Chapter Six: Learning to Dance
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the reviews Psycho Llama, Blu Embyr, and DarkCloudRider! Yay for fans! By the way, ideas on the plot would be helpful, if anybody has suggestions after reading this. And I think reading The Phantom of the Opera may have affected my writing…ANYwhoo…In this chapter, a week has passed and Erica has started to get used to living in the past. She also discovers that there is something to be said for shutting and locking your bedroom door. Later on, she has an unpleasant encounter with the leader of the Occult: Raputin! Also, more of this chapter is from Kroenen's perspective. Don't you love it? Please review!
Erica sat up on the edge of her bed, simply thinking. She had woken up early and had gotten dressed, putting on a black, V-neck T-shirt and dark blue kapris from her suitcase. She had decided to go barefoot, and, as always, she wore her cross necklace. A few days ago, they had returned her suitcase to her, along with all of its contents. She had been very happy to get it back, as she had been wondering what had happened to it and hadn't even known that they had it. Fortunately, both her bruises and burns were gone, she had gotten tired of them really fast. And as for the hand-shaped bruise that had been on her arm, it had been gone by morning, so she had dismissed it as a figment of her imagination.
Erica glanced out a window, the sun hadn't even risen yet. She didn't know what had woken her up, normally she didn't wake up this early except when she had to go to school. But that was behind her, she didn't go to school anymore. Well, at least not a high school, or any sort of school someone would normally think of. In the past week, she had spent a lot of time in Kroenen's study/library, learning from the books and her new 'teacher'. However, despite the fact that Kroenen had saved her life, she still considered him a little scary, fear seemed to follow him like a cloud, infecting nearly everyone and everything around him. And it didn't help that he always wore the same, strange black mask, it gave him a frightening air, and certainly wasn't beneficial to his image of a 'teacher'. And beyond that, the books in the library still whispered to her. Because of this, needless to say, the lessons were very interesting and were never boring, not like the lessons in school.
The day after that man had tried to kill her, the weather was really nice, and Kroenen said he had an appointment with Schenck and couldn't take her to his library/study until later. So Ilsa had taken a break from whatever she disappeared to do during the day, and had taken Erica on a tour of the extensive grounds around the mansion. They had visited the stables, the gardens, and a pond that was full of brightly colored fish. She also met some of the sentries and tried to talk to them, but she couldn't understand them, because they didn't know English and she didn't know German. Erica decided she would have to learn German soon, she wanted to know why the sentries seemed to get so tense around her, like they thought she was going to kill them or something. But maybe it was because of Ilsa, Ilsa had mentioned something about 'punishing' a few sentries that hadn't been doing their jobs. At any rate, Ilsa had promised to teach her German. Kroenen returned later that evening, and Erica caught a glimpse of him as he disappeared around a corner. His black uniform was spattered with blood. And since she remembered the mysterious lack of blood when he had been shot the night before, she could only imagine what Kroenen's appointment with Schenck had really been about.
The day after that, Erica had also explored the mansion, after being given permission to do so. She had spent hours wandering down corridors and in and out of rooms, looking at paintings and interesting objects that she found along the way. The mansion was so maze-like that more than once she had gotten lost and had to ask a servant to show her the way back. But in all her exploring, three things were forbidden to her: she was not to go up to the attics, nor down to the cellars, the lowest levels of the mansion that were underground. She was also forbidden to try to go through any doors that were locked. She had followed these rules, briefly wondering why she wasn't allowed in those places. She had decided that based on the other two people living here, she really didn't want to think about what might be in those places. But it was far more likely that they just didn't want her there, just like anyone else wouldn't want a guest going through all their belongings.
And then there was the one day when she had defense training, which hadn't gone very well. Kroenen had been teaching her to fight with a staff, basically a long wooden pole. At the end of ten minutes, Erica had fallen down more times then she could count, had a similar number of bruises, and had only succeeded in hitting Kroenen once, whereas he never missed. She had fallen over again, and he had bent down to help her up, and she had hit him as hard as she could in the stomach, purely out of anger and frustration. Far from looking startled, Kroenen had actually laughed, which hadn't helped her mood. Shortly thereafter, when they had started again, he deflected her pole and it hit her in the face, hard enough to make her nose bleed. That was when they decided it was a good idea to stop, and resume her defense training at a much, much later date.
That was how she had spent that week, her time split equally between exploring and reading in the library. I can't believe it, she thought, I'm actually starting to get used to living here, in the past, with two Nazis of all people!
She gazed out the glass doors to her balcony. They had given her a new room shortly after that man had tried to murder her, saying that she'd be safer there. Erica could believe it. The room, like her last, and was very high up, at least three stories, and overlooked a courtyard.
