iCarly: iMeet the Relatives, Chapter 19: The Questing Heart
…
I don't own iCarly. Would that I did.
…
Chapter 19: The Questing Heart
What has gone before:
Seattle: The Earth realm: Jemiah had felt the earthquake-like force that had torn through the city, demolishing buildings, smashing traffic, and producing severe power outages. A very bad combination, and, he could tell, from no natural source. {{Adriel!}}
{{I hear, Exalted One.}}
{{I think it common knowledge that that was no ordinary earthquake. I need you to personally look in on my nephew and his group. I cannot sense them.}}
Moments later: {{They are not to be found, Exalted One. I have checked the Shay's apartment, and, in fact, the entire building. Gryphon, Carly, her friend Sam, and her brother Spencer are among the missing.}}
{{Did you think to check-*}}
{{I also checked on the demoness, Jillian Adara. She, too, is missing, as is this "Devlin BenDarian" of whom you informed me.}} Another moment. {{But I can sense no other disappearances that might be linked to these.}}
Jemiah closed his eyes in pain. It was happening all over again, just like last time…. {{I need you to make a personal report to High Command. Tell them what has happened, and request reinforcements. I've a hunch we'll need them.
{{Yes. I've a strong hunch we'll need them. Badly.}}
Hell, in the innermost circle: the City of Dis: Darian BenDarian stood before the Black Throne, having just finished up his report on the recent event. {{That is as much knowledge as we have at this time, Your Excellencies. Evidently, two of our demons in the Earth realm, those most closely associated with Gryphon Stryder, have vanished, presumably into the Darkness. And our agents tell us they are picking up indications of the Darkness's increasing strength.
{{Just like last time.}}
The Black Throne rumbled, the reverberations passing from one side of the room to the other. Darian BenDarian waited patiently.
He had learned patience long, long ago, even as demons measure time.
Finally, the "sound" came once again to his mind, {{It is to be fervently hoped that what transpired the last time this happened will not happen now. But hope alone is insufficient to ward off disaster. We will issue the investigation team we assigned to Earth new orders. They will be to locate the nexus from which these incursions are coming. And…though it pains us immensely…we will also inform the angels of our actions. You will take a prominent role in this. You will contact this Jemiah St. Clair, and arrange for the coordination of our two teams
{{For you may be sure they will send for their own team.
{{Perhaps…just perhaps, by working together, we can prevent the end of this particular Earth, along with its associated dimension.
{{This time.}}
BenDarian bowed low. He hated having to communicate with Jemiah again, but orders were orders. And he couldn't deny that he saw the wisdom in the Black Throne's orders. {{I hear and obey.}}
…..
Now:
In the Darkness: Freddie was still unconscious, lying on the couch in Carly's living room. Sam sat beside him, working a cold compress onto his head. He hadn't so much as twitched ever since they'd brought him here.
From the other side of the room, Devlin watched, troubled. Something was wrong…then he caught himself laughing inside. Of course something was wrong! They were in the Darkness! That was about as "wrong" as you could possibly get.
He crossed over to that side of the room. "How's he doing?"
Sam glared up at him. "Why d'you care?"
"Why shouldn't I? He means something to you, and you mean something—quite a lot, actually—to me. So, yes, I care."
She bent over Freddie again. "Not that it's any of your damned business, but he's doing….no better and no worse. I, I can't understand why he's still out."
Devlin sat down on the other end of the couch, planting his trident, hilt-first, on the floor beside him. "I'm afraid I've no knowledge to share about this. None of us have ever had any investigative forays into the Darkness."
She fiddled with the compress on Freddie's forehead. "I can't get over how you suckered me in. And for years." He didn't say anything. What was there to say? "I'd say 'God damn you,' but that's redundant, isn't it?"
He sighed. "If you say so, Sam." He reached out over Freddie's form, trying to sense emotions from the still body in front of them.
