Chapter Eight: The Hourglass and Shadow Games in the Spider's Web
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the reviews DarkCloudRider, Psycho Llama, Nightcaster, Blu Embyr, and Thrior! I love my fans! Cookies and Abe chibies for everyone! I would have updated sooner, but my computer got a virus and I had to get rid of that before I could keep writing. Also, I am still open to ideas and suggestions. Just keep in mind that chapter nine will be set at least a year in the future from this chapter. Anywhoo…This chapter begins after they just get back from the masquerade ball. A little later on, Erica begins learning to control her visions, which doesn't go so well. And she has an interesting conversation with Kroenen which also doesn't go so well. Also, I tried to put a little more humor in this chapter. Everyone review, pretty please!
DarkCloudRider: You would've wrung Leonard's neck? I think poisoning was a much less messier way to get rid of him, if you know what I mean, but to each his own, no? And I hope you think this chapter rocks too!
Psycho Llama: It was my intent to trick people into thinking she'd been poisoned! And you'll see how Erica feels about Kroenen killing Leonard, hehehe.
Nightcaster: Yay! Another reviewer! Thank you so much for straightening me out on several points, I made a few key changes to things in this chapter based on your suggestions.
Blu Embyr: Another person that thinks I've got Kroenen portrayed correctly? Whoohoo! I got it right!
Thrior: Thanks for the review! Kroenen is one of my favorite characters from Hellboy too, my other is Abe.
They were back at the mansion and three of them were gathered in Kroenen's study. No one had said a word on the way back, other than Ilsa who had barked a sharp command in German at the chauffer. As soon as they had gotten back, Kroenen had carried Erica to his study, Ilsa following behind them. After setting Erica down in a chair (one of several that had been added to the room since her arrival), Kroenen had taken off his costume, it had turned out he had simply worn it over his normal black uniform.
Erica sat in the chair, her mind in a whirlwind of confusion from her vision, Leonard's sudden death, and the pain of her injury. Around her, the books on the shelves were whispering excitedly. She closed her eyes, listening to them. But she found that this time she couldn't understand what they were saying, they were murmuring in another language that sounded like the wind ruffling through the pages of a book. But even though she couldn't understand the words the books were using, she knew the subject they were talking about. Blood. Her blood. And it wasn't the first time that blood had been in this room, and it wouldn't be the last. She shook her head to clear it and opened her eyes.
Kroenen was seated at his desk. He was taking out various metal objects from the desk drawers and carefully laying them out on the desk.
"What're you doing?" Erica asked, watching him from where she sat by the fireplace, cradling her hand against her chest. Ilsa had given Erica a new red handkerchief since the one Kroenen had given her had been soaked with blood.
Kroenen paused and turned his masked face in her direction.
"Setting out my equipment so I can remove the glass shards from your hand."
"What?" Erica said, alarmed, "Don't hospitals exist in this time?"
"Yes," he replied calmly, "But the closest one is hours away, and I am far better than any 'doctor' they have there."
Erica wasn't sure she found this statement comforting, especially when she looked at the variety of things he was laying out on his desk. She didn't know it, but they were the same equipment he had used to suture his hand the night she had bitten him.
"I can do it. Just give me a pair of tweezers and I'll take care of it. I was in Girl Scouts, so I know first aid." Erica said, not really believing she could take care of an injury this bad.
"No you won't," insisted Ilsa, who was also sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. She was still wearing her dragon costume, though she had taken off her mask. "You're going to need stitches, and that glass is very deep in you hand."
"Stitches?" Erica said. She knew they were right. She just couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching her hand and making it hurt even worse. The mere thought of that made her start shaking, causing a drop of blood from her hand to fall onto her flame colored skirts.
"I have graduated from medical school," Kroenen said, sensing her anxiety, "Several years ago, in fact."
"Well, alright then," Erica said, consenting though she still felt unsure.
"Sit here," he said, indicating a chair on the opposite side of the desk from his own. She took the handkerchief off her hand and sat down, placing her hand on the desk. She watched nervously as he picked up a pair of tweezers. I just know this is going to hurt, she thought.
"Don't watch," he suggested.
"I have to."
He nodded. The tweezers had barely touched the glass shard when Erica yelled.
"Ow!" she yelped, pulling her hand back. She cradled her injured and bleeding hand and glared at him. "Don't touch me again unless you have a death wish!"
