For the evil bitch who forced me to write this.
Anathema's Abode
Chapter 14
Transitions
Sam exhaled sharply, willing her fatigued eyes to stay open just a while longer as she trudged along the sidewalk, just enough for her to get home in one piece after patrol. Under normal circumstances, the ghost hunter would've just stayed at headquarters, but after her exchange with Tucker the previous night, Sam just needed to get away.
Typically, the ghost hunter spent as little time as possible in her own home, choosing instead to bunk in her small room at the Brotherhood headquarters. She preferred to be close to Maddie, should their leader ever require her services. Madeline Fenton was much more a mother to the ghost hunter than Pamela Manson could ever hope to be.
Valerie too spent most of her time at headquarters. Unlike Sam's parents, Damon Gray was outspoken in his hatred towards the empire, and seemed to fully endorse Valerie in her endeavors against their oppressors. Although Damon's right eye had been blinded in the field more than a decade ago, he continued to serve the brotherhood by training the majority of its new members. Despite herself, Sam could never help feeling envious of Valerie's father's support.
Sam had been compelled on several occasions to simply move out, but a strange sense of honour kept her anchored to the vast building that she had never considered her home, lest her parents ever require her protection. In a way, the ghost hunter was glad for the size of her house. Jeremy and Pamela Manson never realised if she was out after the Empire's curfew.
Her parents' behavior regarding Amity's occupation disgusted Sam. They were nothing more than docile, perfect citizens of the Empire, who would pale at the mere thought of defying the ghosts. Her parents seemed to believe that if they kept their head down and stayed out of their occupant's way, Pariah would reward them eventually. Sam snorted. As if that would ever happen.
"Sam," Jazz called out, catching up with her as she crossed the street.
"Jazz," the ghost hunter replied in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Sad as it was, this was one of the few times that Sam had ever seen any of her comrades whilst the sun was out, much less in normal clothes. Their duties to Amity Park left them all far too exhausted to even consider some semblance of normal life. The morning sunshine streaked through her friend's auburn hair, seemingly setting the copper locks aflame. Jazz was a creature of sunlight, the Goth decided unexpectedly. The war had wrought her into something that she was never meant to be. What none of them were ever meant to be.
"We need to talk," Jazz stated shortly, the redhead's statement abruptly jarred Sam into full alertness. "I'm worried about you. We all are."
"Tucker put you up to this, didn't he?" Sam scowled. "How much has he told you?"
It wasn't that the ghost hunter didn't trust her mentor's daughter. Sam trusted Jazz implicitly; she knew that Jazz would never reveal her secrets to anyone, much less the council. But the one thing that she couldn't rely on Lancer's former apprentice not to do was worry about her needlessly. She was a rebel opposing occupation by the Empire, for god's sakes. Her life had become fraught with risk the moment she had accepted their leader's apprenticeship.
But what Sam feared from her friend was disapproval. Or worse, for Jazz to impress upon the ghost hunter her immense disbelief that she had been stupid enough to try and enlist the services of the demon currently running Pariah Dark's armies, against her team mates' warnings. Phantom was singularly the most shameful ordeal that Sam had ever endured. She had trusted him, and he had humiliated her in return. It had been beyond foolishness on her part to ever expect anything else, and clever, thoughtful Jazz was sufficiently similar to her mother that any judgment that she passed upon Sam would be sufficient to utterly humiliate her.
"I know everything, Sam," Jazz clarified. "I know how recklessly you've been behaving lately on patrol, to such an extent that Tuck actually had to threaten to rat you out to Mom if you didn't listen to his advice. Even if your own life means nothing to you, it means something to us," she finished firmly, in a tone that left no room for argument. "Now, we're going to sit down and talk this through, whether you like it or not. Because if you're not going to let us in, you're going to leave me no choice but to actually tell Mom what's going on with you."
"That threat is getting old fast," the ghost hunter subjected her friend to a glare of glacial standards, silently unsure if she should weep, or laugh in relief at the fact that Tucker had refrained from telling Jazz the whole truth. "If either of you had the guts to do it, you would've by now."
