Hi, everybody! Sorry, this chapter is a day late, but I ran into some problems yesterday. Before we start, I'd like to say that I don't own HM and I do not own the characters Bea, Dustin, or Asher. They belong to the very awesome Aquarian Wolf and I thank her again for letting me use them. Did anyone catch the Pirates reference last chapter? Just curious. Anyways, enjoy!
Gracey and Paula walked out of the ballroom after the small encounter with LL, but the music and noises of the party still echoed behind them. Something else echoed in Paula's mind; LL telling Gracey to see her mother. Who was her mother? And why did Gracey look uneasy at the sound of her name?
"Master Gracey?"
His head jerked toward her as if she had startled him from deep thoughts. He blinked his eyes at her a few times before answering.
"Yes?"
"I-I wondered, who is LL's mother."
Gracey seemed surprised by the question, perhaps that was not the question he was expecting or perhaps there was something more to the Master and his manor than met the eye. He took his time thinking up an answer. Paula watched curiously, waiting for the answer, as he nervously licked his lips, rubbed the back of his neck, generally tried to avoid her gaze. When he saw that she was not backing down, he relented.
"I suppose I should tell you before someone else does and mangles the facts." He cleared his throat. "My mother felt trapped by her duties at our home and she felt my father wasn't at home enough like he should be. In my final year at Yale, my mother finally snapped. When my father came home from a business trip, she," his voice grew shaky. "Well, she hacked off his head. I suppose Father got the last laugh, for you see, she fell off my father's gravestone while rejoicing his death.
"After that…incident, I moved back home to oversee the manor and, in the process, became fixated on contacting my father's spirit. I suppose that I wanted to know the man who wasn't around. In the midst of one of these searches, I found my first wife, Lily, and a medium that I asked to take up residence here. Her name was Madame Leota. She promised to find my father, and when Lily died, to find her as well. It wasn't until a few hours before my death that I learned the truth about her. She wanted to use the house as a portal for more malicious and hostile spirits. Naturally, I refused, but she was to have her way. She is now trapped in her crystal ball, never to be released; however, she still holds some of her powers. She has the gift of foresight, which she sometimes shares with me, but other than that, she stays in her séance circle."
"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."
He smiled fondly at her. "No harm done." He straightened his suit jacket, cleared his throat and his face of expression, and gestured ahead. "Shall we continue?"
They walked on in silence for a while, until they came to a fork in the passage. One way extended further into the manor and the other led up a dusty staircase. Gracey began to edge to the hallway leading deeper into the manor, but stopped when he saw Paula glancing curiously at the closed door at the head of the staircase.
"What's up there?"
"Just the attic. No one's been up there in ages and the door is locked, so your brother probably isn't there."
"Right," she replied absently still looking at the door. "Is there anyplace that we haven't checked?"
Gracey thought for a moment. "You could check the backyard for him. Most of our residents are out there now. Perhaps one of them has seen him."
"Lead the way."
"Actually, Miss Andersen, I have a little matter I need to clear up in my study, I'll show you to the door, and after your search, would you be so kind as to relate your findings to me there?"
"Sure, Master Gracey, no problem."
He nodded his approval and led her down another, slightly darker corridor. Here the eyes on the wallpaper definitely seemed to follow her and the feeling that something was watching her was overwhelming. They passed a door that had been heavily boarded over. In the dim light, Paula could barely make out the inscription on the brass plate that hung at eye level. Leota's Boudoir. This, she supposed, was the infamous Leota's séance circle. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she quickened her pace to keep up with Gracey. Finally, after about ten minutes of going down stairs and through corridors, they arrived at a sort of clearing. Several doors stood waiting to be opened.
"What is this, the Winchester Mystery House? It doesn't look this big on the outside."
"Looks can be deceiving, Miss Andersen." He indicated a door to her left. "This door will get you to the outside. The one behind me leads to my study. I'll be there if you need anything or if you find your brother. The best of luck to you."
He disappeared through the door leaving Paula alone with the doors. Sighing, she turned the handle on the outer door and stepped out into the night. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her outside. She stood at the entrance to a graveyard that was full of glowing spirits from every era. Her mouth dropped open in sheer shock at the spectacle. Three ghosts on bicycles tipped their bowlers to her as they passed by. She stepped over the wrought iron gate and into the center of the activity. A king and queen waved a merry hello from their positions on a seesaw. A man dressed in what looked like Shakespearean attire recited dramatically to a skull he held in his hand.
"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well."
"Your Hamlet is all well and good, Will, but can I have my head back?" Paula was surprised to see that it was the skull talking.