Kroenen inwardly chuckled at the irony of her words. "Oh, I think I'll take my chances. You're in no condition to hurt anyone, let alone kill me. And besides, that glass will have to come out unless you have a death wish and want to die a long, slow, painful death from infection."
She muttered something inaudible in response.
"He's only trying to help you. He won't do anything beyond what is necessary." said Ilsa, watching from the chair next to the fireplace.
"Define necessary." mumbled Erica, but she slowly placed her hand back on the desk, knowing what Kroenen had said was true.
"If you hold still it won't hurt as much," Kroenen said, "Moving just makes the injury worse."
"I don't think I'll be able to hold still when you start pulling the glass out." Erica said, telling the truth.
In response, he grasped her wrist and pinned it down to the desk with his gloved hand. "Close your eyes," he said, "And try to relax your hand. And don't try to pull away."
Erica had a feeling she wouldn't be able to pull away even if she tried.
"I think I'll go change my clothes," said Ilsa, standing up and walking towards the door. She paused in the doorway. "Be careful," Ilsa said, and then left. Erica had a feeling Ilsa's last comment had been directed at Kroenen, but she didn't know what it meant. Be careful of what? Erica wondered.
"Close your eyes," Kroenen said.
Erica hesitated for a moment, and then did as he said. She felt the tweezers bump into the glass shard and gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Then he pulled on the shard. The pain was too much, her eyes flew open and she felt her hand twitch reflexively, trying to wrench away. But Kroenen still had her wrist pinned to the desk with one hand and she couldn't pull away. He continued taking the glass shard out, seemingly unaware that he was hurting her. Erica's eyes watered from the pain, and as the glass shard slid out, she couldn't stop herself from crying out.
"Ouch!" she yelled.
"Sorry," Kroenen apologized, placing the sliver of glass on a piece of white cloth, "You really are going to have develop a higher tolerance for pain."
"I think, for the moment, that I'm not going to ask why that is." Erica said, her voice sounding strained in her ears.
And so it went, each of the minutes dragged out to a long eternity. Erica lost track of time, and, after a while, she sat quietly as he dug out each piece of glass. She felt sort of detached from everything, and though her hand hurt, it was no longer unbearable. Great, she thought, I bet that means I'm probably going to pass out from blood loss.
Kroenen, for his part, didn't mind her silence. He was completely absorbed in the task at 'hand'. As he took out each piece of glass, he discovered that he actually felt guilty about hurting her, despite the fact that he usually enjoyed inflicting pain on others. He knew he was actually helping her by taking the glass out, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty. It was because of his guilt that Erica's hand didn't hurt quite as much, he just barely entered her mind and blocked as much of the pain as he could. She didn't even realize he was doing it.
As Kroenen concentrated on pulling out another glass shard, he remembered what Ilsa had said before she left. He was slightly annoyed that Ilsa had felt she needed to warn him. Ilsa didn't need to tell me to be careful. I swear, sometimes she acts like I can't tell an enemy from an ally. Erica is one of us, I would never purposefully hurt her. And contrary to what Ilsa might think, I do have self control. It's not like I'm not going to get carried away. He glanced up at Erica. Her skin was pale from blood loss, and though her face was mainly calm, he could tell that she was horrified that her blood was all over everything. Behind his mask he grinned liplessly, knowing that all the blood made her injury look worse than it actually was. Blood wasn't something that bothered him, and compared to some of the things he had done to people, her injury was barely a scratch.
When he was sure he had gotten the last of the glass out of her hand, he cleaned the cuts and then sutured them closed with small, perfect stitches. When he was finished at last, he put down the needle and released his grasp on her wrist, breaking his contact with her mind.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.
Erica slowly moved her injured hand and examined the stitches in a dazed way. Then she glanced at the small pile of bloody glass shards lying on his desk.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"You're welcome. It's late, you should get some sleep," he said.
She nodded, and, as if in a dream, she stood up and left, leaving him alone in his study.
XXXXX
The moon was large and full, shining brightly through her window. Erica changed her clothes and blew out the numerous candles in her room. The smoke twisted and contorted in the moonlight with a life of its own. Erica lay down on her bed and watched. She closed her eyes, and before she knew it, she was asleep.
She was back in the hall with the window.
Kroenen stood beside her, gesturing to her to look out the window. She slowly turned her head and gazed outside into the night.
The window overlooked a garden. But this was not a normal, everyday sort of garden. This garden was withered, the flowers and grass were brown and dead, tangled twigs were all that remained of the shrubs. The few trees were twisted and leafless, stretching their naked branches towards an overcast night sky.
