A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 6
"You said we were the only guests you'd gotten all week," said Elsie as she poured herself a fresh cup of milk. "I take it that's not typical?"
"Of late, aye, it is, sadly," replied Lily, seated across from the blonde. "T'wasn't so long ago we'd have visitors almost daily, but Brexit's put a bit of a damper on things up here."
Ivy set a small covered casserole in the centre of the table and took a seat next to her mother. "Bloody roasters...it's our future they be sacrificing."
"Well, we're not out yet," voiced the grey-haired woman. "Anyway, there be better things to prattle about around the dinner table than politics...you mentioned your mum was from here?"
Elsie scooped a fresh helping of potatoes - tatties, as Ivy called them - from her plate. "Well not right here, specifically. She was born in Glasgow, her dad was a slate miner."
"Glasgow, eh?" mused the older woman. "I know folk there, what be her maiden name?"
The blonde's reply was partly muffled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"Trainor."
Her answer seemed to wake the archaeologist.
"Oh, but I thought..."
Elsie shot a pointed look at the brunette.
Lara shifted slightly in her chair. "...oh...yes...yes, of course."
Ivy and Lily shared a curious glance as the archaeologist returned to idly shifting her food around her plate. While she'd politely engaged in conversation, Elsie could tell something was eating at her companion; the subtle change in the brunette's mien would've gone unnoticed by almost anyone - but Elsie knew better.
"Were ye born here, then?" resumed Ivy, filling the brief silence as she scooped a ladle of orangey mush from the casserole.
The blonde chuckled. "Ha! No, Mom came over when she was five...I'm from Portland, originally."
A look of confusion came over the archaeologist.
"What's wrong?" asked Elsie.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I distinctly remember you telling me you moved to Portland just a few years ago."
Elsie smiled. "And I did."
"But...you just said..."
"Born in Portland, Oregon, currently residing in Portland, Maine."
"...oh."
"Well there's a coincidence," remarked Lily as Lara returned to idly sliding half-eaten bangers through mashed potatoes. "Was that deliberate?"
Elsie smiled and shook her head. "Just one of life's little flukes."
Under the table, the blonde affectionately nudged the brunette's leg.
Hey...you okay?
"So ye've come to the land of your ancestors," remarked the proprietor. "Well, there be plenty to see and do in Bonnie Scotland, I can promise ye that."
"As long as the rains let us," commented the American, eyeing the continuing deluge through the dining room window.
"Aye, that."
Ivy dropped a scoop of the orange mush onto her mother's plate. What about your dad, is he from here too?"
Elsie's toes curled in reflex. She quickly forked a helping of potatoes into her mouth and shook her head.
"You have a lovely home," interjected the brunette, quickly redirecting the conversation. "It's Georgian, yes?"
Elsie's heart glowed. Love you, girl...
"That it is," replied Lily. "An Englishman built this not long after Culloden, but it's only been into our family since the Great War."
Lara proceeded to question the green-eyed woman at length about the house, to the point that Elsie couldn't help but wonder what the brunette was getting at - the Englishwoman seemed determined to uncover every stone of the building's history. As far as the American could tell, there was nothing about the place that would remotely interest an archaeologist of Lara's ilk. Lily, for her part, seemed only too happy to oblige, recounting numerous stories of the home's previous inhabitants.
But Lara's quasi-interrogation had deviated the discussion from its uncomfortable path. And so Elsie was only too happy to let the brunette dominate the conversation. Which was a rare enough sight in itself.
It was late that night when Elsie decided to broach the subject.
"Will you look at that," exclaimed the blonde as she threw open the bedroom's shutters, the waxing Moon shining prominently over the horizon. "Hardly a cloud in the sky, now..."
"Bodes well for tomorrow," echoed Lara softly from the bed's confines.
Elsie's lips slowly stretched into an upward crescent.
The blonde turned and gazed upon the brunette's moonlit form splayed across the bed. Bending her knees, she launched herself from the window, arcing through the air towards her target.
The Englishwoman's eyes widened in alarm.
"Elsie!"
The archaeologist flinched and raised an arm protectively, only for the American to land perfectly parallel to the Englishwoman, her head coming to rest against the brunette's shoulder. The old training, at least, still had its uses.
