Chapter 2

At Death's Door

It felt like it had only been five minutes since Enoch dosed off when he was suddenly roused back from a deathlike slumber by the sound of a loud ringing bell. It was probably the call for breakfast, which after not getting to have dinner last night, he was very eager to answer. Even if it meant having to meet a bunch of peculiar children and make idle chatter. Enoch reckoned he'd put on a decently fresh pair of clothes and at least make a somewhat civil first introduction. He decided on a shirt his father bought him and actually fit him well enough. Most of his wardrobe wasn't exactly purchased, but rather borrowed from patrons before they went six feet under. He usually had to have pants that fit, however, more often than not he ran around in shirts that were far too big for him. It hadn't proved to be much of a problem until this moment. While he wasn't too sure of what to expect out of the group waiting for him, they would supposedly be more like him then the kids back home were. That was a bit of a happy prospect ahead of him. Also, if his nose was as keen as he thought it was, there was another dead-riser like himself in this house. Someone who ought to get him completely, even if no one else did.

He cautiously exited his room about ten minutes later, making sure the coast was mostly clear. All the doors on the floor were wide open, except for the door he wanted to be. He cautiously approached the first door and hesitantly pressed his ear against it. Nothing could be heard from the inside. Maybe he'd been wrong, and it was only a normal room with no resident at this time. It could've been Miss Thrush's room when she stayed in the loop. If that old bird wasn't peculiar, she'd surely be keeled over by now.

"—Excuse me!"

Enoch couldn't help a panicked jump of a highly suspicious nature because he definitely wasn't used to sneaking around. It's not like there was much opportunity back at home. His parents didn't even hide Christmas gifts in the closet or lock their room with the dead bodies in it. Apparently, this house had different rules of operation and he would need to develop a new skill set if he was going to stay here. Including social skills. He looked over at the girl who'd come up the stairs and beckoned his attention away from the door. She was not Miss Nightjar. While Enoch's blonde hair was more of a sandy dirt patch, her hair was pure sunlight and perfection. For some reason he expected them all to be dirty, homely and forgotten, like most orphans. However, she had no visibly apparent oddity to her, like himself, and was actually a decently pretty girl. So, what on earth had possessed her to making the same deal to stay here?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude," she added, quickly realizing she'd raised her tone too much at him. Enoch reckoned they all had etiquette training in some form and Miss Nightjar would surely make him participate in such idiotic properness after he was settled. His manners were more than a bit on the rougher side of things. At least that meant that, even if she noticed him suspiciously lurking around the door of a room that was not his, she probably wouldn't confront him about it so directly. It wouldn't have been polite. "Good morning. You must be the new recruit Miss Nightjar picked up last night."

"Hello…" he mumbled. "I'm Enoch O'Connor. I'm new, as you've already figured out."

"I'm Marceline Sheppard, but you can just call me Marcie." She extended out her arm and Enoch shook her hand, civilly. "You must be starving. Come on downstairs. Everyone is sitting down for breakfast now and they're just dying to meet you."

They started walking down the stairs together and Marcie began telling him particular details about the house, as if he'd asked her too. She hadn't even mentioned anything about being peculiar. For a moment, Enoch wondered whether or not he was in the right place. This was supposed to be a wayward house for freakish oddities like himself, wasn't it?

"—So, what's your deal?"

"You mean my peculiarity?—Well, I suppose I could show you." she replied. Suddenly, she clapped her hands and disappeared. Enoch waved the air she'd been standing in, instantly thinking she must've gone invisible. He looked all around him till he heard her call out to him.

"Up here, Enoch!"

Marcie was leaning over the railings, staring down at him. She'd reappeared on the floor directly above them. She sheepishly waved, before proceeding to walk down and meet him again.

"Wow, that seems…fun." Enoch replied, unsure of what else to say to her. After seeing a woman shift into a bird yesterday, he foolishly assumed whatever else the peculiar world might toss at him would be insignificant in comparison. "Is it a common peculiarity?"

"I wouldn't classify any peculiar ability as 'common', per se. It's true that people can share powers, but they might not present themselves similarly. In lessons the other day, we were learning about a peculiar like me who could transport themselves, but couldn't control where or when they disappeared. I'm getting better at control, but I still only go short distances." Marcie explained. "I'm sorry. I've been overloading you with too much information. Miss Nightjar told me to show you around, and specifically not to talk your ear off."

"It's okay. I don't mind it much." Enoch added, with a hint of a smile. This was the first time someone close to his own age talked to him at length and didn't look at him with some form of fear in their eyes. Not to mention, she was being completely honest with him and giving him useful information about this new world. Although, he'd only met Miss Nightjar briefly last night before she whisked him away, something told him she would not be as generous.

