By NyteMan
Chapter 2
"GABRIEL! What the hell are you doing?" Grace stood in the doorway of the library at Schloss Ritter, her jaw hanging open at the mess on the floor. Books, scrolls, everything was in upheaval on the shelves, the floor, and the desk. Gabriel was sitting in the middle of it all with bloodshot eyes, tangled morning hair, in a T-shirt and baggy boxer shorts. He was poring through the old tomes frantically, a sheaf of papers sitting in front of him.
"Mornin', Grace." Gabriel's accent was more pronounced when he was tired, it seemed. He smiled groggily at her and looked back down to the subject of his curiosity, a large book with yellowed pages. "You know, a good serious reader could just get lost in here. If he spoke about twelve languages, that is..." Gabriel trailed off as he came upon a passage that grabbed his interest.
Grace was torn - she was partially happy that Gabriel was taking an interest in research, but if messes like this were going to be the result of his undertakings into the literary world, she wanted no part of it. Of course, part of her was bemused at the thought of him trying to research without her, while yet another part was hurt at the same thought.
"Is there something specific you're looking for? Maybe I've already come across it." She sat down next to him, attempting to ignore the mess that she was going to end up cleaning up for him. He'd offer to help, of course, but do a piss-poor job of it and end up frustrating her attempts to return to the semblance of order that she had created in her cataloging and copying of the Schattenjäger library. Perhaps by giving him a hand she could get him out in a hurry!
"Well, here's the deal: I had a dream last night that I wrote down - "
Gabriel gestured at the sheaf of papers in front of him without looking up " - and I'm trying to look up anything that talks about seeing relatives in dreams, or spirits talking to you in dreams, etc."
"Well, why don't you think back to your last case?" Grace smirked, picking up the papers to read them. "Have you forgotten already? Ludwig was trying to talk to you all along in that one." She started to read the papers and froze.
"Y'see? Not exactly the same situation, is it." Gabriel grimaced a bit as he pondered the dream again. "That's almost EXACTLY what I remember about my parents' accident. The Ludwig dreams were always very symbolic...Freud's kinda stuff. But I remember the crash, I remember seeing the painting in the back seat, and I remember Gran's crying. I don't remember hearing Dad's voice, though...that was new. Is someone trying to tell me something?"
Grace read the rest of the dream and looked up to Gabriel. "This painting sounds familiar. It's not the one you sold to Bruno, is it?"
Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Yeah - that's where it went. I was trying to think why it seemed so familiar to me."
"I told you not to sell it, didn't I?" Grace looked annoyed at him. "You never listen to me-"
"Gracie, if I hadn't sold that painting, we never would have solved that case, would we?" Gabriel finally gave her the attention she wanted, looking up at her. "It's not like I had any money then..."
"Well, you could have asked me, couldn't you?" Grace's arms were crossed in annoyance. "I would have helped."
"Grace - as you kept pointing out to me, I hadn't paid you since you started at St. George's. Where were you going to get the money?"
"From the money I was using to live down there - as you just said, you hadn't paid me for a while!" Grace looked annoyed again. "My folks gave me some money to live on, and I had worked at that library before I started at your store."
"Well, what's done is done, so let's think about what needs to be done now," Gabriel sputtered, trying to put the issue of his selling the painting to rest. "It looks like I need to get it back, right? I mean, that's what Daddy was saying in the dream."
"But that painting was just a skull and some snakes, right? How are you supposed to find any meaning in that?" Grace looked dubious. "I think it's something else."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, but I just don't think that painting holds any meaning. I mean, your Grandmother said that your father was tortured by dreams his whole life and that painting was how he dealt with them."
"Grace, that's the whole point! My father was tortured by dreams, but ignored them. He didn't know any better." Gabriel was getting incensed. "I had nightmares, too, and look where they led! I used my books to deal with my dreams, and all my dreams have led to cases. My father did the same thing, only he didn't have any cases to work on because his form of expression didn't require any research. Also, he didn't have a partner with the word 'research' stamped on her genetic code, like I do!" Grace blushed a bit...half out of flattery and half out of annoyance. "If Uncle Wolfgang had found my father first, then he might have been the Schattenjäger, right?"
"Maybe..." stammered Grace.