"You nutter!" admonished Lara. "Imagine if you'd broken the bed!"
"Nah," cooed the blonde as she cuddled up to her companion. "You're the one who breaks things, remember?"
"If that's a reference to your toaster," countered the brunette as she drew up the bedsheets, "Its time had long since come. I'm sure it served the pharaohs well."
Elsie patted the brunette's midsection teasingly. "Hey, it was working just fine until you went and stuffed Breadzilla in it."
"That's what you get for buying unsliced bread," explained the archaeologist. "And anyway, you absolved me of responsibility when you refused my offer to replace it."
The blonde slipped between the Englishwoman's. "Oh, is that how it works?"
"That's right," returned Lara. "Article 19 of the Good Houseguests Act."
"I'll have to look that up."
"You do that."
Elsie sighed in contentment, the two laying in silence for a time and basking in each other's closeness. The blonde modulated her breathing until she matched the slow rise and fall of her hand on Lara's abdomen.
"By the way, thanks for bailing me out at supper," said the American softly.
"I know it wasn't a subject you cared to broach," whispered the Englishwoman.
"No," agreed the blonde. "I'm curious, though...why are you so interested in this place?"
Lara's stared at the ceiling as she lazily ran her fingers through the blonde's flaxen mane. "No reason."
"Oh really...I dunno, you were grilling Lily pretty hard...everything okay?"
The brunette smiled dreamily.
"We're together," she whispered. "How can it not be?"
Elsie abandoned Lara's midsection and gently pressed a finger to the brunette's plush lower lip. Slowly tracing down the flawless curve of the brunette's chin, she continued down to the slender column of the archaeologist's throat.
"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd call that a cop-out," countered the blonde. "C'mon, what's wrong, Boo?"
"I'm fine," insisted her companion, her voice laced the subtle inflection that betrayed her every attempt at fibbing - at least to the blonde.
Elsie's middle finger lingered in the hollow at the base of Lara's throat, the digit rising slightly as her companion swallowed.
"Lara, I know you...I can tell when something's not right. Out with it."
The brunette was silent, her own fingers continuing their slow dance through the blonde's hair.
Elsie snuggled closer, her nose brushing the archaeologist's cheek. "Come on, girl...you know what they say, a problem halved is a problem solved..."
The corners of the brunette's mouth twitched. "Actually, I think it's 'a problem shared is a problem halved'."
"Oops, guess I was channeling my inner Dubya. Fine then, since you're giving me no other choice..."
The blonde raised her hand and splayed her fingertips across the brunette's face.
"My mind to your mind..."
Lara arched an eyebrow.
"My thoughts to your thoughts," breathed the American hoarsely.
"I should perhaps warn you," said the brunette, "Accessing my memories is likely to cause permanent blindness."
Elsie jerked her hand back.
"Dammit!"
"Nice try, though."
"Come onnnn," lamented the blonde. "Tell me what's bothering you, girl..."
"It's nothing. Really."
"Which means it's something," countered the American, dropping her hand to the archaeologist's chest.
Lara's lips parted slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. For a fleeting moment, the American thought she might finally get an answer -
"I just think...maybe my mind is playing tricks on me," whispered the archaeologist.
"Tricks? Like what?"
"Let's just leave it at that. Please."
Elsie's pale eyebrows rose in sudden comprehension.
"Oh my God...you saw a ghost. That's it, isn't it? You saw a g-"
Lara rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't see a ghost."
"That's why you were grilling Lily so hard," continued the blonde excitedly. "That explains why you wanted to know the history of this place -"
"I didn't see a ruddy ghost!" insisted the Englishwoman. "All right? There are no ghosts! Can we drop this, please?"
"If I guess it, will you tell me?"
"There's nothing to guess!"
"Is it me? Did I do something wrong?"
"Of course not!"
"Okay, so...you forgot to pack spare underwear."
"Oh, for - is nothing sacred?"
"Oh wait, I know! You wanted to -"
"Elsie, let it go!"
The blonde let out a frustrated huff.
"Fine. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal."
Lara's breathing stilled.
"What sort of deal?"
"I'll drop it," offered the American, "If you tell me how things went down between you and Doppie."
"Me and...oh no..."
The brunette stiffened visibly.
