Kurt, heart pounding, ran over and held the boy up, watching as a ghostly trail of light emerged from Blaine's mouth and flew, once more, back into the grave of Ignatius Dalton.
For a few heart-stopping seconds, Blaine did not move. Kurt nervously shook the boy, trying to resuscitate him. He suddenly coughed and wearily opened his beautiful, honey-gold eyes, which bore into Kurt's own sea-blue ones.
"Blaine?" Kurt whispered the name, sensuously.
The handsome Warbler smiled up at him. "My guardian angel," he said. Kurt could feel his face burning as he blushed. "What happened? Is the ritual over? What songs are we singing?"
Kurt laughed. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning." He threw Blaine's arm over his shoulder and, with the other dispersing Warblers, headed back towards the dormitories.
To be continued…