Part 5
The next morning Tommy arrived at Merton's anxious, these trips down memory lane were getting to be a bit much and he wasn't sure he was entirely able to keep perusing the past without it affecting his present. The star of his predicament happened to be the one he ran into when he opened the front door.
"Becky!"
"Tommy!" she said more in mock then surprise.
"Sorry, hi, just got startled..."
"Didn't realize I had that effect on men..." she laughed teasingly.
"Oh, you could stop traffic," he blurted out, blushing, before he could stop himself.
Becky smiled flirtatiously at him, but pulled herself onto the countertop, careful of her short, silky gray skirt that matched her a simple gray top.
"You're looking for Merton, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Check the den?"
"No, I just came in, I . . ."
"Was stopped by my enchanting good looks?" she interrupted.
"More like scared stiff by your monstrous features," Merton said as he walked into the kitchen.
Becky threw a piece of toast at her brother, getting grape jelly all over the front of his silk shirt for his little experiment in embarrassing her.
"Ooops." she smirked, winking at Tommy as she jumped down and headed into the back of the house...
Merton pulled his now sticky shirt off and smacked Tommy on the back of the head.
"*Stop* leering!"
"No leering, no . . . Admiring. The hair, remember?"
"None of that either. I swear, if you had to deal with her for a couple of lifetimes why get wrapped up in it now?"
"You were there too."
"Yeah, RELATED. Where's my choice in the matter?" he complained.
"Merton, shut up. I need help."
"Hmm, interesting . . . No."
"What?!"
"Just kidding, a little test to show how much you need me."
"Merton!"
"Okay, okay. On with the help."
Merton and Tommy retreated down to the Lair and after Merton retrieved a clean shirt they got started researching. At least they had a bit of a narrowed down search, what with Tommy remembering that Lucard fellow...
"So, in this last one... I was a piano player in a saloon?"
"Ummm... uh-huh..." Tommy fidgeted.
"What are you not telling me?" Merton asked suspiciously. "My sister wasn't- --"
"No! She just cleaned the rooms because your Mom owned the place--- um, I mean..."
"Was my mom my mom?"
"Ah . . . no."
Merton sighed and turned back to his screen. "You're a horrible liar."
"Stacey and Lori were though."
"Were . . . Really?" Merton asked. "Did I get some Lori action?"
"Oh, Merton! I don't know, just look up something. Yuck."
"Just asking," he shrugged. He'd been having a few strange thoughts of his own lately and was wondering if he should try to connect some dots himself. His attention came back to the screen and he scrolled down the page containing one of the pictures of Lucard, this one a careful drawing, and he cocked his head to the side.
"This site is for a home they're preserving in Europe. It's a list of the owners, various legends, that sort of thing."
"So?"
"It said the manor was owned briefly by a Mister Erik Lucard. He only owned the estate for six months during the late 1800s when he was courting a young woman but . . ."
"But?"
"But it says he abruptly moved after an unfortunate accident resulted in the death of his fiancée'."
"Does it say how?" Tommy asked, peering at the screen.
"No. Nothing."
"Creepy..." Tommy shuddered, feeling icy fingers traveling up his spine.
"Very." Merton nodded.
"Hey, Merton?"
"What?"
"You don't think maybe... Nah, that *couldn't* be..." Tommy frowned.
"What? Tell me..."
"What if the 'fiancée`... Mert, what if it was Becky?" he asked, his eyes widening.
"But you said--"
"We were together then, engaged . . . Unless her father . . ."
"Tommy?"
"Her father, your uncle, he was talking with Lucard about marrying Becky. You told me, well, another you."
"So Becky . . . you don't think he would have done something to her?"
Tommy's eyes flashed a yellow before he spoke.
"I saw him up close and personal . . . I'm thinking he would."
Merton shuddered, flicking an involuntary glance upstairs.
"You're thinking we should make her stay in her room aren't you?"
"You could tell?"
"Yeah, kind of thinking the same thing..." Tommy admitted.
"Lori would say we were nuts?" Merton smirked.
"She always does anyhows..." Tommy smirked back.
"That would mean, 'Great idea' . . . Ah, to be a genius," Merton mused.
"Okay, oh-smart-one. How do we do it?"
"Hmm, what does Becky like that will keep her in her room and away from the public, including creepy suspected immortal people who will kill her if not have her?" Merton asked as if it were semi-normal.
