Clark pushed open the Talon's doors and headed to the service counter where he spotted Lana Lang restocking various pastries onto a round crystal platter. His path was cut abruptly as a patron rudely stepped in front of him to pay a tab. Clark decided not to voice his protest to the white-haired man. He always respected his elders. Instead, Clark stood behind the man and waited patiently until the transaction was complete.
"Excuse me, son." The man touched Clark's arm as he walked around him and headed for the exit.
Lana smiled as Clark approached the counter. "Some elderly people these days don't exactly make it easy for us to respect them, do they?"
Clark lowered his backpack to the floor and placed both hands on the edge of the counter. "I guess not." He eyed the pastries that Lana was carefully building a pattern with. His stomach started a fierce protest and brought to Clark's attention the fact that he hadn't eaten all day long. Thinking only with his stomach, Clark took a cherry danish from the platter.
He stopped mid bite when he realized what he had done. As it seemed, his manners suffered right along with his stomach.
"You're setting me back here, Clark." She watched him as he finished the bite.
Clark emitted a sheepish smile. "I am so sorry Lana." Even as he apologized, he took another bite.
Lana resumed placing the pastries in a circle on the crystal. "It's all right, just make sure you pay for it." She placed the next danish with divided attention as she watched Clark inhale the treat. "Is something wrong, Clark?" She wouldn't have asked except the boy was forsaking his manners and was putting away food like a pregnant woman with cravings.
Clark brushed crumbs from his mouth as he swallowed. "Not really. It's just that up until now, I haven't had much of an appetite all day." He wouldn't, of course, tell her why his appetite had been missing in action. He kind of figured that would be Chloe's call.
Lana repressed her suspicion. She was used to the farm boy keeping her in the dark about certain things. She placed the last danish and covered them with a crystal lid. "Well, can I get you anything else? The entire tray maybe?" She smiled and held her hand on the cover.
Clark blushed at Lana's humor. "Uh...no." As tempting as it was, he had to refuse. "I think I'll just find a table and wait for Pete."
Lana nodded. "All right, just let me know when you need something."
Backpack in hand, Clark turned to find a table. Just as he sat down, Pete entered the establishment. Clark waved a long arm to signal him over.
Pete pulled out the chair opposite Clark and sighed. "Well, I wanted to be the bearer of good news, but Chloe wouldn't come. She's at the Torch burying herself in an article." Pete sensed Clark's question and answered it before he could ask. "No, it isn't about last night. I read it over."
Clark leaned forward on the table. "So she's pretending like it never happened," he stated rather than questioned. Clark had tried to get through to her this morning before school started. She cleverly cut him off at every possible pass and then walked away from him with a cheery disposition he knew to be a facade.
"Why is she doing this, Clark? We were right there with her, we know how much this thing freaked her out."
Clark just shook his head. His mind flashed back to last night. He remembered all too well the dramatic loss of color in Chloe's cheeks, and the sound of her voice which was nearly robbed from her. And that scream that nearly shot his nerves to hell. All of a sudden, the danish didn't seem like such a good idea.
"Hey man, you OK?"
Clark forced his lips into a shaky smile. "Sure."
A question bubbled in Pete's throat that he was anxious, but reluctant to get out.
Clark noted his friend's expression. "Spill it, Pete."
"Well, I was just wondering..." Pete let the words linger as he took a breath. "Why were you so afraid to go into the house last night?" When Clark's expression became curious instead of, well. . .pissed, Pete continued. "And since when do you believe in ghosts, Clark?"
Clark sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes in question at Pete's words. After brief consideration, he decided to give Pete an explanation. "Well this is Smallville, Pete. Land of the freaks, home of the weird. Why shouldn't I believe?"
Pete nodded. "Understood." It was he who narrowed his eyes in inquiry now. He leaned closer over the table and lowered his voice. "But why so afraid? You have a better chance than anyone at beating some ghost."
"I'm not so sure about that, Pete." After Clark returned home last night, his thoughts were plagued with worry, mostly about not being able to save Chloe from the grips of a spirit, or whatever it was, if something like that should ever happen again. What if whatever it was that took hold of Chloe last night hadn't wanted to let go? He stared at the ceiling above his bed and mentally went over the list of his abilities. None of them could be used to chase away or destroy anything paranormal without harming Chloe too. Laden with concern, he tossed for hours. "Think about it. What exactly could I do?"
