A/N: So this is chapter 2, and don't worry, Greg will join the story line soon enough. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: (This didn't show up on chapter one for some reason...) I do not own CSI or any of the characters. Just the Scooby Doo like atmosphere and plot.
A few twists and turns down the passage later, Sara began hearing that haunting voice again, wafting through the air like a breeze in the night.
'Would you please take off your lab coat, kiss me as we roll through every chemical? Would you please put on your dance shoes? 'Cause I'm sick of dancing alone…'
Lab coat? Dance shoes? It just didn't make any sense. The words meant nothing in the slightest to her, although, unfortunately for Sara, that was the fact that bothered her. Should they be significant in some peculiar accordance? If they were directed towards her, shouldn't they trigger something in her mind to help her understand what they meant? What she should do next?
Splash! Splash! Splash!
Ichorous emerald and sapphire chemicals showered up behind her as she trudged through what could be toxicants for all she knew, her sneakers making a satisfying smack as they hit the stones in a pulsing sort of rhythm. The phrase she has heard back in the lab came abruptly back to her: 'This is where the chemicals grow'.
It was obvious that it had been telling her the truth, aqueous compounds of every color coursed around her feet, seeping into cracks every now and then, some even dripped from the ceiling, dribbling icily against the ground. Thoughts surged through her, grotesque and diseased ideas of what some of them could be. Poison. Venom. Toxins. Bane. Acid. Pollutants. She wished she had her kit with her so she could test the scarlet stuff, a nagging feeling telling her that it was something she saw almost daily on the job.
Pushing them from her mind, she continued on, her head held high as to not stare, somewhat frightened at the fluids gushing past her at minimal height. Little did she know, as soon as she directed her gaze away from it, the colors mutated into a sickly green, seeping together, creating a small pool where the chemicals began molding themselves into letters, the cobbles being their backdrop: 'Who is it tonight, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?'
Keeping her wits bout her, Sara stalked on following every bend and curve. She slowed her pace when she noticed that about fifty meters ahead, a solid wall stretched from the floor to the arched ceiling.
How on earth am I supposed to get through there? She mused, staring doubtfully at the barricade.
As she got closer, however, she realized that to the left of the wall, was an aged, rustic looking table. On top of it sat a velvet, ivory pouch and a pot looking oddly like a cauldron.
What have we here? Sara thought, staring hard at the two items on the tabletop.
After the incident with the coat rack, she was sure that she had to do something with the pouch and, what she now realized was a giant beaker, to get through the wall.
"Where to start…" She wondered out loud.
A scratching sound right in front of her drew her attention to look at the wall above the table. Bits of stone seemed to be chiseling themselves away, powdering the antique table with a fine layer of dust. Now, crawling across the face of the wall were the numbers '382'.
"382?" Now she was utterly bewildered.
All of the possibilities for what the number could've been ran through her mind. A code. A cryptograph. A symbol. A puzzle. A zip code. The first three digits of a phone number. A page number.
"A page number…" She murmured, flashing her eyes down to the book in her hands.
It is a chemical cookbook, She considered.
Setting the book down in front of the beaker, now noticing that it was half full of a thick, clear liquid, she speedily flipped through the pages until she landed on three hundred and eighty two. Unlike the other pages, there was minimal writing, only two lines.
"Hmm, let's see," Sara ran her index finger over the line. "Two hints lust. Lust?" She furrowed her brow. How was she supposed to add lust to the coagulated substance?
Reaching over to the ivory pouch, she opened it up to find it around three quarters full of a snowy powder. It appeared to be odorless and Sara sure wasn't dumb enough to try and taste it; she wagered it harmless, at least that is, for now.
Remembering her earlier thought about alchemy and mysticism, she got struck with a sudden idea. She dug her hand into the pouch, withdrawing some of the powder and raising it, palm upright, over the cistern. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over it and gave the air above it a kiss.
As if by some unknown gravitational force, the powder flew up to where her lips had been, coating the air in a blush pink imprint. Smirking, Sara blew on it, watching satisfied as it flew into the honey-think liquid, turning it a sparkling rose.
Going back to the book, she realized that it said 'Two hints lust', so she repeated the process. After the second lip imprint fell into the potion, she turned back to the book.
"Mix some charm with a dash of wits."
Charm. Slightly harder than lust, but not impossible.
Another handful of powder, and a wink caused the dust to morph into a cerulean blue, a reflection of Sara's eyes winking up at her from her palm. Carefully, she tipped her hand, causing the eye to fall into the beaker, reacting with the pink substance, turning it a deep wine color.
"And now, a dash of wits. Huh." Sara bore her eyes into the powder. Could wits really be obtained in a physical form? No, she decided; this one would purely have to be mental.
"Umm…" She cleared her throat, knowing just how peculiar she was going to sound. "Knock-knock?"
There was no response.
"Knock-knock." She tried again, more confidently.
The elixir swirled, emitting a billowing smoke that rolled across it's surface.
'Who's there', the smoke spelled out before fading away once more.
Sighing with relief, Sara continued, "Wits."
'Wits, who?'
"Wits your permission, could I get through the wall?"
There was a loud popping as the draught began to bubble and fizz, the outer surface bursting, revealing a shiny silver, almost mirror like face.
Peering down, she could see her reflection, though now matter how many times she shifted her expression, the mirror image of her stayed exactly the same, cautious yet intrigued as she had looked when she glanced into the glassy exterior at first.
She pulled back abruptly, as the wall to her right began to rise, not stopping until its entirety was concealed in the ceiling.
Smiling, she turned back to get the book, but frowned when she noticed the end of the sentence: 'Add some good looks'. Was that what the mirror was for? A way to add the last ingredient? She hadn't even realized that anything was listed after 'wits' until now. Shutting the book, she watched as the substance in the beaker restored itself to its clear, translucent form.
Striding through the now open entry way, Sara was met with a circular room empty albeit four doors around the perimeter of the room. Thinking that this was simply passed over by process of elimination, she moved towards the first door on the left. When she got a few feet from it, it slammed shut, causing Sara to jump back slightly.
"Well, it's obviously not that one." She said to herself, turning towards the second door. This one as well, slammed shut. "And then there were two…"
Thinking she may get lucky with number four, she turned and trudged towards, but this time not only did the door bang closed, but the ceiling opened up, releasing the barricade that was only moments before keeping her out of this room, letting out a loud crash as it hit the floor.
Just when she thought things couldn't get creepier, the sconces on the wall flickered out, leaving the only light source being the orangish glow coming from beyond the third, and final open door. Gulping, Sara trudged slowly forwards, keeping the Webster's tucked tightly under the arm.
'This will finally be the night…' The phrase trailed through the doorway.
Strange, The brunette thought, eyes pensive as she stared at the doorway, thinking she could see a darkened shadow just beyond; a stair railing perhaps? That voice sounds so familiar…
As soon as she set foot inside the door, it swung shut behind her, encasing her in a field of firelight with the spectral voice that would forever haunt her dreams.
'The dictionary chemical cookbook will finally hook you into me."