Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.
There must be some reason Emily is gone.
"She must have gone to the market," Bumlets reasons with himself. "Or down to visit Racetrack two floors below, him being her best friend and all." Bumlets sweeps the apartment with his eyes, just to make sure Emily isn't there. She isn't.
Bumlets jumps when a soft cry issues from the small cradle next to his bed. Matthew.
Bumlets crosses the room in three long strides and scoops up the little boy, whose wails are increasing each moment. Emily doesn't normally leave Matthew by himself, Bumlets knows that for sure. And even if she did, she wouldn't have left the door wide open, just waiting for anyone to walk in.
Matthew's cries are echoing off the walls, slowly yet steadily turning into shrill screams. Bumlets cuddles him and pats his back softly, though his mind is not on Matthew. Where is Emily?
Bumlets searches the whole apartment for a note, a sign, anything to show where Emily might have gone. He finds none.
What if Emily . . . left? Left him? And Matthew? No, Emily loves him. She wouldn't. But . . .
Bumlets tells himself to calm down. She is just being careless today. She forgot to take Matthew with her. She forgot to close the door. Yeah, right.
The bead creaks as it so often does when Bumlets perches on it. Matthew is finally quieting down. He chokes on a sob once or twice before he is still. He searches the room with his deep brown eyes, looking for his mother.
Bumlets waits for three hours, and Emily still does not come home. Bumlets's brow is furrowed as he paces the room. He jumps at small noises, but none of them is Emily.
When the old clock on the wall chimes nine, Bumlets scoops up a sleeping Matthew and brings him down the hall to the Meyers' apartment. Mrs. Meyers, better known as Catwalk, opens the door. She at first appears disgruntled at being interrupted, but when she sees Bumlets, a look of concern crosses her face.
"What's wrong, Bumlets?" she asks.
"Here, hold him," Bumlets replies, passing Matthew to her.
"What –"
"Have you seen Emily today?" Her eyebrows plunge down her face.
"No. Bumlets –"
"Watch Matthew until I get back. I need to find Emily," Bumlets tells her. He turns and makes his way down the steps as quickly as possible before Catwalk can ask anymore questions.
He doesn't know where to look, but he goes to the obvious places first.
His first stop is Tibby's, but the moment he steps in he knows she can't be here. There is an old couple sitting in a corner booth, holding hands, and a single man he recognizes as Skittery is sitting at the bar, looking very drunk and mumbling something about elves. Besides them, the restaurant is empty. Bumlets makes a u-turn out the door.
Bumlets hurries down Duane Street, praying that Emily is here.
He is greeted by twenty hellos and waves. He doesn't see Emily, but asks Jack if she is here anyway.
"No," Jack says sadly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I did see her heading over the Brooklyn Bridge when I was selling today, though. I'll help ya look," he offers.
Ten minutes later he and Jack Kelly are trudging across the bridge to see Spot Conlon. Emily might have gone to him. Bumlets silently doubts this, though, but doesn't say anything. Jack is nice enough to come with him, and he doesn't take well to criticism; he might leave, and Bumlets certainly doesn't want that.
Spot hasn't seen Emily for several months, and Bumlets leaves the Brooklyn Lodging House quite dejected.
Jack helps Bumlets search for hours, and they don't find Emily. They don't even gather any news on Emily.
"She might've gone home, Bum. Go check back there," Jack suggests, patting him on the back.
Bumlets walks home slowly, checking in every dark alley he comes across, just in case. He finds a dog and a few beggars, but no Emily.
Emily is not in the dark apartment when he returns. Bumlets falls onto the bed fully dressed and falls into a fitful sleep.
In the morning, he knocks on the Meyers' door again. He tells Catwalk sadly that, no, he hasn't found Emily yet, and would she please watch Matthew while he goes to work?
Bumlets leaves a note on the apartment table, just in case:
Scared me to death, don't do that again. Matthew at Meyers.
Bum
Bumlets is distracted from his work all day. He can't keep his mind off of Emily, understandably. Tom isn't helping, considering a paper airplane whizzes past Bumlets's head every few seconds. If you didn't know better, you would guess Tom is a very large, very bored school boy.