"No maybe about it! I'm booking a flight to New Orleans right now!" Gabriel smiled. "Wanna come?"
Grace stuttered for a moment. She was stunned that Gabriel actually invited her along for the trip, but after a moment she became annoyed. Of course he did...no danger involved in this one.. Then she remembered what Mrs. Smith had said, months ago, about Gabriel needing to fight his own battles. "No, that's okay. I think we'd be better off if I stayed here and worked on the database entries. Besides, if you come across something with the painting, you might need me to look something up back here."
"Good thinking, Gracie." Gabriel sat back from the book, fatigue finally taking its toll on him. "Hmmm...now that I think about it, the travel agency probably won't be open for a couple hours. Maybe we should go get some breakfast first."
"Better idea, Knight," Grace answered with a smirk, "you can help me clean up this mess you made!"
Gabriel looked around the library, realizing for the first time what a disaster area he had created. "Oh, damn..."
At the sound of the knocking, Rebecca Knight made her way to the front door and opened it. A tall, roguishly handsome man with wild reddish-blond hair stood smiling at her.
"Hi, Gran."
"Gabriel! Oh, I'm so glad you're finally home!" Gran threw her arms around Gabriel and the two embraced warmly. "How have you been? All cramped up in a drafty old castle...come out here and have some molasses pie! I whipped up a couple just in case you were hungry when you got in!" She sat him down on the couch and went out to the small kitchen to bring the promised treat.
"The castle's not all that bad, Gran. We've made lots of improvements. It's a lot cozier than it was when I first got there." Gran brought the pie to the living room and handed him a plate. "Thanks, Gran. Boy, have I missed this!" Gabriel dug into the pie and obviously relished every bite.
"So how are things in Germany? How's that Grace doing? I like her, Gabriel..." Gran's eyes were sparkling as she watched the face of her grandson turn bright red.
"Gran! I told you there's nothing going on there!" Gabriel looked at his grandmother with great exasperation. "She just works with me and we're friends!"
"Yes, dear. Of course." Gran still had the sparkle in her eyes but dropped the topic. "When does the new book come out?"
"Couple of months. Should do pretty well, I think. 'Specially in Germany. Seems like there should be a lot of interest, seeing as it happened in Munich." He took another bite of the luscious pie.
"Oh, Gabriel, that last book of yours nearly scared the devil out of me. Is this one going to be any less gruesome?" Gran had read The Voodoo Murders but was among its greater critics. "You have so much of your father in you. So much talent, but such a dark use of it. Have you tried writing something more uplifting?"
"I tried writing everything, Gran. This is the only thing I'm any good at, it seems." Gabriel tried to look positively on the subject but he knew Gran wasn't disapproving, she just didn't like the idea of such dark thoughts coursing through her grandson's mind.
Gran sighed. She smiled bravely, but Gabriel could see that she was troubled by the presence of the darkness in her family's lives. "Gran, you don't have to worry about me. I'm the happiest I've ever been. My books are selling, I'm learning about my family, I have wonderful friends, and most important I've got the prettiest belle in New Orleans watching out for me!" Gran blushed. Gabriel knew she liked to protest being called that but that inside she loved to hear it.
"Well, the important thing is that you're happy." Gran smiled. She noticed that Gabriel had finished his piece of pie and quickly served him another. Gabriel smiled. Gran would never change.
"Can I ask you some questions about Daddy, Gran?" Gran's smile faded slowly, but she forced it back in an effort not to appear uncomfortable with Gabriel's question.
"Of course, dear. What would you like to know?"
"Well, when he was painting, especially the pictures you didn't like as much, the gruesome ones, did he ever mention what made him want to paint them?" Gabriel paused. He didn't want to disturb Gran, but he had to know something. "There's one he did that has a snake crawling around in a skull, the one that I eventually took. Did he ever tell you about what it was that inspired him?"
"Well, Gabriel, I really don't know. All I can tell you is what I've told you before. He, like you, and like your grandfather, have always had such awful dreams. You seem to have gotten better, but your father and your grandfather never really did." Gran smiled a bit. "I suppose it's because you got back in touch with your roots, now, don't you? Of course, there's a lot your grandfather never wanted to tell me about his upbringing...never quite figured it out, myself." Gran looked up at Gabriel, hinting that she really wanted to pump him for information but was too polite.