Suddenly, she found herself outside, in the middle of the dead garden, standing in a small courtyard paved with cobblestones. She was alone, Kroenen hadn't come with her.
Nearby, a fountain with a grotesque gargoyle in its center spouted foul, black water from a jar the gargoyle held in its claws. The basin of the fountain had algae and lichens all over the cracked, grey stone. The only other vegetation that looked remotely alive was the brownish-green moss between the cobblestones and some ivy climbing the high, stone walls that surrounded the garden. There were dark clouds overhead, and a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Erica shivered in the darkness and stared at the misshapen gargoyle in the fountain. Its mouth was wide and full of sharp teeth, and it's monstrous bat wings were spread behind it. The gargoyle grinned manically at her, its eyes bulging and forked tongue sticking out.
"Aren't you going to greet me?"
She whirled around. Behind her, leaning casually against as tree, was a man. Or was it a shadow? It seemed to be both, but at the same time it seemed to be more than either. In any case, he was tall and thin. And he had no face. In its place were flickering, shifting shadows that were somehow expressing his emotions.
"How rude of you to stare," he said, with the mouth she couldn't see, "And we haven't even been introduced, Erica."
"If we haven't been introduced, how do you know my name?" she asked, watching him cautiously.
"Oh, I know everybody's name. Don't you know mine? No? I didn't think so. But here, while we are in this place, let us call each other what we are. You may call me the Shadow Man. I will call you Acire."
She flinched when he uttered her true name, the one Grigory had used.
"You don't like that, do you?" the Shadow Man observed, though how he could see without eyes, she couldn't tell. "It still hurts, what he did to you. Though I can't say you weren't deserving of it. Servants should learn to be humble. But, putting that aside, I will call you Erica. At least for now. "
He turned his shadow head towards her, still leaning against the tree.
"There's something of great importance that I want you to see. Look over there." he said, pointing, his hand as dark and shadow-like as the rest of him. She looked, and gasped.
Floating in mid-air, a few feet above head height, was a giant hourglass. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before, the hourglass itself was at least as tall as a person. But there was something odd about this hourglass. The top part was nearly full of pure, white sand. The bottom part was almost empty, except for a small pile of black, ashy sand. The fine white grains were trickling down in a slow, thin stream from the top part, turning black as they fell to the bottom of the hourglass. As she watched the thin stream of sand, she got a nagging feeling in the back of her head that this hourglass had something to do with her, that it was very important. But she didn't know why.
"What is it?" she asked, turning back to face the Shadow Man.
"It is of great importance to you, and that is all that I will say, other than this: Beware of the moment when the white sand runs out!"
"Why? What does the hourglass have to do with me?"
"I can't tell you that. You have to figure it out for yourself. But be aware that you no longer have all the time in the world."
She looked up at the hourglass, and then back to the Shadow Man. "You didn't bring me here just to see an hourglass, did you? What do you want from me?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing really." said the Shadow Man coolly, standing beside the tree. "You have only two things I want. The first, your ability to tell the future, is in my service though you perhaps have yet to realize it. The other, however, you have insisted on withholding from me most tenaciously. That is, until recently. Lately, you've begun to 'slip'."
He left the shadow of the tree and glided toward her. The shadows in the garden followed and gathered around him, bringing a wave of cold along with them.
"What is it? What's the second thing you want from me?" she asked, shuddering in the cold that radiated from him.
"Don't you know?" he asked, his shadowy face looking at her directly. "And I thought you were so very intelligent. It is a most valuable treasure, the most valuable thing you posses. Don't you know of it?"
She shook her head. Somehow she got the idea that he was smiling wickedly, though she could see no discernable features on his shadow face.
"Why," he said, "your soul, of course."
Lightning flashed overhead, lighting everything bright as day. Everything except for that terrible, somehow grinning, shadow man.
XXXXX
Erica awoke with a start. The pale light of dawn was just starting to come in through the windows. She sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Why can't I ever get a decent night's sleep without having nightmares? she thought, holding her head in her hands. And such a strange nightmare too. I wonder what the Shadow Man meant about the hourglass…
Pushing that thought aside, she stretched, stood up, and wandered over to her dresser. She sorted through the drawers, looking for something to wear. Most of the drawers were full of dresses and skirts that the servants had managed to find for her. Erica wrinkled her nose at the dresses. Finally, she decided to wear black jeans, a dark crimson T-shirt, black shoes, and the necklace Kroenen had given to her the night before. Erica went over to a mirror and started to pick up her brush— and stopped. Lying beside her brush was a small bundle of black roses, tied with a scarlet ribbon.