On a whim, she stood up and walked over to the balcony doors. She brushed aside the red, sheer curtains and opened the doors, stepping barefooted out onto the white balcony. The air was pleasantly cool and clear, and a soft, pale mist curled around the railing and hung in the air. The sun was just beginning to rise, and flung all the colors of the dawn onto the mists, staining them with its radiant colors. It was then that the mist seemed to be beckoning to her, as it always did, inviting her to dance. Well, why not? she thought, No one will see me. And with that, she danced over and into its midst. The mist curled its white tendrils around her, wrapping itself around her outstretched arms and weaving through her long brown hair.
Inside the mansion, Kroenen walked down the corridors, heading towards Erica's room. To his surprise, the door to her bedroom was just barely cracked open. Not wanting to startle her, he knocked softly on the door. There was no reply. He pushed open the door and walked into her bedroom. The room was empty, but he noticed that the doors to the balcony were open, the curtains stirred by the breeze. He briefly entertained the thought that she might have tried to escape, but he dismissed it, knowing that the balcony was too high up for anyone but himself to climb down. That had been the purpose of giving her that room, to keep her safe from both things she might do, and things others might do. And he seriously doubted that she would be tempted to try to climb down or escape. Any doubts he had were silenced, however, when he spotted a figure moving out on the balcony. Quietly, he walked over and stood in the shadow of the doorway, watching her. The early morning mist wove around her as she danced, looking for all the world like a nymph from out of Greek mythology. A ray of sun played across the crescent scar on her left arm as she raised her arms to the sunrise, as if welcoming it back. Kroenen smiled behind his mask, she certainly didn't dance the way people did at the parties the German aristocrats threw on different occasions. Her dancing reminded him more of a swallow, flitting here and there and spinning gracefully just for the pure fun of it.
He was quite enjoying her 'dancing', when she stopped, the mist was disappearing, fleeing before the rays of the sun. Without a dancing 'partner', she stood next to the balcony railing, looking very lost and staring forlornly after the mist as it retreated across the countryside. Knowing she would come back inside soon, he decided to speak before she turned and saw him.
"Someone should teach you how to dance properly."
Erica jumped in shock. Startled, she spun around to face him. Just how long has he been standing there? she wondered, seeing Kroenen standing in the shadows next to the balcony doors. She could feel herself blushing with embarrassment and turned her head away.
"Can you waltz?" Kroenen asked, finally breaking the silence.
"No."
"Would you like me to teach you? You would be able to dance very well if you were taught how. I believe Ilsa will insist on it in any case, as there is an upcoming party that we have all been invited to."
"A party?" Erica asked, looking up curiously.
"Yes. We will discuss the details over breakfast. Ilsa is already waiting for us downstairs."
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As usual, Erica was the only one eating. Ilsa had already eaten before they arrived and was now drinking enormous amounts of coffee, due to the fact she had been very busy with the Occult and had gotten very little sleep. Kroenen sat across from Erica, the table in front of him bare. As far as Erica had seen, he never ate. That was another thing that she was getting used to.
As Erica was finishing her glass of milk, Ilsa spoke.
"The three of us have been invited to a Masquerade Ball the day after tomorrow," she indicated the invitation lying on the table, "You may go if you wish, Erica. We will not force you to go, but I think it would be a wonderful opportunity for you to meet other people and be introduced to the rest of society."
Erica was amazed that they were even offering to let her go somewhere besides the mansion. True enough, they would go with her, and everyone at the Ball was sure to be involved with the Nazis, the Occult, or both— but still, it sounded like fun. And it would be a nice change from the routine she had fallen into.
"Yes! Of course I'd like to go!" Erica said excitedly, "Only, I don't have a dress or anything nice to wear."
"We've been meaning to get new clothes for you anyway," Ilsa said, "You can't go outside in this weather, or in public, dressed like that." she waved at Erica's T-shirt, kapris, and bare feet with a wave. "Only school boys get away with dressing like that, and only in the summer. I'll have some servants look through the wardrobes and so on and see if they can find some clothes for you. And as for your costume for the Masquerade Ball, I've already seen to that."
Erica looked at her curiously.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You'll see," said Ilsa with a secretive smile, "I know you'll like it, I think you'll find yourself right at home at the party."
Erica thought for a moment, remembering how boring adult parties could be. And from films she had seen, they looked especially boring in this era.
"Am I going to be the youngest one there?" she asked.
"There should be a few other people your age, or slightly older," Ilsa said, smiling, "Mostly the sons or daughters of the other people attending. You should fit right in. And don't worry, Masquerade Balls are never boring, particularly with the crowd of people who'll be there!"
