Anyway, so this chapter does set up stuff and has fun action-type suspense-type goodness at the end…so it's not all bad. And there was no way I could make it any longer than this, but…but the next chapter (which I have already started work on) will be longer and full of StoryTelling!Arnold, EvilBitch!Helga (come on, you know you love her) and everyone's favorite Mary Sue, Anna.
So without further ado…
Part IV: WatchedFrom: poetesspataki@cbworld.com
Re: My Worst Nightmare
Hey Pheebs-
AUGH! Help me! I'm in deeeep trouble. Okay, so you know how we went to see that guy Logan Finn, Katie's mentor, in Scotland? Well, he's great, and I love Scotland, and all that, but his granddaughter…ergh. You remember Lila? Yeah. Well, give her a British accent and a passion for archaeology, and that's her. Anna. Ugh. She's just so pretty, and nice, and intelligent, and bubbly…it makes me want to smack her in the face with a large hammer. I don't think Arnold is attracted to her, but maybe… I dunno. I just…I guess I'm worried that he'll realize what a colossal mistake it is being with me when he could have Little Miss Muffet over here.
Yeah, I know you, you'll just say I'm being neurotic, and maybe I am. But you're the doctor…don't I have the perfect setup for a neurotic, or something? Overachieving sister and all that? Enh—like I said, you're the doctor. I know about rhyme and meter and good champagne.
But anyway, here's the really awful news. So we're sitting around the dinner table eating desert (of course Anna baked a cake) and Arnold's talking all gung-ho about his quest for the Lotus and whatnot, and Anna gives this really wistful sigh, and goes, "Wow, I'd just love to go looking for something like that. It sounds so thrilling." And Arnold, that moron, goes, "Well, you're welcome to come with us. I could use another real archaeologist. Helga here couldn't care less."
And of course I kicked him and said "Arnold, dear, that's not entirely true," but then Logan got this look in his eyes and was all like "It would be good experience for you, Anna," and Anna was all like "Oh, no, I couldn't impose," but I saw through that little act in a New York minute—yeah right, couldn't impose unless it'll get you closer to my man—and Arnold's like, "So why not join us? Come on, it'll be fun! Right, Helga?"
And then everyone looks at me, and what am I supposed to say, right? So I'm like, "Uh…yeah. It'll be great. There'll be…sand and, um…stuff." Real eloquent. And Anna does this fetching little blush and goes, "Well, thank you so much, I'd love to come," and Logan and Arnold are all chipper about it and I excused myself to go to the bathroom but I actually went outside and kicked some rocks and now not only am I severely pissed off but my toe hurts and I think there's blood collecting under the nail. You'll have to look at it when I get home.
So now the Fairy Princess is joining me and Arnold on our little quest, here. Yippee. She's packing now, because our flight to Egypt is tomorrow. Arnold and Logan are talking about some archaeologist stuff and talking in hieroglyphics or something, so I took my laptop over to the inn across the street. You would not believe how tiny this town is. The population is, like, twelve. But it's very pleasant here, and so green… I think I may move to Scotland. That way, not only will I be in a beautiful country all the time, but I'll have ample opportunity to push Anna Banana here off of a fell or a dale or something.
Anyway, enough about me. How's everything with you? What happened to that patient, the one with the cat that you were telling me about? Did Gerald get the promotion? And did you tell him that you think you're pregnant yet?
I may not be able to get mail for a while, but I'll try. Don't be too worried if you don't hear from me. I know how my correspondence is the highlight of your day, lol. (Why do I use "lol" anyway? I hate it, it's stupid and immature, and I'm too old for it. And yet, I use it. Why is that?) We should be home within the month. Talk to you soon!
-Helga
He narrowed his eyes as he watched her, wishing that he hadn't forgotten his sunglasses in his room. He could go get them, but that might draw attention, or she might leave while he was gone. Better to endure without them, and just continue pretending to be engrossed in his book.
Her pale golden hair tumbled about her shoulders as she frowned down at the computer screen. Oh, yes, all of the accounts were absolutely true. She was beautiful. Something about her face held a defiant bravery so little seen in anyone today, especially Americans. But she had it—that look of a heroine, somehow ingrained in the tapestry of her subtlest expressions.
He watched as she paused in her typing and pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes scanned the screen, her fingers hovered above the keys…then with a decisive movement, she clicked the mouse with evident satisfaction. A few more clicks, and she closed the laptop with an archaic grace. He made ready to follow her if she left, but she merely picked up a book and began to read, brow furrowed against the sunlight.
