Disclaimer: I own none of the characters featured here.
Secrets of the Manor - Part 1
Standing in the middle of its courtyard, under the cover of its moonlit shadow, the main building of the Blackthorne Estate made for quite an intimidating sight, even without Dipper's knowledge that at least three of the Crimson Conclave roamed somewhere in there. Having Norman with him eased his nerves somewhat, but he couldn't help but be doubtful. After all, Norman was there in the tomb when the Conclave was released, and look how that turned out. Whatever. He didn't give a damn how scared he was, how scared he should be; walking away was never an option.
Two hundred and sixty one lives, gone. Whatever happens in there, it was his price to pay.
"Come on. We can't waste time here." Dipper took hurried steps, closing the distance between him and the stairs leading up to the grand front door. A few seconds passed before he heard footsteps behind him, scurrying after him. He couldn't bring himself to worry, or care. He'll do this alone if he had to. And nothing could stop him.
"Wait."
Dipper stopped, halfway up the stairs. He looked over his shoulder and saw Norman at the base of the stairs, flanked on either side by Neil and Mabel. The severity in his eyes was something Dipper had never seen before on Norman's face. It felt unnatural, uncomfortable. Dipper briefly mused whether his eyes did it on their own, or whether his witch blood had something to do with it.
"Before we go in, I want to make sure," Norman began. "You are planning to stick to what Coraline said, right? Not do anything stupid?"
Dipper nearly buckled under the pressure of those eyes, but he steeled his nerves and held on. "Of course. Of course I am," he lied. A flash of pain flared in his chest, but he couldn't make out if it's the guilt or the caffeine getting to him. He chose to believe it was the caffeine. After all, what's one white lie in the middle of all of this?
Norman didn't seem entirely convinced, but still somewhat satisfied by the answer. However, to Norman's left, Mabel's eyes narrowed, almost weighed down by the suspicion in them. Dipper quickly spun around to face the double doors of the mansion. She knew something was up – he was certain of it. You don't spend nearly thirteen years living so close to one another and not develop a sense for the other's tells, especially for when the other was lying. Fortunately, that meant he also had learned all of her tells, especially for when she was scrutinizing him. He had to be careful around her.
Dipper walked closer to the grand double doors of the manor and peered inside. Darkness greeted him, and not much else. Barely anything was visible, only faint outlines and shapes in the shadows. The most useful info he could glean was that the room was massive. He brought his gloved hand up and whispered the chant he knew by heart.
"Ignos zukos surturos."
The glowing runes on his gloves had the equivalent lighting power of night lights for a room as massive as the one before him, but the ten steps ahead he could clearly see was better than nothing. Norman, Neil, and Mabel caught up to him, crowding behind him, peeking inside as well. Careful as could be, Dipper took the first step inside, practically on his tiptoes. The interior was exactly what you'd expect from what you saw on the exterior. The gothic sensibilities extended inside, judging from what little he managed to see of the furnsihings and decorations. An intricate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, glinting faintly from the dim light of the gloves. A grand double staircase stood at the end of the room and making quite an imposing figure in the near-darkness. A fuzzy, dark purple carpet made for a path from the entrance to the staircase, and-
Dipper stopped mid-step.
Lying near the base of the stairs was three unmoving bodies, their form reduced to gruesome husks of their former selves, a look of horror forever carved into their visage.
Mabel gasped softly behind him. A strangled groan escaped Neil just to his left. Dipper took a step back from pure instinct. His hands fell to his sides, knuckles clecnched until it turned white underneath the gloves.
Two hundred and sixty four.
The group still had to continue – now, more than ever – so they did. They dispersed, trying their hardest to be respectful to the bodies as they searched the room for any clues regarding where the Conclave had gone. It was a task easier said than done; there were five possible exits from the foyer, a pair of doors just to the right and left of the entrance, a door beside the staircase, and a split hallway on the second level, the darkness around them was almost unnaturally heavy and overwhelming, and Dipper couldn't help but suspect that not everyone in the group was fully focused on finding clues. Mabel seemed to be devoting all of her time and effort to ignore the three bodies, while Norman kept stealing glances to one specific corner of the room. In all, things weren't looking good. Sweeping the entire building would take too long – they would have to pick a route and stick to it. If they picked wrong, then that's the night wasted. If only they had a map. Or, Dipper realized with a start, a witness.
Eager steps carried Dipper towards Norman. They slowed as Dipper realized what he was about to ask needed more tact than he was ready for.
"Norman, are they… still here?" Dipper asked anyway, slowly. Hopefully, he could get the request across without sounding like a complete asshole.
Norman's eyes, again, drifted towards that specific corner of the room. A shadow of sadness and regret clouded those brilliant blues. "Yes."
"Can you ask them if they saw where the Conclave went?" Dipper immediately braced himself. It was a really shitty thing to ask, and he was pointedly aware of it.
Norman's reaction was strong, just like he predicted – a blend of disbelief and outrage. "You want to ask these people who just died, where their murderer went?"