"Marcie! Breakfast is kind of burning." a voice beckoned them from somewhere downstairs.

"Get it off the stove then! Must I do everything." Marcie yelled back. She was intent on staying with Enoch, figuring he would like a proper introduction, however, there were a couple defensive arguments thrown back at her, all jumbled together at once. Marcie groaned and stomped down the rest of the stairs, while Enoch stopped at the same photo that had caught his attention last night.

At first he thought it may be a forgery. Photographers often got a little wacky with these sorts of things. They were artists after all. However, Enoch quickly remembered where he was.

"Do you find something wrong with my portrait?"

The voice had come back from the dining table, however, a headless body was standing with crossed arms at the end of the stairs to confront him.

"No, not at all." Enoch added, quickly turning away from the picture. "It just makes you look a bit bigheaded."

It took him a moment to process this insult. Perhaps it was because his head was more than six feet away from where they were standing, but Enoch reckoned he was also right on the mark with his assessments. The headless body had just managed to produce a fist when Marcie came back in with some breakfast platters.

"I've told you a dozen times, Walter—head off the table!" she snapped at his head. She quickly noticed his expression was angered and his seat was empty. Immediately, her gaze went towards Enoch trapped on the stairs. "—Oh, don't go picking fights with the new boy first thing in the morning. I'll tell the Miss on you."

"Just because you kiss her arse, doesn't mean she'll make you her new apprentice, Marcie." Walter added, his body turning towards her with crossed arms.

"Don't be stupid. I've had a hand at taking care of you lot for far longer than the position has been open." Marcie insisted. She put down the food at the table, before she went to push Walter's body out of the way for Enoch.

"Miss Nightjar is crepuscular, like a lot of other ymbrynes, which means sometimes in the day she's not exactly around." she explained, leading him towards the table.

"Yet she's always up for lessons, it seems like." Walter said, following after them with surprising amounts of dexterity for someone whose head wasn't attached to his body.

"Yeah, well I daresay you could use a couple of extra ones. You're dumber than a sack of potatoes and your manners seem to have gone completely sour this morning."

"Well, we can't all have two heads like my darling sisters—can we?" he grinned, sarcastically, eyeing the two-headed girl sitting across from him as he sat back down.

"Oh stop it!" they both snapped back in perfect unison. Enoch couldn't help but stare, even though it was most definitely considered the rudest thing to do in the current situation.

"Even if she could have another, I wouldn't want the job. Seph was always complaining about how rigorous the training is." Marcie added.

"Seph?" Enoch questioned. He'd instantly realized she'd spoke of this person in past tense, meaning she was no longer here. He didn't know leaving was possible. Would Miss Nightjar really let him just waltz off when he felt like going? Or had she found some other way to escape this place?

"Our old friend. About a week ago, she decided to leave the loop and continue her training elsewhere. That's probably what left room for you to join," Marcie explained. Enoch finally decided to sit down as she served bacon and toast onto a plate in front of him. To hell with being courteous. He needed to eat, so he dug in immediately. "—Right, then. Quick introductions."

He'd unfortunately had the pleasure of meeting Walter already, but his sisters greeted him with much more politeness. The right head was named Agnes and the left one was Annie. Next to them was definitely something. It wasn't quite invisible, but it wasn't exactly a ghost either. It was more like an eerie shadow that could talk. His name was Edgar. After him was another boy who introduced himself as Charlie and he preemptively introduced the quiet girl on the other side of him as Beatrice. Neither of their peculiarities were visible, but mentioned an apparent talent show that they planned out every time a new person joined the loop. Thankfully, in the seat separating Enoch from Walter was a faintly glowing boy named Andrew. He said it was called bioluminescence and was generally an ability exclusive to ocean creatures. He also complained a little about how useless it was and made a jab about how he rarely got any sleep, which Enoch liked. They seemed to have similar humors. The last one was Ella, whose power was regeneration. However, she didn't feel like cutting off a limb to show him.

"So, where'd the old bird snatch you from, Enoch?" Andrew asked him, curiously.

"London." Enoch answered, simply.

"I've never been to London, but I already hate it. Miss Thrush is always bragging on about her loop and how well-behaved her wards are." Walter chimed in. "She considers us the problem loop."

"I don't hold it against her. The city is much nicer then here." Enoch added, bitterly.

"I'm sure you're just a little homesick. It's a big adjustment, after all—" Marcie reckoned.

"—It's like I've been dropped on a foreign planet! Less than twenty-four hours ago I was happily living with my parents and now—" Enoch continued.

