Disclaimer: HB, BPRD are not mine. I use them with utmost respect for their creator, Mike Mignola. Significant effort has been placed in keeping close to his creepy settings, character behaviour and subject matter. I've never been to China, thus most of the name, plants and foods have been researched on Google.

Noteto some readers: some of the subject matter in this chapter may cause offense to some. There is no sex, bad language, racism or other nasties, but some may still be offended. Please respect that this whole story is based on a dream I had years and years ago and is intended as a creepy Hellboy fanfiction that happens to involve a love story. Please don't sue me.


The sound of flutes

A delicate tune of sadness carried on the air, through the trees and to Hellboys' ears. He followed its sound through the trees and gardens, being careful where he stepped. Lotus blossoms lay at his feet, their delicate petals bruised by his hard pointed toes.

Hellboy quickly turned to see where Tao had scurried off into the darkened bush, away from the shadowy twilight world where he himself stood. Tao may serve right to be afraid.

He continued to walk through the empty gardens, admiring the eerie misty beauty that had suddenly arisen from a dark and depressing swamp land. A small brook meandered through the manicured gardens, under thick stone bridges and between lush bushes. The music continued to grow louder. The brook ended at a large pond, Peking ducks and waterlilies gently floating on the surface. An appletree hung delicately over the pond, its' twisted branches shading the pond and golden fishes within it. A ring of ripples spread over the calm water as a single red apple fell into the crystal water. This was the tree Hellboy had been looking for, yet the music sounded from elsewhere.

The pond was clear water, yet faded into a black nothingness. Hellboy dropped a small piece of earth from his foot into the water. There were no ripples as the dirt clod was swallowed up by the liquid crystal. The fish did not scatter. He pressed on, toward the source of the music. Soon, he could make out a female voice, high pitched and mournful, singing to the flutes in Mandarin.

"My love has ran, my daughter bound. My life had ended, we'll not be found."

The scent of jasmine grew stronger as Hellboy turned through the endless garden maze. Before him sat a girl, no older than 18, with a girl about five years old on her lap. The womans dress was long, flowing and wrapped around her delicate form as she sat on the bench. Her hair, eyes and figure were beyond beautiful, she posessed an unearthly angelic beauty that seemed to pull at his very soul. She did not look up at Hellboy, but rather stared at her child, feeding her the red, red apples that sat at the end of her flowing dress in a small heap.

Hellboy stared at the woman until she lifted her gaze to him. She did not run, nor did she cry out, but rather she placed her daughter on the ground and gestured into the air. The small girl stumbled away, teetering miserably away from her mother.

"Feng. You have come at last." The woman spoke in monotone, holing a quiet, neutral expression with her mouth nearly closed. "Where have you taken him! Bring him back!" The pain in her voice could not be hidden.

Clearly the woman was upset, but there was little Hellboy could do to console her. He simply stared at her hollowed expression and emotionless face and continued to wander through the maze for the monster that would invariably come to destroy him.

The child stared at Hellboy, balancing on delicate and fancy shoes. The girl began to cry and tried to run away. She took three steps and then fell onto the grass as her right shoe caught on Hellboys' hoofprint. He lifted the small girl in his stone hand and picked up the shoe in the other, sliding it back onto a small and foul-smelling bandaged foot. He set the girl back onto the grass and patted her on the head.

"Don't worry kid. I ain't here to hurt ya."

The girl remained where Hellboy had left her, staring at the tall red man as he walked away. The mother remained on the bench, watching Hellboy intently and with hurt eyes but not uttering a word.

Suddenly, Hellboy could hear the woman calling out once more, this time to him directly.

"Huang, your bride, is awaiting your return. She has missed you woefully, Feng."

The woman reached into her pocket, removing a small bundle. She held it out at the end of her delicate hand until Hellboy gently took it into his own. Her eyes watered with grief and suffering.

"Feng, your lotus awaits you."

Hellboy smiled at the woman, who said neither a word nor moved. He shrugged it off, as spirits often talked in riddles and were confused.

The garden path ended at the other side of the large pond he'd passed earlier. He watched the mist gather over the surface of the pond in delicate swirls, undisturbed by the occasional falling apple. He focused his yellow eyes on the misty shapes, which now appeared to be human forms rising from the water. Three women slowly emerged from the pond, their clothes clinging to their wet bodies. Their hair dripped down their shoulders, the bindings and combs barely in place.

Hellboy watched as the women moved from the water as if walking on sharp gravel, teetering near one another as they approached him. Hellboy felt the rosary on his belt with a warm left hand.

The women began to sing as they approached him, the smallest of the three looking at him with eyes of love and devotion. Her hair was long, and well-tressed, falling neatly to her shoulders before becoming an elegant bun with extravagant embellishments and ornaments. Her figure was slight, delicate and robed in pink silk with lavish embroidery. Only her innocent face and delicate neck remained uncovered as she approached. Her dark eyes cut into his soul with pain and longing, she must be Huang, the lotus that the other woman has spoken of.

Hellboy stood in place, not entirely sure what to make of this situation. As the eerie beauty neared him, toughts of his dream the night before filled his mind with fear and dread. His hand slipped from the rosary to the Samaritan.