"Yes. Because more will join them if we don't hurry," Dipper countered. And that was the ugly truth, wasn't it? Every shitty thing he did, he wouldn't do if it wasn't necessary. "Come on. Do you think they want that?"
Dipper saw the change, the realization in Norman's eyes slowly crack through the shell of outrage. The logic in Dipper's request was sound, even if Norman might not want to admit it. Finally, with a deep breath and even heavier steps, Norman left for the corner. Dipper watched him go, satisfied, something close to a smile on his lips. He knew reason would win Norman over. Soon, Norman's gentle, hushed voice filled the silence. He definitely took his time; first comforting them, before easing into an introduction. A full two minutes must have passed and the question was still yet to be dropped.
Neil sidled next to Dipper, joining him in watching Norman. "Is Norman-?" He stopped, shooting Dipper a nasty side eye. It was a little unnerving to see that on Neil's eternally jovial eyes. "That's not cool."
Dipper harshly whispered, "Of course it isn't. You think I like doing this?"
"You're definitely not not okay with it."
Mabel's voice caught Dipper off guard. That was the first proper sentence she'd said to him since he blew up at her. It took a few moments for him to actually process what she said, and another moment to turn and face her. But by then, Mabel had turned away again, acting like he didn't exist. His chance had slipped away.
Dipper huffed, pushing his annoyance to the back of his mind, his attention returning to Norman. He's still conversing with the ghosts, and judging from his reaction, one of them had just pulled him into a hug. Dipper tapped his foot impatiently and clicked his tongue. "Come on, hurry it up."
"Dude!" Neil elbowed him in the side of his gut. It stung a lot more than he thought it would.
Finally, at the edge of Dipper's patience, Norman dropped the question. He went silent for a while, nodding along as he listened. Seconds passed, and Dipper perked when Norman offered a gentle thank you, before returning to the group The cloud of regret in his eyes was darker than before. "The Conclave went up the stairs and to the right. That's all they know."
Dipper nodded. At least it was worth it. "Good start."
Impatient feet got Dipper to the top of the stairs while the others were only halfway up. He waited with his arms crossed, his feet tapping against the carpeted floor like a hummingbird on speed, until they eventually caught up to him on the second level. They were only a few seconds apart, but in his head, the wait was far, far longer. Wordlessly, he turned his heels and made his way down the right hallway. They had wasted more than enough time already here.
The hallways gave him more of what the foyer had offered; gothic accessories and decor befitting the style of the manor, and a gloomy, oppressive darkness that felt almost unnatural. Like an anchor had been dropped on top of him, slowing his feet and clouding his thoughts with doubt. He'd wandered around in the dark before, some darker than what he's currently experiencing, and he never felt anything like this. There was definitely a supernatural element at work here, forcing these thoughts and feelings upon him. Which meant they were on the right track. The Conclave wouldn't have placed these barriers if there was nothing at the end of the tunnel. His theory was further reinforced when the group turned the first corner, and came across two more bodies.
Two hundred and sixty six.
"We're on their trail." Dipper was moving again before any doubts or second thoughts could properly take root. "Come on."
Thankfully, the rest of the group followed his lead, moving so fast their own doubts couldn't catch up. Once or twice, they came across a split where the hallway branched into two or even three different directions. Fortunately, they never had to take blind guesses. They always managed to find some kind of clue that showed them the path they should take, none of which was as morbid as another dead body, thank god. Some of the clues were obvious, like scratches along the wall or pieces of broken furniture, while others were subtler, like settling decay on the floor shaped like a footprint.
The clues led them to turn left around a corner. Before them was a stretch of hallway virtually identical to the others they had passed through, except for the crucial difference of being the first one to be well-lit. Natural moonlight filtered in through a row of stained windows along the right side of the hallway, allowing a decent view of the garden and the city, and giving the group a much needed reprieve from the darkness. What's more, one of the windows had a hole punched through it – a sign that the Conclave passed through here, so they were still on the right trail. Peering through the hole, Dipper's eyes widened. The others followed his lead, and saw the same sight.
Dark clouds were forming above downtown Amity Park. A swirling vortex of black that hung too close to the ground for it to be natural.
"Is that them?" Neil wondered. Dark red flashed among those clouds for a split second, followed by a rumble of thunder. Dipper didn't open his mouth, but his answer would have been, most likely.
"I hope splitting up wasn't a mistake," Norman muttered. He sounded afraid, his voice barely above a whisper.
Neil lets out a long breath. "Let's have faith. And hope."
That truly was the only thing they could do for Coraline's group from here, wasn't it?
Dipper tore himself away from the window. That was enough time devoted to hoping, and praying. Now was the time for action. And his next was to motion to the others to fall behind him, as he continued down the hallway. They were slower to follow him than he'd like, but he wasn't about to voice that to their face, especially with Mabel among them. He'd only walked about ten steps before his keen eyes noticed something amiss. Halfway through the hallway, there was a door along the left wall, one that was ajar by an inch, maybe even less. Without a word to the others, Dipper advanced towards the door, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his arm.