"We're only doing this because we care about you," Jazz's gaze softened. "We're your friends. Did you really expect us to react otherwise? Even Valerie's worried about you," her expression turned wry. "That's quite a feat."
"Sorry," Sam muttered. "That was out of line."
"That's okay," Jazz replied, her smile returning. "But please, explain to me why you're suddenly acting as though you've desperately got something to prove. I know that Vlad's pitting Valerie against you for leadership, but nothing's going to happen on that front for a long time."
"Leadership has nothing to do with it," Sam shook her head. "I just don't want to be seen as a failure, that's all."
And to atone for dooming my brethren, she added bitterly to herself. I am as much a coward as Phantom is for not confessing.
"Sam," Jazz sighed, sitting on the cracked pavement that badly needed a new coat of cement, a luxury that the occupied city could not afford. "Mom's incredibly proud of you already, and nothing is ever going to change that fact. She chose to train you, and she has never once regretted her decision. You're like another daughter to her. Don't you know that?"
"But me and Valerie are never going to improve unless we challenge ourselves," Sam argued, joining her on the floor. "And that involves taking risks."
"But that's where Tucker comes in," their leader's daughter pointed out gently. "There's a difference between calculated risk and suicide. He knows you. Let him make the levelheaded decisions. It's what he's been trained to do."
"I know you're right," the ghost hunter conceded grudgingly. "I'm going to have to apologise to Tucker now, aren't I?" she groaned. "He's not going to let me live this down."
"Come on," Jazz laughed. "Let's get you back to headquarters. I'm pretty sure that Mom's baked cookies."
-
"I'm surprised to hear that your partner is doing half as well as you say she is," Vlad conceded airily, as he buried his hand deeper into the soft, dark curls of Valerie's hair, eliciting a soft sigh of contentment from the apprentice knelt before him.
"Sam's just mostly confused and angry," Valerie supplied, as her brows furrowed in a frown. "She blames herself for our brethren's current situation. "She thinks that if she'd died that night six months ago, none of this would've ever happened."
"Egotistical, isn't she?" her mentor kicked up an eyebrow. "To think that she has single-handedly caused Amity Park's plight."
"Sam's anything but," the ghost hunter protested, leaning her head against his lap as she regarded him. "She's one of the most sensible people I know."
"Because we know so many," the corner of Vlad's lips tugged into a grin. "The epitome of sociability, we rebels are."
The statement earned a soft laugh from his apprentice, as she broke eye contact, resting her cheek against him. "Maybe," the dark haired girl murmured. "But I'd never have it any other way. Would you?"
Vlad regarded the woman before him, and found himself filled with deep affection towards her. Having invested nearly a decade of his time and effort in her, the council member could gladly say that he was proud of the outcome. Perhaps his peers were right- Valerie was far too dependent on him for independent thought. But if he lived long enough to mold her sufficiently into his image, their brethren would have naught to worry about.
"I suppose you're right," the billionaire feigned gruffness, choosing to reply to the literal question that his apprentice had asked, as opposed to the true query they both knew that she had posed. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Fancy that."
"It could be worse," Valerie giggled, unstung by her lover's verbal evasion. Vlad had made no promises, right from the start.
The billionaire had painstakingly laid down the ground rules regarding their rather unique situation, but he was well aware that knowingly fueling her infatuation certainly wasn't helping the situation any. While he wasn't encouraging her endeavours, he had certainly ceased discouraging her somewhere along the way.
Well, Vlad supposed, lazily tucking a stray curl behind his apprentice's ear as the pair allowed the next few moments to pass in companiable silence, he could've done far worse in terms of lovers.
"Valerie."
"Mmm?" Vlad's apprentice replied, pointedly ignoring the chiding tone that Vlad's voice had adopted.
"Are you certain that I cannot convince you to join me on the sofa? You've been kneeling for at least a good half hour." Initially, Vlad had found it hard to believe that his stubborn and prideful apprentice would demean herself in such a manner before anyone, much less himself, but it was an act of deference that he had rather come to enjoy.
"No," Valerie quipped. "I'm good. But Vlad?" she ventured, faltering.
"Yes?" her mentor's interest was piqued by her hesitant tone.