The Masquerade Ball should be interesting, to say in the least, Erica thought, hearing Ilsa's words, And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
"As for dancing, someone will have to teach you, and I don't have the time to do it myself—"
Once again, Erica wondered what Ilsa was so busy doing. The only time she ever saw Ilsa, other then the day that they had toured the grounds, was at breakfast and dinner, and that was it.
"I have already offered to teach her." Kroenen said quietly.
"And what did she say?" Ilsa asked.
"Um, actually, I never got a chance to say anything," Erica said, blushing a little at the memory of Kroenen standing in the doorway watching her, "But my answer is yes."
"Good. Start right after you're finished breakfast. I'll have one of the servants find a dress for you to wear, Erica. Now that that's taken care of, I must be going."
Ilsa stood up and left, and on her way out she ordered some servants to find clothes for Erica, as well as a dress for Erica to wear at her dance lesson. Hearing this last order, two female servants came over to Erica.
"Please, Miss, come with us," one said in accented English, "You'll have to try everything on to make sure it fits— you're so tall—!"
"We will meet in the foyer, by the staircase," Kroenen said before Erica was swept off.
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Erica appeared in the entrance hall wearing a floor length white dress that had flowing sleeves that stopped at her elbows. She had left her long brown hair down, and was wearing white dress shoes. As always, her omnipresent silver necklace was around her neck. Kroenen was waiting for her beside the staircase.
"This way," he said, leading her through a doorway and into a maze of corridors.
Finally, they stopped before a door Erica had never seen, even in all her exploring. The door was inscribed with strange symbols that she couldn't read, and the wrought iron door handle was shaped like a snake rearing back to strike. Next to the door was a small table with a candle, a candlestick, and matches on it. Kroenen went over to the table and lit the candle and put it on the candlestick. Then, picking it up, he spoke.
"One thing must be understood. Do not, under any circumstances, wander off. You must follow me exactly. If you get lost, I will not answer for any misfortunes that befall you."
Misfortunes? she thought, Let's see, in his head, that translates to 'fate worse than death'. I'll make sure I stay close.
Then Kroenen opened the door, revealing a staircase. He beckoned, and led the way, the candle he carried providing the only illumination in the darkness.
Erica had never been allowed down in the lower levels of the mansion, and for good reason. Unknown to her, an entire network of caverns, tunnels, and rooms were located deep underground the mansion. One of these rooms was Kroenen's 'study' that was really more of a medical room, or a torture chamber, depending on the people inside it. And, as if taking that room's example, all the other halls and chambers were not always what they seemed. Many were deceptively beautiful, just waiting for an unwary person to wander through. Oftentimes those persons were servants who were too curious, and they paid for their curiosity with their lives. And it was to one of those halls that Kroenen was leading Erica now, although arguably, it was one of the more benign ones. She would be safe with him— at least, as safe as someone could be with Kroenen.
In the darkness, Erica soon lost all sense of direction. There were so many crossroads and doors, and some looked so much like the others, that there was nothing to use as a point to orient herself to. All she knew was that they were deep underground, and that in that dark, frightening silence, she would follow the candlelight if it killed her.
Coming to the end of a passage, Erica found herself standing before a pair of double doors that filled the passage from floor to ceiling. The doors themselves were about twelve feet tall, and ebony in color. While she was staring up at the massive doors in front of her, Kroenen set the candle down on the floor, and then leaned on both doors. Slowly, silently the doors opened, and Erica followed Kroenen inside.
They were in an enormous hall. The floor of the hall was made of polished, black marble and had intricate, twining designs carved into the border around the edges. The columns along the walls, as well as the walls themselves, were also made of black marble. The only decoration in the empty hall was a single, silver chandelier that hung from the center of the 20 foot high, domed, black marble ceiling. The highly polished floor reflected the flickering, lit candles on the chandelier. The wall directly across from the doors was completely taken up, floor to ceiling, by a gigantic black and silver pipe organ. Lit candles sat on and around the organ, their light reflecting off its silver accents. The overall effect was magnificent and morbidly beautiful— the perfect place to learn to dance.
As she walked to the center of the hall, her footsteps echoed in the immense space, even the rustle of her dress was audible in the complete silence. Kroenen crossed the hall and went over to the organ. He did something to it, but Erica couldn't see what from where she was standing in the center of the hall. When he was finished, he turned and walked back to her.
"Shall we begin?" he asked, his voice echoing.
He held out his gloved hands. Hesitantly, she took them. At the exact moment they touched, the organ started to play music by itself, the notes ringing and echoing, sounding at once both beautiful and eerie. Erica had barely any time to be amazed or startled by this, when Kroenen swept her around in a circle, leading the dance.