"—Come on, Enoch. We can eat a little later. I'll show you around a little more and hopefully Miss Nightjar will be awake by the time we finish." Marcie laughed, nervously cutting him off. She rushed up, grabbing Enoch's arm and pulling him up as well. They went outside, which was most definitely because it was the only place that they weren't likely to be heard by everyone else.

"Why'd you rush me out of there like a bomb was about to go off?" Enoch snapped, immediately. "Leaving bacon behind is a crime punishable by law, you know. Even if it is a little on the well done side."

"When you've known that lot as long as I have, you'll be able to tell when a few of them are about to blow a gasket."

"Well, they can't expect me to be pleased by my new surroundings right away. I had to leave everything behind, and nobody will tell me what for!"

"Yes, but so did everyone else here." she replied. "This loop in particular is for the hard cases. Kids who couldn't blend with normal folk anymore because they were growing animal characteristics or extra body features. Kids without control and led to nearly criminal activities. Most of us had parents who downright abused us because of our peculiarities."

He didn't have anything to argue or another witty counter. He could claim none of that trauma for himself. He was normal looking. He'd never acted criminally, and he had parents who, despite giving him up to this place, plainly loved him. Miss Nightjar naturally hadn't mentioned any of that ugly business about the kids last night. Obviously, the point was just to get him here and then let him find out all the bad things gradually along the way. Enoch was quickly learning that not everyone here was actually like him. Everyone came with their own powers and their own sets of problems.

"This is a refuge. Just remember that the next time you decide to get rude and mouth off." Marcie added, with a forgiving smile. She couldn't really blame him for making mistake so early on. It was all such a big adjustment to make at the drop of a hat and she could still remember what it felt like. "You could learn to like it here. It's really not so bad."

Enoch thought it best to keep his mouth shut for a while, which was quite a rarity with him. Let the girl get on with her pointless tour of the place and then he could ice them all out for the rest of their time in this endless loop, if he still felt like it. She showed him almost every nook and cranny from the kitchen to his own room. Enoch found the only point of interest, besides the locked door on the third floor that no one else would seem to acknowledge, was the cellar. It looked like the perfect place to stash a new collection of hearts and Marcie was kind enough to let him take an extra pickling jar. Although, thankfully, she did not ask what it was for.

Eventually, in the late afternoon, Miss Nightjar finally caught up with them. They'd just concluded their tour and Marcie was letting him snack a little before supper as an apology for pulling him out of breakfast. Enoch had been hoping to finally deal with his busted jar after he was done eating, but he figured that Miss Nightjar would further extend this dreadful orientation.

"There you are, Mr. O'Connor." she remarked, as she approached them. "Come along. I gather you've already been shown the gist of things. We'll just have a quick chat in my office to go over the curriculum."

"—Oh, but what about the talent show, miss?" Marcie exclaimed, with a bit of a disappointed pout. Enoch thought it sounded like a dreadful event, even if would show off the other's peculiar abilities, but she seemed really enthusiastic about it.

"Tomorrow, Miss Sheppard. I'm sure everyone can contain themselves till then." Miss Nightjar replied, dismissively. She made a gesture for Marcie to move along, and she left.

Enoch had no choice but to follow Miss Nightjar back to her office. They'd only glossed over the exterior in his initial tour with Marcie. There were the standard office necessities that he'd noticed in his own fathers office the few times he'd been there. Books that seemed to be irrelevant. Piles of paperwork. A variety of quills and pots of ink. While Miss Nightjar settled in her own chair, Enoch sat in the allotted chair for wards across from her. His eyes got enticingly drawn to a cabinet full of spare keys mounted on the wall behind her desk. His mind immediately flashed back to the locked door. The only other room in this house he had yet to see.

"So, how're we getting on so far?" she asked him.

"I've got a desperate leaking jar situation that I'd really got to get to—Do you by chance have any of the chemicals I'll need for more embalming fluid?" Enoch added, curiously. It was pretty much the one thing he could really talk about. He didn't want to mention how all her other wards probably couldn't stand him after barely spending half a meal with them. Except Marcie. She was the only one who genuinely had his back so far.

"Here." Miss Nightjar got up and opened another cabinet. She handed him an extremely questionable jar of a cloudy greenish yellow. "Not exactly the chemicals you're used to, but it'll probably do the job much better."

"Would you tell me what it is even if I wanted to know?" Enoch said, looking hesitantly at the jar. It was not that he was grossed out, after what he'd already seen in his past. Just curious.

"I daresay I wouldn't." Miss Nightjar replied. Enoch frowned rather sourly at her and she pretended not to notice him. "You start lessons on Monday along with everyone else. There will be general peculiar history and normal subjects. However, your curriculum will also be tailored to learn about other dead risers."

