Disclaimer: Have I mentioned not mine?
Persecutory Delusions
Chapter 7: That's Crazy Talk
Skittery doesn't think that this place can be legal.
From where he and Snitch are standing, just inside the door, he can see at least a hundred torches lining the marble walls. They must violate fire code, especially as close as they are to the tapestries.
Not only that, but the room seems bigger than should be possible given its outside dimensions. It's huge, large enough to accommodate the entire student body of Skittery's school and then some. And yet, the torches manage to cast a warm glow into even the farthest corners.
In front of Skittery and Snitch, a middle-aged man in a business suit stands suddenly and utterly still. The beady eyes that gleam from under his salt-and-pepper hair contain a shot of distrust that seems a permanent fixture. His presence in the medieval room seems more than a little incongruous.
"What is he doing here?" The man asks, blocking any further progress into the room, "You didn't say you were bringing any others."
Snitch's arm tightens possessively around Skittery's shoulders.
"He's one of ours," he says.
"Since when?"
"That's nothing for you to worry about," Snitch states, "Look, we're here for business, alright? So I'd appreciate it if you got out of our way, brother. Especially if what you said about the dark was true…"
"I don't lie."
"That's not the impression I got, the first time I came here."
The man's glare intensifies. "Fine. You can go in. But don't complain at me when they throw this guy to the shadows."
Snitch glares back just as hard and leads Skittery past the doorkeeper.
"Sorry about that," he whispers into Skittery's ear, "He's… not very nice."
Skittery doesn't reply, too busy trying to get over the surreality of the whole situation.
Their footsteps echo just slightly in the still air, but the tapestries mostly muffle the sound. It's really kind of disconcerting. Skittery is used to living just outside of the city where there is constant noise, be it cars or birds or people. In here, though… it's even less than silent.
"So where are we going?" Skittery asks. His voice seems awkward and unwieldly in the stillness.
"I wasn't lying when I said we were here on business. Something's happening, Skitts, and it's… it's not good. They need to know."
Skittery doesn't ask what Snitch means. He doubts he would answer, anyway. Instead, he voices the other thought that's been worrying him.
"Snitch, there's no door."
He looks up at his friend, who smiles grimly and doesn't reply. They continue to walk toward the far wall.
Snitch's hand flashes toward the tapestry on the wall in front of them, and Skittery flinches at the sudden movement. Snitch doesn't notice. He sweeps into an elaborate, chivalrous stance, gesturing Skittery through the door he has revealed.
Skittery is not entirely sure he wants to go anywhere in this place without Snitch by his side, but here he doesn't seem to have much of a choice. The door is plain and thin and could not fit two people even if they were both anorexic contortionists.
Snitch closes the door behind them. The hallway the door has revealed is just slightly wider than the door frame, but there is still not room for two to walk abreast. It is full of warm colors: the deep burgundy carpet, the wood paneling, the wall-mounted torches. The torches' heat is much more easily felt in this small space than it was in the first hall, and Skittery is terrifically aware of the fire hazard they pose.
He is very careful not to veer to either side.
"I don't know where we're going," Skittery says as they pass what he estimates is their twentieth torch.
"I'll tell you when to stop," Snitch replies, voice warm and quiet and surprisingly at home in this strange place.
Neither of them speak until they approach an alcove set deep into the right hand wall. In it are a round table and five chairs, all of the same glowing wood as the doors. There are no torches in the alcove, but an unlit lamp rests in the center of the table.
Skittery stops ands turns to ask Snitch what the alcove is for, but before he can speak, Snitch laughs and says, "Great minds think alike. We're here." He smiles brightly.
Skittery frowns. They're here for this little hole in the wall? What was the point of going through this whole weird, arcane building just for a table and a few chairs?
Then he follows Snitch's gaze and sees the door on the opposite wall.
Oh.
Skittery fades back into the darkened alcove as he allows Snitch to lead the way into through the doorway.
The room is small, and lit with the same warm glow as the hallway. Behind a large desk that is obviously meant to be intimidating sits a balding man with tanned skin and eyes that are kind of blue in the same way that Mt. Everest is kind of big. Like Snitch, he is smiling, and like Snitch there is a trace of insanity in his face.
He leans back in his chair as he says, "Hello, Andrew."
Skittery tears his eyes from the strange man's face and frowns at his friend again.
"He knows your name?"
Snitch very carefully does not look at Skittery.
"Hey, Luce. This is Skittery. Skittery, this is Lucifer."
On catching sight of Skittery, Lucifer suddenly stops smiling.
"Oh, really?" He says.
"Yeah, really."
"Is he one of us?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that's great, then!" And he's smiling again. Skittery is pretty sure this indicates mental instability. Coupled with the name…
Lucifer stands up and walks around his over large desk to shake Skittery's hand. The only word Skittery can think of to describe his grip is "energetic".
"Welcome to our headquaters," Lucifer says, "Now, what's your name?"
"It's Skittery." Maybe he has memory loss, as well.
"I meant your real name. Your full name. Your sealed name."
"Alex. Er. Alexander." Skittery makes a mental note to ask Snitch what the hell a sealed name is.
"You have a last name, don't you? When I said full name I meant it."
"Full name?"
"Mm-hm."
"Alexander Auguste Willoughs-Smythe."
Lucifer's smile grows even brighter. It's probably responsible for a good portion of this place's energy bill.
"Excellent," he says, "Andrew, show Alexander to the preparatory wing,"
Snitch nods, but says, "I need to talk to you about what he saw."