Clumsily, she stepped on his feet a few times and tripped over her own, but he was patient and she learned quickly. As they danced, she discovered that her feet were no longer uncertain, it was as if they were following a pattern that she had known all her life. It soon became apparent that both of them were caught up in a music and a dance that they no longer had control over. But she didn't care, and Kroenen didn't appear to care either, it was the most wonderful, beautiful, happiest feeling she'd ever had. In a way it felt like she was dreaming, but she had never felt so alive before, so awake to so many things she hadn't known before. She couldn't name them and didn't know what they were or if they were dangerous, but she could feel them. She could feel them flowing through her veins like fire, but her skin was ice cold. Her white dress and long hair swirled around her, and Kroenen's black trench coat spun around him as they whirled around the dance floor. The polished stone walls and floor reflected their figures, her figure the only white among all the black in the hall.
As they danced, Kroenen noticed a strange spark in Erica's grey eyes that hadn't been there before. He knew what had put that glint in her eyes. He too could feel the dark powers rising around them as they danced. Rising because they were dancing. It's interesting that our dancing has this effect when it wasn't even meant in the first place, Kroenen thought, The black book said nothing about this, about her being tied so closely to magic. As the dark power rose around them, the shadows in the corners of the hall quivered, and ever so slightly moved, turning their invisible eyes on the dancing pair in the middle of the hall. The shadows whispered and slid fluidly along, pooling in corners, rushing along the walls, adding to the growing power in the room. The eerily beautiful music coming from the organ seemed to be flowing around them too, almost like water. Kroenen knew that Erica, though she didn't recognize the dark power rising around them and running through them, was enjoying every second of it. I wonder what the power is planning to do, since it is undirected, he thought, What end is it trying to make?
Suddenly, the glint vanished from Erica's eyes, and the smile slowly faded from her face. She's realized what she's doing, what's happening, he thought, She can sense the power. She's become even more like one of us.
Erica was afraid. What're you doing! a voice inside her head screamed, Do you have any idea what you're doing, what you're becoming a part of! Can't you feel the evil rising around you, controlling you? Break free before it's too late! You're dancing with your enemy! He's not your friend, he's a devil! A demon! She looked up at Kroenen, the smile fading from her face. If it were possible to dance with death or flirt with danger, then she was certainly doing it. She had to stop this now before something terrible happened!
She tried to pull away from him, but Kroenen only held on tighter. He knew that stopping, without the power having vented itself on something first, was dangerous. In the background, the music from the organ faltered.
Erica, with a sudden burst of strength, yanked away from his grasp. But as she did so, she tripped over his feet and fell toward the stone floor with a startled cry. Kroenen reached out and caught her— and that was when everything turned upside down. He knew that the power had found a route of escape, something to vent itself on. Them!
The black marble hall lurched and tumbled, and the floor buckled under their feet. The walls spun drunkenly, blurring together and then shredding at the edges, huge rips and tears appearing through reality until it was utterly destroyed. And that left them— somewhere Kroenen didn't recognize. Carefully, he let go of Erica and she stood up.
Erica looked around at the familiar, fiery, blasted landscape. She and Kroenen were in one of her visions. Wait, she thought, Kroenen? How did he get here? I didn't know I could take someone with me!
"Are you really here?" she asked doubtfully, remembering how he had appeared in her dreams before.
"Yes," he said absentmindedly, looking around with obvious interest, taking in every detail.
Erica knew where they were. Once again, for the third time, she was in the burning city. The two of them were standing on a relatively bare spot of ground. Around them, huge chunks of rubble and concrete were piled into miniature mountains covered in broken glass and twisted metal. Tongues of flame shot up among the rubble, and the searing heat from the fires was unbearably close. Erica's eyes watered as she turned her head skyward to face the blood red clouds streaked with boiling, oily smoke. Protruding through the clouds were clusters of copper colored tentacles, each easily as thick as a skyscraper and at least a mile long.
"So this is what you see in your visions?" Kroenen asked.
"Yes. Well, some of them. Please, be quiet." she whispered, staring fearfully up at the tentacles.
It was too late. One of the groups of tentacles had heard, or sensed, their presence. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tentacles reached down towards them, writhing like enormous snakes. Instinctively, both Erica and Kroenen dived to the side as one tentacle swung towards them. The huge tentacle missed by inches, and went by so fast Erica knew they would have been crushed if they had stood still. A few feet away, another tentacle crashed into the ground, leaving a two-foot deep crater and throwing dirt into the air. The other tentacles descended around them, thrashing and writhing, slamming into the heaps of rubble and scattering boulders and fire like dead leaves. Erica dodged a tentacle and rolled into the rubble, curling up and squeezing her eyes shut against the embers being thrown around by the tentacles. Oh my God! Oh my God! Erica was screaming in her head, Those things are searching for us! Somebody help me! Help me stop this! It's all in my head, it's all in my head— I should be able to stop it! Why can't I stop it!