"I know that I'm meant to be happy that Sam's been making all these mistakes, but I just can't bring myself to be," Valerie confessed. "She's my best friend, and I know that beyond everything else, she's hurting. And pitting myself against her is only going to make matters worse."
"A worthy opponent should relish the competition," Vlad noted. "If she is unable to cope, then she is clearly incapable of leading the Brotherhood."
"But Sam is capable," his apprentice insisted, all traces of languor leaving her features as she sat upright. "It's not her fault her torn up she's become over the whole Phantom situation."
"And why not?" the council member voiced his curiosity as he regarded his apprentice. "Is there any particular reason why she's taking General Phantom's ascension in Pariah's favour so bitterly?"
Vlad watched as indecision flickered across his apprentice's face. She was obviously torn between having been sworn to secrecy by her partner, and her loyalty towards him. A part of the billionaire was tempted to let her have her secrets, but if Valerie knew something, it was imperative that she informed him. Rivalry regarding the next leader of the Brotherhood was one thing, but their survival was a far more pressing priority altogether. The council could not afford for information regarding the new Ghost General to be withheld from them.
"She was more attached to him than what I would consider healthy," Valerie replied at length.
Vlad hid his astonishment with great skill.
"And how attached would that be?" the tone of his voice left no room for misinterpretation.
"God, no," Valerie blanched. "Sam would never."
"Well, he's hardly the sort that one keeps as a pet," Vlad commented dryly. "Far too intelligent, for a start. Not to mention dangerous."
"Sam was just convinced that he was different," his apprentice sighed. "That because he saved her, there was good in him," Valerie shook her head. "We tried telling her that Phantom only did it in order to challenge the Fright Knight, to further his own goals. But she was so sure," her lips quirked into a bitter smile. "So sure that I almost believed her myself."
"But the fundamental question still remains," the billionaire voiced. "Why did he allow her to live?"
"I don't know," Valerie shook her head. "He could've killed her whenever he felt like it. And why did he ever bother earning her trust in the first place? He didn't need it to gain power."
"Something tells me that you haven't been completely honest with me," Vlad speculated, subjecting his apprentice with a significant look.
"I have," Valerie coloured, flinching.
"Forgive me if I don't believe you," the council member elucidated smoothly. "Doubtlessly, Samantha has sworn you to secrecy. But if you have any information regarding Phantom, you'd best let me know. I cannot allow you to withhold such knowledge from me. The future of our brethren could be at stake."
"If I tell you," the dark haired girl hesitated. "Promise me that you'll keep in mind that Sam only did what she thought was in the Brotherhood's best interests, and in the grand scheme of things it probably wouldn't have made any difference."
"I don't like the sound of this," silver eyebrows descended as his brow furrowed.
"Vlad," Valerie pleaded. "Promise me that this isn't going to go any further. This can never reach Maddie's ears. She'll disown Sam."
"Surely that'll be in our interests," Vlad commented dryly.
"No," she scowled. "To be honest, I think she'll make a better leader than I would."
"It's still early days," Vlad replied. "But if Samantha's being half as reckless as you say she is, she certainly isn't coping well under pressure," he noted.
"I wouldn't either," his apprentice whispered, grief at her best friend's plight evident. "Not after what she's been through."
"You're stalling," the council member drawled. "You have information pertaining to Phantom. I require it."
"Can you assure me that Sam will face no disciplinary action?" Valerie held Vlad's gaze despite his look of disapproval. "Please?" she whispered. "She's been through enough."
"Very well," Vlad conceded reluctantly. "I will not breathe word to another soul. If I decide that this information is important, I will find other methods of dealing with it myself."
"Thank you," Valerie sighed. "It's so stupid. After all that's happened, there really isn't very much to tell."
"We might as well be civilised about this," her mentor shook his head, shifting over to make room for the ghost hunter. "Come and sit on the sofa, for god's sakes."
-
"Forgive me, my King," Phantom demurred as he swept into Pariah Dark's war chamber. "Your previous directions were slightly more difficult to accomplish than I had initially assumed."