"See you tomorrow, Taylor," he says, flipping his white blonde hair out of his eyes as Bumlets walks out the door as calmly as he can at five thirty. He won't, though.
Bumlets flings open his apartment door, only to be disappointed. Emily is still not home.
He picks up Matthew from Catwalk's home. She hasn't seen Emily either.
Bumlets fixes himself a very measly meal and eats it by himself as Matthew pulls himself around on top of Bumlets's bed. Bumlets allows himself a small smile. It is Matthew's first attempt at crawling. Emily would be so pleased.
His heart pangs as his thoughts are brought back to Emily once again, something that isn't so unusual anymore.
He can imagine Emily laughing as Matthew falls over and giggles anyway. He sees her hair swinging as she bends over Matthew to kiss him before she plops him in his cradle for the night.
Bumlets gives himself a shake. He'll look for her tomorrow he decides as he places Matthew in his cradle. He is lucky tonight; Matthew falls asleep right away. He must have been tired.
Bumlets is tired, too. He pulls the sheets up to his chin and dozes off into an uneasy sleep immediately.
He wakes up with a shiver, but doesn't open his eyes, willing himself back to sleep. He can't though, the room is too cold.
It's the middle of summer. It's hot in the summer, even at night. Bumlets's eyes snap open.
Moonlight falls through the open window and across the room.
Bumlets never opened the window.
The bed squeaks as Bumlets sits up. He is suddenly doused in cold fear. Sweat beads on his upper lip, and his heart hammers twice as hard as it usually would. A tall, slim lady bends over the cradle. She isn't Emily. She isn't even human.
Bumlets doesn't believe those stupid tales about the elves stealing beautiful wives away from loving husbands, and their children too, if they can manage it. Bumlets has always taken them for what they are: a stupid tale. Up till now. Not now that he's seen one.
The elf's pale green hair hangs limply around her face, pointed ears pushing through the thin curtains. Her fire red eyes rest hungrily on Matthew and her knotted hands reach with gnarled fingernails towards the sleeping boy, her skin glowing a putrid-like purple in the weak moonlight.
Bumlets lets out a surprised cry just as her skin makes contact with Matthew's. The elf turns sharply to look at Bumlets, who leaps out of bed. She shrieks at him, and Matthew wakes with a sharp scream.
"Don't touch him!" Bumlets yells at the woman, running forward. He is inches form her when she is no longer there. He stops short. Matthew is looking absolutely terrified, but unharmed.
Bumlets spins around to check the room. The elf is nowhere to be seen.
Bumlets pads over to the window and slams it shut, then scoops up Matthew, hugging him to his chest.
Bumlets's eyes still dart around the room, looking for the spirit which has scared both him and his son so much. He can't find her. Bumlets suddenly has a distinct unlike of the dark and lights a candle, giving himself, huddled on the bed with Matthew, just enough light to see them through till morning.
When the first rays of sunlight cascade through the window and on to the floor, Bumlets pulls on clean clothes and carries Matthew down the hall.
He hammers on the Meyers' door and hands Matthew to Catwalk without a word.
"Bumlets, I heard you yelling, what –"
Bumlets tells her.
"Oh my Lord," she says softly, "do you really believe . . .?"
Bumlets nods.
"There are elves, and they want him. Don't let him out of your sight." Bumlets looks down and meets the eyes of the three year old Elizabeth clutching to her mother's nightgown, her blonde hair shining and doe eyes wide with fright. "Keep a close eye on Elizabeth, too."
Bumlets trudges down the stairs and out into the crisp morning air. There is someone he needs to see.
Hey! Thanks so much for the reviews! Keep 'em up!
Cinnamon Spice: Er, thanks. Updated! Hope you don't mind that I gave you a little girl.
Daydream1: Hey, glad you like it! Thanks for liking the length, I wasn't sure.
Autumn-Park: Okay, just wondering, but did you even read the story, or did you just want to say thanks because I reviewed one of your stories? If you did read it, WELL? What did ya think? If you didn't and actually come back to read this: What IS a 69? (I'm being totally serious, I want to know.)
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Till next time!