On the opposite side of the patch of clear ground, Kroenen stood behind the ruin of a wall. If it weren't for the fact that our lives are in danger— or more specifically, her life, seeing as I'm already dead— this would be interesting, he thought, And normally we wouldn't be in danger, if that power in the hall hadn't started this, it would simply be another vision for her, but something's gone haywire. None of this should be happening.
He glanced over the wall, to where Erica was curled up on the ground, surrounded by fire and by almost all of the enormous tentacles.
How fortunate for you, Erica, that this is a vision and those tentacles do not really belong to one of the true Ogdru Jahad, Kroenen thought, If it were really Them, I wouldn't be able to help you, and nor would I offer my help. I wouldn't dare to help you then, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to do anything. Such as it is—
"Erica!" he called.
She looked up from where she lay, completely surrounded by a wall of fire. Then she saw where Kroenen was standing, half hidden, in the shadow of the ruined wall. Tears ran down her face, but he couldn't tell if her eyes were watering from the smoke or if she was crying.
"Please! Help me!" she pleaded.
Kroenen saw one of the tentacles rearing back into the sky, hovering over the spot where Erica was laying. She would have to move, or she would be crushed!
"Erica! Run! Run towards me!"
Terrified, she stared at the wall of fire, and the tentacles swinging around her.
"Run! Run now!"
She stood up and ran for it, straight through the fire, dodging between the searching tentacles. Kroenen ran out from behind the wall, running towards her. They met in the middle and held onto each other.
"Whatever you do," he said, whispering in her ear, "Don't let go, and don't open your eyes."
She closed her eyes and he put one hand on the back of her head, so her face was towards his black trench coat, protected from the flying sparks and billowing smoke. His other arm was wrapped around her back. He looked up. The tentacles, knowing their prey was escaping, snaked over the ground and arched over them like a dome. From the sky, a terrible, infuriated roaring sound came from the creatures the tentacles belonged to. Fire rained down around them.
Behind his mask, Kroenen closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to ignore the roaring and the sound of tentacles thrashing around them. The build up of power from their dancing was nearly spent, it was only a matter of time before this vision ended—or, with the right encouragement —
The sounds of roaring disappeared, along with the searing heat from the fire. Everything was silent and pitch black, and cold, so cold, as cold and dark and silent as the grave.
The next thing Erica knew, she opened her eyes. They were back in the black marble hall. But the shadows were silent and unmoving, and the sense of dark power, of a presence, was gone. The only thing that moved was the flickering flames on the chandelier and candles on the silent organ. That was when she realized what she was doing. She was holding tightly onto Kroenen, her head against his jacket. She could hear a soft ticking coming from inside him, from where his heart should be, and could hear the rasping of his breath through his mask. She looked up, tears sliding down her face, amazed that they were still alive.
Kroenen looked down at her. Even through his gloves he could feel how cold her skin was. Her skin was ice cold, as cold as that of a dead thing, both from the dark power that had touched her, and from being torn free of her vision. And there was something different about her eyes, the dark magic had touched her, and left its mark. Her black pupils were dilated so much that they took up most of her eyes, and the gray around them was nearly black, giving her a wild, almost possessed look.
Erica let go and pulled away, her eyes wide, and ran from the hall, just briefly stopping at the doors to look back at Kroenen standing in the center of the hall, gazing after her. She seemed to hear his voice in her head, echoing his words from the first day she had met him: "You can run, but you cannot escape…Why are you running? You have nowhere to go…" She turned and fled, her white dress streaming after her as she ran out the ebony doors, turned, and ran through the dark underground passages and up the stairs.
Kroenen watched her go. He wasn't worried that she would get lost, or stumble across anything harmful. All the magic in the underground rooms had been pulled into this hall and spent, it would take a day or two to return to the level where it had been. For now, she was safe as she dashed through the maze of corridors. He smiled. And she was bound to accept their offer to help after what had just happened.
But Kroenen had another reason for smiling. For when she had pulled away, something silver had caught on a pin on his uniform, snapped, and fell to the floor. Erica's cross necklace lay on the black marble floor at his feet, glittering in the candlelight.
