Chapter Five:
Beth shut and locked the door quickly, then flung herself across it as though she were holding it closed against what had almost just happened. "No, no no no no no," she breathed. "We are not going to go there."
She was shaking, so she took a few deep breaths to calm herself and slumped against the door. "Okay. Calm. Everything's good. Don't think about it - it was a mistake. I've just been... sending out the wrong signals lately, and I'll stop, that's all. Everything is still good."
It was just hard to know where to draw the line, that was all. She had to admit that it was flattering, to have someone whose attention was always on her, someone she knew was interested in what she said or did... and she was taking advantage of that. It wasn't his fault, it was definately hers; she was pushing the boundaries because she could, and it was giving all kinds of mixed messages, and so it was no surprise at all that he had tried to -
Well. Sure, she got carried away. Having a man's attention was kind of addictive, she admitted guiltily, but it wasn't as if she was actually going to kiss him.
Except, she thought with even more guilt, she maybe almost had.
No more, though. It was the costume and the party, and she wouldn't get swept up like that again. All she had to do was reset those boundaries firmly at "Friends Only", and Launchpad would stick to them (he always had before) and everything would be fine. Fine. Yes. Nothing to worry about or freak out over in the least.
She took a deep breath, let it out, and began to feel better.
As she turned off the outside light, her hand brushed the wall, and she shuddered: it had the same feeling as the wall upstairs. She tried the wall opposite the front door and met with the same result.
Something inside her revolted. Get out, NOW. Just leave, run, don't think about where you're going, just RUN, just GO...
But she refused. What it all came down to was that Beth Webfoot was not a superstitious 'fraidy-cat, and she wasn't about to let some funky heating scare her out. That was it. Sure. After a few moments she was able to convince her legs to take her upstairs to her room, where she remembered that it was nearly 1 am, and after she'd put on a nightshirt she collapsed onto the bed.
She awoke suddenly from an uneasy dream she couldn't remember at all and fumbled for the clock. Just before 2:00 - only an hour later. She groaned, and wondered what had awakened her... Must have been something... There was no sound though, for which she was intensely thankful.
Her mouth seemed awfully dry. Well, as long as she was up, she could go get something to drink. She forced herself out of bed, grabbed her robe on the way, and was already downstairs and halfway across the living room when the air in the house suddenly went cold. Not just as if a breeze had gone through or a subtle shift in temperature, but a genuinely large drop, as though she'd just stepped into a freezer. Her breath condensed into steam in front of her.
Beth stopped, tightening the robe around her body, and waited for something she knew was coming even though she didn't want it to come. Within a moment she heard them - voices, from upstairs, from down the hall. From the sewing room. They spoke in a mumble, and she couldn't quite decipher them, but there was certainly more than one.
The voices became louder, yet oddly she still couldn't understand them - they could have been in a foreign language for all she knew, yet she could hear them fine, muffled but intense - and her heartbeat quickened when a shuffling of footsteps fled down her second-story hall, thumping, ending at the wall by the stairs. Someone yelled.
Oh GOD Beth get out, get out, don't stay, this isn't right- The voice in her head was panicking, but Beth couldn't move. Her legs were like lead as a woman's voice yelled from upstairs, and softer footsteps traced the heavier ones from a moment ago, and it was still so cold, it was freezing, and the footsteps carried down the stairs full volume as if someone were right there in front of her. Breathing, heavy and panicked, brushed past her bringing a heavy chill, and still she couldn't move.
Noises came from the kitchen - thumps, scrapes, sobs - and suddenly it was back in the living room, passing Beth again. The house's walls seemed to be contracting around her, breathing as heavily as the voice she couldn't help but hear; and now words came as if from far off, almost echoing but definitely there, near the door:
"Oh, this can't be happening, this can't be HAPPENING!!"
And the door, as she watched, expanded. She saw it; it stretched and bulged and the disembodied voice sobbed, then said pleadingly, "No... No, no, no, no!"
I'm hearing someone's death, Beth realized sickly, she's going to die. This is how she died and I can't stop it, and I'm going to hear her die right in front of me. If she'd been able to move, she'd have fallen to the ground in a faint.
The pants and sobs were in the centre of the room now, gasping louder, and Beth tried so hard not to hear, but suddenly the voice screamed, shrieked even: "DEMON BEGONE! I cast you OUT!"
Beth's blood ran cold as one last bloodcurdling scream filled her house, and then there was only silence.
For a few moments the only sound was of Beth's own breathing, so harsh and quick that at first she thought it was still the presence from a moment ago, and she couldn't move. She couldn't see, or hear, or think, because it was still so cold, and then suddenly a door swung shut upstairs, and she bolted.
Drake woke up to the sound of a distant pounding. Pulling himself out of a dream about building an extension onto the Tower, he sat up - no, it was real, and someone was yelling outside.
He grabbed his robe and ran down the stairs, the yells getting louder with every step he took. It sounded like Beth, and when he yanked the door open, it was indeed a very frightened Beth Webfoot who threw her arms around him, sobbing.
"What is it? Beth, what happened? Beth - stop crying and tell me. Calm down -" He did his best to comfort her, but she was sobbing incoherently, and this really wasn't his area of talent. He momentarily considered prying her away from him and shaking her a little to see if it would help to get some sense out of her.
Fortunately, Launchpad and Gosalyn were hurrying down the stairs, and Drake gratefully stepped back as Launchpad pulled her away from the befuddled crimefighter and held her comfortingly.
"Beth?" Drake tried again, a bit more gently now that he didn't have her crushing his ribs. "What the heck is going on? Did someone attack you?"
She began to calm down as Launchpad rubbed her back, and in between sobs, she managed, "N-no, it's... it's the, the h-huh-house! Th-there - something -" She clung to Launchpad again, shaking, and he gave Drake a slightly alarmed look, which admittedly might have just been because Beth didn't seem to realize that people needed to breathe. Drake, his patience wearing thin, rolled his eyes; this was like pulling teeth.
He managed a small comforting pat on her shoulder. "Breathe. Relax." Enough already, he just barely didn't say aloud.
Sniffling, Beth nodded, and her grip on Launchpad relaxed a little. She was still shaking, though, as she looked at Gosalyn tearfully. "You w-were right," she said, her voice full of fear. "S-something is... that w-woman, I- I heard her. Th-there's something th-there." She shut her eyes, still shaking, and Launchpad held her tighter in what was almost certainly an expression of nervousness on his part, as well.
"I knew it," said Gosalyn excitedly, but Drake glared at her and she went silent again.
Sighing, Drake said, "Look, you can stay here tonight, Beth. LP, give me a hand setting up the guest room. Gosalyn - you go back to bed."
"You know, Dad, maybe if Beth tells someone what happened it would help her feel better, and I just happen to be available..." A stern glance from her father prompted her to add, "Or maybe I'll just go to bed, seeing as how it's late!"
Launchpad spoke up for the first time since Beth had arrived. "Hey, DW, don't worry about the guest room. Just lemme get a blanket an' I'll take the couch, Beth can sleep in my room."
Beth pulled away from him, sniffling. "No, that's silly, I'll sleep on the couch-"
"No way. You're all upset, you should at least get an actual bed."
"But-"
He smiled at her. "Aw c'mon. I sleep on the couch durin' the day anyway."
Impatiently, Drake said, "So am I fixing up the guest room, or can I go back to sleep?"
Beth jumped, almost guiltily, and said, "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry, Drake. Forget I'm even here."
Whatever was in her house would have to wait until tomorrow, and she didn't mind at all.