The white haired ghost knelt before his liege, kissing the ring on his outstretched hand. Even when the Ghost King was at ease, Phantom had to will himself not to retch and withdraw from his master, as he found himself overcome by the sheer spectral energy encompassed in the King's form. Beside him, it was like attributing the rift between their differences in abilities as one would compare the destructive power of a lighted match of that to a blazing forest fire.
"Rise, General Phantom," Pariah snarled."But ensure that it does not happen again."
"Of course, my King," the white haired ghost replied readily, rising.
"The destrier, Arion," the King stated, unexpectedly redirecting the conversation to more pleasant grounds. "He is able to meet your needs?"
"He exceeds, them, my King," Phantom assured Pariah. "You honour me by bestowing him upon one as untried as myself."
"You would not be untried if you hadn't chosen to hide from the Empire for centuries," the Ghost King's voice emanated wrath. "Further acts of cowardice will not be tolerated."
"I understand, my liege," the General replied, unhesitant. "My purpose of existence is to serve you."
"We shall see," Pariah grunted, "and the concubine, Desiree," his expression gave way to one of amusement. "I hear that she displeases you. Do you require her replaced?"
"I assure you, my Lord," Phantom bowed his head. "Ember is more than sufficient to meet my needs. I am content."
Needless to say, both men knew that the only reason that the Ghost King was offering to replace Desiree was because in dismissing the courtesan, Phantom had effectively rid Pariah of a major spy in the white haired ghost's court. There were doubtlessly spies amongst other members of Phantom's household, although they would now be sufficiently fewer in number since that Phantom had released a fair number of slaves from his service. However, it had been an act wrought from sheer irritation on the General's part at their constant presence, as opposed to fear of subterfuge.
"Nevertheless, you have dispensed nearly half of your predecessor's servants from your holding," Pariah noted. "Explain yourself."
"My liege has been too generous," Phantom's lips quirked upwards in a smirk as he thought of his rival. "A true warrior is unaccustomed to luxury."
The Ghost King laughed uproariously at his reply. "Very good, my General," the Ring of Rage glinted on his finger as Pariah slapped his thigh in mirth, and Phantom allowed the fleeting, reckless thought of snatching it to cross his mind. Not that he'd ever bring himself to dare, at least not while Ember's safety hung in the balance.
Pariah steepled his fingers. "Perhaps I have been unduly arrogant, insistent on a geographical approach regarding Amity Park. But perhaps I should allow your enlistment to signal the beginning of changes to come."
"My Lord," Phantom replied, unable to repress his unadulterated terror as he realised the implications of the King's statement, "I am not sure that I follow."
"Do you not?" Pariah Dark scowled, and the white haired ghost had to fight to stop himself from recoiling in dread. "This surprises me, Phantom. This is the first instance in which you have failed to impress me."
"I am wary of assumptions, my Lord," the General excused himself.
"So you do understand," the King's lips stretched into a feral grin. "Enlighten me, General. What do you think that I intend to do?"
"You mean to send troops beyond Amity Park, occupying land at its outskirts," Phantom hesitated. "Without access to food or additional supplies, you intend to starve the rebels out."
Pariah bared his teeth, nodding once in rare approval. "Very, very good, my General. Replacing that incompetent buffoon with you was the best decision that I have made all century."
"Thank you my liege," Phantom retorted softly, quietly amazed that the Ghost King was unable to detect the way that his insides were screaming Sam's name, over and over like some twisted mantra. "You honour me greatly."
"So," Pariah Dark burred. "Now that you know of my plans for the future, what say you, General Phantom?"
"The plan is a good one," the white haired ghost replied finally, careful to disguise his abject despair. "But the war is ours anyway, my lord. It is only a matter of time until the rebels fall. I do not see why you do not choose to allow yourself this measure of pride. The Empire that you have built is infallible; there is no arrogance in toying with unworthy adversaries such as the Brotherhood."
"Perhaps," the King did not appear to be giving his suggestion any true thought. "A minor inconvenience as they are, I have spared the rebels my wrath for near a thousand years, far more than the wretched scum deserve. Although, I suppose that I could take the city by force, once and for all," he mused out loud.