"Oh, come on!"
"That's...not a topic open to discussion," rasped the archaeologist.
"What the Hell, it's like pulling teeth with you today," returned Elsie plaintively. "After everything we've been through, we're going to start keeping secrets from one another?"
Lara let out an incredulous gasp.
"Of course not. It's hardly a secret that she and I...well..."
The Englishwoman hesitated.
Elsie shifted closer. "Yes?"
"...you know."
"No," replied the blonde, struggling to bury a grin. "I don't."
"Of course you do," protested the Englishwoman. "As I recall you and Sam concocted the entire affair, so don't play the innocent with me. It was a plot."
Elsie chuckled. "Look, for all we know you two could've been playing scrabble or watching tv all night. How'd you buy Doppie's silence, by the way? Did you blackmail her or something?"
Lara sighed at the ceiling. "Don't be ridiculous. I knew you'd try and squeeze her for information."
"So how'd you manage it?"
The Englishwoman squirmed beneath the bedsheets.
"That's...between Doppie and me."
"Well I gathered that," said the blonde. "Come on, tell me what it was like..."
"Elsie -"
The blonde pawed the base of the archaeologist's throat. "Please?"
Lara let out a pained groan. "Oh, bloody Hell..."
"I'm not asking for every little detail -"
The brunette twisted to face her.
"It was bloody bizarre, all right? Happy now?"
Elsie blinked.
"How so?"
Lara flopped back on her pillow and shook her head.
"Ugh...I've said too much."
"No, come on," voiced the blonde encouragingly. "You've come this far..."
The brunette seemed to struggle with herself.
"How would you feel if you were shagging yourself?"
"You mean aside from mast-"
"Yes!" barked the brunette. "Of course aside from that!"
Elsie choked down a guffaw.
"Okay, I guess I can see how it might be, um, different," admitted the blonde. "But it kinda affords a unique opportunity too, right?"
The brunette slowly craned her head to look at the blonde.
"Explain."
Elsie traced a finger along Lara's collarbone. "Well, think about it, you got to experience it from the other side. You saw what you have to offer. How many people can lay claim to that?"
The Englishwoman's expression was indecipherable.
"I..."
The blonde allowed herself an impish half-smile. "So...were you good?"
"Oh, you - get stuffed!"
Lara rolled over onto her side, facing away from her companion.
"Aww, I'm sorry," cooed Elsie as she spooned the brunette, nuzzling the archaeologist's nape. "I only razz ya 'cause I love ya, girl. C'mon, don't be a prude."
Lara huffed.
"That's rich, I'm not the one who can't - "
The brunette had caught herself - but a fraction of a second too late.
Elsie froze. Her heart caught in her throat, the unexpected jab striking hard.
"Touché," croaked the blonde.
Lara rolled over to face her friend, mortification etched on her features.
"Elsie, I'm so sorry," rasped the brunette. "I wasn't thinking...that was despicable."
The American struggled to keep the trembling of her lower lip from mushrooming into something greater.
"It's true, though..."
"No," returned Lara. "It's not."
"You know it is," Insisted Elsie. "I still can't get him out of my head...even after all these years...I've tried so fucking hard, Lara..."
The archaeologist took the blonde's hands in hers.
"I told you we'd work on that...and we will."
The corners of the blonde's mouth twitched. She looked to the brunette hopefully.
"Really?"
Lara edged closer and squeezed her companion's hands.
"We'll exorcize him, Elsie...before this holiday is over we'll banish the bastard. For good."
Elsie snuggled up to the Englishwoman and sighed.
"As an archaeologist I take it you've come across some rituals that would help with that?"
Lara smiled and kissed the blonde's brow.
"There's a particularly ancient one that comes to mind..."
~oOo~
She was falling.
No...there was no telltale wind-driven ripple of clothing.
She was floating. Surrounded on all sides by a strange mist.
But it was the eerie silence that struck Lara. Pin drop silence.
More unnerving: she felt as though she were being watched. But there were no growling eyes in the fog.
Images fluttered through the brunette's mind, almost as if she were flipping through a catalogue. Some she recognized: crawling through rough-hewn passageways under the Manor. Laughing with Roth at a café. Snuggling up with Sam under the blankets in front of the tele.