Pete looked down at his hands. "I think I know what you mean." He then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My mind keeps going back to what Chloe said last night. She said that she relived the night 'she' died."
"Yeah." Clark knew someone had died at the Foster Manor a long time ago, more than one person. He never had an interest in the history of it. Until now. And Chloe said something about a seance. He needed more background information about both the murders and what exactly a seance was.
Clark stood up and went to the counter to pay Lana for the danish. When he returned to the table, he didn't sit back down. "Come on," he said. "We're going to the Torch to do some research." And to try to corner Chloe. He and Pete had to find a way to make her talk.
* * *
Chloe pulled down the visor above the windshield of her car. The afternoon sun shot its blinding rays straight through, making it difficult to focus on the road without the visor. She pressed harder on the gas, uncaring of just how thoroughly she was violating the speed limit.
Clearly she couldn't tell Clark and Pete where she was headed. They would never allow it after what happened last night. Chloe still wasn't sure why she herself was allowing it. She had no intention of experiencing again what she had the night before, but not giving chase to this investigation was something Chloe could not do.
The physical pain had long left her and Chloe had been relieved at that. However, the mental headache of the memories still swallowed her thoughts whole. She read earlier at the Torch about how the three had died. Chloe almost cringed again, just as she had earlier sitting at her computer in the Torch office. Unyce Vivian Foster, the older woman, was hanged in her own bathroom...with her own hair. Chloe would have thrown up, but there was nothing in her stomach to make it happen. Frank Foster hand been shot twice, once in his left leg and once in the head. Lillian Janine Larson was of course shot in the chest. The motive for the murders is still unknown, though Chloe read that they may have been mob related.
Chloe shut off the engine to her car after parking on the roadside. She got out and leaned against the door. Now faced with the house, her courage turned into cowardice. Oddly enough, the house looked no less intimidating in broad daylight.
"I'm going to do this," Chloe said as her legs carried her forward. "I'm going to do this." She repeated this to herself as she walked closer to the house.
The door to the manor made a creaking sound when Chloe turned the old rusty knob. She could hear her footsteps echo on the bare wooden floor as she slowly stepped forward. She stopped as a brief dizzy spell came over her. "What the hell?" The house seemed to 'flash'. Chloe stumbled backward until her back was flush against the door. She blinked her eyes hard as the house did the 'flashy' thing again.
She looked around at the room. It was rather beautifully decorated, from the floral print furniture to the walls, which were splashed with a fresh coat of lilac paint. She looked down and beneath her feet was a square of soft, plush rose pink carpet. The wooden stairs and banister were a gleaming brilliant white. When the house 'flashed' again, the gleaming white base of the stairs was covered with bright red blood. Chloe would have screamed if she could find her voice. The room flashed once more and the house returned to its present decaying state.
Chloe's heart began to decelerate and she rubbed her face as if trying to grasp reality. She lowered her hands and waited for the house to shift again, but it didn't happen. If this spirit was trying to scare her away, it was going to take more than that, she thought to herself. But not much more.
Chloe proceeded with caution, staying braced for another weird occurrence. She stepped into the room where the incident of the previous night took place and walked around the broken porcelain vase. Chloe looked down at the table with the candles and noticed something she hadn't the night before. The candles were considerably dusty. She leaned closer and ran her index finger down the short length of an ivory candle. She peered at the film of dust on her finger then wiped it off on her jeans. Maybe this seance hadn't taken place last night like she originally thought.
Chloe stood up straight and began to reach for the notebook and pen in her purse when the temperature of the room dropped dramatically. She stopped what she was doing and turned around in a slow circle. "Lily?" She called the name in a low voice. When the room only began to get colder, she swallowed and tried again. "Lillian?"
Chloe waited when all she really wanted to do was flee to her car and get the hell out of dodge. Then she felt something invading her body, slowly and gently. Chloe stood frozen in place as the eerie sensation filled her. She could hear a faint humming in her head and the soothing sound alone kept her from panicking. The room was so cold she could see her breath as she breathed out.
Feeling weak and nearly sedated, Chloe fell to her knees as her eyelids began to droop heavily.
This was nothing like last night's possession. Last night had felt like a total and utter violation of her whole existence. Behind her closed lids, Chloe could see a glowing white fog, which soon opened up and revealed a room decked with classic beauty. Chloe Sullivan was clearly in another world.
**Author's note: I don't mean to tease(no wait, I do), but I have to keep you guys wanting more. I really hope that I've done just that.
