Author note: Can't focus on anything productive. An apology for the last chapter having bad format, spelling and a lack of explanation. The editing failed to work. The Chapter has since been re-uploaded and modified appropriately.

Thank-you for the feedback. I hope this chapter lives up to the first two.

Chapter 3: There's a cloud of hate over Lucan

The old clock rattled in the back of the cube van. It's noise, combined with the space it occupied made Hellboy restless. The van was far to uncomfortable for such a long drive. Fortunately for him "many moons" as described by the spirit meant seven hours in a van. A long seven hours.

Abe read from the books Barker had bought from the second hand store on the Black Donnelly's. He ran his fingers over the old damaged pages, reading the chapters intently and quietly. Hellboy played with the many trinkets, relics and artifacts in his belt. Another book on the Donnelly's lay half-read on his knee. There was nothing to be learned from old newspaper clippings and accounts from disgruntaled neighbours.

"Listen to this, Red." Hellboy looked up passively, "Late on the frigid night of February 4, 1880, five members of the Donnelly family were slaughtered in their homes near Lucan…" Hellboy didn't look impressed. Abe continued "psychics and preists have made numerous attempts to free their spirits, yet none have been able."

"We already know that, Abe." Hellboy tossed him the book from his knee. "The information we need isn't from any book. Either we find the ghost rider on the Roman Line, visit the homestead…"

"…or the cemetery", finished Abe. Abe folded his book and added it to the stack. Hellboy put his trinkets away.

"Wake me when we get there."

It was late evening when the van arrived near Lucan, nearly 23:00. Hellboy and Abe walked through the cemetery. The stone they met with was not the giant obelisk as seen on the cover of the books, it was a simple modern stone with a list of names and birthdates, it's edges chipped away. February 4th, 1880 reappeared many times, yet the word "murdered" was not included.

"They're not here, Red. They're somewhere else, perhapsthe homestead." Abe looked at the different names on the stones. Many of the stones were old and undamaged. This was the only stone whose age failed to match the date. "I'll go to the homestead while you stay here."

"Stick with me on this, Blue." Hellboy pointed to a group of old monuments on a knole and a group of old earth-spirits watching over them. They argued over a fragment of stone. Hellboy and Abe walked up to them.

The spirits turned to meet yellow eyes. "You will not find it here, boy." The spirit held up the fragment of stone. "It is gone, gone across the world, chipped away into little fragments. They cry out, but nothing can be done for them. They are forever doomed, they will never find peace."

Hellboy stared at the earth-spirits coldly and grumbled under his breath. "There is always a way, old men, always."

The shortest of the spirits walked up to the tall red demon, barely reaching his knee, and spoke. "It is not what it appears to be, child. It is a window, an opening between the surface an what lies beneath, a prison for the damned."

Abe watched as Hellboy turned away from the earth men. "See? There is always an option." Hellboy turned to leave the cemetery. "You may as well get to the Roman line. Our rider should be making her evening rounds in an hour or so."

"Where are you going?"

"To the source." He patted the Samaritan and adjusted his trenchcoat. "See you in the mornin'."

Abe walked for what seemed hours beside the dry gravel road. He hated missions like this, in the peak of tourist season in the middle of summer. He began to wish he'd taken a few moments to swim in that clear lake he's walked by the day before. Three was nothing here but farmer's fields dotted with barns, trees and old houses.

It was after some time that Abe realised that no cars, raccoons or frogs had been down the road. The mist was steadily thickening and the air was becoming damp and easier to breathe. A verse from the book repeated in his mind:

Then as the shades of night draw nigh,

While parents quail and children cry,

The ghosts of the Donnellys will ride by,

Out on the Roman Line.

His watch showed the coming and passing of midnight, no rider appeared. He continued to walk toward the old homestead and the site of the original murders.

Hellboy righted the clock in the back of the van. If it was a door, he would be able to walk right through. He noted the delicate carvings and detail in the wood and iron of the clock, it's broken face and empty case. It was a prison as the earth-spirits had said, a prison for those cursed long ago.

Hellboy rolled his shoulders and wrists, then reached into the clock with his left hand. The back wall of the clock became deep, a black nothingness that appeared to stretch into oblivion. He placed his right hoof into the darkness, then stepped through completely. The clock absorbed his size.

On the other side, he found himself in an area of complete darkness, echoing with human screams. The air was cold, odorless and without current. It was too cold, too dark and too still. More so now then ever he wished Liz were here with him and hadn't quit the Bureau. She would have been able to warm this place up a bit.

Hellboy struck his lighter to get a look at his surroundings. As the flame rose, he watched as hundreds of scowling spirits clawed towards him. Their screams were intense, like that of the banshee. The top of the lighter flipped down immediately after Hellboy realized the earth on which he was standing was indeed a narrow ledge. He was in a free-fall.

"Son of a ----- "

Abe continued to walk through the mist, watching the time carefully. The illumination of his watch reflected off the water droplets in the air, forming a blue orb around his wrist. Abe stared at the mist, it's dampness becoming thicker and the blue getting brighter. Abe could feel his heart pounding in his chest; he looked up to realize the mist had formed a thick mat and was well above his head. Only the moon remained visible as a blurred white dot to the east.

Abe stared at the moon, his heart pounding louder and louder. He placed his hand on his chest, feeling the beats increase in speed. The beats he heard were not his own.

Abe spun around on the gravel, in search of the souce of the pounding. He could now hear his own heart ontop of the approaching beats.He began to gasp, the air no longer enough to sustain him. He blinked his eyes rapidly in an attempt to focus on what was clearly getting closer.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves grinding to a halt on loose gravel echoed into the night.

The rider had come.

Actual "old song" quoted in book "The Black Donnelly's", original source unknown