She knocked his hand away. "Get away from him! And get away from me, too! I, I don't care if you personally get us back from this place, I don't ever wanna have anything more to do with you! You hear me?" She was shouting. The others looked up, their attention drawn by the noise.
Again he sighed. "Yes, Sam. I hear you." He got up and moved over towards the kitchenette.
Over by the picture window, Grif and the others were conferring. "Bottom line: none of us can communicate with outside, the Earth realm we just came from. I think it's safe to say Uncle Jemiah will have noticed this…this whatever-it-was, and will be taking steps to find us. If we're the only ones missing, that is."
Devlin joined them. "The Black Throne will also be sending out someone or someones to look into the matter. But I doubt they'll be able to find out much. A lot of it depends on what shape Seattle—the real one, I mean—is in. If it's a major disaster area, it could take days to sift through the wreckage. And, of course, my people would need a more compelling reason to do so than yours."
….
Sam was still seething when the group decided it was time to call it a night. Darkness or no, the humans needed their rest. Carly and Spencer retired to their respective rooms, while Sam slept on some blankets on the floor by the couch where Freddie was. Even though Carly had offered to share her room with her, as they had done in the past, Sam shook her head. "I wanna be here if he needs me."
Spencer and Carly exchanged knowing glances. Without realizing it, Sam had just revealed something of her true feelings for Freddie.
Grif noticed Jillian watching Spencer go to his room, a look of longing on her face. He was halfway tempted; what harm could it do? Then he caught himself: it could do a whole lot of harm. Human-demon sex had never resulted in anything positive. (At least, that he knew of.) "Jillian? Remember your promise."
The demon girl looked down at the floor. "You don't have to remind me," she said, dejectedly. "It…It wouldn't be…a good idea….for either of us."
The three immortals took seats around the circular dining table, striving, each with his or her own senses, to determine the nature of this place, and how best to leave it. "I can't sense anything useful," Devlin said, after about two hours of concentrated effort. "I'm trying to find a, a weak spot, maybe a glitch in the Darkness where we came in. There should be something there…but there's not."
"Much as I hate to agree with him, he's right," said Jillian. "I can't find any sort of nexus point where all this started."
"Then," said Grif, determinately, "we may have to make our own."
Sam had got up in the middle of the night, feeling the call of nature, which, even here, had to be answered. At least everything still worked: electricity, plumbing, a/c. Freddie was still out, comatose. She checked his temperature, and readjusted the cold compress on his forehead. He was still out of commission, and nobody seemed to know why. She went on in to the restroom.
What if he died?
The thought hit Sam like a physical blow. Suppose Freddie died? Here….he'd cease to be. He wouldn't "pass on," or "pass away;" he'd be….nonexistent. Anywhere.
Tears started from her face. That wouldn't happen, she'd see to it, somehow. It was infinitely better to die in the "real" world, where at least you had a chance of an afterlife, but dying here meant….
She stood there in the bathroom, hands on the sink, head hung low. It just wouldn't do for them to see her like this; Samantha Puckett didn't cry. And she especially didn't want for that lying, two-faced thing she'd actually come to trust, to see her like this.
She blew her nose noisily, dried her eyes, and repaired what little makeup she wore. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She looked like someone on the verge of a breakdown.
Sam had always prided herself on being rock-solid, someone her friends could count on in time of need. She'd always felt like she had to be; her home life was chaos, her mother mostly absent. The only real family she felt like she could be close to calling her own was Carly Shay's. In a sense, they'd adopted each other, with Carly's family filling a void in her own life.
And Freddie….
"Sam?" She whirled around. Standing in the doorway was Freddie, looking very pale, rubbing his eyes as though he'd just come out of a deep sleep. "Sam? What's going on?"
Appearances be damned; she grabbed him in a bear hug. "Oh, Freddie! I was so afraid, afraid you, you were gonna…." She found herself having trouble formulating the words.