She saw Grim fall from the platform, two Solarii in tow.
Lara shuddered.
Other images she couldn't recognize. Whether due to their fleetness or vagueness of memory she couldn't determine.
The grey mist darkened to blackness.
Her senses slowly returned as the world coalesced around her. She was sitting on carpet, her back against a wall. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
Her breathing was shallow. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness Lara could just make out the looming shape of a bed immediately to her left.
But it wasn't her bedroom. At least not one she remembered; it certainly wasn't her flat, nor dormitory. Nor any of the Manor's.
So where was she...?
She was ensconced in the narrow trench formed between the bed and the wall, the tight space barely wide enough to accommodate her.
Her body was trembling. But not from cold.
She was terrified. Exhausted.
She felt as though she hadn't slept in days. Yet her eyes were unblinking.
She was in danger.
From what, Lara had no idea. But every sense in her body was heightened akin to a fawn hiding in tall grasses while a predator lurked.
She wanted desperately to bolt. But try as she might, the brunette couldn't move. Not even the slightest twitch of a finger.
She was completely paralyzed.
Lara had felt fear before - but nothing like this. It was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Absolute, overpowering terror, made worse by an underlining hopelessness.
She knew she couldn't escape.
A squeak in the floorboards. The sensation of terror spiked, threatening to overwhelm the brunette as she clutched her knees even more closely to her chest.
Her breathing became ragged.
It was then she noticed it.
The long, disheveled hair cascading down the front of her shoulders was pale.
Dear God...no...
She wanted to scream.
The all too familiar creak of the doorknob.
No...no, no, no...this isn't happening...
A faint sliver of light cracked through the door.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing.
It isn't real...it's just a dream...I'm not really here...
The floorboards flexed ominously.
Her mind began to swirl. Within, she screamed herself hoarse.
NO!
Her body began tingling; an odd lightness overtook her.
Muffled sounds reached her ears.
Wind. The rustling of leaves.
She opened her eyes.
And found herself walking outside.
She was still breathing heavily as she struggled to overcome her disorientation; the blackness made it virtually impossible to get her bearings - had she somehow escaped?
The only visible light was a faint orange-red glow in the distance behind her, filtered through the trees.
A fire...?
Her brief relief at having escaped the terror of the bedroom was tempered by the realization she was walking along a paved roadway - and she was straddling the centre line. If a car should happen by in this darkness -
Alarmingly, she found she could not alter her course; she continued to walk steadily on, her feet moving with a slow, strange disconnect - almost as though they were on autopilot. She had an odd, almost limping gait: her left foot was shoeless, the bare sock offering no insulation from the cold asphalt.
Adding to her confusion was a strange numbness through which seeped a muted jumble of emotions, the strongest of which was almost crippling guilt.
But what had she done...?
But more pressing was the sudden appearance of headlights ahead.
Get off the road!
But she trudged on.
The lights rounded a curve. Still she continued her inexorable march.
Disturbingly, part of her seemed to almost welcome the pending calamity.
Bloody Hell...move!
The car was coming at a frightening speed. The lights shone in her eyes.
There was a loud screech of rubber against asphalt as the car swerved to one side at the last possible moment, its mirror brushing her elbow.
Still she continued on.
She heard the mechanical clunk from behind her as the car shifted into reverse. The flashing blue and red lights on the car's roof bathed the surrounding trees in an oddly beautiful kaleidoscope.
She finally came to a stop as the car squealed to a halt next to her. The brunette gazed at her reflection in the driver's window.
Elsie...
The door cracked open, from which emerged an astonished young policeman brandishing a flashlight.
"Miss? Are you all right?"
Elsie's voice was shockingly lifeless.
"She's gone."
The policeman lunged for her.
But she'd already collapsed.
The grey mist descended once more, plunging Lara into another confusing flurry of images. When the fog lifted, she found herself crouched down before a small campfire, stoking the embryonic flames with twigs and broken branches. On a smooth boulder jutting out of the ground next to her lay a small pan containing several fish filets.
"Come on out, sleepyhead," said the brunette in Elsie's distinctively airy voice. "Hope you like pickerel?"
A rustle of canvas behind her.
She turned around on her shins - and came face to face with herself crouched just outside a small tent, wan and pale and looking much the worse for wear.