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While they were giving Erica time to calm down, Kroenen told Ilsa about what had happened in the marble hall. He also showed Ilsa the cross necklace that had fallen from around Erica's neck. Seeing it, Ilsa smiled. Everything was going according to Grigory's plan. Erica, without her cross necklace, would be completely defenseless when she met Grigory. But before that happened, Ilsa would have to talk to Erica and get her to accept their help, which would give them even more power over Erica. It wouldn't be a difficult task to convince her, as Erica was in a very distressed and emotional mood. Ilsa found Erica in the dining hall, leaning against one of the windows and staring blindly out at the countryside, obviously still recovering from what had happened in the marble hall.
"We can help you control your visions." Ilsa said, breaking the silence.
Erica turned around to face Ilsa.
"Control them? Is that possible?" Erica said, the hope in her voice just a bit more obvious then she wanted it to be.
"Yes. With training you would be able to decide when they would come, when they would go. You could even look farther into them if you wished. Just think," Ilsa said, "no more nightmares, no more visions you can't control."
Erica thought about it. Nothing had helped her visions. In fact, with each successive time they only got worse. She shuddered, remembering her most recent vision, and that Kroenen had had to pull her forcibly out of it. She had to get help, if she didn't, she would probably go crazy. But since this offer of help was coming from Ilsa, she knew she would have to be careful. The offer sounded too good.
"What's the catch?" Erica asked.
Ilsa smiled. Kroenen was right, the girl was learning.
"We will help you on one condition, that whenever you have a vision, you show it to one of us by touching that person."
"Show them to one of you? Why?" Erica asked guardedly, vividly remembering her first night at the mansion, and how they had told her they wanted her to help the Occult. I don't want to help the Occult, but if they can teach me control—
"Because though you can't control your ability to see the future, it is very powerful, and very useful. As we have told you, the Occult and the Nazis are very interested in you."
Erica stiffened. "I refuse to help the Nazis!" she said angrily.
"Erica, the Nazis and the Occult are not one and the same, they just happen to be closely intertwined. It is quite easy to separate one from the other, as the goals and ideals are fundamentally different, although some people are members of both. All you have to do is help us, and we will help you."
"No."
"Then go crazy! It's not hard to tell that it bothers you, that your visions take control of you! Without training, they will become so intermixed with reality that you won't be sure which is which! You won't be able to control them! Erica, we offer you our help and ask so little in return. We offer our help out of concern. Please reconsider."
Offering your help out of concern? Does she really mean it?, Erica thought, astonished, They really want to help me! Of course, do they want to help me purely for their own ends? I don't want to help the Occult! But if I don't do something about this…Oh, what harm could showing them the future do? It's not like I've seen anything likely to happen anyway.
"Alright, my answer is yes." she said at last.
"Swear it." said Ilsa, a smile hovering on her lips.
Erica hesitated for a second. I hope I'm doing the right thing, she thought. But something about this didn't feel right. She pushed that feeling away.
"I swear, that in return for your help, I will show you my visions." Erica said.
Ilsa thought over Erica's words and, at last, seemed satisfied.
"We will start your training in a few days," she said, still smiling oddly, "You look tired. You should go and rest."
Erica nodded. She did feel tired. Her vision had taken up most of her energy. I think I'll go read in my room, she thought, and then stood up and left.
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An hour or two later, Erica had finished her book and was walking down the staircase on her way to the library to ask Kroenen for another. Looking up, she saw a man she didn't recognize standing in the foyer below her. He was tall and his head was shaved, and he had a beard. He was also wearing an odd, intricately embroidered robe. Maybe I can go back upstairs before he sees me, she thought. She had no such luck. Hearing her footsteps, the man looked up at her and smiled. Having no other choice, Erica continued down the stairs, stopping three steps from the bottom.
"Hello," Erica said uncertainly, "I've never seen you here before."
She kept both eyes on the man, ready to scream and run if he tried to attack her. And who could blame her? Up to this point, she hadn't had good experiences with strangers in this era.
"You have nothing to fear from me, child," he said softly, "I won't try to kill you like that spy, seven days ago."
"How did you know about that?" Erica asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Oh, I know a great deal about you," he said quietly, taking a few steps in her direction, "And I have been waiting so long to meet you."
Nervous, Erica went up a few stairs, keeping the distance between them the same.
"As interesting as this conversation is, I should go find Ilsa and tell her you're here—"
"I already know," said Ilsa, appearing through a door behind the man.
Ilsa walked over to him, and then looked up at Erica on the stairs.
"Come down," Ilsa said, "He's not going to hurt you."
