Chapter 14
Kurt found that he was unable to wipe the smile off his face for the entire ride back and it was concerning Connie. Why Cherub was is randomly pleased with himself? Could he be processed, maybe? She had seen a couple ghosts in the town that they were visiting. It could be that one of them was so completely miserable that they needed a human body to take over, an innocent one…ignorant. And who was more ignorant on the undead than Cherub? Despite the fact that he had been seeing the spirits for most of his life…he never even realized what they were until it was properly explained to him…anyone could have taken advantage of that simple factor.
"Cherub, are you alright?" She asked, attentively. The sprit inside him could attack at any moment so she had to be careful so that he/she didn't know that she was on to them.
"Never better," he replied the smile never diminishing. He turned back to his book, the pages never being turned, a sure sign of procession! The spirit was clearly trying to blend in...A worthy adversary! She would have a mission, awesome.
"Right, right," she muttered under her breath. Her hands wrapped tighter around the steering wheel, still unsure of the condition of Cherub's soul at the moment. She would have to keep a close eye on him.
The ride remained mostly silent, except for the pages turning in Kurt's book and the sounds of the new box of books shifting around in the back. Kurt had talked her out of most of things that she had wanted to buy but she insisted that she had to buy something and that something had managed to turn into many somethings that took up an entire medium sized box.
Kurt was unconcerned over this. He would have to re-catalog all her new selections and find the sale price of them all but he just couldn't get Thomas off his mind. He was so gentlemen-like and dapper, he had really never met anyone quite like him before…and certainly not one who was interested in him, baby peguin him! The very thought of a boy being interested in him was…simply absurd.
"Cherub, blink once if a demon is processing your soul and blink twice if you think I'm nuts." Connie said with such complete calm that Kurt had to bite back his laughter.
He blinked twice and she sighed in realif.
"I was afraid you had been pocessed, Cherub so I had to make certain that this sudden drop in IQ didn't mean the worst."
Kurt finally laughed. "Connie, life's great. Life's fantasic and I can't wait until the weekend!"
"A clear drop in IQ I see," she muttered.
"Yes, certainly! I can't even translate this text into English at the moment and that's saying something!" He exclaimed. "I have no clue what is going on and have no desire to figure it out."
"Mm," Connie mused.
"I mean how is it possible that one date-"
"Wait date?" Connie's eyes widened. She stomped on the brakes and the car- very happily- sputtered to a quick stop. Kurt's book hit the floor and the air bags blew out. Kurt watched as the two bags just deflated and fell back onto the consel…well that's safe. When was the last time this car went through a safety?
"Connie! What was that for?" He demanded.
"You could have told me, a date with a British boy is even worse than possession!"
"In what world would it be worse?" He raised an eyebrow.
Connie thought on this before responding. "On Pluto," she replied.
"But Pluto isn't even a planet anymore!"
"So? Dating a British boy would be worse than pocession on an over grown star. Does that not make perfect sense?" She asked, clearly certain that she was correct.
Kurt's head fell into his hands, how was it possible he was still alive on this trip?
"Well, I'm going on a date with him on Saturday, Connie and you can't stop me." He said, very seriously.
He paused.
"I have not been trapped by a demon either…I'm pretty sure I would know if I was."
She shook her head. Nope, the sprit would be in complete control and you would be known the wiser so you wouldn't know…so you could easily be pocessed and are saying that to throw me off your trail!
Kurt mumbled under his breath, something that sounded like: dear spaghetti monster in the sky how am I ever going to get out of here alive?
They arrived back at the estate at the exact same time that the undead did. They had just territoized some five year olds and had just gotten back in the nick of time. Eleanor, sitting on her window seat watched with some amusement as they scrambled around trying to make it look as if they had been here the entire time.
"You are all in such trouble," she said.
Ellie bouced up onto her knee, "you wouldn't tell…would you?"
"Perhaps," she replied, "I haven't decided yet."