"Hey, hey, it's alright. Uh, at least I guess it is." He smoothed her hair down, putting his own arms around her. "Sh. It's alright, Sam. But…tell me…what's happened? Is it nighttime? It wasn't nighttime a second ago."
"No, no….it's more complicated than that." She very briefly gave him a description of the Darkness, and how they came to be in it. He led her back to the couch he'd been lying on. He put his hand on her arm, a steadying gesture. "And, and, we found you over in your apartment, we couldn't find any trace of your mother…."
"You couldn't find Mom? Sam, I have to go back there. If, if she's there, or might be there…if all this is true and I'm not just dreaming it….I have to go try to find her." He got up and headed for the door.
"Oh, no you don't! You just came out of a freakin' coma, Fredward! No way I'm letting you go barreling around in this nightmare!"
"Then come with me." He turned to her, his expression one of utmost intensity. "Sam, I have to try to find her. You see that, don't you?" His eyes pleaded with her, and she felt something melt inside her.
The others were still in conference around the table, just around the corner from the couch Sam and Freddie were sitting on, deep in concentration, trying to contact their respective superiors. They didn't notice Freddie leading Sam out the door…but something tingled in the back of Devlin's mind, even as he focused on sending his thoughts into the aether. He very quietly got up from the table. Such was the concentration of the other two that they did not notice his departure.
Freddie's apartment: "There's got to be at least some sign of her. I mean, I'm here; why wouldn't she be?"
"Freddie, it might be because she never actually met Grif or Jillian. Or, or that other guy," she finished, wincing as though she'd just tasted something spoiled.
"It could be. But I've got to look." He turned the apartment upside down. "A clue, something, anything…."
She helped him, pulling out drawers and dumping the contents on the floor. In the back of her mind, she wondered: was this a good way of finding someone? But Freddie seemed to think so, so it must be….
Anyway, it was what they did in all the cop shows. Even as she thought it, something about that didn't seem totally right, somehow, but right then she just wasn't in any mood to analyze any of it. Just do something. It was like her feelings were building up inside, like muscles knotting into cramps, demanding that she do something, anything, even if it made no sense.
"Sounds like you've been under a lot of stress," he said, even as he emptied another dresser.
"Too right. And, and this guy I was starting to, like, actually trust? Turns out he's a demon! A real demon! I mean, I should'a known! Look at his business card! Just look!" She paused momentarily, producing and showing him the card Devlin had given her (and why was she still even carrying that?), and the email address: benDarianDevlin. And the domain name that followed it: WorldCorp. hel. "He's even got an email address that literally goes straight to hell! I mean, what could I have been thinking?"
Freddie took the proffered card, examining it. "Huh. He could'a at least used a proxy server."
"So yeah, it's been crazy. I've been crazy. Everything's been crazy."
He pulled up on the mattress in the bedroom, but rather than look under it, he looked at her. "You feel betrayed. By him."
"Well, yeah."
He straightened up, turning to face her. "And angry."
"Yeah…" she was still looking for some place they hadn't trashed yet, although she wasn't exactly sure what it was she was looking for. Did Freddie think his mom might be hiding underneath a sofa cushion?
"And afraid."
"I'd be stupid not to be! For that matter, what are we actually looking for, over he-*"
"You know, Sam…." He began, turning from the search, "There's something I never told you. But I think it's important to say, especially now."
"Huh? What's that?" She pulled out another drawer…
He came up to her, turned her to face him. "That time we kissed…that was one of the happiest moments of my life."
"Kissed?" She colored, not really wanting to think about it, for some reason.
"You remember. It was a first kiss for us both. I just wanted you to know how much it meant to me."
"Freddie…this isn't helping. I mean, yeah, I get that, that, whatever, but we're trying to find your mother, an' we won't be doing that standing here talking about, about, you know."