"Ummmmmm..." Tommy frowned pensively. "Yeah, but Merton, I don't think we can *get* Rob Lowe---"
Merton smacked his forehead. "No, no, *no*... let's... tell her we wanna stay home? Get her to... play a really long game like... Monopoly, while I'm working? She'll do it for you..."
Tommy raised a brow.
"Play Monopoly? Alone? In her room?"
". . . Good point. You play Monopoly in front of me so I can keep an eye on you two. Destiny can hold right on until my sister graduates high school -- make that college."
"Destiny?" Tommy asked, one side of his lip curling to show his teeth. "You think that's what this is?"
"Hello? Tommy, what's going on in that noggin?" Merton asked as he knocked on his friend's head. "What did Madam Goolee say? 'The past repeats itself'. So just ... keep in resisting it until her eighteenth birthday. Perk up, you only have two years. Well, one and a half."
"I'm not resisting anything, they were PAST lives. PAST. Gone bye-bye. It's over."
"Tommy? Go get the Monopoly."
His denial-filled friend trudged over to the closet while Merton himself went to retrieve his sister with a little Tommy blackmail.
"'Just keep resisting'," he mocked as he pulled out the game. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Merton, you can't be serious..." Becky said incredulously, her voice echoing down the steps. "Skipping school to play *Monopoly*??? Daddy will have a bloody purple cow!"
Merton grimaced.
"Yeah, but Pops left early today again and I won't tell if you won't? Just think..." he cajoled her. "All day, you and Tommy, sitting close..."
"Oh... all right, but you are *so* weird sometimes..." she said, looking at him oddly as she bounced down the stairs...
"Weird like a fox," Merton said pridefully as he followed his sister down.
"Hey, guys," Tommy greeted, the board already set up.
"Hi," Becky said, doing her best to walk over seductively, gracefully, and . . . Stupid magazine, this was impossible, she looked like she broke a heel.
"So what do you want to be?" Tommy asked holding out the pieces.
"Freaker can choose first, he's all anal about his pre-game ceremony."
"I am not, besides I'm not playing. I've got some work to do," he said moving to his desk.
"You are so, you get it from mom. And you've just convinced me to skip school so that I can play a game you don't even want to play?"
"You said it yourself," Merton obliged, directing his thumb toward himself. "Weird."
"Whatever. What do you want to be, Tommy?"
"I'll be the doggie?"
Merton snorted and Tommy threw a pillow at him.
"I'll be the top hat..." she shrugged...
~*~
Hours later, Becky went upstairs to make them some lunch, putting the game aside for now...
"Who's winning?" Merton asked distractedly.
"Me," Tommy said hoarding his abundance of fake money. "Find anything?"
"I don't know. This seems like . . . He's just covering his tracks maybe?" Merton shook his head. "After a period in the 1800's he just seems to have disappeared."
"So maybe he died," Tommy said with a little joy as he stood to stretch his legs.
"But what if he didn't? What if he's still around? . . . I think you should go back."
"No way!" Tommy protested.
"But Madam Goolee even said it was good for you."
"No way, Merton, forget it," Tommy said. He didn't want the past spilling in, and that's what it seemed to be doing, if Becky hadn't been letting him win he'd of lost because he was too busy looking at her.
"Tommy--"
"No."
"Fine, we'll just turn Becky over to some nutball then," Merton said casually. "He's only some insane evil guy that followed her through the ages and--"
"Fine, fine," Tommy said as he looked at his best friend. Welling up a little preparation he sighed and said. "Return me."
The noise reached his ears first; music he'd heard before in one of those movies based on a blues singer.
"Oh, Tal, isn't it marvelous?"
Tommy looked to his side to see bright red hair before a face turned to him and smiled, giving him a growing remembrance of his surroundings.
"I don't know, Sylvia. Should we really be here?"
"Don't be a bore! I've asked everyone where to find the best little dive in San Francisco and they say this is the absolute spot!"
Tommy looked around the tiny storeroom and couldn't figure out where to go. The music was playing but he there was no way to tell exactly where it came from and he didn't know why Sylvia thought a dusty storeroom was so 'marvelous', they weren't even in the speakeasy yet.
But he was still nervous.
He had come from a wealthy family and his equally wealthy companion often called him boring and sheltered, though she had just as much experience in the area of illegal bars as he -- None.
"We have to knock now," she instructed, holding his hand and tapping on the door in an odd rhyme until he opened to a man who seemed to be feeling no pain.
"Come on!" Sylvia urged.
