A/N: Well, here's Ch. 2! I like the concepts for this story, but I'm not sure on my writing. :P If you want something written better, I would suggest Journey of Secrets, if you aren't already reading it. This is just…my vent story. I had an idea itching at my head, and had to get it out. Remember to read/review/fav/follow! As my Journey of Secrets followers can attest, regular reviews keep me motivated to update!
Also: The poem is "Spirits of The Dead" by Edgar Allen Poe
Chapter #2: Valerie Grey
She wakes up on the floor, curled against the wall. The music has stopped, and pale morning light filters through the windows. Birds twitter outside as she sits up with a groan, cracking her back.
"Samantha?" her mother calls from the hallway.
"I'm getting changed, Mother!" she returns, hurriedly rushing for a different dress, laid on her bed. She fumbles with the buckles as she recalls the burning green eyes of the funeral singer. Despite his white hair, he'd looked to be close to her age; possibly not even a year older than her twenty.
Phantom…her knuckles turn white, knotting into the fabric. He'd been challenging her; daring her to contradict him. But he hadn't turned her in; thinking on the lyrics, he didn't intend to.
"How did you know?" she mutters, slipping into her new dress and looking towards her mirror, which remains covered by her wedding veil. She whisks the fabric away with a hand and gazes at herself in the polished surface.
Her hair is dark, curled and pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She glances over her figure, ensuring that no bruises can be seen – of course they can't – and pulls the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulders. She brushes her violet-tipped fingernails through it before giving up and reaching for her brush.
It's over, she assures herself, it's over, Sam.
Two hours later, she sits at a café in the northern end of town, waiting for a friend of the family, Valerie Grey, to join her. She's been friends with Valerie for years, but since getting married, she'd been kept at the manor like a pet parrot.
"Sam!" Valerie shouts, bustling over in a pale yellow gown with darker, orange accents. Sam stands, and the two women hug briefly before taking their places at the table once again.
"It's so good to see you, Val," she smiles, "Really, really good."
"I know! It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, but I can't understand why that idiot wouldn't let you come visit!"
"Well, he was just…"
"Sam, cut the drivel. You hated his guts!" she snorts, and leans forward, "Did you kill him?"
"What would make you ask that?!" she hisses back, glancing around nervously.
"Because unlike everyone else, I actually know you; I'm not going to tell. He probably deserved it."
"He did," she snips before she can catch herself. Her hand snaps over her mouth, earning a satisfied smirk from Valerie.
"What did he do?"
"…shall we head back to your mansion for some privacy?" she asks quietly, knowing there's no stopping her. She'll press until she gets what she wants; that's the Grey way.
She looks worried as she nods, and summons her carriage from across the street.
"Mind giving me an idea?" she asks once they seat themselves on the plush seats inside and the carriage jerks to life.
"He was drunk…a violent one," Sam takes a deep breath, "I just…I couldn't take it anymore. I had to kill him before he killed me."
"How'd you do it?"
"Arsenic; not the usual way," she clarifies, leaning into her hands, "Made him dependent on it and then stopped; he went through withdrawals for two days before giving up the ghost."
"Ouch," she wrinkles her nose, "earned it, though. I mean, if you can't even talk about what he did…" tears bud at her eyes, "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry you suffered so much!"
"It's okay, now, it's over," she assures.
"So," Valerie smirks, "Convince everyone at the wake you were the grieving widow?"
"Yeah…" she replies, "Except…"
"Except who?!"
"What do you know about the funeral singer who calls himself 'Phantom'?"
"Phantom…? He's pretty popular; showed up a few years ago before vanishing until recently. He sang for my uncle's wake. He was cute," she recalls with a grin, "deep voice that almost seems to echo. It was weird; he sang about things I didn't even know happened. Auntie told me they were all true though, and she hadn't told him."
"So…he just…knows?"
"Rumors say that he can see the spirits of the dead," she whispers, "others say he's one of them."
"Seriously, Val, ghosts?"
"I'm just telling you the rumors," she raises her hands, "What did he sing?"