Lucifer sighs. "Later," he says, and turns to Skittery, "Don't worry, kid. You'll be fine here. You'll love it."
His words are lyric in the way that only something rehearsed and often repeated can be.
As they go back into the hallway, Skittery mutters to Snitch, "Lucifer?"
Snitch shrugs. "It means 'lightbearer'. Don't hold it against him."
They continue down the corridor in the same direction they were going before they entered Lucifer's office. The length of this passage reaffirms Skittery's belief in the spatial impossibility of the building, but he tries not to think about it too much. This day is already brain-hurting enough.
Then, all of a sudden, it becomes stomach-hurting as well.
The hallway begins to curve, and soon it has become just as twisted as Skittery's train of thought. It gives the impression of jerky movement, even when you're still, and Skittery's navigational skills are beginning to roll around inside his head and they're still walking but he can't follow where they are and he's getting nauseous and they just keep walking—- no.
Now, they stop.
Now, the passage does not turn.
Now, there is a dead end.
Skittery glances at Snitch, and then back to the blank face of the wall.
Now, there is a door.
The fuck? He resists the urge to ask what the hell just happened.
Snitch turns the brass doorknob and leads Skittery across the threshold. Here is another massive chamber, altogether unlike the entrance hall. The light here is so white it's nearly blue. The walls, too, are plastered with cleanly brightness. If their color could make noise, it'd be screeching like an irate budgie. The room is pretty much bare, except for the hundreds of doors that line its edges.
"Come on," Snitch says, and takes Skittery to one of the doors on the left-hand wall. When they get closer, Skittery sees that a number has been stenciled across the pale bluish door in pure white paint. It's nearly impossible to distinguish, but with a lot of effort, Skittery is able to tell that the first digit is 3.
Skittery stops suddenly before Snitch can open yet another door for him. He leans back against the wall, very carefully keeping his exterior the opposite of his interior: relaxed and casual.
"When are you going to tell me what this place is?" He stares Snitch directly in the eye and prays that his fear isn't as obvious as he thinks it is.
"In a minute. Just come in, alright? I would have told you before… before later, anyway."
Skittery refuses to notice the defensiveness in Snitch's answer.
"Tell me now," he says.
"No."
"Tell me, or I'm leaving."
"You couldn't if you tried."
"Just fucking watch me." Skittery keeps his face neutral, but it's at the expense of an even tone. His voice cracks halfway through his retort. Snitch pounces on his show of weakness like a cheetah going for the kill.
He touches Skittery's arm and murmurs, "Hey, it's okay. You can trust me."
He slips the door open and directs Skittery inside. Skittery goes.
The room is just as mind-shatteringly white as the antechamber. It's smaller, though, like a dorm room or a monk's cell. There is a single bed against the far wall, a bureau on the right, and a light on the ceiling.
That is all.
"Okay," Snitch says with a sigh, "We can talk."
He takes Skittery's hand and pulls him onto the bed. Skittery wishes there were a chair in the room so he wouldn't have to sit so close to Snitch. It's really not doing wonders for his concentration.
Skittery can't help it. It's been a long day, he's stressed, and he hasn't had any coffee for a twenty-four hour period. Screw self-control.
He leans back against Snitch, just like in the dream.
"Talk," he says, but it comes out sounding a lot less harsh than he intended.
"Okay," Snitch says again, "Okay."
"And no stalling."
Snitch laughs dully. "God, I'm still trying to figure out where to start."
"The beginning, maybe?"
"There is no beginning."
"Just talk, Snitch!"
"Alright! Okay. I've known about this place since… well, since before the incident." There is no need for him to specify exactly which incident.
Skittery doesn't speak. He just lets Snitch keep going.
"They came to me first. I'd been… seeing things. You know what I mean. And… and they tried to get me to join a couple times. But I never did. I should have, because then… but I didn't and you saw what happened."
"Yeah. That was… not fun."
"No shit. I just kind of lost it. They… you know, Them… They threatened me. And my family. And you." His arm slides around Skittery and he hugs him tightly. "I think I could have taken it if They hadn't threatened you, Skitts."
Skittery feels obliged to say something comforting, but before his brain is able to sort out anything even vaguely coherent, the door crashes open.
Enter a tall, ominous man dressed in a conservative black suit and shades.
He's probably French.
Crazy long A/N: Yeah, so, spiacente. I really meant to update on time, I swear. It's just, this chapter hates me. I swear. Also, I was in Maryland and had no computer. It won't happen again… hopefully. However, I do start school in exactly one week, which means a hell of a lot less time to write. Unless of course my teachers are a lot nicer or a lot more oblivious than they were last year.
Skittery's name, in case anyone's wondering, is across between a friend of mine's first name, a different friend's middle name, a bad joke, and a real estate firm. Why yes, I am insane. Thank you for noticing.
Queen of Doom- Updated, pour vous.
Kid Blink's Dreamer- I may be sadistic, but I love making people speechless.
Madmbutterfly- I'm just assuming that Snitch wears big pants, like my one friend. He "found" the shirts. There was certainly no violence involved…
PS Within six months.
PPS But I would never lie to you!
PPPS So there!
Ellaeternity- "I love crazy Snitch. Or is he crazy? Is he sane, and the rest of us/them/whoever are crazy?" Yes.
Brunette- Hey, I was just in DC! Well, technically, it was Maryland, but I got lost this one time and ended up in DC…
Volatile.virgin- Ack, formatting. I kind of suck at formatting, so I'm glad you noticed.
Stacy- Hey, if I had waited til after showering to write, this update would be even later. And that's saying something…