"How did these get here?" she wondered out loud, picking them up.
The black roses were very pretty, and someone had thoughtfully taken the thorns off. Erica looked around her room, there was no sign that anyone had come in during the night. She shrugged. Perhaps a servant had brought the roses in. She placed the bundle of roses in a vase and then pulled one rose out and put it in her hair. She admired the affect in the mirror before heading downstairs for breakfast.
As usual, Kroenen and Ilsa were waiting for her, but this time Ilsa was still eating.
"Good morning," Erica said.
Ilsa and Kroenen nodded in response as Erica sat down at the table and reached for a pitcher of milk with her right hand. As she did so, her eyes fell on the sutures that crisscrossed her hand, the black thread standing out sharply against her pale skin. She didn't think anything of her sutures until she tried to pick up the milk pitcher with her right hand. The instant she did so, the sutures tugged painfully and she nearly dropped the pitcher. As Erica caught the pitcher with her left hand and carefully placed it back on the table, Ilsa spoke.
"I like the black rose in your hair," Ilsa commented, "Where did you find it?"
"Oh, I found a bundle of roses in my room this morning." said Erica, who was now struggling to pour the milk pitcher with her left hand.
Unseen by Erica, who was otherwise distracted, Ilsa looked knowingly at Kroenen. She knew he had left those roses in Erica's room last night. Kroenen appeared to be gazing out the window, but Ilsa knew better. Eventually, Kroenen turned his masked face towards Ilsa, and seeing her expression, shrugged slightly. He had crept into Erica's room last night and left the roses beside her brush, a place where he knew she would find them in the morning. The black roses were sort of a 'get well' present, he had given them to her because he felt responsible that she had been injured at the party. And he felt guilty about having hurt her when he was taking the glass out of her hand.
Kroenen looked back at Erica, who was awkwardly trying to pour milk using her left hand. Trying was the operative word considering she had spilled some of it on the table. Suppressing a smile, Ilsa reached over and took the milk pitcher and then poured the milk into Erica's glass.
"Thank you," Erica said, looking a little embarrassed.
After a long silence where Erica and Ilsa ate breakfast and Kroenen quietly watched them, Erica decided to clear up something that had been on her mind since they had left the party last night.
"So, will anyone explain to me what happened last night at the party?" Erica asked.
"You went into a vision," said Ilsa, "Kroenen had to pull you out of it, you were to far gone for me to do it alone."
"And a very interesting vision it was," Kroenen said, "Considering it involved Ilsa and myself but not you."
"That's not what I meant," said Erica, "I already knew that. What I want explained is why Leonard died, and why the wineglass in my hand shattered."
There was a brief silence as Ilsa and Kroenen looked at each other, and then back at Erica. Of all the questions Erica could have asked, she had to ask about Leonard. Last night, after Erica had gone to bed, Ilsa and Kroenen had discussed what they were going to say about Leonard's death. In the end, they had decided to tell her the truth. But they also knew they were going to have to handle this carefully considering that Leonard had been Erica's friend, even if it had been for only a few hours.
"The reason Leonard died was because his family was trying to poison you," said Kroenen, "I personally saw his mother and father bribe a servant to give you poisoned wine."
"And? That doesn't explain why Leonard is dead and not me."
"I had reason to believe that Leonard was in on the plot. So I in turn bribed the same servant to give the poisoned wine to Leonard and not to you."
"Why? Why not just get rid of the poisoned wine to begin with? Why did you have to kill Leonard? He was my friend." Erica said, looking hurt.
"Traitors and poison-ers don't make good friends, Erica," said Ilsa, trying to be tactful, "And if the poison hadn't worked, they would have tried something else, something that may have been more difficult to stop."
"But why did you have to kill him? You only had reason to believe he was helping to poison me, and yet you caught his parents in the act! Why didn't you kill them instead?"
"Oh, believe me, they will be dead very shortly if they aren't already," said Kroenen, "Some soldiers recently discovered that Ahren and his wife have unwisely decided to try to flee the country instead of confronting me. On last report the two of them were about to be ambushed by soldiers near the German boarder. And it would be in Ahren's best interest if he and his wife managed to get shot to death during the ambush, considering what the Thule Society does to traitors."
"But why kill Leonard? You didn't have proof that he had done anything. As far as anyone knew he was completely innocent."