Ellie pouted. "We didn't do too much, just bullied that bully that Cherub had back home and scared a few five year olds…"
"See, you did do some damage." Eleanor scolded.
"But it was for the greater good!" Lawrence said, coming top Ellie's defense. "That boy needed to be punished for his ignorance and the way he expressed said ignorance. Read Cherub's journal! It's all there."
"You read his personal writings?"
"Yes, it was for the greater good!"
Eleanor smirked. "You have no other, aruguments, sir so you chose to say the same line over and over again until it gets you out of mischief."
He snorted. "It's called having a catch phrase, ma'am and just because you don't have one doesn't mean that you have to take it out on me."
"Well I could just-"
"Wait everyone," Blaine said. "Listen."
The door downstairs had just opened and the light mutterings of Connie and Kurt talking could be heard through the layers of moltar and plaster. The sprits froze. Despite what Lawrence might say, they were all terrified of what would happen if Connie didn't approve of what they were doing, she was like a mother to them and you couldn't do wrong in front of your mother.
"Eleanor, don't tell her and…I'll let you win in Black Jack."
"I don't need that from you!"
"Then what, my lady?" He said, formally bowing and doing it completely wrong. It would have been offensive back her day but now it was just…well funny.
She giggled at that. "Fine, if I don't tell then you all must promise to help Cherub in his work so he doesn't have to spend hours cataloging. Clearly he deserves a break and you must all give it to him."
The room was full of agreement as they all chipped in their assistance.
Blaine seemed the most excited, "we'll begin tonight and we won't tell him of our doings, agreed?"
"Agreed," the unnatural beings said.
"Good," Eleanor said. "Then let's go greet them."
It was late that night. Once again, Kurt could not sleep. The nightmares had returned and they were as fierce and gruesome as before, if not more. He tried to stay awake to prevent them from sucking him back into that abase of sorrow and misery.
He pinched himself hard, to keep awake.
That was when he heard it. It was the faintest whisper on the wind and if he had not been listening so attentively then he would have surely missed it. Curiosity got the better of him as he slipped out from between the covers and stuffed his feet into his silk slippers. The only light came from the window, where the moon shone brightly and directly on him making him look pale as a spirit and as beautiful as one too.
He glanced around for a light source to bring with him, wandering the halls in the daylight was one thing but at night was a different story. His phone was dead, with all the excitement of the day he had forgotten to plug it into his charger. So he shifted through the drawers.
He came across a candle, the wax unused. He soon found the candle holder and eventually a match. He took difficulty in lighting it but eventually had a little flame to lead him through the halls.
He took a deep breath as he slipped a few more matches into his pockets, just in case. The whisper was still on the wind as he opened the door out into the hallway. He could only faintly hear it but it was enough to guide him towards the entrance to the attic. His slippers made light sounds on the slick hardwood floor as he climbed the many stairs up to the attic.
His breathing had quickened, and his hand holding the candle was slick with sweat and not just from the heat. What was he getting himself into? It could be a burglar on the roof and he would just be letting him/her gain entrance by going up to the roof. Still something pulled him up, a force so powerful that he couldn't turn his own feet around to go back. It was like someone had him on a string and was slowly tugging him forward, and onto the roof that night. Later on, he wouldn't be able to explain that force…but what was more exciting than the things that couldn't be explained? He never questioned it, again.
He blew out the candle and left it on the floor by the ladder. The moon was bright enough to show him the way from there. He climbed, with curiosity and fear: what would await him at the top? The whisper had grown louder and he realized as he neared the top that it was song. A beautiful and terrible song sung by a tattered soul, clearly so desperate that it sounded out in his words. Kurt's heartbeat was so loud that he was afraid that he would be found out before he even reached the top. He slowly pushed the trapdoor open, just allowing enough space for him to peek through.
It was Blaine.
