Chapter Two
Blaine blinked his eyes open to find he was standing in a room surrounded by pure darkness. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there. He blinked again, and suddenly, a door had appeared in front of him. He wasn't even sure how he could see it. It was just as pitch black as the surrounding darkness, but he could see it, as clear as if it were broad daylight.
He felt compelled to move towards the door, reaching out a hand for the knob.
"Stop!" he heard a shout. It echoed around him and he froze, withdrawing his hand as the door seemed to draw further away from him. Blaine looked up, glancing all around in the darkness, searching for the source of the shout. But he saw nothing.
"Hello?" he called, taking a step back from the door. There was no response. "Hello?" he tried again, louder this time.
In front of him now, a figure materialized, startling the teenager.
"Who are you?" he asked. He narrowed his eyes. The figure appeared to be in all black and white, so he couldn't tell the color of their hair or their eyes or the clothes they were wearing. Though it looked a lot like the Dalton uniform, but not at the same time. Like it was a version of the uniform, perhaps from a different era.
There was no reply. But Blaine found he didn't feel frightened by this figure, this figure he couldn't recognize.
"Hello?" he said for the third time, hoping to get some sort of response this time.
"Don't open the door," the figure said. His voice was high and clear as a bell, but yet it echoed all around Blaine.
"Pardon?" Blaine asked.
"Don't open the door," the figure repeated. Blaine glanced over his shoulder at the black door.
"Why?" he asked.
"Don't open the door," the figure said once again. Blaine furrowed his brow.
"I get that," he said. "I understand. But why?"
The figure didn't respond. He just stood there staring at Blaine, watching him, and yet appearing to be looking straight through him. It felt like silence surrounded the two of them for an eternity.
"Goodbye, Devon," the figure said, and then he faded from view.
"Devon?" Blaine questioned, completely confused. At that moment the room around him began to waver and bend, as though its very essence was dissolving. "No, wait!" Blaine shouted, running forward as though to stop the effect of the wavering room. "I have more questions!"
But the room wouldn't listen, and the figure did not return. Blaine began to find it was nearly impossible not to blink, and every time he did, his eyes remained shut for longer periods of time. His consciousness on this plain was waning. And soon…
Blaine shot bolt upright in his bed, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He turned and glanced at the clock. Almost six in the morning. He fell back on the bed, his hands going into his sleep mussed curls, which were damp with the perspiration.
"Not again," he muttered, running his hands over his face. Blaine hated having these kinds of dreams. His grandfather would call them prophetic dreams, but Blaine was still struggling to see how they were prophetic. They left him with more questions than answers. It was like they were trying to tell him something without really giving him any pieces to work with. What was with that black door? Was that figure Ethan? And why was he telling Blaine not to open the door? The only conclusion the boy was able to draw was that it must be symbolic of something. The question was what?
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and hit a speed dial button. "Wes," he said without waiting for the older boy to greet him and scold him for calling this early in the morning. "Come quick. It happened again."
The older boy cursed under his breath. "Write it down before you forget it. I'll be there in five minutes."
Blaine hung up and pulled a small leather-bound book out of his nightstand drawer. He grabbed a pen from the cup holder and quickly scribbled down the details of the dream before settling back against his headboard to wait for Wes.
By the time the older boy knocked on his door, the memory of the dream had faded, and he was grateful he'd written it down. He handed Wes the journal without a word when he opened the door.
Wes was used to deciphering Blaine's quick scrawl by now. The boy had a habit of writing quickly when he was nervous or antsy. He read over what Blaine had written and sat down on the edge of the younger boy's bed.
"So, what did you get from that?" Blaine asked cautiously after a few moments of silence.
Wes waited a few more moments before he answered. "The boy you described sounds like Ethan. Obviously he was trying to warn you about something. The fact that he called you Devon is interesting. Perhaps the dream was an echo of the past?"
Blaine was still for several moments. "I've never had either of them show up prophetically before. I don't think my father or grandfather or anyone else in my line has either. Wes, this is the first new information we've had in this case."
"I'm aware of that. My gut is telling me that something has been set in motion here, and that we need to be prepared for almost anything."
Blaine groaned. "Please don't tell me I'm in for a bunch of sleepless nights. Do you think Beatz would be up for making me a dreamless elixir?"