"There is no such thing as an innocent human being," said Ilsa, "And if Leonard hadn't been poisoned, he would have been killed along with his father and mother for trying to poison you."
Erica sighed, having reached an understanding. They're right. In the long run, I'd rather have it be Leonard than me, she thought. And it was too late anyway, what was done was done. Leonard was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Please understand that I'm not angry or upset, I just wanted to know why he died, that's all." she said, "Now, what about the wineglass?"
"The reason the wineglass exploded is the same as the reason why you burned your handprints into Schenck's desk," said Ilsa, who had spent several hours studying that subject with Kroenen the night before, "And that reason is this: You haven't learned control. And because you haven't learned control, there is always leftover power because you didn't look into the vision as much as you could. The leftover power varies in how much there is, and when it's only a little, nothing happens and it simply dissipates. However, when you have a particularly strong vision that isn't explored completely, there's a huge build up of undirected power that has to go somewhere. And in your case it does something in connection with your vision. With your most recent vision, it was very cold, so the leftover power went out and froze the closest thing that wasn't you: the wineglass in your hand."
"So the reason I burned Schenck's desk was because in my vision I was surrounded by fire, so the leftover power burned the closest thing to me, the desk I was touching." said Erica.
"Correct," said Kroenen, nodding, "And because of that it's time we start training you to control your visions. After all, we won't always be nearby when your necklace senses you're about to have another vision."
"So that's why the pendent on it felt so strange last night!" Erica exclaimed, her hand going to the red stone pendent on her necklace.
"Yes, each of us carries a copy of it with us," said Ilsa, taking hers out of a pocket in her jacket, "When yours senses you're about to have a visions, our amulets let us know. That's why we rushed over to you last night. Unfortunately, we were a little late."
"And to prevent last night's events from repeating themselves, you are beginning your training immediately," said Kroenen, as he and Ilsa stood up from their seats, "Come with us."
XXXXX
It turned out that the place where they were going to be training her was the same black marble hall as the one where Kroenen had taught her to dance.
"Why here?" Erica asked, looking at the huge silver organ that filled one wall.
"Because you're less likely to damage anything," said Kroenen, "And, as you may remember, power has a tendency to become trapped in this room. That will force you to have to do something with it, instead of letting it dissipate."
"We will have to hold each other's hands," Ilsa said, holding out her hand to Erica, "We have to be touching to be able to come with you."
"Why do both of you have to come with me?" Erica asked, taking Ilsa and Kroenen's hands.
"So we're prepared if something goes wrong," said Ilsa, taking Kroenen's hand, "If you go too far like you did last night, it'll take both of us to pull you out of your vision."
"Oh, and Erica," Kroenen said, "until you have learned to control your visions, you must never move from the spot where you are standing. If you do, it's like accepting that what you see is real, and you could become trapped in a vision permanently. That could have happened last night if I hadn't been there."
Erica nodded in response.
"Are you ready?" Ilsa asked, her blue eyes meeting Erica's gray ones.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Erica said, dreading that something terrible was about to happen.
"Close your eyes and concentrate," Kroenen instructed, "Clear your thoughts and only focus on your ability to see the future. Only think about visions you've had before starting with the oldest to the most recent. You don't have to focus on them all. Those are the ones I want you to choose to look at, as they are less dangerous than trying to see new ones."
She did as he said, remembering all of her visions in turn. Suddenly, it felt like a strong wind was pushing and pulling on her. She opened her eyes. The marble hall was gone. She was surrounded by darkness. And most frighteningly, she was alone.