"Wait!" Neil's voice hissed. Dipper turned, and saw Neil was the one holding him back. "If that is the Conclave, then what do we do?!"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." Dipper glared. Neil's grip on his arm loosened, and Dipper took the opportunity to wrench his arm free, which was still harder to do that he'd like to admit. When did Neil get this strong?
Neil's face twisted in a mix of fear and frustration. "We are at the bridge! It's less than five steps away!"
Dipper pushed forward regardless. He laid a hand on the door, and gently pushed. The hinges whined, even with the care Dipper took to open it, loud enough to make him wince. Inside was dark again, but the moonlight from behind helped him with parsing the details of the room. The main fixture of the room seemed to be a long table with a series of ornate chairs set around it, along with a few glass cabinets placed around the sides. It seemed to be a dining room of some sort, if Dipper had to guess. Some parts were still shrouded in pitch black, so he could be missing things. One thing he didn't miss, even in the darkness, was a door at the far end of the room swinging shut just as he entered.
Dipper glanced back at the group, his eyes meeting everyone's, especially Neil's. He darted inside, faster than Neil could move to grab him.
"No- oh, c'mon!" Neil grumbled, but he, Norman, and Mabel still followed Dipper inside. In no time at all, they crossed the room and crowded around the door.
Neil glanced about at the others, the anxiety palpable in his eyes. "I'm pretty sure this counts as stupid."
"It's not the Conclave in there," Norman said, his tone unflinchingly certain. When Dipper turned to look, his eyes were closed.
"Y-you sure?" Neil asked, still afraid, but hearing his best friend sound so assured about this must've done wonders to his nerves.
Norman opened his eyes. "Trust me. Their presence isn't something you forget."
"Then they have to be civilians. We gotta get them out of here," Mabel added. Good to know she still had her head in the game when it counted.
Dipper leaned close and knocked on the door, careful to keep his voice gentle. "We know you're in there. It's not safe here. You need to leave the building. Now."
A beat passed in silence. Two beats. Three beats. Then, the door clicked, and cracked open. Dipper was ready for anything, but was still surprised when a face he recognized came peeking out.
"Sam?"
"Dipper?"
It really was Sam, looking just as flabbergasted as he was. She stepped back, letting the door swing further in, and revealing that she wasn't the only one inside (and that inside appeared to be a broom closet of some kind). Tucker was with her, his back pressed against the far corner of the room, a broom in his hands held like a weapon. There was another girl with them, one that Dipper had never met before. She held a bulky and odd-looking flashlight, currently turned off, but pointed towards the door. In the dim light, Dipper spotted a slight resemblance between her and Danny. He mentioned he had a sister, right? This must be her. Jazz was her name, if memory serves.
"Sweet cripes almighty," Tucker breathed a sigh of relief, his broom clattering out of his hands, "we thought you were... someone else."
Both groups relaxed, as relaxed as they could be in a place like this. Jazz lowered her flashlight, letting it dangle from a strap around her neck. A sigh followed by a small chuckle escaped Neil's lips, airing out the tension between the groups. Despite that, Sam kept a critical eye on Dipper's group, but he couldn't help but notice how she kept stealing glances towards his gloves. A beat of silence passed before Dipper decided to open his mouth.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Finding out what the Crimson Conclave are up to," Sam replied. "Since they were last spotted here, we thought-"
"Yeah, okay, that's obvious." Dipper shook his head. He should've phrased that better. "I mean, here. Specifically. In this room."
Sam didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed at him, looking a bit peeved at being cut off. "We heard someone coming, so we-"
"We decided to set up an ambush!" Tucker puffed his chest out, hands set on his hips. He probably thought it would make him look brave, but in Dipper's opinion, it only made him look like an asshole.
"Can I please finish a sentence?" Sam hissed, shooting Tucker a glare. He flinched with a sheepish smile.
"You hid." Dipper gave Tucker an even stare.
Tucker shrank further, opting to stare at his shoes. "Yeah, we hid."
"No, it's okay." Norman smiled at him. Even at a time like this, he's still trying to comfort people. "That's a smart move, really."
"Well, no need to hide anymore. It's safe to come out." Neil shrugged. "You know. Kind of."
They were still wary, eyes darting towards the door to the hallway and the shadows in the corner, as well they should, but one by one they filed out of the closet. Jazz dragged a black duffel bag behind them out of the shadows. They appear to be well-equipped, if not as well-quipped as Dipper's group, judging from how the duffel bag threatened to burst and spill all of its contents onto the floor. Not the most effective method of carrying your gear, but at least they didn't come empty-handed.
"You brought your own gear. Good," Dipper noted.
"Yeah, we got crosses, garlics, stakes; classic vampire hunter stuff," Sam listed, prodding the bag with a foot. She gestured to the flashlight in Jazz's hand. "And we brought some UV lights, too. Pretty much everything that should be able to harm vampires."