The next morning Tommy arrived at Merton's anxious, these trips down memory lane were getting to be a bit much and he wasn't sure he was entirely able to keep perusing the past without it affecting his present. The star of his predicament happened to be the one he ran into when he opened the front door.
"Becky!"
"Tommy!" she said more in mock then surprise.
"Sorry, hi, just got startled..."
"Didn't realize I had that effect on men..." she laughed teasingly.
"Oh, you could stop traffic," he blurted out, blushing, before he could stop himself.
Becky smiled flirtatiously at him, but pulled herself onto the countertop, careful of her short, silky gray skirt that matched her a simple gray top.
"You're looking for Merton, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Check the den?"
"No, I just came in, I . . ."
"Was stopped by my enchanting good looks?" she interrupted.
"More like scared stiff by your monstrous features," Merton said as he walked into the kitchen.
Becky threw a piece of toast at her brother, getting grape jelly all over the front of his silk shirt for his little experiment in embarrassing her.
"Ooops." she smirked, winking at Tommy as she jumped down and headed into the back of the house...
Merton pulled his now sticky shirt off and smacked Tommy on the back of the head.
"*Stop* leering!"
"No leering, no . . . Admiring. The hair, remember?"
"None of that either. I swear, if you had to deal with her for a couple of lifetimes why get wrapped up in it now?"
"You were there too."
"Yeah, RELATED. Where's my choice in the matter?" he complained.
"Merton, shut up. I need help."
"Hmm, interesting . . . No."
"What?!"
"Just kidding, a little test to show how much you need me."
"Merton!"
"Okay, okay. On with the help."
Merton and Tommy retreated down to the Lair and after Merton retrieved a clean shirt they got started researching. At least they had a bit of a narrowed down search, what with Tommy remembering that Lucard fellow...
"So, in this last one... I was a piano player in a saloon?"
"Ummm... uh-huh..." Tommy fidgeted.
"What are you not telling me?" Merton asked suspiciously. "My sister wasn't- --"
"No! She just cleaned the rooms because your Mom owned the place--- um, I mean..."
"Was my mom my mom?"
"Ah . . . no."
Merton sighed and turned back to his screen. "You're a horrible liar."
"Stacey and Lori were though."
"Were . . . Really?" Merton asked. "Did I get some Lori action?"
"Oh, Merton! I don't know, just look up something. Yuck."
"Just asking," he shrugged. He'd been having a few strange thoughts of his own lately and was wondering if he should try to connect some dots himself. His attention came back to the screen and he scrolled down the page containing one of the pictures of Lucard, this one a careful drawing, and he cocked his head to the side.
"This site is for a home they're preserving in Europe. It's a list of the owners, various legends, that sort of thing."
"So?"
"It said the manor was owned briefly by a Mister Erik Lucard. He only owned the estate for six months during the late 1800s when he was courting a young woman but . . ."
"But?"
"But it says he abruptly moved after an unfortunate accident resulted in the death of his fiancée'."
"Does it say how?" Tommy asked, peering at the screen.
"No. Nothing."
"Creepy..." Tommy shuddered, feeling icy fingers traveling up his spine.
"Very." Merton nodded.
"Hey, Merton?"
"What?"
"You don't think maybe... Nah, that *couldn't* be..." Tommy frowned.
"What? Tell me..."
"What if the 'fiancée`... Mert, what if it was Becky?" he asked, his eyes widening.
"But you said--"
"We were together then, engaged . . . Unless her father . . ."
"Tommy?"
"Her father, your uncle, he was talking with Lucard about marrying Becky. You told me, well, another you."
"So Becky . . . you don't think he would have done something to her?"
Tommy's eyes flashed a yellow before he spoke.
"I saw him up close and personal . . . I'm thinking he would."
Merton shuddered, flicking an involuntary glance upstairs.
"You're thinking we should make her stay in her room aren't you?"
"You could tell?"
"Yeah, kind of thinking the same thing..." Tommy admitted.
"Lori would say we were nuts?" Merton smirked.
"She always does anyhows..." Tommy smirked back.
"That would mean, 'Great idea' . . . Ah, to be a genius," Merton mused.
"Okay, oh-smart-one. How do we do it?"
"Hmm, what does Becky like that will keep her in her room and away from the public, including creepy suspected immortal people who will kill her if not have her?" Merton asked as if it were semi-normal.