Time passed. Beads of condensation slid slowly down the sides of his glass. The town's few inhabitants passed in the streets, talking and laughing. Still she sat, reading, and he sat, watching her. He grew anxious. Surely this must look suspicious, him just sitting there, leafing through a newspaper he'd finished long ago?
Slowly another sensation grew on him—insidiously at first, then gradually more powerfully. He cursed it, knowing that he couldn't succumb to the weaknesses of the flesh, knowing that he shouldn't let his eyes leave her for longer than an instant, but the fact was undeniable.
He really had to pee.
Swearing fluently under his breath, he stood up as unobtrusively as possible and made his way into the inn. The man behind the desk directed him to the bathroom, and he walked down the narrow, dark hall alone, enjoying the feeling of being out of the sun for a few minutes. The hall seemed a kind of cool, murky paradise to eyes that were still not adjusted to the semi-gloom.
He reached the bathroom, placed a hand on the doorknob.
The hair on the back of his neck stood inexplicably on end.
Then he whirled, just in time to avoid a crushing blow to the back of his head. He caught it on the shoulder instead, driving him down to one knee. Quickly he was up, ignoring the pain as his kneecap creaked and groaned. He might never walk properly again.
He backed away, into another form as thick and unmovable as a tree trunk. How many were there? He couldn't see in the half-light, and they were constantly moving, as silently as cats… He ducked under enveloping arms and tried to slip away, but he was caught around the shoulders and held fast. He felt cloth coming over his mouth, muffling him; he tried to struggle, but it was like fighting granite.
There was a flash of a match. A strange pipe was being lit, then the match was snuffed out. A familiar but unplaceable aroma filled his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, trying to get away from the strong, cloying smell.
Then a face loomed close, lit by the glow from the pipe and ringed by lavender smoke; a face that he had never seen before in person, though he knew it well from years of terror. It was the face of the Devil, they said. He had never believed it before. Now…now he knew.
"You will take a message for me," the Devil said in a low, cool voice. It was not a question.
The rag was removed. He was quaking, but he managed to spit out his reply.
"I will die first!" he said bravely, trying not to lose control of his bladder.
"Yes," the Devil said. There was no emotion in the voice. It wasn't human, couldn't be human. "You will."
The rag was shoved back into his mouth. A silver blade moved like lightning. Dark blood welled up at his throat, and another, larger rag was brought to catch the blood before a drop hit the solid oaken floors. The Devil considered his pipe gravely, in no hurry though any of the townspeople—or the girl herself—might walk in at any moment.
"Dispose of the body," he said finally. "The head and the hands send to him. He will know that wherever he sends his men, wherever he follows her too, we will be there." He paused. "I do not like this American boy's intent. He does not know what he seeks—not yet. But I will act as I see fit…and the girl is to be left out of it."
His men, knowing that he was not talking to them, carried the body down the hall as silently as they had come. The Devil stood alone in the semi-dark, watching the patterns the smoke from his pipe made in air.
"Yes, the girl is to be left out of it…for now."
And out in the sunlight, Helga read, unaware of the multiple pairs of eyes that still watched her every move.
DropsofJupiter: You went to four concerts? Arrgh! I'm so jealous…I've been to two. And they were both Black and Blue, which was the worst tour/album/endeavor/concept/everything ever. Oh, and a Johnny No-Name. That was fun. And a press conference…where I met Brian! Yay! (Yes, I am a loser.) Yeah, Arnold definitely has buff veiny arms and six-minute abs and buns of steel and all that good stuff. His shirt rips off like the Incredible Hulk and everything… It's okay. You're supposed to like Logan and hate Anna. That means it worked!
Sailor Sponge: Shooting is too good for Mr. Homework Inventor, lol.
Vicky: Wow. Um…wow. You have no idea how much comments like yours mean to me. I can't thank you enough. I love writing for and about Helga…I've always felt a very strong sort of kinship with her, so that always helps. And I don't know if I've read your story (I'm so awful at putting authors' names to story titles) but I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as you make it out to be. You should never compare yourself to anyone—God, if I did that, I'd never have started. I nearly gave up writing altogether after I read The Princess Bride. But I write for me now, and for you guys.
Everyone else, thanks so much! (BTW, if I don't respond specifically to your review, it doesn't mean that I don't love you and appreciate your review…it's just that my neck and shoulders hurt and I just want to post this and go pass out. So yeah.)
Question! I sort of half-remember a songfic to "Cruel to be Kind" in this section, but I'm not sure if I made that up or not…these are the delusions my brain comes up with. So if anyone knows if that actually exists, can you let me know the title or the author of that? Thanks!
As always, I am PI, saying, "Okay, I love you, bye-bye!"*
*Cookies for everyone who recognizes that. Or this: "If the toupee fits, you must acquit!"