"Has there ever been someone like me here?" Enoch asked, looking down at his jars. All signs pointed to yes, yet they had yet to be introduced or acknowledged. Exactly like the mystery door that smelled like death. So, what was going on?

"No. At only four years old, this loop is still rather new. We haven't had the variety of pupils some of the older loops have had." Miss Nightjar answered him.

Liar

Enoch knew immediately that she was lying, despite the fact that she'd answered so effortlessly. However, once again, he thought about challenging her and decided against it. Maybe one day she'd do something so unforgivable he'd decide on giving her a piece of his mind, but today she would get away with a harmless, insignificant lie. He didn't exactly have an exit strategy to escape ten odd, powered freaks and their bird headmistress, when civilization was two miles away and stuck in a time loop. She'd converted a group of undesirables and borderline criminals back into practically normal kids and she could've only done it one of two ways: with kindness, or with extreme force. Calling her out would've been asking for trouble and although Enoch was known to stick his foot in it, things would've been better if he did not risk invoking her wrath almost immediately after he'd arrived.

"I know you would've preferred to stay in London and you're not too happy with how things operate around here—"

"—but I'll learn to love it. Yes, Marcie already gave me that speech for you." Enoch sighed. He was tired of all of this and really wanted to just lock himself in his room.

Suddenly, there was a loud boom from somewhere else in the house and, given the slightly panicked look on Miss Nightjar's face, it was not a repeated occurrence of the loop. She told Enoch he could return to his room for the moment and quickly rushed out of the office. Enoch was about to comply, but then his eyes got caught again on the tempting cabinet of keys. Just borrow the right one and put an end to the mystery door. He hesitantly approached the cabinet and went for the key that was labeled: 301. Thanks to Marcie, he knew how the rooms were numbered, even though they didn't have the numbers on the door. He hastily left and rushed back up the stairs. He stashed the empty jar and the jar of solution in his room, before making a U-turn back up the hallway. This was not a good idea, but Enoch couldn't help himself. There was nothing else here that intrigued him in the slightest bit and the door was a mystery to be fixated on. It would consume him, until he figured out what was behind it and why everyone was carefully not acknowledging it's very existence. The lock clicked open after a surprisingly minimal amount of effort. He hesitantly opened the door and peered into the room.

Oh…

It was not a fellow dead raiser. It was just someone who was dead.

The girl lay as cold and serenely as she possibly could be for someone who'd left that body behind and was limply lying on a table similar to the one in his parent's embalming room. It was an intrusively inappropriate thought, but he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. Death looked rather good on her. He couldn't say that about most of the dead people he'd met. However, he couldn't be fooled by her freshly dead appearance. Time worked differently here. Surely, the loop was preserving her in some way. She could've died four years ago and had been waiting for him all this time. There was no way to be certain. Her dark brown hair was in perfect curly ringlets and she was dressed in a fairly modest black dress. At first, he thought she had a red ribbon around her neck, but on further examination it was the mark of her cause of death. Someone had cut her throat and someone else had done a remarkably good job of cleaning it up again. It wasn't very often he got to see someone his age in such a state. Although, a few had come through the O'Connor's business over the years, his parents were particularly cross about letting Enoch interact with them. He wasn't scared of her though. Death never scared him.

It was suddenly clear why he'd been brought here. Wake up the girl and ask her who'd done this. To see if it's a problem that threatens the safety of the loop or just a rotten accident. Surely this is what Miss Nightjar had been keeping from him in the hopes that she would not put too much pressure on him to do something so traumatic after just arriving. However, Enoch was the type of person to just get it over and done with, even if it was somewhat painful. Why delay the inevitable? Her lifeless body didn't intimidate him and it's not like this would've been the first time he used his powers on a human. Perhaps this place would feel more like home after a good old fashioned resurrection. Enoch quietly went back to his own room and grabbed the jar with the poet heart. He didn't want to see it go to waste so quickly. However, if he didn't use the heart now, the opportunities were probably going to be pretty slim that he'd ever get another chance to use it. He quickly rushed back and relocked the door behind him. Luckily, it seemed most of the prep work was already done for him. All he had to do was stick the heart in.

"Rise!"

After a minute or so, her eyes slowly fluttered open. They were a pleasantly dark green. Enoch kept a firm grip on the heart. Suddenly, the girl leapt up with a huge gasp of new life. After a few seconds of steady breaths and looking around, her gaze locked solely on the boy who was holding her new heart.

"Hiya handsome!—Care to help me solve a murder?"