"You can't blame her for being cautious," the man said, "What with everything that has happened to her…"
Erica slowly descended the stairs and stood a few feet away from Ilsa and the man beside her. Erica was having conflicting feelings. He looks nice enough, she thought, almost kind. But something's telling me that he's more than he seems. There's something different about him, just like Ilsa and Kroenen. He's dangerous, somehow…
"Erica, this is Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin, a friend." said Ilsa, smiling and introducing the man.
"Rasputin?" Erica blurted out disbelievingly, "But you can't be, you're supposed to be dead, murdered. It's all in the history books—"
"Then your history books lie." he stated calmly, interrupting her.
"No, they don't. Rasputin was murdered at dinner, he was poisoned, shot, stabbed—In short, overkill in the extreme. You can't be Rasputin, because you'd be dead." she reasoned.
"Oh, but I'm very much alive, Erica." he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face.
Erica shuddered. His voice was creepy, so quiet with its Russian accent. And his eyes!
"No," she said, insistent, "You're lying. You're not Rasputin. And this isn't a funny joke, if that's what it's supposed to be."
"It's not a joke, child. I am who I say I am. Of all people on this Earth to meet me, you should know that. Can't you feel it? See it?"
She looked at him uncertainly. Now that he mentioned it, she could sense something from him, but she wasn't sure what. She only knew that it was far different from anything she had sensed from anyone else.
"No," she said, not sure what she really thought, "I don't believe you. Rasputin is dead."
"People don't always stay dead," he said, "Similar to your friend Kroenen."
Erica remembered the man that had shot Kroenen pointblank in the chest, and that Kroenen hadn't bled, hadn't screamed, hadn't died.
"And who else, besides myself, would know that you've seen the Ogdru Jahad no less than three times?"
Erica noticed that for some reason, at this news, Ilsa's ice blue eyes went wide in astonishment, staring at Erica and Grigory.
"She's seen the Ogdru Jahad?" Ilsa asked, incredulous.
"Yes, in her visions," Grigory answered, "Their mark is upon her, in her eyes."
"The Ogdru Jahad? Is that what those tentacles coming out of the sky were?" Erica asked.
The man nodded.
"But Kroenen could have told you about that—" Erica said, not really believing it.
"No, for you see, he only knows of one of those times, the third one, barely more than an hour ago."
Suddenly, they were interrupted.
"Master." Kroenen said.
Erica turned her head in the direction of Kroenen's voice. He was standing in the doorway, his masked head bowed respectfully to the man. Suddenly, Erica remembered that a few days ago, on her first trip to the library, Kroenen had mentioned something about her meeting his 'leader' soon. Erica knew that Kroenen would not bow before just anyone, this wasn't a joke, it was real. And if Kroenen was being subservient to someone, that presented some very scary possibilities.
"Do you believe me now?" the man— Grigory asked, looking at her.
"He's your Master?" Erica asked in confusion, looking to Kroenen and Ilsa, and then back to Grigory.
"Yes," Kroenen answered, slowly raising his head, "And he is your Master too. You would do well to show proper respect, Erica."
"I have no Master and I bow to no one!" she said, understanding what Kroenen's last statement was hinting at. She was starting to feel frightened.
"I am your Master," Grigory said, "I alone know your true purpose, your true power. I can help you unlock it, help you set it free—"
"You're not my Master! And I don't want to set it free! I can barely control it!"
"And I can help you do that," he said smoothly, barely containing his growing anger, "I believe you already consented to let us help you. That was the first thing you had to do for us to help you. The second is that you show proper respect for your Master."
"You're not my Master! I bow to no one!" she shouted, so loud that her voice echoed in the foyer.
"The second you consented to our help you were mine! And while I admire your spirit, you need to be taught a lesson in humility," Grigory said, his eyes glittering with danger, "Don't force me to be the one that teaches you that lesson!"
"You don't frighten me! I bow to no one!" she yelled defiantly.
"Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" said Grigory, his voice deadly calm.
Erica looked at him and took a few steps backwards. She gulped. Uh oh, she thought, I think it's way too late for me to take the hint to back down.
Grigory stood in the center of the hall, his dark eyes locked on Erica, his arms held out at his sides. Erica could sense Grigory gathering dark power to him. It was collecting in the foyer, just as it had in the black marble hall, but this power was far stronger. So strong, in fact, that it blotted out the light coming through the windows into the foyer. So strong, she could see it sweeping, spinning around the walls like shadows, but it was far darker than any shadow. It was the darkest obsidian, the blackest ebony, the pitch black of complete darkness. Instinctively, she stepped away from the walls, but the dark power started leeching across the floor toward her. She could feel it radiating cold and evil even as she backed away from it. She looked up and realized that she was trapped between Grigory and the shadow-like stuff, she could go no further. The dark shadow pooled around her feet. In desperation, she looked over to Ilsa and Kroenen, who had backed away and were watching silently and impassively, seemingly unaware of Erica's growing terror. Then the dark shadows started whirling around her, climbing higher up her body. Erica couldn't move, her feet were frozen to the floor by the dark power whirling around her.