"Ummmmmm..." Tommy frowned pensively. "Yeah, but Merton, I don't think we can *get* Rob Lowe---"
Merton smacked his forehead. "No, no, *no*... let's... tell her we wanna stay home? Get her to... play a really long game like... Monopoly, while I'm working? She'll do it for you..."
Tommy raised a brow.
"Play Monopoly? Alone? In her room?"
". . . Good point. You play Monopoly in front of me so I can keep an eye on you two. Destiny can hold right on until my sister graduates high school -- make that college."
"Destiny?" Tommy asked, one side of his lip curling to show his teeth. "You think that's what this is?"
"Hello? Tommy, what's going on in that noggin?" Merton asked as he knocked on his friend's head. "What did Madam Goolee say? 'The past repeats itself'. So just ... keep in resisting it until her eighteenth birthday. Perk up, you only have two years. Well, one and a half."
"I'm not resisting anything, they were PAST lives. PAST. Gone bye-bye. It's over."
"Tommy? Go get the Monopoly."
His denial-filled friend trudged over to the closet while Merton himself went to retrieve his sister with a little Tommy blackmail.
"'Just keep resisting'," he mocked as he pulled out the game. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Merton, you can't be serious..." Becky said incredulously, her voice echoing down the steps. "Skipping school to play *Monopoly*??? Daddy will have a bloody purple cow!"
Merton grimaced.
"Yeah, but Pops left early today again and I won't tell if you won't? Just think..." he cajoled her. "All day, you and Tommy, sitting close..."
"Oh... all right, but you are *so* weird sometimes..." she said, looking at him oddly as she bounced down the stairs...
"Weird like a fox," Merton said pridefully as he followed his sister down.
"Hey, guys," Tommy greeted, the board already set up.
"Hi," Becky said, doing her best to walk over seductively, gracefully, and . . . Stupid magazine, this was impossible, she looked like she broke a heel.
"So what do you want to be?" Tommy asked holding out the pieces.
"Freaker can choose first, he's all anal about his pre-game ceremony."
"I am not, besides I'm not playing. I've got some work to do," he said moving to his desk.
"You are so, you get it from mom. And you've just convinced me to skip school so that I can play a game you don't even want to play?"
"You said it yourself," Merton obliged, directing his thumb toward himself. "Weird."
"Whatever. What do you want to be, Tommy?"
"I'll be the doggie?"
Merton snorted and Tommy threw a pillow at him.
"I'll be the top hat..." she shrugged...
~*~
Hours later, Becky went upstairs to make them some lunch, putting the game aside for now...
"Who's winning?" Merton asked distractedly.
"Me," Tommy said hoarding his abundance of fake money. "Find anything?"
"I don't know. This seems like . . . He's just covering his tracks maybe?" Merton shook his head. "After a period in the 1800's he just seems to have disappeared."
"So maybe he died," Tommy said with a little joy as he stood to stretch his legs.
"But what if he didn't? What if he's still around? . . . I think you should go back."
"No way!" Tommy protested.
"But Madam Goolee even said it was good for you."
"No way, Merton, forget it," Tommy said. He didn't want the past spilling in, and that's what it seemed to be doing, if Becky hadn't been letting him win he'd of lost because he was too busy looking at her.
"Tommy--"
"No."
"Fine, we'll just turn Becky over to some nutball then," Merton said casually. "He's only some insane evil guy that followed her through the ages and--"
"Fine, fine," Tommy said as he looked at his best friend. Welling up a little preparation he sighed and said. "Return me."
The noise reached his ears first; music he'd heard before in one of those movies based on a blues singer.
"Oh, Tal, isn't it marvelous?"
Tommy looked to his side to see bright red hair before a face turned to him and smiled, giving him a growing remembrance of his surroundings.
"I don't know, Sylvia. Should we really be here?"
"Don't be a bore! I've asked everyone where to find the best little dive in San Francisco and they say this is the absolute spot!"
Tommy looked around the tiny storeroom and couldn't figure out where to go. The music was playing but he there was no way to tell exactly where it came from and he didn't know why Sylvia thought a dusty storeroom was so 'marvelous', they weren't even in the speakeasy yet.
But he was still nervous.
He had come from a wealthy family and his equally wealthy companion often called him boring and sheltered, though she had just as much experience in the area of illegal bars as he -- None.
"We have to knock now," she instructed, holding his hand and tapping on the door in an odd rhyme until he opened to a man who seemed to be feeling no pain.
"Come on!" Sylvia urged.