I want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story so far. Thanx a bunch! It is because of you that I continue to update so please feel free to tell me what you think of this story so far. I promise to update soon.
"Excuse me, son." The man touched Clark's arm as he walked around him and headed for the exit.
Lana smiled as Clark approached the counter. "Some elderly people these days don't exactly make it easy for us to respect them, do they?"
Clark lowered his backpack to the floor and placed both hands on the edge of the counter. "I guess not." He eyed the pastries that Lana was carefully building a pattern with. His stomach started a fierce protest and brought to Clark's attention the fact that he hadn't eaten all day long. Thinking only with his stomach, Clark took a cherry danish from the platter.
He stopped mid bite when he realized what he had done. As it seemed, his manners suffered right along with his stomach.
"You're setting me back here, Clark." She watched him as he finished the bite.
Clark emitted a sheepish smile. "I am so sorry Lana." Even as he apologized, he took another bite.
Lana resumed placing the pastries in a circle on the crystal. "It's all right, just make sure you pay for it." She placed the next danish with divided attention as she watched Clark inhale the treat. "Is something wrong, Clark?" She wouldn't have asked except the boy was forsaking his manners and was putting away food like a pregnant woman with cravings.
Clark brushed crumbs from his mouth as he swallowed. "Not really. It's just that up until now, I haven't had much of an appetite all day." He wouldn't, of course, tell her why his appetite had been missing in action. He kind of figured that would be Chloe's call.
Lana repressed her suspicion. She was used to the farm boy keeping her in the dark about certain things. She placed the last danish and covered them with a crystal lid. "Well, can I get you anything else? The entire tray maybe?" She smiled and held her hand on the cover.
Clark blushed at Lana's humor. "Uh...no." As tempting as it was, he had to refuse. "I think I'll just find a table and wait for Pete."
Lana nodded. "All right, just let me know when you need something."
Backpack in hand, Clark turned to find a table. Just as he sat down, Pete entered the establishment. Clark waved a long arm to signal him over.
Pete pulled out the chair opposite Clark and sighed. "Well, I wanted to be the bearer of good news, but Chloe wouldn't come. She's at the Torch burying herself in an article." Pete sensed Clark's question and answered it before he could ask. "No, it isn't about last night. I read it over."
Clark leaned forward on the table. "So she's pretending like it never happened," he stated rather than questioned. Clark had tried to get through to her this morning before school started. She cleverly cut him off at every possible pass and then walked away from him with a cheery disposition he knew to be a facade.
"Why is she doing this, Clark? We were right there with her, we know how much this thing freaked her out."
Clark just shook his head. His mind flashed back to last night. He remembered all too well the dramatic loss of color in Chloe's cheeks, and the sound of her voice which was nearly robbed from her. And that scream that nearly shot his nerves to hell. All of a sudden, the danish didn't seem like such a good idea.
"Hey man, you OK?"
Clark forced his lips into a shaky smile. "Sure."
A question bubbled in Pete's throat that he was anxious, but reluctant to get out.
Clark noted his friend's expression. "Spill it, Pete."
"Well, I was just wondering..." Pete let the words linger as he took a breath. "Why were you so afraid to go into the house last night?" When Clark's expression became curious instead of, well. . .pissed, Pete continued. "And since when do you believe in ghosts, Clark?"
Clark sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes in question at Pete's words. After brief consideration, he decided to give Pete an explanation. "Well this is Smallville, Pete. Land of the freaks, home of the weird. Why shouldn't I believe?"
Pete nodded. "Understood." It was he who narrowed his eyes in inquiry now. He leaned closer over the table and lowered his voice. "But why so afraid? You have a better chance than anyone at beating some ghost."
"I'm not so sure about that, Pete." After Clark returned home last night, his thoughts were plagued with worry, mostly about not being able to save Chloe from the grips of a spirit, or whatever it was, if something like that should ever happen again. What if whatever it was that took hold of Chloe last night hadn't wanted to let go? He stared at the ceiling above his bed and mentally went over the list of his abilities. None of them could be used to chase away or destroy anything paranormal without harming Chloe too. Laden with concern, he tossed for hours. "Think about it. What exactly could I do?"
Pete looked down at his hands. "I think I know what you mean." He then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My mind keeps going back to what Chloe said last night. She said that she relived the night 'she' died."