So that's what it was. That would absolutely come in handy. As he observed the flashlight, he couldn't help but notice its holder eyeing him closely, looking rather pensive. "So, you are... Dipper?" Jazz started carefully. "You look much younger in person."
Dipper frowned, not amused. What was that supposed to mean? That he looked like a child?
Jazz tore her gaze away from Dipper and casted a long, hard look at the rest of his group. "You're all a lot younger than I thought you'd be."
"If you doubt our capabilities, don't." Dipper crossed his arms. "I can guarantee you we are more than qualified to be here."
"No, no, I'm not casting doubt or anything, I'm just-" Jazz let out a sigh, before she shook her head in disbelief. "Wow, you start off young these days, huh?"
Tucker suddenly grabbed Jazz by the shoulders from behind, drawing a small yelp from her. "Don't pay too much attention to worrywart Jazz here," he snickered with a dumb grin. "She's too much of a mom for her own good."
Jazz, recovering from her shock, immediately elbowed Tucker off of her. Tucker stepped back, grimacing, but the pain wasn't enough to completely wipe the dumb grin off of his face. Dipper held back from rolling his eyes. Trying not to judge Sam's group too hard was a losing battle, based on what he's seen of them so far.
"No offense, but I thought you guys would be out there helping Danny," Neil chimed in. "This place is really dangerous. Like, there are three of them here. Three."
"Hey, don't go doubting our skills now. We saved the world so many times, it's not even funny." Tucker's lips curled into an easy, cocky smile. How could he be so relaxed at a time like this? "And honestly? We thought you'd be the ones helping Danny."
"Some of us are," Dipper explained. It was a miracle none of his disdain showed through. "We split into two groups. One helps Danny, the other finds out what the Conclave wants with this place."
"Speaking of." Sam cut in. Her head was cocked, her gaze sharp. "What's the deal with these vampires? What do they want?"
Dipper glanced to the side, his eyes meeting Norman's. There was a silent understanding between them; Lili's words ringing in his head, and no doubt ringing in Norman's too. It's really for the best that they keep things uncomplicated. "We're trying to figure that out ourselves," he answered. Technically, that much was true.
"Uh huh." Sam said, slowly. Her gaze remained sharp on him, just short of a glare. She's clearly not satisfied with his answer, and suspected there was more to find beneath. Honestly, good on her. She's got a good head on her shoulders.
Still, the topic needed to change, fast. "Your turn," Dipper said. "Do you know anything strange about this manor? Anything that would cause the Conclave to target this place?"
The edges of Sam's lips twisted, but she didn't answer. Instead, it was Jazz who answered after a moment of thought. "None that we can think of. It's an old, fancy manor, and that's about it."
Dipper hummed. Not the kind of answer he would've liked. At least now both sides were even. They had spent far too much time talking, anyway. The Conclave was still out there, advancing whatever plan they had. The group needed to get moving again, five minutes ago.
"Anything anyone else would like to add?" Dipper asked. The question was mostly rhetorical. He'd walk away unless anyone has something incredibly useful or important to say.
"Here's one." Tucker raised a finger. Dipper came very close to walking away then and there. "See, the family that owns the estate - the Garsteins - is handing over ownership of this place to the city. They're trying to turn this into a museum or something, from what I heard. Not sure why they think people want a museum this far uptown? Or what kind of museum-"
"The point." Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes, already regretting the decision to stay. This Tucker character had to be quite exceptional if Danny Phantom had faith in him, but right now, Dipper was having a hard time seeing it.
Tucker stumbled over his words a bit, but continued. "Er, part of the process is, they mapped out the entire estate, which they then uploaded to the city archives. I hacked in and found a partial map."
Tucker pulled out a device from his pocket - seemed like a heavily modified PDA of some kind - and offered it up to Dipper's group. On the device's display was a map of the manor. Dipper recognized the foyer where they entered, and some of the hallways that they passed through. Curiously, the room they were in didn't seem to be included. That must be what Tucker meant by a partial map.
"The most important thing we noticed is this." Tucker zoomed the display on two particular rooms. "This is the library, and behind it is another room. As far as we can tell, this room isn't connected to anything else and the only way in is to go through the library."
Interest twinkled in Dipper's eyes. He understood what Tucker was implying. "A secret room."
"And if there's anything a bunch of weirdo vampires want with this place, it's gotta be in a secret room, right?"
It would make for a rather safe bet. "Thanks for the tip." Dipper nodded. It improved his view of Tucker, ever so slightly.
"You say that like we're not coming with you," came Sam's cutting words, her narrowed gaze cutting even deeper.
"Of course you guys are coming with! We're all in the same team!" Neil said with an awkward, disarming smile, faster than Dipper could retort. "The more, the merrier, right?"
"They..." Dipper tried, he really tried, but he knew if he voiced what he truly thinks, that he was against the notion, it would only lead to more unnecessary conversations. Time was a luxury they don't have. "Fine."