"I don't know, the last time you used one, you walked thirty miles in your sleep. If David hadn't been coming back from his cousin's wedding late that night, who knows when someone would have found you."
Blaine frowned. "Wasn't I walking north then?"
"Yeah, why?" Wes asked, confused by the question.
"Lima is north of here," the younger boy replied.
Wes' eyes went wide for a moment. "Do you think it's possible your subconscious might have been leading you to Kurt Hummel?"
Blaine frowned. "I don't know. It might have been part of it, but I feel like there was something else calling me, too. Someone else."
The confusion that crossed Wes' face then was a rarity to see. "But who else could be calling you that might be in Lima?" he asked.
Blaine just shook his head. "I have no idea." A shiver ran through him as the room suddenly felt cold. This often happened after one of his dreams.
Wes patted his shoulder. "Lay down and cover up. I'll have Thad brew you some tea."
"Think you can wheedle a pass for getting out of classes today from the nurse too?" Blaine asked, slightly hopeful. The dreams often left him with a massive headache as well. His grandfather had told him once it was because there was more pressure on the brain to prophesize with the eyes closed than open.
"I'll see what I can do," Wes said, standing and heading to the door.
"Thanks Wes," Blaine called out. The older boy just nodded as he slipped out of the room.
…
Kurt was distracted all day Monday as he moved from class to class basically on auto pilot. He had had a strange dream the night before, something about light and dark. Or was it black and white? He couldn't remember exactly, but it had left him feeling a bit disoriented when he woke up, and realized he hadn't turned on his alarm clock. He was almost twenty minutes late to school.
"Kurt, are you alright?" chirped a familiar peppy voice and it took everything Kurt had not to groan. He was so not in the mood for dealing with Rachel Berry right now.
"I didn't sleep well, nothing serious." He tried to remember which class he had next as he stared into his locker.
"Doesn't seem like nothing serious," Rachel said. "You know if you're in no mood to perform your solo in Glee today, I can do another one instead!" Kurt whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. He'd plumb forgot that he was supposed to do his assignment in Glee that day.
"I don't think so, Rachel," he said, voice tone flat. "You got one too many solos already." He turned back to his locker, and completely missed whatever retort she had coming at him. Because there, suddenly sitting on the lowest most shelf, atop a couple of textbooks, was the stone object. And Kurt was positive it was sitting on the shelf in his room when he left the house that morning.
"Ooh, that's pretty," Rachel said. "What is it?"
Kurt slammed the locker shut, and turned away. "Nothing, just something I found over the weekend. I was going to take it to the antique store after Glee to see if it was worth anything."
Rachel frowned. "Kurt, you can't sell that! It looks like a one of a kind piece of artwork! And from decades ago too! Sure, it might be worth a lot of money, but I would think you of all people would be the last person to put a price on uniqueness."
Kurt just shook her off. "I gotta get to class, Rach. And just because something is unique doesn't mean I have to keep it." He disappeared down the hall, much to the shorter girl's dismay.
As with the Friday previous, neither teen was aware of the scene being watched by Trent, who once again was a few lockers down. And this time, he'd managed to see exactly what the end of the conversation was about before Kurt slammed the door. He ignored the bell to get to class, and rushed to the boy's bathroom, pulling out his phone to call Wes. This was definitely one of those urgent need to know moments.
It took Wes a few rings before he answered. "I was in History class, about to take a test. This had better be important."
"There was a stone object in Kurt's locker just now," Trent said, by way of greeting.
"Can you send me a picture?"
"Luckily, I was prepared for that," Trent said. He didn't do anything half-assed, after all. He quickly sent the best angled photo he'd been able to get to Wes.
"I need to show this to Blaine, see if this is the object from his vision. Keep up your observation. I'll call you at the end of the day."
"Right, will do," Trent replied.
…
Once Blaine had confirmed that the item was the object from his vision, Wes had called a meeting of the Circle as soon as Trent arrived.
"We need to use the lure spell now," he said when they were all assembled.
"What did you find out?" Thad asked, curious why the spell was now their immediate priority after they had just recently had very little to go on.
Wes showed them the picture from earlier.
"That is the item I saw in my vision the other night," Blaine said. He looked a little paler than usual, and was bundled up in his coat, despite the fact that it was a fairly warm day for fall.
Thad frowned. "Blaine are you alright? Did the tea help at all? I don't think I've ever seen you still this cold this long after the fact."