A white light appeared out of nowhere, blinding her with its intensity. When it was gone, she was standing on the sidewalk, the scene in front of her frozen, her little sister getting hit by a car. The scene flipped and the ground under her feet jerked out from under her, making her fall. As she fell, the bright light surrounded her. It vanished, and she hit the ground, and was instantly soaking wet. She looked up, the streets around her were flooded, the buildings were on fire, people were screaming. Another earthquake hit and a burning telephone pole collapsed beside her and the flames shot toward her. She threw her arms in front of her face—a bright flash of light— She was falling, and suddenly hit the ground and was running, the shadows were trying to catch her! She tripped and rolled— A bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, lighting the hall with an eerie, electric blue light. Thunder crashed behind her, startling her, and Erica spun around. Someone was standing in front of her! Lightning struck in front of her, shattering the scene as if it were glass— and she was running down a dark hall again, fleeing in panic, the shadows whispering and reaching out to catch her. She ran, gasping for breath, trying to escape—
The floor vanished and she fell with a scream, landing among fire scarred rubble and flames that seared her skin. Oily black smoke billowed around her making her eyes water uncontrollably. The sky above her was burning too, the hellish red and orange clouds streaked with black smoke— a flash of light— she was curled up on the ground, monstrous tentacles smashing everything around her to bits, flinging burning embers and rubble through the air. Then everything started spinning so fast it shredded apart— she was lying in the snow looking up at the mountains around her. They were an inhospitable blue-black and covered in snow, and the sky overhead was overcast and the snow fell down from it— a flash of light— A wave of whispering shadows pooled around her feet and then rose higher, wrapping around her, intent on pulling her down. And they weren't just pulling her down, they were drowning her, blinding her eyes, filling her mouth and nose. She couldn't breathe! She panicked, clawing desperately at the thick shadows, but something was holding her hands and she couldn't move them—
— she fell towards the black marble floor, stopped by two pairs of hands that caught her and helped her back up. She back was in the marble hall with Kroenen and Ilsa.
"Is this real?" she asked, unsure.
"Yes, of course," said Ilsa.
Erica smiled with relief. Then her stomach heaved and she let go of their hands before collapsing to her knees and throwing up.
"Perhaps it was an oversight to let you eat breakfast," Kroenen observed.
Erica knelt on the floor, gasping for breath. Her heart was beating unbelievably fast, she couldn't believe her heart could beat that fast without her having a heart attack. She could hear the blood rushing through her veins, and there was a pounding pain in her head, it was the worst headache she had ever had. She was shaking all over from exhaustion, and her limbs felt as heavy as lead. In short, she felt terrible.
Kroenen and Ilsa helped her up, and her legs were shaking so badly that she had to lean against Kroenen so she wouldn't fall over. As she stood up, she tasted blood in her mouth and on her lips. A few seconds later, her nose started bleeding. Fortunately it was only a few drops of blood, and then it stopped.
"That's enough," said Kroenen, seeing that Erica was completely exhausted, "Congratulations on seeing things that you chose. But you must remember that until you have better control, when you have a vision you must not move. We had to pull you out of it again."
"But you did very well for a beginner," said Ilsa, "We'll continue your training tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" Erica exclaimed, which resulted in her nearly falling over.
Kroenen caught her and picked her up as he had at the masquerade ball.
"Yes, tomorrow," he said, "With enough training, things like this won't happen to you anymore."
Erica was too tired to argue with them. In fact, she was beginning to fall asleep while Kroenen held her. Kroenen carried her through the underground corridors and up the stairs to her room. He laid her on her bed and then started to leave, but stopped in the doorway, turning back to face her.
"Rest, I will meet you in my study after dinner. And remember not to touch any of the books."
He left, and Erica was asleep before he finished closing the door behind him.
XXXXX
When Erica finally awoke, she was ravenously hungry. Looking at a clock on her beside table, she realized it was time for dinner. She was feeling much better, so she decided to go downstairs to the dining hall to get something to eat.
Kroenen never showed up during dinner. But that's not really surprising, it's not like he eats anything anyway, Erica thought as she walked to his study after dinner. She opened the door to his study and went inside. He wasn't there. I must be early, she thought, glancing at a clock near the fireplace. As she waited for him, she drifted over to his desk, remembering Kroenen's warning and carefully avoiding going near the bookshelves.
Unlike when she had been here last, Kroenen's desk was covered in a chaotic pile of stuff. He must have been studying or working on something during dinner, she thought, viewing the mess. There were sheets of paper spread across his desk, along with odds and ends of metal: gears, levers, pieces of machinery, and several half-disassembled clocks. Curious, she went over and picked up each clock in turn, inspecting them and looking at their inner workings with interest. As she sat the last clock down, her eyes fell on one of the papers. It was a sketch. She pulled it over for closer inspection. The sketches were detailed drawings of machinery and gears added to human limbs, complete with labels. She stared at the sketch in morbid curiosity, trying to figure out how each of the gears and so on were supposed to work, tracing the path of motion with a finger. Satisfied that she had figured it out, she placed the sketch back on the desk and picked up another sheet of paper. This one was covered in plans for several different clocks, all with intricate inner workings.
"Do those interest you?"
Erica jumped and spun around. Kroenen was standing a few feet away. She had been so absorbed in the sketches that she hadn't even heard him come in.
"Yes," she answered, then indicated the sketches, "These are beautifully drawn. You could be an artist."