Will shrugged and placed the skull on a headless skeleton propped up on a tombstone. "No one appreciates good theatre anymore."
Paula moved on looking for her brother. Little did she know that she was closer than she could have imagined.
-X-
Terry sat on a weathered tombstone contemplating his surroundings. Everything glowed and everyone was see-through. He looked at his hand, which shared the same characteristics. Experimentally he ran his hand through the tombstone. It went right through. He did not question how it was that he still sat on the stone. It was probably too complex and would lead to brain pains.
Being a ghost was not too different from being alive, apart from the whole being dead thing. He could not breath, eat, or drink, but he had not changed, not in the mental or emotional sense. Personally, he liked hanging around here. The ghosts he had met were nice, like Dustin, Asher, and Bea. Granted, Asher was strange, Terry could not figure out how he was drunk when they did not have the capability to drink, and Bea was a little hyperactive, but the sibling's relationships reminded him of his own relationship with his sister. They could fight like cats and dogs, or like Bea and Asher, but deep down they could mirror Dustin and Bea's friendship.
Terry sighed. Paula was probably searching for him right now. He was not sure how exactly she, or his parents for that matter, were going to take the news of his passing. At least he could get his kicks while he was still able. With almost a thousand ghosts at the manor, he would not run out of people to prank. And speaking of prank, three ghosts where walking, or rather, floating through the crowd towards him. They called themselves the Hitchhikers and, from what information he had heard, they were the cons of the manor. The tallest of the three came forward with a broad grin on his face.
"Hi there, kid. Why so blue?" The skeletal ghost laughed at his own bad joke while Terry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's bad. On a more serious note..." The ghost grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down vigorously. "Ezra Dobbins. This here's Phineas." He motioned to the shorter plump ghost. "And this is Gus." The shortest ghost waved hello and then hugged Terry around his knees. The action nearly knocked Terry over. Finally, Gus let go and started munching on a handful of curly fries. Terry closed his eyes and shook his head not caring how the ghost could eat.
The tall ghost had let go of his hand and slung his arm around the young man in a companionable way. "So, kid, what's your name?"
"Terry."
"Ya new here, Terry?"
"Yes," he replied cautiously. Ezra's grin broadened and he winked at his partners in crime.
"So kid, wanna go on a snipe hunt?"
"Man, I'm not stupid. I know what a snipe hunt is."
Ezra looked disappointed. "Oh."
"But do you know anyone who would fall for it?"
Ezra thought for a moment. "Phinny, Dustin's around here, right?"
"Yep."
"Do you think he'd fall for it?" Terry thought of the quiet, bespectacled driver. He seemed gullible, but he had tried something like this on one of his friends a few months back and got trapped in a headlock for his troubles.
"There's only one way to find out," Ezra replied as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. "Come on."
"Wait." Something had caught Terry's attention. Someone was calling his name. He whirled around to find his sister walking through the gravestones and ghosts looking for him. The sound of her voice carried over the din of singing busts, the opera ghosts, and the general chatter of the ghosts. Terry was actually glad to she her. He called back to her excitedly.
"Paula, I'm over here!"
Her eyes lit up as she spotted her brother. She ran over to him dodging hazards in the mist.
"Terry, you're alright, you're-you're…" She reached him and saw his glowing form. "Dead."
"Yeah."
Something melted inside of Paula. Her little brother, the one she was responsible form, was dead, devoid of life, deceased, lifeless. A horrible feeling bubbled up inside her and threatened to spill out. She had failed. Tears welled up in her eyes and it was all she could do to stop them from flowing out. Terry noticed his sister's unrest and looked away, embarrassed. He did not feel comfortable being cried over. He put a consoling, yet shaky, hand on her shoulder. The hitchhikers stood back respectfully and gave the siblings a moment.
"Uh, I-it's okay, sis." He cringed. He never was good at consoling people. "I'm okay really. Whoops." His hand went through her shoulder. "I just have to get used to being a ghost."
"Terry," Paula sniffled. "What am I supposed to tell mom and dad?"
"I hadn't thought of that. What if, what if I told them?"
"You? How?"
"Well, I think that I can get away from here for about an hour. I'll go home and explain to mom and dad the first chance I get."
Paula wiped her eyes and nodded. "That would probably be best. Where's your…your body?"
"There's a hidden room in the foyer. It's in there."
After a moment of silence, Ezra stepped forward. "Now that we have that settled." He threw an arm around Paula's shoulders. "How would you like to go on a sni…"
He stopped abruptly when he saw Terry's head frantically shaking back and forth. "I tried that a few years ago. It didn't go well."