"About a cruel man who earned his wife's hatred and wanted revenge for his death," she blurts, "But…the chorus asked who could blame her for doing what she did. I…I don't think he plans to turn me in, Val."
"Then drop it," she dismisses, "He's not going to cause problems. The ghost of your murdered husband, on the other hand…"
"Ghosts don't exist, Val!"
"You should hope so, girl. Keep hoping."
-BREAK-
"Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry,
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness–for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still."
"Danny?" Tucker glances around the clearing, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of his friend.
"The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever."
"Listen, Danny, are you just going to sit around reciting Poe all day, or are we going to get some work done?"
"Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass."
The dark form slips from the branches with a grin. His blue eyes spark mischievously behind strands of onyx hair.
"The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!"
"The only mystery is how we're both still single," Tucker smirks, "I mean, I am the epitome of attractiveness! How can I not have a girl!"
"Maybe because you advertise yourself too much," Danny retorts, "And we're broke. That doesn't help."
"Hey, we made good money last night!"
"Yeah, but it's not exactly a steady income, Tuck," he claps his friend's shoulder, "People die before we get decent work."
"Maybe if you started doing weddings…"
"No," he frowns, "Phantom sings at funerals, and only funerals."
"Fine," he sighs, "So…another day at the labs?"
"Yeah, I have to make sure my folks don't add to the graveyard," he replies, rubbing at his eyes, "Jazz is off at medical school, leaving me with the babysitting."
"Have you seen the factory owner's daughter?" he grins, "Valerie Grey; she's absolutely gorgeous!"
"Good luck, Friar Tuck," he snorts.
"Friar?"
"Because that's how likely you are to get her attention."
"That hurts, man!"
"It's the truth. It'd be like me dating the lovely widow," he smirks, "The former Miss Manson."
"A man can dream, can't he?"
"That's all we can do, isn't it?" he rubs at his neck, "Anyway, I need to get to the factory before my parents blow something up. Can you bring those tools I requested to me there?"
"Yeah, no problem!"
-BREAK-
"So anyway, Daddy's not here right now – he's off organizing the factories in New York," Valerie alights from the carriage, "So it's just–Danny!" she smiles, waving at a dark-haired young man jogging towards the factory. He turns, taking Sam's breath away with a blue-eyed glace. He stops, barely breathing hard, and tips his hat to the two women.
"Morning, Miss Grey," he greets, "And Miss…?"
"Missus Harwood," she replies.
"Ah, yes, excuse me," he fidgets, "my condolences for your husband."
"Thank you."
"Sam, this is Daniel Fenton," Val smiles.
"Danny, please," he chuckles. There's something familiar in his eyes…
"Danny's the son of our head researchers, Jack and Maddie," she turns to the young man, "Daddy mentioned you were back…from where again?"
"I was studying engineering in Germany," he replies, "Jazz is off to medical school, so it's my turn to make sure–" an explosion can be heard in the distance, and the smile falls from his face with a sigh, "that doesn't happen," he turns to Valerie anxiously, "If I may be excused, Miss Grey?"
"Yeah," she waves him off and he begins to sprint. She turns to Sam conspiratorially, "He's not bad-looking, definitely a nice guy. He made my baby cousin a clockwork ballerina music-box for her birthday and shipped it to us on an airship after reading a letter from me, panicking about not having a gift. I mean, his parents are really odd, but Danny and Jazz – Jasmine, his older sister – are normal."
"Excuse me, Miss Grey!" another young man jogs up, his dark dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail. He carries a leather bag over his shoulder. Blue-grey eyes look over brass rims.
"You're Danny's friend, right?"
"Yes, Miss," he smiles, "Tucker Foley. Danny asked me to bring him some tools and supplies; is he at the–" another blast sounds in the distance, "–yes, he is. I was hoping I'd beat him here for once," he sighs, "Anyway, please excuse me," he doffs his cap and jogs away.
"He's not hard on the eyes either," Valerie comments, "Don't know him well, though. But he's friends with Danny, so he can't be awful."
"You're not picky, are you Val?" Sam smiles.
"Hey, I can admire finely crafted men, can't I?"