"Thank you," he said proudly, picking up other sketches and showing them to her, "I invented all of them myself."
"It'd be neat to know if they would actually work," she said, admiring his drawings.
"Oh, they do," he said, "I've actually built most of the clocks that I've drawn. It's a hobby of mine."
"Really? That sounds like fun!"
"You really think so?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
Erica nodded. "I've always liked to make things myself, I think it'd be fun to learn how to build a clock and actually get it to work."
"I'll teach you, if you'd like," said Kroenen, "But not tonight. It takes several hours, and you were up late last night."
He sounds like my father, telling me I stayed up too late, Erica thought. Kroenen gathered up the sketches scattered across his desk, revealing a chessboard underneath them. Then he carefully stacked the papers and put them away in his desk.
"I really do try to keep my study tidy," he said, in explanation, "But sometimes it just gets disorganized."
He saw her gazing at the chessboard. "Do you know how to play chess?" he asked, gesturing at the chessboard set up on his desk.
"Yes. I'm pretty good at it too." she said, "My friends and I used to play all the time."
"Would you care for a game?"
"Sure." she said, sitting down in the chair across from him.
He moved the disassembled clocks aside and took a seat. The pieces on his side were black, the ones on hers were white.
"You may make the first move," he said, leaning forward.
She smiled and moved one of her pawns. He did the same. And so it went, each of them mentally formulating their own plans and trying to lure each other into traps. For a while the only sound was that of the logs crackling in the fireplace. She watched as he moved a bishop, and her eyes fell on his gloved hand. It reminded her of when she had sealed her agreement with them, and that his hand had been so pale and covered in scars.
"Why did you bleed?" she asked, abruptly breaking the silence, "You didn't when that man shot you in the heart."
"I take it that you're referring to what happened when I cut my hand with that knife."
"Yes."
"What you have to understand is that, to begin with, I don't have a heart," he said, "So naturally, when your assassinator shot me I didn't die. And since I don't have a heart, there was very little there to bleed. Any bleeding was mostly internal and I took care of that later."
"But you have to have a heart!" Erica said, surprised by his unexpected answer, "Otherwise you'd be dead! There'd be nothing to pump your blood!"
"No, you don't have to have a heart. There are other ways of pumping blood. With me, it's a combination of clockwork and machinery."
"But that can't be true. To replace a person's heart with clockwork—the procedure would kill them!"
"But it is true. Don't you remember? The first time I pulled you out of a vision, your head was right over where my heart should have been. Couldn't you hear my clockwork ticking?"
He was right. She had heard his clockwork ticking in his chest, and not just then, but on numerous other occasions. So he was telling the truth. She instantly felt a wave of sympathy for him.
"Who did it to you?" she asked, "It must have been terrible. I can't imagine someone doing that to another person."
"I did it to myself," he stated. Seeing her shock, he elaborated. "The human heart can only take so much wear and tear. And besides, organs are so fallible. Not so with clockwork. If an organ stops working, you'll die. But with clockwork, in the very unlikely case that something goes wrong, it's easy enough to fix. "
Erica was sharply reminded of the broken clocks and detailed sketches that had been spread out on his desk. She wasn't sure if she believed that he had done it to himself. But I suppose it is possible, since he's graduated from medical school and seems to have a vast knowledge of how clocks and other machinery work. She shuddered. She still couldn't imagine him doing that to himself. She decided that for the present, she wasn't going to believe what he had said about him replacing his own heart.
Little did she know, within an hour's time she would have all the evidence before her that he was more than capable of inflicting that sort of thing on himself.
She realized it was her turn to move a chess piece, so she moved her knight. And the game continued. After fifteen minutes, she had lost all of her pawns and only managed to take a few of Kroenen's pieces. But Kroenen wasn't really paying attention. If he had, he wouldn't have lost any of his pieces. Instead of putting his full concentration in the game, he was absorbed in his thoughts.
He thought back to when he had first been given the task of finding her, and how irritated he had been. Now he was actually happy that she was here. She was an interesting person, and he liked having someone to teach, to have someone look up to him. She was becoming more like a daughter to him everyday. He knew he would enjoy teaching her. In a few years, with the right training, she would inspire as much fear as he did. With her ability to see the future, if she was trained to defend herself as he had been trained, she would become very powerful and a huge asset to the Thule Society. He smiled at the thought, if all that came to pass, she would certainly be a lovely contradiction indeed, she would be both beautiful and dangerous. Then he frowned. One of the reasons he was so adept at fighting was due to his own modifications to himself, and he had a feeling Erica would protest about him doing the same to her. And even if she agreed, she might not be as resilient as I am, I could kill her by accident, he thought. He sighed. He wanted to make her perfect, but he knew how hard perfection was to obtain, how elusive a quarry it was. And he personally knew how disastrous seeking perfection could be— but he wasn't going to think about that.