"I know, Sam." His expression was gentle. He took her hands in his, brought them up to his lips, and gently kissed the back of each one. "But from what you're telling me, we could easily die here. And, and die, like permanently, right? No Heaven or Hell here. No Ouija board messages from the dearly departed. So I wanted you to know…how much you mean to me." She stood, mesmerized at his words. Totally unexpected….but so totally longed-for. "I…I guess I've always felt this way, from the first time I saw you. You put on a tough show, yeah, but…I could see past that. I could see the hurting person inside." His eyes bored into hers, his head drawing closer. "So I just wanted you to know…you mean the world to me…" His head inclined towards hers, and she found herself turning her head up, to meet his lips…
…..and three prongs of a trident erupted from Freddie's chest. He gasped and staggered back, pulled back by Devlin.
There was no blood. The tines of the trident simply pierced him through from the back, their barbs catching him like fish hooks, as Devlin lifted him completely off the ground. Freddie gasped again, and thrashed, trying to free himself, but to no avail. Devlin threw him across the room, yanking the barbs of the trident out, ripping tendons along with them, and then used it to pin him to the wall.
"What are you doing?" screamed Sam. "Let him alone! What-*"
Devlin spoke. "Sam. That's not Freddie."
"Of course it is! You monster! You-*" She looked around for a weapon.
"Sam. Look. Look!" He commanded, drawing her attention to the figure impaled on the wall, like a butterfly on a pin. "Where's the blood?"
Sam was ready to tear off a table leg for a bludgeon, when her attention was drawn, quite against her will, to the figure on the wall. Devlin was right; there was no blood. Not a drop. Nor did the being seem all that inconvenienced by the fact that it had a piece of metal stuck all the way through it.
Devlin kept hold of his end. The creature pinned on the wall looked up, and Sam noticed something that chilled her to the bone.
Little changes had come over the face. Nothing major, nothing she could put her finger on, but a subtle shift in the contours of the face and body, adding up to something monstrous, something that shouldn't be, something that didn't belong in any sane universe. While she was still taking all this in, the thing raised its head and spoke through grinning lips. She noticed that the incisors were longer than normal…and looked to be far sharper than any teeth really had any right to be. "So. Demon. What gave me away? I thought my disguise was perfect."
"You recovered far too quickly from the state we found you in, and you were a little too eager to leave the relative safety of Carly's group. And you instantly zeroed in on the most emotionally vulnerable member of the group, isolating her from the rest, preparing her for the slaughter. Typical predator behavior," he finished solemnly, still holding the thing speared against the wall. "I know a thing or two about predators."
"Oh, well," said the thing pinned against the wall, "live and lear-*"
A blast of Hellfire channeled through the trident reduced the thing on the other end to powdered ash. "You won't be doing either one," Devlin announced.
Sam just stood there. Somehow, what had happened didn't see real. It was like something one sees on television, in between mouthfuls of popcorn. She was….here? Where was…here? What was she doing here?
What just happened, anyway?
What was she feeling, anyway? Rage? Hate? Anger? Fear? Desire? Anguish? Anxiety? Some of all combined, as well as others she couldn't formulate?
She felt like a tuning fork, vibrating in place from the forces within her. Those forces continued to build up, until she wanted to scream, but she couldn't. It was like she was paralyzed.
Her last memory, there in Freddie's apartment, was blackness covering her eyes, even as Devlin shouted her name.
….
She came to, thought and memory gradually reasserting themselves. She could hear, but she didn't open her eyes. She'd…gone somewhere? With Freddie? No, not Freddie; something else. Something that had looked like Freddie. Something horrible.
And another figure, carrying a golden pitchfork, tearing it away from her, and burning it beyond even ashes. There was nothing left.
She felt horror, fear, rage, lust, disgust, and a host of other emotions she didn't know how to deal with…but she also felt them somehow funneling away from her, as though they were water gurgling into a culvert, going down a drain pipe. It was by no means an unpleasant sensation; somehow neither wrong nor right but oh it felt so good. Like talking to an old friend, only so much more so. She could feel all these pent-up emotions, emotions that were exploding inside her, draining away, harmlessly. Someone was holding her hand. "She's coming around," said a voice.