That satisfied almost everyone, except for Mabel and Sam. Mabel's lips quirked an inch closer to the ground, her frown deepening. She, of all people, would know the real reason why he relented. Sam still kept her eyes fixed on him, like he had an ulterior motive, but he'd worry about that once it becomes relevant.
At last, the group finally moved once more, now seven persons strong. They were halfway through the room when, suddenly, Dipper felt the room spin, and his vision blur. Everything cleared after only a split second, but he suddenly found himself clutching one of the chairs, leaning on it to keep himself from collapsing to the floor. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off of the chair, only for his world to spin once more, for the sensation of falling to overtake him. He had no idea how much time passed, but when his sight returned and everything was normal again, he found himself on his knees, his face inches away from connecting with the floor, with unfamiliar arms around him being the only thing keeping him from a bruised nose. Damn. Sleep deprivation couldn't have kicked in at a worse time.
Dipper looked up and saw that he was surrounded. Everyone stared at him with a mix of surprise, confusion, and concern. He looked down at the arms wrapped around him, following them until he met Jazz's face, looking just as surprised as the others.
"Are you okay?" she asked with almost motherly concern.
Dipper wrestled Jazz's arms away from him, a little red in the cheeks. "Fine." He hastily rose to his feet. Fortunately, the world stayed in place and his vision remained clear. "Didn't sleep much, is all."
"A nap and a shower would've fixed that," Mabel said. To have her talking to him again would be delightful, but not when she spoke with that irritating tone every time.
Dipper sighed, but kept it low. "This is hardly the time, Mabel."
Tucker leaned in, took a whiff, and grimaced. "She's got a point, dude. You smell awful."
"Zip it." Dipper snapped. It'll take more than one half-decent map for him to accept shit from someone like Tucker.
Dipper stormed off towards the door before anyone else could get cute with him. He peeked out of the room, eyes darting left and right – the hallway was clear, thank god. Not taking a chance, he sneaked out on his tiptoes, motioning with his fingers for the others to follow. It took them a second, but one by one, they filed out of them room. Their trek through the manor continued. Finally, they were making progress again.
Dipper kept Tucker close to the front of the group, because he stubbornly refused to part from his PDA when Dipper asked him to and he still needed the map to lead the way. To Tucker's credit, he could actually be quite competent, when kept his mouth shut. The way his fingers easily danced around the PDA in his hands spoke of skill and experience that stretched back years. The device itself was impressive. It was definitely not store-brand – either he heavily modified it himself, or he built it from scratch with his own hands. Still, Dipper made sure it was clear that he was the one leading the group.
The map made a world of difference in navigating the hallways of the manor. They neared the library in no time at all. Only a few more corners until they reached their destination. Dipper paused just before one, and like many times before, signaled the group to stay back as he peeked around the corner. Unlike many times before, his eyes nearly bulged out of its sockets. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, he was certain he had just seen some kind of eyeball made from glass, with wings, also made from glass, disappear around the far corner.
Dipper turned back to the group, a little nervous. "Off topic, but does anyone here know how long you can go without sleep before you start hallucinating?"
"About four nights," Jazz answered, justifiably wary. "Why?"
Dipper smirked. This was only night three. "Then I just found our next lead."
Dipper rounded the corner, gesturing for the group to follow. The next corner opened up to a rather large space, with a stairway leading downwards – that was where they needed to go, Dipper remembered – and the upper area being a sort of mezzanine level that left a lot of the ground floor visible from up where they were. And sure enough, on the lower level, flying in a steady circle, was the very same glass winged eyeball that he saw before. Judging from everyone's reactions, he was relieved to know that he wasn't hallucinating.
"What is that?" Sam wondered in a whisper.
The group crowded around the corner, everyone curious to see the eye's next move. They watched as the eyeball stopped, hovering in place, staring down a hallway on the ground floor. After a moment, it flew up to the second floor and began to pivot in place, its gaze sweeping across the mezzanine level. Everyone immediately, hastily pulled back.
"Some kind of spying eye, I think. Like a drone." Dipper's face darkened. "For the Conclave."
Tucker glanced down at his PDA. "Library's down there. We are definitely sniffing the right tail." He looked around at the group. "Any ideas, gang?"
Dipper's first thought was to shoot it down with a fire blast, but he still had no idea how to reliably control the blast. It might get too loud and destructive. The group was silent, deep in thought, until Norman offered, "I can shoot it, maybe?"
Dipper beamed at the suggestion. "That is an excellent idea."
"Shoot it?" Sam raised an eyebrow. Wordlessly, Norman brought his hand up. A brief surge of lightning crackled across his fingertips. Sam's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "Oh."