He sat on the very edge of the roof and sung without care to the night. He sang in a language long forgotten and misused now but Kurt recognized it as Latin. Connie had a few [An entire section] novels devoted to the language. Despite not understanding, Kurt still thought it was beautiful.
Blaine stopped.
Kurt's breath hitched: was he caught?
"You can come out, Kurt, I do not mind."
He had known he was there the entire time? His face reddened in embarrassment as he climbed the rest of the way up to join him because he couldn't very well say no.
"Evening Kurt," he said.
"Evening Blaine," he replied back.
"Today is a special day," he said. "I guess not as special to someone like you but to someone like me it is very special."
"And what day is it today?"
"Today, exactly 160 years ago I was murdered. I suppose to a ghost this is almost like celebrating a birthday." He glanced over to Kurt, who had turned quite pale under the moonlight. "It was a sad song, I know but I thought it suited the situation."
Kurt managed to find his voice and he asked one question. A question that Blaine had honestly not been expecting, not in a million years had he seen it coming.
"Who were you singing to?"
It was an innocent question yes but it tracked up a lot of emotion for Blaine. He had not spent a single day since his death not thinking about the one that he had been singing too. Every passing second, put a barrier between him and the past…and there was nothing he could do about it.
He was trapped.
He sighed. "I suppose a story needs to be told now. It is a long story, I hope you don't mind."
Kurt smiled a bit. "No, as long as you are comfortable with telling it to me."
"I'm not certain why, Kurt but I am comfortable telling you. You just seem... trustworthy."
"Well, I've had my fair share of secrets, Blaine. So I guess I'm an expert."
Blaine wondered but he didn't ask. Instead he launched into his story, telling every last bit in deep detail and he hoped that Kurt would understand. He told him about Gavin and how he had loved him so much that sometimes his heart broke when they were apart for too long. He told him how they had met, on the sea port one rainy day and how he had given an ear to hear his problems. He told him how they met secretly after that and how they had fallen in love.
He told him about Rachel Berry. His one true friend that he missed almost as dearly as he missed Gavin…he told him about her dreams of stardom and the extent that she went to get those dreams. He told him about their little deal.
"What happened to Rachel?" He asked.
Blaine sighed. "Her father found out about her dreams and he sent her away, to a finishing school. I wanted to follow her there but never had the chance."
Kurt told him about the photo that he had found the other day.
He smiled. "Yes, she did have a lover who loved her more than life itself but their love could not be. They ended up being separated and her lover was sent away…I suppose to work here, maybe. That would explain the photo."
"I'll give the photo to you tomorrow," he promised. "Continue on with your story please."
Blaine continued. When he had told the others the story of his death, he had left out details…the more gruesome parts to spare their feelings on the matter. But with Kurt he found that he didn't want to, so he told him the whole story and watched as his expression changed from shock to sorrow.
'Oh, Blaine I'm so sad for you."
That comment was the first one that led to a long line of comments….which led to Blaine falling in love with Kurt Hummel. He didn't know it now but he still felt it…where his heart used to be.
"Thank-you for listening," he whispered.
Kurt smiled. "I'm going to do more than listen, Blaine. We'll find out who killed you once and for all! And find out where they stashed your body, too."
Blaine laughed. "Scotland Yard gave up on that case months after it happened! How could you figure it out, if they failed?"
"Clearly they gave up too quickly. You deserve better, Blaine and we are going to get that for you." He yawned. "But first, I think I should get some sleep then we're going through Connie's old newspaper collection. There has to be something there that could help us."
Blaine chuckled. "I don't expect us to find anything it was over a century ago."
"Then we'll just have to look harder then." Kurt said, sounding determined.
Blaine smiled. "You remind me so much of him, he tried to figure it out too. But failed and was tossed in the Thames before he could. But still, you are just like him."
"And by the way you talk about him I can tell that is a compliment so thank-you.
Kurt then went to bed, his mind full of his new task so the extent that the nightmares didn't dare haunt him tonight. Blaine however, spent the rest of the night cataloging driver's manuals.