She opened her eyes, just in time to see Devlin let go of her hand.
Carly was bending over her. "Sam. You gave us a nasty turn, there. We thought we'd lost you," she said as she hugged her best friend.
"Y-yeah. I….I don't know what happened. Freddie…" She felt tears coming, but blinked them back. It didn't seem to be as hard as she remembered it being. "Freddie wasn't Freddie." She put a hand to her head, as the others, Grif, Jillian, and Spencer watched from the side. "Why do I feel so…funny?" She felt a little light-headed.
Grif spoke up. "You were going critical, emotionally and physically, and it was having a direct impact on your physical health. Pulse, heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure…all were spiking out of your body's control. That thing had amplified your feelings of anger, fear, frustration, and many others all the better to feed off you. You would have been a huge banquet for it."
"I told you," said Devlin, over by the picture window, one foot propped up on a low stool, looking out over the dark city, "we don't drain you of your emotions. But there are beings that do."
She looked over at him. Some part of her was still angry, and wanted to lash out….but it seemed distant, somehow, like a wave that had passed. "What'd you do to me?"
"I siphoned off your excess emotions and feelings, drew them into me. That was all."
"'All'? You, you…-*"
"Sam, we almost lost you." Carly's voice was filled with unshed tears. "If Devlin hadn't done what he did, you'd 'a stroked out, or, or had a heart attack or something. And here, in this awful place…."
Sam looked over at Devlin, who hadn't moved from the picture window. "So. You waitin' for me to say 'thanks,' or somethin'?"
"No." There was a note in his voice she'd never heard before. "In fact, I'm not waiting for you at all, anymore." He gestured; his trident, leaning against the far wall, flew across the room, snapping into his hand. "I'm going for a walk." And with that, his shadowcloak flipped up and over him, and he was gone.
….
The streets of shadow-Seattle: once outside, he found he could better see the slight differences that made this place not Seattle. The walls of the buildings were paper-thin, in some places, with curious curves, and convex bulges in others. No, from out here, it was obvious this wasn't Seattle at all.
Such a fool he'd been. Uncle Darian would be laughing about this for at least an aeon. And maybe when he got over his own embarrassment—which he may as well start doing, right now—he'd laugh right along with him.
If you can't laugh at yourself, there is something seriously wrong with you.
Whatever had he ever seen in the Earth girl to begin with? A fiery temper? She certainly had that, he had to admit as much. Her physical appearance? Hardly. Demons and angels alike were well aware that physical appearance—whether "good," "bad" (such human terms! How odd they must think!) or any stage in between—was such a variable thing, changing from one aspect into another, and yet another, as the years in a human's lifetime cycled past. To beings like them, the entirety of a human's life was no longer than the cell division of an amoeba.
When he looked at Sam, he saw her from the moment of birth—no, make that the moment of conception—to the years throughout her life, her soul clothed in malleable, ephemeral flesh, to the moment of that soul's release. It was a completely different standard of "beauty" than the one humans normally employed.
Well, it didn't matter, ultimately. Perhaps he'd been a fool (Make that certainly, he counseled himself sternly), but that was in the past. Instead of dwelling on it, he'd simply move on, into the future. Though it did give him a nasty shock when he remembered that little minx Jillian, and how she'd laugh. Well, let her. He guessed he deserved it, in a way. He couldn't consult his future selves at all, else he would have been able to "remember" how they'd gotten out of this predicament "this" time.
Though it was encouraging to remember that he did have some, back when he was in the Earth dimension. That, in itself, was a source of comfort to him; more than one timeline indicated he would actually survive to have a future self.
But with a bit of a start, he realized that he could not think of any of those future selves that included any memory of Sam. Odd. Well, there were lots of explanations for that.
Most of them troubled him more than he'd ever admit.
To be continued…