His eyes fell on Erica's sutured hand as she moved a chess piece, reminding him of the masquerade ball and Leonard. Anger boiled up inside him, remembering how Ahren and had tried to kill Erica. So Ahren thought he was the spider in control of his prey's fate. So he thought he could play games with Erica who he believed to be trapped in his web. Well, Ahren's going to find out that it's deadly to play his shadow games in a web that I control. If Ahren and his wife are captured alive, I swear they'll be on the receiving end of the most terrible vengeance I can devise! he thought viciously as he moved one of his pieces, capturing one of Erica's knights. He looked up at her, she was still wearing one of his black roses in her hair, it matched her red and black clothing perfectly. Despite giving her the roses, he still felt a little guilty that he had caused her pain. He found it interesting that despite the fact he had been hurting her, she had continued to trust him and allowed him to take the glass out of her hand. I wonder just how far her trust extends, he thought. She had trusted them enough to not only join them, but to let Ilsa and himself essentially mess around in her head.
But does she truly trust me he thought. I trust her, trust her enough to let her in on a secret that only myself, Ilsa, and Rasputin know. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A few other people had found out, but he had killed most of them. I trust her enough to reveal my secret, to show her what my face really looks like. He was instantly and painfully reminded of how others had reacted when they had seen his face. Some had screamed, some had stood frozen in horror, a few had even passed out. Every single person's expression had shown how hideous they thought he was, no matter how much some had tried to hide it. And what would he do if she screamed? What did he honestly expect her reaction to be? It doesn't matter, he decided, It's inevitable that she'll see my face sooner or later. So I'm going to do it now, where I have control of the situation, instead of her finding out one day by accident.
Unaware of Kroenen's thoughts, Erica was gazing at the chessboard in bewilderment. Despite the fact that Kroenen hadn't been fully concentrated on playing chess, Erica discovered that she was losing. It was something that had never happened before. Since she had learned to play chess, she had never lost a game, which used to exasperate her friends. She supposed the reason she was losing was because Kroenen had a very unusual strategy, one she had never seen before. She was going to have to make huge adjustments to her usual tactics if she wanted to win. She was contemplating the chess pieces intensely, planning her next move, when Kroenen broke the silence.
"I want you to see my face."
Her concentration broken, she looked up at him. "What did you say?" she said, not sure she had heard him correctly.
"I want you to see my face. Come here, please."
Slowly, unquestioningly, she obeyed and got up and walked around the desk. As she did so, Kroenen stood up and turned to face her, gesturing for her to come closer. She tentatively approached him until she was standing directly in front of him. Kroenen took off his peaked military hat and placed it on the desk.
"It's more difficult for me to take my mask off myself. If you'd assist me…" he trailed off.
Hesitantly, she reached up towards his mask. Kroenen grasped her wrist, being careful of her sutures, and guided her hand to the two leather straps and buckles that held his mask on. Slowly, she unbuckled the first one. This was a bit awkward because she could barely use her right hand, and the cuts on her left palm and wrist still hurt. He was very patient and held still, other than to turn his head so she could reach the buckle more easily.
As Erica fumbled with the tiny buckle, thoughts were racing through her head. Why? Why does he want me to see his face? That was the most dominant thought. But there were others too. Why does he wear a mask? What does he have to hide? Does he wear a mask just to scare other people, or is it for another reason? Is he deformed? Or maybe horribly scarred as a result of an accident? There was only one way to find out.
Filled with apprehension, her trembling fingers undid the second and last buckle. She started to drop her hands back to her sides, expecting him to take his mask off. Instead, he caught her wrist and placed her fingers on one side of his mask. Gently, he held her hand there as he spoke.
"You'll have to help me. And when you see my face, no matter how you react, I won't be offended."
She nodded and he let go. Then she took his mask in her hands, one on either side, and pulled his mask away.
For a second she was frozen, speechless with horror, faced with his lidlessly staring ice blue eyes— and then she screamed.
Author's Notes: Whew! How's that for a suspenseful ending? Remember, the next chapter is after she's been living with them for at least a year, I still have to decide on the exact amount of time. Suggestions are welcome, and please review!