Lara gasped inwardly.
I barely remember this...I think I was still concussed...
But the warmth in her heart - Elsie's heart - felt real enough.
The image quickly blurred into murkiness, the ensuing words muffled into obscurity.
She was running.
But it was no early morning jog; it was a sprint of desperation through dimly lit streets.
Her legs were straining for even more speed, the filthy brick walls on either side constraining her course to a straight line. Her left hand and wrist throbbed painfully.
Rapid, heavy footfalls echoed behind her. Getting closer..?
No. She was gaining - but only just.
Go!
In the darkness, she never saw it.
Plowing full-on into an unseen barrier, the telltale rattle of chainlink brusquely announced an impediment to her flight; the metal mesh sprung back, hurtling her onto her backside.
She was back on her feet in seconds. Ignoring the pain, she began to clamber frantically up the chainlink barricade. She'd nearly reached the top when a vice-like grip clamped onto her leg.
And pulled.
She crashed to the ground, her wrist screaming in agony. But the grip on her leg had momentarily loosened.
One last chance.
Scrambling through the darkness, she took a desperate, roundhouse swing at the shadowy form of her assailant.
And missed.
She was thrown against a wall, the back of her skull impacting with such force that her legs instantly turned to rubber. Only the hands roughly clamped on either side of her head kept her from crumbling to the ground.
A leering face Lara couldn't recognize loomed into view.
"I'll make damned sure I get my money's worth out of you..."
No!
Her head violently collided once more against brick.
Darkness enveloped her.
For several moments all was quiet, until faint murmurs began to seep from the shadows.
She couldn't make out what was being said at first - the voices sounded as though they speaking through pillows. But as the conversation droned on the words slowly became increasingly distinct.
Elsie's voice, pleading.
"She didn't know! You can't do this!"
Another voice, older, feminine - and strangely disembodied.
"Knowing or not," said the woman, "is of no consequence."
Elsie's voice took on a level of desperation that unnerved the brunette.
"She meant no harm! Please! I beg you!"
"Go," interjected the unknown woman. "And be thankful you do not share her fate."
There followed a long silence. When Elsie spoke again there her voice was both strained yet resolute.
"I'm not leaving without her."
Lara's eyes snapped open.
The brunette shot up into a sitting position, her senses straining for a perch in her latest reality.
Lace curtains ruffled slightly to her right as the open shutters channeled warm night air into the room. The wallpaper's flowery motif confirmed she was still in the B&B.
All was peaceful.
She let out a breath of relief, sweeping the back of her hand across her damp brow. To her left, Elsie was curled up into a ball and sleeping soundly, a dreamy smile etched across her features; the young woman's pale skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.
The brunette's breathing slowly ebbed from its accelerated rhythm.
Okay...what the bloody Hell just happened...?
Lara pushed herself back against the headboard and shuddered, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just experienced.
She knew it had been no dream; every sound, every smell - they'd been all too vivid, all too real. She'd lived the moments in time.
Yet, paradoxically, she knew she hadn't.
They'd been memories, not dreams. Only not her own.
It made no sense.
How could she have tapped into the blonde's past? Elsie was no psychic, that she knew. Astral projection was out.
The American shifted slightly and licked her lips before settling back into quiet slumber.
The brunette gently traced a finger along the smooth curve of the blonde's cheek.
"How did you turn out so well," whispered the Englishwoman.
Elsie slowly uncurled herself and stretched her limbs, cat-like, her grey eyes glittering through half-open eyelids.
"Hey," murmured the blonde as she smiled at the brunette. "T'swrong...can't sleep?"
Lara bit her lip. "Sorry...I hadn't meant to wake you..."
"C'mon," breathed the American as she pulled the Englishwoman into her. "Lemme make it all better..."
Lara pressed her lips to Elsie's neck as she was wrapped in a loving cocoon.
"You're safe," whispered the blonde. "They can't touch you here..."
"Elsie -"
"Mmm?"
Lara sighed and gave herself to her companion.
It could wait until morning – or, maybe forever.
Perhaps some mysteries were better left unexplored.
"Thank you."
Smothered as she was by the blonde's embrace she hadn't detected a faint flutter leave through the open window.