"Right. Well, it was great meeting you, but we've gotta go. C'mon guys, let's go find Dustin."
The hitchhikers ran off and Terry soon followed with a wave to Paula. She waved back with a sad smile on her face before turning back to the house. Ghosts that had heard her outburst moved out of her way and murmured welcome sentiments. Most told her that it would not be too bad and that she could always come to visit. They liked hearing things from the outside world; as they could not leave their current home, save for one day a year. Paula quietly thanked the spirits and went on her way. The residents stared at her for a moment then went back to their festivities. Prior to entering again, she heard Ezra asking another poor victim to join them on their quest to find a snipe.
"Hiya, Dust! Wanna go on a snipe hunt?"
"A what?" The British accented reply came from another ghost that looked to be a coachman. Once again, she smiled faintly and went back into the dark corridors of the manor with the sounds of the graveyard echoing behind her. The only thing left to do was to find Master Gracey and tell him Terry's fate, and then she would have to return home and explain things to her parents. The latter of the two was something she was not looking forward to at all. She was hopeful that her mother would take the news better than she had, but there was no guarantee of that. Sighing, she walked over to the wooden door that Gracey had indicated earlier and knocked lightly on the hard surface. When there was no answer, she opened the door cautiously and entered his study.
The room was a bit larger than she had expected. Bookshelves with dusty glass doors lined the wall opposite the door. The books were interspersed with white busts that seemed to follow her every move. To her left was what inevitably was Gracey's desk. The piece was made of dark wood and dusty papers covered the surface along with an old Tiffany lamp. A leather bound book titled Zaubers von dem Zwanzigste Jahrhundert sat on top of the papers. Behind the desk was a magnificent throne-like chair that matched a sofa on the opposite side of the room. A beautiful faded Persian rug stretched across the hardwood floor to the opposite side of the room where large picture windows let moonlight illuminate the room. A few dim floor lamps dotted the dark corners of the room, but their light did not help much. In front of the windows was a red velvet upholstered sofa with lion's heads carved into the dark wood legs. Gracey sat on the sofa deep in thought. His eyes were fixed on some distant point in space and his face rested on his hand with his index finger on his temple and his thumb underneath his chin. When Paula opened the door, his head shot up. He relaxed his posture and stood up courteously when he saw that it was Paula.
"Miss Andersen. Did you find your brother?"
"Yes. I'm afraid that he has taken up residence with you."
"Oh. I see. He's become number 999." He searched for some reassuring words. "You are welcome to join him, there's always room for one more."
Paula looked at him in confusion and surprise.
"When the time comes that is."
"Of course. I'll come by every once in awhile, that is if that's alright."
Gracey nodded and crossed the room to his desk. He let his hand rest on the leather bound book. Seeing that Master Gracey had nothing more to say, she turned to go.
"I'll just show myself out. Thanks for everything, Master Gracey."
She turned to the door and Gracey's head shot up. "You can't just leave, Miss Andersen."
As she whipped around to face him, he waved his hand sharply. The door slammed shut. The thudding and clicking sound of doors and windows locking resounded through the manor. The graveyard ghosts watched in mixed horror and amazement as every window was covered by their shutters and every door was slammed and locked by unseen hands. Now there was no way in or out of the manor, that is, if you were a mortal of course. The moon now shone through the broken slats of the shutters, creating a strange, shattered pattern on the floor. Paula stared at Gracey in shock and horror. A crazed look entered his eyes and his lips twisted into a malevolent smirk.
"You're number one thousand."
Who saw that coming?! Anybody? Anybody? Okay, I'm done.
Outtake:
You have no idea how hard it was not to make a 'fork in the passageway' joke. So, here's one that plays like a movie blooper:
They walked on in silence for a while, until they came to a fork in the passage.
"I don't believe it," Gracey exclaimed. "That's where that's been."
"What is it?"
Gracey held up the piece of pronged silverware to show Paula. It was tarnished in a few places, but the intricate pattern was still visible.
"It's part of a set that's been in my family for generations."
"What's it doing here?"
"I-I…" He breaks character and looks in the direction of the would-be camera. "Are you serious about this?"
Beside him, Paula is giggling up a storm, as is the crew.
"Alright, alright." The director (AKA me) steps out laughing along with everyone else. "Cut. We'll do another take. Nice improv, George."
So that chapter's finished. If any of you have a 'fork in the passageway joke, send 'em along and I'll post them with the next chapter. Thanks again to Aquarian! Please review! Cheers.