A prickly feeling of extreme discomfort ran down Gabriel's back as Gran made this request. He knew she wouldn't be able to understand how he had taken up the mantle of the Schattenjäger and willingly threw himself into harm's way. Or maybe she would...he remembered how fondly she recalled the days of her youth, when St. John's Eve mass was celebrated in New Orleans. Perhaps some of that religious nostalgia would rub off on her in regards to this Schattenjäger business.
"Gran? Remember how you were telling me that sometimes Granddaddy used to seem like he was struggling with something he ought to be doing?" Gran's eyes perked up as she listened to him. "Well, you were right - he was struggling. Granddaddy's family were hereditary hunters of evil."
Gran's eyes narrowed slightly. Gabriel wasn't sure what this meant. "Do you mean that you're some kind of private detective?" asked Gran.
"...Of a sort, Gran. But I hunt real evil. Let's put it this way. Not all of The Voodoo Murders was a story. A lot of that voodoo stuff was real, and I helped hunt down the people who did it. Mosely helped, of course, but I had to do a lot of research. You probably remember, it was during the whole voodoo thing that I first learned about Germany and the Ritters, right?" Gran nodded as she recalled that period. "Well, Uncle Wolfgang - I told you about him - was the Schattenjäger before me. He sort of passed the title on to me...you know?"
Gran nodded her assent. "It sounds almost like a religious order, Gabriel! I never expected any of the Knight men to be a priest of any kind!" Gran blushed a bit as Gabriel caught on to the remark.
Laughing, he hugged her. "Neither did I, Gran. Neither did I."
"Well, you could knock me over with a feather! Gabriel Knight, how in the world are you! Sid, come on out and see who's here!" The tall black-haired man in the white jacket and bermuda shorts came out from behind the counter of the flower store and went to give Gabriel a hug. Gabriel backed away slightly, his body language implying that he wasn't comfortable with being embraced by the man. "Well, a guy can try, can't he, Knight?" Bruno smiled at the discomfort of his visitor.
"Hi Bruno. Long time no see." Gabriel held out his hand to be shaken and Bruno accepted. As they shook hands, a shorter, pudgier man came out of the back. He wore a similar white jacket - almost a short lab coat, khaki pants, and his diminishing hair was pulled back in a ponytail similar to Bruno's but definitely grayer. He held a pair of pruning shears in his left hand.
"Knight - what brings you back into town? Heard you were livin' in Germany or somethin'!" Sid smiled and held out his hand, which Gabriel took.
"Oh, not too much. Actually, I'm back to see you guys." Bruno smirked in disbelief, but Sid looked at him seriously.
"Really? What can we do you for?" Gabriel smiled as Bruno put his arm around Sid, and continued.
"Remember a few years ago when I sold you that painting my daddy did, Bruno? The one with the snakes and the skull? You had been pestering me about it for months, and I finally gave in?" Gabriel saw from the smirk on Bruno's face that he did. He wasn't prepared for the look of distaste on Sid's face, though.
"I sure do - I'm just glad I came to you before you had that god-awful book of yours published! Had to get to you while you still needed the money, and I did!" Bruno was obviously very proud of himself for that.
"So," Gabriel continued, "do you still have it? Can I buy it back from y'all?" Gabriel thought he was in for a round of heavy bargaining by the somewhat evil look creeping across Bruno's face and was surprised by what he heard next.
"Sure - we'll sell it back to you for what we paid you originally." Sid had spoken before Bruno could get a word out at all. Bruno's head swung around and he stared unbelievingly at Sid.
"Si-i-i-d! Bruno drew out his companion's name like a small child might with a parent.
"Bruno, you know I've never liked that painting. No offense meant, Gabe," Sid added, then turned back to Bruno and wagged his finger at him. "You kept hassling him until he gave in because he needed the money. That's no way to treat a friend!" Sid went around behind the counter and picked up a cloth-covered frame. He returned to the front and handed it to Gabriel, who had retrieved one hundred dollars from his wallet and handed it to Sid in exchange. Gabriel's tongue was uncharacteristically tied.
