Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! They are the best kind of pay.
Chapter Two: Museums and Artefacts
"So…" Hellboy said to Abe after Liz's door had shut. "Movie?"
Abe sighed. "In case you haven't noticed, Red, there is no television in here, let alone a VCR."
"No TV? What kind of yuppie hovel is this?" demanded Hellboy.
Abe didn't answer, but continued to look over a few more of the books he had packed. Though Abe had little mobile facial musculature, it was obvious to Hellboy that he still wasn't having much luck.
"Give it up, hey?" he muttered irritably. "You're not gonna find anything; we gotta see those artefacts first. Then hopefully you can read to your heart's content."
Abe shut the book he was traversing and sighed again, leaning back against his bed. "I suppose you're right. But I hate walking into these things blind."
"Yeah," grunted Hellboy, "me, too. But we don't have much of a choice here, and we've been able to swing it in the past."
Now it was Abe's turn to grunt. "Pure luck."
"Hey, it's a well known fact that I'm a lucky guy. Think of me as a good luck charm."
Lying awake in her bed, Liz could hear Abe's laughter though the wall next to her head and wondered what could possibly be so funny.
***
Hellboy was slowly awakened the next morning by being violently shaken; when he was awake enough to realise that he didn't know what the hell was happening, he irritably swiped at his attacker with his heavy tail and was rewarded by a loud "Ouch!"
Then Liz Sherman's voice cut through his haze of sleep. "Hellboy, goddamnit, wake up! We're going to be late if you keep lying around!"
"Huh?" Slowly he opened his eyes to see both his partners dressed and ready. Liz stood over him impatiently while Abe packed a small duffelbag with books, steadfastly ignoring the skirmish that was always present when waking up Hellboy. He was glad he wasn't the one chosen for wakeup duty; once he had been kicked soundly in the thigh by a sleepy and defensive hoof. It hurt.
"Okay, okay," grumbled the demon, rising and stretching. His joints cracked impossibly loudly in the small room and he let out a satisfied growl. "I'm up. When's breakfast?"
Liz pointed to a basket of warm rolls that the landlady, Mrs. Veska, had thoughtfully brought to her room about a half-hour earlier. She did not disturb her other guests at the advice of Liz, who could tell her curiosity was great, and so had left a large number of her confections for all her tenants to enjoy, whether she could meet them or not. Hellboy stared at the rolls for a minute, missing the meals he got back at the Bureau, and then shoved one whole into his mouth with a sigh of resignation, ignoring the butterdish next to the basket. Butter was too much trouble; took too much time, spreading and such, and that required the use of a utensil. He usually ignored butter if it wasn't put on his food for him.
Not that he was lazy, or anything.
***
The Polish Museum Rapperswil was a large, castle-like building surrounded by trees and overlooking a large, beautiful lake. Liz, Abe, and Hellboy followed their driver until they reached a set of large wooden doors located in a courtyard on the side of the building that was shrouded by trees. A set of massive gargoyles holding heavy rings were set into each door; they were beautiful and obviously very old. The copper was shrouded in a green patina, and Hellboy could see spiderwebs woven into the crevasses. The driver left them there, nodding respectfully and indicating that he would be waiting for them until they were through.
Abe reached up and seized a ring, knocking it gently on the wood. The sound reverberated throughout the little courtyard and all three winced; it was very likely that all of them were grateful that it was Abe who had knocked and not Hellboy, or they'd all be deaf.
At length one of the doors opened, and a stooped, elderly man peered out. A smile graced his face as he laid eyes on his guests; Hellboy was impressed at his lack of surprise at their appearances—at least, him and Abe.
Must've been briefed pretty heavily, he thought, and watched as the man opened the door all the way, revealing the younger man behind him.
"Ah, welcome, welcome!" said the older man. His accent was English. "We've been expecting you; I think you'll be very interested in what I have to show you. My name is Professor Alan Cook; Professor Cook, as I prefer." He stepped back and motioned to the younger man behind him. "This is my understudy, Mr. Yanivich. He'll be taking over when I retire."
"Pleased to meet you," said Liz, stepping foreword and offering her hand. "My name is Liz Sherman; this is Abe Sapien and Hellboy."