"No," Phantom interjected, chills shooting down his spine as he realised that he had spoken too soon, resulting in Pariah subjecting him to a dirty look. "Your original plan was wisest, my Lord," he continued, in an effort to dampen the Ghost King's suspicion. "I never should have challenged your decision. What is needed most is for you to destroy their hope."
"Continue," Pariah ordered, his interest aroused.
"After all, even if you were to overwhelm the rebels upfront, the last thing we desire is for word of their chivalry and defiance in death to spread, igniting further rebellion amongst the common folk," the General grimaced. "As it stands, the humans are unaware that they have defenders, no matter how feeble their efforts. A revolution would be most inconvenient."
"Very well," the bloodthirsty expression that Phantom had come to know too well returned. "I will accept your advice and refrain from storming the city."
"I will not make you regret your decision, my King," the white haired ghost could've wept in relief. At least he had managed to buy Sam time. Perhaps time enough to convince her once and for all to leave Amity.
"You'd better not," Pariah growled. "You may take your leave, General," he grunted. "Your counsel has proved most valuable."
"Thank you, my King," Phantom forced himself to remain composed, sinking into a deep bow, the General's mantle brushing the floor as he paid his respects. Despite its frequency, leaving Pariah Dark's presence always left the General expecting a fatal blast between his shoulder blades.
"Until my liege next requires me," he turned to leave, resisting the violent urge to flee to the human realm, track down Sam and forcibly teleport her from Amity, to somewhere, anywhere where the Empire would never reach her.
But there was still time, he breathed, calming himself. The Ghost King's troops would not move until he gave the order. If he could delay invading the cities surrounding Amity, Sam would be bestowed a narrow window of escape. If he could convince her to believe him.
Abruptly, the white haired ghost blinked, surprised to spot Princess Dorethea and her honour guard beyond the curtain wall. Prince Aragon's sister appeared brimming with righteous fury, bright spots colouring her pale green complexion.
He had encountered Pariah's ally's younger sister on several occasions in the past, but never without Aragon himself present. It was widely known that Aragon had ceded his kingdom in exchange for a place of honour at the Ghost King's side, an act that had lost him the loyalty of his nation. It was a lesser known fact that Dorethea had opposed the dealings. But that was centuries ago, Phantom reminded himself. The Princess' stance regarding the war could have long since changed.
"Lord General," Dorethea acquiesced, as they approached.
"Princess," Phantom responded in kind, kissing her hand as protocol dictated. "This is indeed a surprise," he quirked a white eyebrow at the woman before him. "What brings you here without your brother?"
"I am here to demand an audience with the King," the Princess drew herself up to her full height. "One of us has to ensure that our people do not starve."
"Why did you choose to appear without Prince Aragon?" the General frowned, puzzled. "Surely the word of a warlord at your side would help strengthen your case."
"Brother's… priorities differ significantly from that of mine," the medieval Princess did not look quite so elegant whilst scowling, clutching at fistfuls of her skirts.
"You disagree with your brother often?" Phantom conjectured.
"It is a family matter," she replied stiffly, "one which is none of your business, General."
"Forgive me, Highness," the white haired ghost subjected the Princess to her rightful honorific, despite the fact that they both knew that she held no real power, and that Phantom was by far her superior. He could probably insult her to her face, and her guard would do nothing to prevent him. "I did not mean to intrude," he bowed low to erase any doubts in her mind that he had used the term of respect as mockery.
"You're a strange one, General Phantom," Dorethea's voice softened slightly as she regarded him with curiosity.
"I could say the same about you," the General's tone was wry in return.
"Good day, General," she enunciated coolly, taking her escort's arm as they parted ways.
"Good day, Princess," Phantom frowned, perturbed as he surveyed Aragon's sister's retreating figure. If the uncertain feeling in the pit of his gut was anything to go by, Princess Dorethea wasn't quite done with him just yet.
-
Author's Notes: Sorry for the wait! I hope that you've enjoyed the latest installment:D If it's any consolation, I've already started working on the next chapter, so with luck the next update won't take as long.
Concrit appreciated, as always. Do let me know what you think about the newest developments!:)
Hugs and kisses,
Twisted Creampuff