Your necklace, a voice said in her head, just like the voice she had heard in the hall. The voice was like a ray of light, except she could see it in her head. It almost reminded her of an angel. Poor child, where is your necklace? What have you done with it? Wretched child, you haven't lost it, have you?
At these words, Erica's hands flew up to her neck. Her cross necklace was gone! The one moment she most needed it, her necklace was gone!
Poor, poor child! the voice moaned, You've lost it! You've lost it! Where is it? Only that can protect you!
I don't know! Erica cried in terror.
Look! It's in that monster's pocket! How did he get it? How did that monster get it? You didn't stop dancing when I told you to, and now he has it! Kroenen has it, wretched child!
What? Erica asked in confusion, How?
But the voice was gone, along with everything else. The whirling shadow had completely engulfed her in darkness. She couldn't see! And it was cold, bitterly cold. So cold that it hurt, so cold that it felt like fire burning in her veins, even as her blood froze. Erica screamed in pain and terror. There was no echo, only silence, as if she had never made a sound.
"Do you believe in me now?" thundered Grigory's voice in the blackness, "Do you know me for who I am? Tell me who I am!"
"You are Grigory Rasputin! I believe you!"
"Tell me who else I am! Say it!"
"Say what!" she cried in desperation.
"Say who I am! What am I to you? SAY IT!"
The freezing, burning pain increased, freezing and eating away at her bones like acid.
"SAY IT!"
"No…"
She knew what he wanted! I won't say it! she thought, I will never say that he's my Master! I won't bow to evil! Oh God, someone help me!
"SAY IT! I WILL DRAG IT FROM YOU IF I HAVE TO! SAY IT!"
The fire was burning her heart. Erica was screaming inside, she opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn't make a sound. Tears ran down her face, and some turned to ice that froze to her cheeks, while others burned like boiling water.
"Never…I won't…"
"SAY IT! I command you to say it, Acire! Claim me as your Master!"
She couldn't resist anymore. Besides the pain, he had said her true name, when even she hadn't known what it was.
"Master…" she whimpered pitifully, kneeling on the floor she couldn't see.
The words tumbled from her lips like lead, feeling like they were pulling her soul out with them. She was kneeling, bowing, broken by his power.
From somewhere in the terrible, freezing, burning darkness around her, there came a satisfied sigh.
"Now, Acire, beg your Master for mercy." Grigory ordered.
"Mercy," she begged, barely able to choke out the words through her pain.
"Good. I see you've learned your place. You may go now."
The darkness shredded and sank away from her, letting in a blinding light. Erica, already kneeling on the floor, collapsed and lay limply on the cool stone floor. She was only aware of three, dim, blurred shapes moving above her before she passed out.
XXXXX
Kroenen carried Erica up to her room and left her there, returning to his underground study to think in the silence. Poor Erica, she should have taken my warning, he thought, She needlessly brought all of that on herself. If she had just done what I'd said—but then again, she always has been stubborn. Perhaps it wouldn't have made a difference if she had. Perhaps she would have been taught that lesson anyway.
He sighed. Erica had been so beautiful when she was dancing in the black marble hall. There. He admitted it. She was pretty, though certainly not by the Nazi's Arian standard.
But, she still wasn't perfect. He wasn't perfect, despite all his 'alterations' he had made to himself. Nature itself was never perfect, oddities and freaks always slipped through the cracks somehow. I wonder if she— But no, she would run away from him. No one was ever his willing 'experiment'. Most likely because not all of them worked out as expected. But the ones that did became his masterpieces. And if he were to ask her now, of all times, her delicate trust in him would be shattered, she would think him a madman. I'm not insane, I'm a genius! he thought, Though I suppose that all geniuses appear crazy to everyone else, and, perhaps, truly are —at least, just a little bit…
His thoughts turned back to the events in the foyer. Now that Erica was one of them, her training would really begin. Besides what she was being taught already, she would have to be taught to use fear to her advantage. Fear was a powerful weapon against your enemies. Hate was nearly as useful, but a more social weapon. If an opponent's hate was used against themselves, they usually defeated themselves. She would also have to learn to defend herself, now more than ever since she had joined them, however unwillingly.
Yes, I will teach others to fear you, Erica, he thought, In time, they will fear you as much as they fear me.
A/N: Don't forget, ideas on the plot or events would be helpful, if anybody has suggestions. Also, please review! They really encourage me to keep writing!