Tucker and Jazz backed away too; their eyes wide with a mix wonder and fear. The group stepped aside to let Norman make his way to the front. As Norman peeked around the corner, Dipper couldn't resist the urge from leaning forward to catch as much of the show for himself. Norman waited – keeping his hand behind him as lightning surged and crackled to it – as the eye finished its sweep of the room. Once the eye was looking away from the group, he stretched a hand out, releasing a lightning bolt from his palm. The bolt split the air, only to barely graze the side of the eyeball, before it struck the far wall. The hit was still enough to take out one of its wings, sending it hurtling against the railing of the mezzanine, before it dropped onto the floor of the upper area, flopping in place like a fish out of water.
Dipper's lips thinned into a line. That was mildly disappointing.
Norman retreated before the eye could spot him. He stared down at his hands, at the remnants of lightning dancing around his fingers, before looking up, meeting everyone's eyes with a grimace. "I guess I'm a bit rusty. Sorry."
Before Dipper could respond, Sam stepped forward, clutching a small cloth pouch held together with a piece of yarn in her hand. "Allow me," she said, her eyes purposefully meeting Dipper's with a small, but rather assured smile on her lips. "I've been trying out some of the stuff you sent me."
Dipper raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and so were the others. He watched as Sam placed the pouch on her left palm, before she untied the piece of yarn, letting the pouch unfurl, revealing the components inside – a few drops of mercury, a sprinkle of tin salt, and a smattering of yellow-ish powder that Dipper couldn't name at first glance. She used the yarn to create a circle with the components in its center, at the same time leaning in and whispering a short, droning chant. The components melted and seeped into the fabric with every pass of the chant, only stopped from spreading further by the yarn circling it. The chant finished, the circle now glowing dimly in the dark. She scraped the glowing circle from the cloth almost like a sticker, holding it limp between two fingers. She gave it a firm flick – the activation act, Dipper realized – finalizing it into a rigid, shimmering disc of light.
Sam hugged the corner, and with practiced ease, she flung the disc. It arced through the air, forming an impossible curve to strike down onto the spasming eyeball, cracking it clean in half.
Sam turned to the group to give them a small curtsy, before walking out into the hallway, picking up the disc of light as she walked past. Dipper smiled, and damn near chuckled. He'd always appreciated a bit of showmanship, especially when the person has enough bite to back their bark.
Norman turned to him. "You said the spells you sent her were harmless."
"Technically, a chair is harmless." Dipper shrugged. "But, when you throw it at someone…"
Dipper followed after Sam, but stopped just short of the stairs, his attention grabbed by the eye's remains. Jazz and Tucker did the same, while the others made their way down the stairs. Dipper knelt beside the remains, inspecting it closer. It was an intriguing construct, for sure. The glass it was created from seemed to be the same glass the manor used for its windows. There were also elements of clay acting as the core for the entire construct. He made a mental note of where the remains lay. He'd love to have a more thorough look at it later. It could prove to be useful.
"If that's the Conclave's drone, won't they know when it's destroyed?" Jazz frowned.
"Maybe they'll think something fell on it?" Tucker tried. It wasn't that great of an attempt.
"They know alright. They know someone is here." Dipper rose to his feet and met their eyes. "They don't know it's us. That's the important part."
Dipper made his way downstairs, Jazz and Tucker trailing behind him. He spotted the main group standing at the end of the hallway that the eye had been guarding, with a doorway open before them. And yet, they haven't actually proceeded through it. Questions marks practically hovered over his head as Dipper made his way down the hallway. He shouldered past them, and stopped dead in his tracks. His questions were answered. Before him was a wall of darkness.
Literally. Beyond the doorway was nothing. Pitch black. It was as if the world beyond ceased to exist.
Jazz switched on her portable UV light, blindingly bright to the point that Dipper and a few others flinched away from it. She pointed it towards the doorway, and the light stopped. As if it was shining on an actual wall painted black. Jazz switched the light off.
Tucker squeaked. "That's, uh... not natural."
Not at all, but it was still the only path forward. Dipper took a chance, took a step closer to the dark. He brought a gloved hand up, and inched it as close as he dared to the doorway. Just like the light before, the runic glow of the gloves couldn't penetrate the darkness, shining on it like it was a solid wall. Biting his lip, throwing all caution to the wind, Dipper thrusted his hand forward.
Noises and squeaks erupted behind him, and he wasn't entirely sure he kept his silence either. The dark swallowed his hand, disappearing completely, glowing glove and all. The sensation was bizarre. He could still feel his hand, feel it enveloped by an unnatural cold, feel it as he gingerly moved it around in the dark. He pulled out, the glow of the gloves returning, his hand none the worse for wear. A little chilly maybe, but unharmed.
"Definitely not natural."
"The leader of the Conclave is good with magic," Dipper remembered. "He must've placed this here."
"So the Conclave can be in there?"
Tucker's words were like the detonator that triggered an avalanche of icy cold fear in their hearts. They looked amongst themselves. The dark alone, they could handle. But knowing the things the darkness could hide – dangerous, deadly things – made for quite the dilemma. Knowing that the Conclave could be waiting in there, maybe even a mere five feet away from where they stood, with no way for them to tell, rattled them to their very core.