Sid moved closer to Gabriel and whispered in his ear, "Don't sweat it, Gabe. Bruno must have missed the gay gene that contains artistic taste." Gabriel almost burst out laughing, but thanked the two men and walked out. Bruno's whining voice followed him out the door and part way down Bourbon Street.
Gabriel lay in bed in his old studio apartment behind St. George's Books. The old painting was behind the counter of the store, behind the curtain. His eyes closed, and he recalled that the last time he had slept in that bed he had been having the dreams of Tetelo, Malia, and the Voodoo Hounfour under Jackson Square. "Malia..." That was a name he hadn't thought of for quite a while...
Gabriel drifted off into a dream. He was drifting bodiless again, this time over a much newer looking house than he had seen in the previous dream that had led him back to New Orleans. A much younger, possibly mid-20s Gran was sitting on the front steps, sipping a glass of lemonade and playing with a toddler in a playpen at the foot of the steps.
Gabriel had seen old pictures of his grandmother before, but was almost flabbergasted at how alive and vibrant she looked. She's really had a hard life, and you can see it in her eyes from then to now. She has a sparkle in her eyes now that almost doesn't exist any more! He sighed, inaudibly to those around him. I guess seeing all the men in your life disappear can do that to you.
He focused his eyes on the toddler, realizing who it was after a moment. The resemblance to his own baby pictures was amazing. This was his father! Gabriel hovered down next to Gran, gawking in amazement at the two of them. It was one thing to see lots of pictures of people at a young age, but to actually experience them was totally different.
Gran was "coochie-cooing" his father who was gurgling and laughing in return. Gabriel was laughing silently along with the two of them, not used to such a domestic scene. Is this the kind of life I missed by not having parents around? He watched his father's innocent face look around at all the wonderment of the neighborhood, until the toddler was looking straight at Gabriel. Gabriel's heart skipped a beat when the toddler locked his eyes on him.
GABRIEL. REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU. THE PAINTING HOLDS THE ANSWER... Gabriel drew back as the toddler went back to his play. He hadn't so much heard the message from his father as felt it - almost as if his father had placed the thought in his mind, in that tortured yet strong voice Gabriel remembered. If Gabriel had been corporeal, he would be in a cold sweat right now.
At that moment, Gabriel heard a loud crack from the back of the house, then a thump and a shout. Gran looked up from playing with his father and muttered "Harrison?" She picked up the child, bundled him into her arms, and walked, hesitantly, to the back of the small house. Gabriel watched her walk, still somewhat frozen by the experience of hearing his father's voice and the piercing stare that his infant equivalent had given him.
She rounded the side of the house and immediately let out a horrible scream. His father immediately began to emit a wailing cry, and Gran fell to her knees and wailed along with him.
Gabriel immediately whisked himself off to the back of his house to view the commotion. When he got there, he was taken aback. A man lay on the concrete patio in the backyard, his neck at a gruesome angle. A small pool of dark blood was forming around the back of his head. The look of surprise on the man's face was unmistakable, and the resemblance to his father and himself was as unmistakable. This was Harrison Knight, also known as Heinz Ritter - Gabriel's grandfather.
A rope was tied around Harrison's waist, and a broken piece of wood was tied to the other end. Obviously, it was a safety rope, designed to prevent what had just happened. Gabriel looked up and saw another man, staring down, aghast at the sight below him. Gran continued to scream, accompanied by Gabriel's father's frightened wailing.
"Gabriel?" Gabriel spun around, looking for the source of the voice. Can't be...I'm not even a consideration here, no one could possibly know me!
"Who..." Gabriel started.
"Gabriel? You can hear me?" The voice was somewhat like his father's voice, but with a thick German accent. Gabriel spun around, somehow instinctively looking back at the body of his grandfather.
"Granddaddy?" Gabriel's mouth was agape, but he continued to listen.
Unlike most of his dreams, it seemed as though he had some control over his actions in this one, instead of the impression he normally got of being forced to watch his own actions as in a movie. "What's going on?"
"Gabriel, you must listen to me. Find my book, Gabriel. Read it!" His grandfather's voice seemed to be fading out.
"What book, Granddaddy? I don't..." Gabriel was getting frantic.
"My book, Gabriel. You know the one...it helped you once...it can help you again..." The voice drifted off into the cacophony of anguish created by Gran's screams and his father's crying...