Professor Cook took her offered hand and shook it warmly, and extended his hand to Abe, and finally Hellboy, who shook it as carefully as he could, afraid of hurting the old man. He glanced over at Liz, who was shaking Mr. Yanivich's hand. He held on for a bit longer than necessary and moved to Abe. Hellboy tried to quell the protective surge of irritation at this little gesture, and he had managed to stifle it as the younger man approached him and held out his hand. Hellboy wasn't so gentle with Yanivich, but he wasn't rough. No need to make a bad impression.
"I have heard much about you, Hellboy," said Yanivich in a thick Polish accent. "You are quite the legend. We are honoured to have you and your team helping us with this mystery."
"We'll do the best we can," said Hellboy, and they both followed the procession, led by Professor Cook, into the museum.
***
The Professor's office was located at the end of a long hallway, on the right side. The door here was not wooden, but metal; the office contained some of the museum's more valuable and dangerous artefacts and required a punch code and an access card to get in. The room itself was large and richly furnished, much like Professor Broom's office had been, and lining the walls were thick glass cases containing dozens of unusual and arcane items.
Once everyone was inside and the door shut again, Professor Cook clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "Well, down to business, then." He drew from his pocket a key, which he used to unlock one of the cases, and withdrew a few items. Striding over to his large, oak desk, he laid them out and stood back so the BPRD agents could get a closer look.
"They found these fragments near the centre of the village, near a massive tree that had been split in two. The earth appeared disturbed there, but the investigators sifted through it and found nothing more. They were afraid to dig further; the entire site was already frightening enough for them, and they were terrified at the thought of what they might unearth. That is when they called you."
Lying on the table were there fragments of what must have once been massive chains. One fragment was distinctly different from the others; it was slender and smooth as silk, the other two forged of some unknown metal of masterful craftsmanship. The agents studied them carefully; from Abe's duffelbag Liz had removed her camera, and now took several shots of the relics.
"What do you make of them?" asked Professor Cook anxiously. His voice shattered the quiet and all three looked up, startled.
Abe shook his head slowly. "I can tell you nothing yet," he said, "but I believe that the books I possess may provide us with some clues. This smooth chain is especially intriguing; I may be able to find something."
Professor Cook nodded, pleased, and looked to Mr. Yanivich. "You see? There is some hope, at least."
"At least we have that. It would be terrible if we could not find what slaughtered those poor people."
"Don't worry," grunted Hellboy, turning his massive body to face them. His hooves clicked on the tile floor. "Nobody kills a village full of people and gets away with it. Not on my watch."
Professor Cook's warm smile returned, like the sun breaking through the clouds of a storm, and he turned as the agents followed, leading them out to the courtyard again.
"Thank you for coming," he said, shaking all their hands again. "You are always welcome back to re-investigate the artefacts again. I would gladly send them with you, but the Polish government is determined to keep their hands on them. I asked them why, said that you would surely return them when you were through, but they merely mentioned something about an incident in Sweden concerning your investigation, and that Mjollner was never returned."
Hellboy grunted, and Cook could see that his last statement had angered the demon. He must have been involved in that particular incident, he reasoned, and decided to change the subject as rapidly as possible.
"Anyway," he said quickly, "good luck to you all. I will provide you with all the help I can. The items will be here for you to examine at your leisure; either Mr. Yanivich or myself are always here to let you in. Farewell, my friends."
As Abe, Hellboy, and Liz made their way back to the car, Abe let out a sigh and hefted his dufflebag.
"Well," he said wearily. "Time to hit the books."
"I hate books," groused Hellboy, getting into the car and grazing one of his horn stumps in the process. "I wanna watch TV."
Suddenly, one of Abe's books flew through the air and hit him squarely on the forehead, beneath his horns. "Ouch! Son of a- ABE! Did you throw that?!" He whirled on Abe, only to see Liz standing by the open duffelbag, her arms folded smugly. Abe was already moving to retrieve his book, a vaguely annoyed expression on his face.
"What the hell was that for?" complained Hellboy, rubbing his head.
Liz's eyes narrowed. "That was for hitting me in the face with your tail this morning."