"Yeah." Clark knew someone had died at the Foster Manor a long time ago, more than one person. He never had an interest in the history of it. Until now. And Chloe said something about a seance. He needed more background information about both the murders and what exactly a seance was.
Clark stood up and went to the counter to pay Lana for the danish. When he returned to the table, he didn't sit back down. "Come on," he said. "We're going to the Torch to do some research." And to try to corner Chloe. He and Pete had to find a way to make her talk.
* * *
Chloe pulled down the visor above the windshield of her car. The afternoon sun shot its blinding rays straight through, making it difficult to focus on the road without the visor. She pressed harder on the gas, uncaring of just how thoroughly she was violating the speed limit.
Clearly she couldn't tell Clark and Pete where she was headed. They would never allow it after what happened last night. Chloe still wasn't sure why she herself was allowing it. She had no intention of experiencing again what she had the night before, but not giving chase to this investigation was something Chloe could not do.
The physical pain had long left her and Chloe had been relieved at that. However, the mental headache of the memories still swallowed her thoughts whole. She read earlier at the Torch about how the three had died. Chloe almost cringed again, just as she had earlier sitting at her computer in the Torch office. Unyce Vivian Foster, the older woman, was hanged in her own bathroom...with her own hair. Chloe would have thrown up, but there was nothing in her stomach to make it happen. Frank Foster hand been shot twice, once in his left leg and once in the head. Lillian Janine Larson was of course shot in the chest. The motive for the murders is still unknown, though Chloe read that they may have been mob related.
Chloe shut off the engine to her car after parking on the roadside. She got out and leaned against the door. Now faced with the house, her courage turned into cowardice. Oddly enough, the house looked no less intimidating in broad daylight.
"I'm going to do this," Chloe said as her legs carried her forward. "I'm going to do this." She repeated this to herself as she walked closer to the house.
The door to the manor made a creaking sound when Chloe turned the old rusty knob. She could hear her footsteps echo on the bare wooden floor as she slowly stepped forward. She stopped as a brief dizzy spell came over her. "What the hell?" The house seemed to 'flash'. Chloe stumbled backward until her back was flush against the door. She blinked her eyes hard as the house did the 'flashy' thing again.
She looked around at the room. It was rather beautifully decorated, from the floral print furniture to the walls, which were splashed with a fresh coat of lilac paint. She looked down and beneath her feet was a square of soft, plush rose pink carpet. The wooden stairs and banister were a gleaming brilliant white. When the house 'flashed' again, the gleaming white base of the stairs was covered with bright red blood. Chloe would have screamed if she could find her voice. The room flashed once more and the house returned to its present decaying state.
Chloe's heart began to decelerate and she rubbed her face as if trying to grasp reality. She lowered her hands and waited for the house to shift again, but it didn't happen. If this spirit was trying to scare her away, it was going to take more than that, she thought to herself. But not much more.
Chloe proceeded with caution, staying braced for another weird occurrence. She stepped into the room where the incident of the previous night took place and walked around the broken porcelain vase. Chloe looked down at the table with the candles and noticed something she hadn't the night before. The candles were considerably dusty. She leaned closer and ran her index finger down the short length of an ivory candle. She peered at the film of dust on her finger then wiped it off on her jeans. Maybe this seance hadn't taken place last night like she originally thought.
Chloe stood up straight and began to reach for the notebook and pen in her purse when the temperature of the room dropped dramatically. She stopped what she was doing and turned around in a slow circle. "Lily?" She called the name in a low voice. When the room only began to get colder, she swallowed and tried again. "Lillian?"
Chloe waited when all she really wanted to do was flee to her car and get the hell out of dodge. Then she felt something invading her body, slowly and gently. Chloe stood frozen in place as the eerie sensation filled her. She could hear a faint humming in her head and the soothing sound alone kept her from panicking. The room was so cold she could see her breath as she breathed out.
Feeling weak and nearly sedated, Chloe fell to her knees as her eyelids began to droop heavily.
This was nothing like last night's possession. Last night had felt like a total and utter violation of her whole existence. Behind her closed lids, Chloe could see a glowing white fog, which soon opened up and revealed a room decked with classic beauty. Chloe Sullivan was clearly in another world.
**Author's note: I don't mean to tease(no wait, I do), but I have to keep you guys wanting more. I really hope that I've done just that.
I want to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story so far. Thanx a bunch! It is because of you that I continue to update so please feel free to tell me what you think of this story so far. I promise to update soon.