"There is no other way to the library, is it?" Neil asked, afraid of the answer.
Tucker shrugged weakly. "If there is one, it's not on the map."
Doubt and fear squeezed his chest, tightening like a deadly vice. But his doubts, his fears; they didn't matter. He didn't matter. What mattered was finding out what the Conclave had planned. For the two hundred and sixty six lives they had claimed.
"We're going in."
That turned quite a few heads. Every head in the room, really.
"Okay, let's not be hasty about this," Jazz quickly interjected. "Like Tucker said, the map isn't complete. There could still be other ways to get to the library."
"And waste more time trying to find it? No thanks."
Dipper stepped closer to the darkness. His face was mere inches away. He was ready to take the plunge.
"I'm not afraid of the dark."
He looked over his shoulder. His gaze was harsh. Piercing.
"Are you?"
The others couldn't meet his gaze. Their eyes wandered anywhere that wasn't him. Except for Mabel. She stared him dead in the eye. For the first time in a long time, she was completely unreadable.
"I mean, sure, I don't sleep with night lights on anymore, but this is no ordinary darkness. This is advanced darkness," Tucker whined. That's all he's good for. Whine, whine, whine. "How are we supposed to find our way around in there?"
"Second corridor on the left, first corridor on the right, then third door on the right. That's where the library is," Dipper recited. He practically had it memorized. "We have a map. We follow it."
"Partial map." Tucker, again, failed to keep his mouth shut. "Just, as a reminder."
Dipper saw that coming. Why'd he even waste time talking to Tucker? He wasn't the one worth talking to. "Sam, you're clearly the leader of your group. What do you think?"
Sam pursed her lips. "Hold on." She flung her light disc at the doorway. It shattered on impact against the darkness. She grimaced, then turned to Dipper. "Yeah. Absolutely not."
Dipper turned in place, putting his back against the dark. Damn. He genuinely thought that would work. "Thought you'd be different," he said.
Sam narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. "Don't give me that. You're the one that's been hyping up how dangerous they are. Can you blame me?"
Dipper stepped back, deflated. Disappointed. Danny must've been the only one keeping his team afloat. "That's it, then?" he spat. "We're giving up? Turning back, just like that?"
"We are not turning back. We're just looking for another way," Jazz claimed. Her patronizing tone said otherwise.
"We don't have the time for that!" Dipper clawed away at his own scalp. He was near the edge, frustration rising closer to a boiling point. "Am I the only one here keeping track of how many people the Conclave have killed?! Two hundred and sixty six!"
His words rang. The color drained from the faces of Sam's group. Tucker's PDA slid out of his hands and clattered against the floor. Jazz's arms fell limp at her sides. Finally, they truly see what was at stake.
"They- they- what?" Sam choked out.
"And that number is going to go up the longer we waste time here!"
"To two hundred and seventy three?"
Dipper froze. He didn't expect Mabel, of all people, to speak up. He counted quickly. That was exactly seven numbers up. "Because that's what'll happen if we go through there."
For Mabel's eyes to be so uncharacteristically piercing was unsettling, but Dipper wasn't deterred. His determination didn't flinch. "It won't. You know what we can do."
"And you know what they can do," Mabel countered as she took a step closer to him. "Dipper, this is suicide."
Norman stepped forward too, joining Mabel. "We were supposed to stay out of trouble. Coraline's orders."
God. Her. Seeing her in a positive light had grown increasingly difficult to do. "After which she speeds off to fight a vampire."
"You know what she meant, man," Neil sighed.
Dipper could barely believe what's happening. Everyone, even his own team, his own friends, his own sister, had sided against him. Just because of one dark corridor. The Mystery Kids is dead – and the killer wasn't a group of vampires. It was a fear of the dark. A fear of the unknown. The unknown they once loved.
Dipper didn't recognize the people standing in front of him anymore.
"What is wrong with you all?" Dipper never imagined a day would come when he'd spit words with such venom to his own friends, but he never thought they'd act like cowards when faced with the unknown. "Is it dangerous to go in there? Of course it is! But we didn't sign up for this because it's safe!"
Mabel matched his voice. She took another step closer. "Facing danger is one thing, but you're acting like you don't want to walk out of here at all!"
Dipper maintained his gaze, but it proved harder and harder to do. She was getting too close. "What happens to me doesn't matter," he said.
"Of course it does!" Mabel got close enough to grab him by the shoulders. She was shaking.
"In the past, maybe." Dipper had to look away. It was impossible to look her in the eye when she's this close. When his hands were stained with the blood of two hundred and sixty six lives. "But not anymore."
Mabel squeezed his shoulders, enough to hurt. "You are not-!" She stopped. Her hands left him. When Dipper looked, her hands have moved to cover her mouth. Fear clouded her eyes, and it wasn't of the dark or the unknown. "Oh god."