Blaine shrugged. "I don't know. This dream seemed more intense than any other dream I've ever had."
Trent cleared his throat. "I should mention Wes, I fully believe that stone object was the source of the energy I felt in Kurt's house on Saturday. I could feel the same energy when it was in his locker and it was even stronger because it was closer."
Wes frowned, and texted the photograph to the rest of the Circle. "Everyone study this object and tell me if any of you have any ideas what it is. David, you and I will begin the preparations for the spell."
There was momentary silence before Beatz stood up from his seat. "It looks like a demon vessel," he said suddenly.
Trent shook his head. "Demon vessels are black. This is definitely white."
"My dad actually took a course on demonology in college," Beatz said, shaking his head. "The black color of demon vessels can be countered when affected by light magic. If you study the picture closer, you can see short black cracks sprouting up from the bottom of the object."
Trent frowned and looked at the picture more closely, but shook his head again. "The energy I felt didn't feel demonic. I almost want to say it was...loving. A gentle, caring, protective energy."
"And what does the High Council always preach?" Wes spoke up. "For as long as we believe it will, light magic will always have stronger power over dark. If Beatz is right, the light magic isn't just masking the color of the vessel."
"It's protecting it," Blaine said. "The question is, is it protecting the outside world from the demon, or the demon from the outside world?"
Trent shook his head again. "I don't understand. What would a demon vessel want with Kurt Hummel?"
"Ethan sent his brother, Matthew a package a few years after they disappeared," David reminded him. "Matthew never revealed to the Circle at the time what was in the package. He'd turned his back on his legacy, even went so far as to bind his own magic, and that of his children. Perhaps the object has been in Kurt's proximity the entire time."
Wes was nodding his head. "Matthew was a coward. When Ethan disappeared, he feared magic. He was too fearful to step up to the plate like Johnathan did. Johnathan wasn't supposed to take over in the Anderson line until Devon had graduated. But when Devon went missing, he stepped up without a second thought. Matthew should have done the same, but instead, he ran with his tail between his legs and bound his magic."
Trent was still studying the photograph. "Why would Ethan send his brother a demon vessel, even one bound by light magic?"
"Why was Ethan in possession of a demon vessel in the first place?" Blaine asked.
Wes just shook his head. "Too many questions left unanswered. We need to bring Kurt here and find out what he knows."
"What if he doesn't know anything?" Trent asked.
No one had an answer for him.
…
Later that night, the Circle met again, this time in the woods just beyond Dalton's boundaries. Instead of their usual blazers and ties, they wore dark robes. Wes used his ceremonial dagger to draw a circle of protection in a clearing, a small fire burned at the center, four candles blazed at each of the cardinal points of the compass. A fifth candle was lit on the altar around which the boys gathered.
Once every protection was in place, David opened the grimoire, and held it in place for Wes, who began to read out loud in an ancient language passed down from father to son for millennia.
As one, the boys raised their hands up and out to their sides, as though they were slapping high fives with the boy on either side of them, but their palms did not touch. As Wes continued to chant, each boy felt the power building between them, their combined magic growing stronger than any one of them could contain. They focused their attention and energies on Wes, feeding him the magic needed to cast the spell.
The Asian boy pulled a handful of herbs and dried flowers from a pouch strapped to his robe, and sprinkled them into the fire, sending the scent of lavender and thyme into the night air. He then pulled a small, clear plastic baggy from a pocket. Inside were three hairs that Trent had managed to acquire from Kurt Hummel's clothes without the other boy noticing. Wes pulled them out and held them flat in his palm.
"We beseech the Goddess, and the spirits of our ancestors to guide Kurt Hummel to us. Draw him here by any means. Our need and requirements of his assistance and presence are of the urgent variety. Therefore, we humbly request a summons of your guiding power to bring him forth to Dalton."
"We beseech the Goddess," the other boys repeated. Wes blew the hairs from his hand. They drifted gently over the fire, floating away into the night. Wes sprinkled another handful of the flowers and herbs over the flames, before relinquishing the power back to the other boys. Blaine swayed unsteadily on his feet. He had never felt this drained before, and was beginning to think dark magic might be affecting him.
Back in Lima, Kurt rolled over restlessly in his bed, shivering as he felt a chill breeze drift over him.