It was worse. A fear that cut closer to the heart. A fear that brought him back to summertime in Gravity Falls, a lifetime ago. To an attic bedroom, red sunset light spilling through the sole window, moments before his sister stormed off in tears carrying the wrong backpack. Mabel stumbled back, lost in a daze, unprepared to catch herself when she tripped. Neil was quick to be there, gently lowering her to the floor, keeping a comforting hold on her. Mabel raised her distraught eyes to meet his, mouth falling open. He knew what she was about to say.
"We're becoming them. This is Stan and Ford all over again."
"No!" Dipper paused. He was caught off guard by how strongly he reacted. How fast the word left him. His eyes, unfocused, fell to the ground. Why did it affect him so much when it was so clearly untrue? "This is… different. We're different."
Mabel didn't respond. He just heard her breathing. Heavy. Shaky. Maybe it was for the best. He had no idea what else he would say to Mabel. Probably something bad. Something that would make this entire catastrophe worse.
Seconds passed in agonizing silence. Dipper chanced a glance forward, and regretted it. Norman stared at him, and had been staring all this time. Silent. Judging. Of all the people in the world, Norman was judging him.
Without having a clue of what to say, Dipper spoke, "Look. This is for-"
"The greater good?" Norman's words stung. He'd read him like an open book. "Dipper, this isn't you."
For the first time today, Dipper almost laughed. "Then I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to right now."
"I'm talking to Dipper Pines. My teammate, my friend, my-!" Norman stopped. For what reason, Dipper didn't know, but the slightest shade of red now tinted his cheeks. "Someone I… deeply care about."
Somehow, the thought of being deeply cared about made his stomach churn. "Well… people change." Dipper looked at anything that wasn't Norman. He couldn't bear it. He didn't deserve it. "Being responsible for hundreds of deaths can do that."
"Alright, time out!"
A new, unwelcome voice cut in - Sam's. She had stepped ahead of her group, dangerously frustrated and anger visibly close to a boiling point.
"Can you please cut all this drama shit out and tell us, what the hell is going on?!"
She was no longer interested in being polite, and as Dipper met her gaze, so was he.
"You said you don't know jack about these vampires, but you clearly do." Sam raised her fist, and began jabbing a finger at him. "You know their leader is good with magic. You know what they are capable of. You know they apparently have killed two hundred and sixty six people."
Dipper tried to glare back, but couldn't. His head spinning, his chest twisting, his stomach churning - it was all too much. The world was too much. He snapped his eyes shut, and weakly, meekly, desperately, begged for everything to stop.
"And now you're saying you're responsible for hundreds of deaths? What the hell have you guys been doing since we last met?!"
"You shut the fuck up!"
The words left his lips, but he didn't remember making the decision. It was forced out of him, ripped out from deep within him by a primal force he couldn't control. His eyes were wide open now, carved into a glare that he'd wanted, but what he saw was not what he expected. He expected fire and venom, outrage and hostility. Instead, he saw faces falling, glares softening. They looked at him now with distress. With pity.
Dipper blinked. His eyes were hot. Something tickled his cheeks. He raised a hand to his face and, as he pulled back, saw that it was wet.
Tears?
No. No, tears have no place here. Tears are useless. Tears won't bring down the Conclave.
He had to focus. Focus on what really mattered.
Mason wiped away the tears. He forced his breathing to steady. He stared at the cowards around him, cold as ice.
"I thought you all wouldn't let me do this alone," he said. "I guess I'm wrong."
Mason took one step back. The coldness of the dark was like needles prickling his back. A chorus of exclaimed noes, stops, and waits entered one ear and exited the other.
One voice won over the others, as his twin sister rose to her feet, tears cascading down her face.
"You promised me! You promised you won't do anything stupid!" Mabel screamed. Begged. "What happened to that promise?!"
Mason paused, swallowed, and forced his aching heart to remain frozen.
"Consider it broken."
Mason let the darkness, the cold envelop him. Away from his friends. Away from his family. Away from the light.
He is not afraid of the dark.
Hi again. Been a while, huh?
So, full disclosure, this was not intended to be a two-parter. But I promised to myself that I'll get a new chapter out before the year is out, so this is the shortcut that I took. It still ended up being a surprisingly satisfying narrative, of Dipper's continued spiral into absolutely losing his shit.
By the way, can I tell you something? Writing someone descending into a worse version of themselves gets distinctly not fun once you are about 5k words in. That's the main reason why I kept leaving this chapter. It just gets too heavy to enter that mindspace for that long. Anyway. Next chapter shouldn't be as depressing. I hope.
So, 2019 comes to an end. Productivity-wise, a step down from 2018, but it's not all bad. Made a few fics that aren't about the MK. Started a few projects that are refreshing to say the least. Got into D&D again, recently. So, yeah, I miss the quantity that I managed to reach last year, but I've put a lot more thought into quality now. Tentatively curious to see what 2020 would bring.
If y'all want to follow my writing and any other random shit that I get into, check out my tumblr. There's a link to it on my profile.