Chapter Ten: The Halls of Arkham
[Jeanette's POV:]
Friday dawned, dark, gloomy, and covered in a steady shower of rain. Soft thunder outside the window had woken me first, followed by the screech of my alarm clock, belting out, "We'll make you hap-pyyyyy!" This time I slapped the flat of my palm down on the blasted thing without looking and fumbled around for my glasses. I wasn't, however, totally ready to get out of bed just yet.
I still found it hard to believe that I'd even agreed to let Mr. Pendragon court me, and it seemed surreal somehow, both terrifying and exciting all at once. I let this strange, exhilarating feeling consume me and I began going through the motions in this, my day off, with no real sense of time or awareness for what I was doing. I could only vaguely recall taking a shower and dressing in very casual, house-only clothes, I had no idea what I ate for breakfast, if indeed, I did eat, and it wasn't until I had curled up in a fleece throw on my couch to think some more about this courtship that I realized I was well on my way to becoming obsessed.
What in the world has he done to me? I thought in shock, on my way to becoming angry both with Mr. Pendragon for consuming my thoughts and with myself for allowing my mind to be consumed. Growing irritated, I jumped off the couch just long enough to snatch up my copy of "The Fires Of Heaven." (I absolutely refused to touch "The Mists of Avalon," or anything Arthurian in nature, as I'd most likely dwell on the matter of courtship further.) Hopefully, catching up on my reading would take my mind off of other things for a while.
Sometime later, I'm not entirely sure how much later, there came a knock at my door. Snapped out of my visions of Robert Jordan's world, I marked my page, set the book down, and got to my feet. The knock came again, and I strode to the door, keeping the throw tightly wrapped around me. I started to reach for the doorknob, then hesitated, a wave of paranoia washing over me. Clenching my jaw, I chanced a look out of the peephole, then gave a sigh of relief and opened the door.
"H-hi J-Jean…W-wouldna have a moment t' spare for your little cous, wouldja?"
Of my cousins, Catriona happens to be the youngest, but you wouldn't know that by looking at her. Her confident posture and walk coupled with her gorgeous face often get her mistaken for a 22-year-old, and most people are shocked to learn she's only 16. As always, she had her violently red hair spiked up, all her piercings in, and was dressed in her usual attire of dark gray shorts, halter top, thigh-high combat boots, and her trailing long trenchcoat.
But something in her nervous expression shattered that usually confident appearance.
"Of course! Get inside, you little hot-headed goat! You're going to get sick out there in that rain." I griped, pulling her in by the elbow. She gave me a weak smile in response.
"Neh, you know I donna get sick. Cold doesna bother me." she chuckled half-heartedly, and I paused, unable to find words to say. After all, special 'gifts' ran rampant in the Macallister blood, and where her older brother Jesse had his magic, Catriona had…well…
I watched carefully as she hugged her arms, as though about to rub warmth back into them, but instead, steam started to rise off her trenchcoat. Within moments, there wasn't a sign to be found anywhere that Cat had been outside in the rain. She gave me a smug look, and I had to bite my tongue.
"Why are you here, Cat? What's going on? Do come in, sit. I'll get you something to drink." I said, but she shook her head slowly.
"Huh-uh. I need yer help, Jeannie." she replied. "It's about Jesse."
I paused, my senses going on high alert. "Jesse? What's wrong? Is he in some kind of trouble?"
Catriona bit her lip and cast her eyes down, fidgeting. She does this whenever she feels especially reluctant or nervous about something, and has been this way since she was little. Thankfully, I knew full well how to handle it.
"Cat, if your brother is in trouble, you need to tell me. If you want to help him, being quiet gets us all nowhere." I tried to be gentle but firm as well, so she could fully grasp how serious I was, and her soft brown eyes darted upward.
"Jesse's in Arkham." she mumbled it so fast and low that if I hadn't seen the corner of her mouth moving, I would have been convinced I'd only imagined the words. But I almost wished that I had. My stomach went ice cold and I was swamped with dread in mere seconds.
"Arkham Asylum?" I murmured. "How…?"
"I donna ken," Catriona spoke low and fast, her Scottish accent becoming thicker in her distress, "But I'm willin' t' bet me giddy aunt tha' Spellbinder fella's involved. I went t' try t' get Jesse oot o' there, but I was told I need someone o'er 18 t' sign th' form. An' I figured t' ask ye, since Mum canna come oot an' Sunny's in school."
The whole thing seemed so surreal and impossible, that the first thing out of my mouth was, "You ought to be in school too, Cat."
"Donna start with tha', Jean. I donna have th' time."
"…You say all you need is a release form signed?" I asked. "Seems a bit too easy to me."
"I guess they believe Jes when he says he's no' crazy. Mind, I think he did a little…persuadin' on them. But I donna care. I need yer help. So…?"
For a long moment I was caught in my indecision. After all, if Jesse's magic had had something to do with their consent to release him to his family, there was always the possibility that they would snap out of it later and it would only complicate things. Still, I hated the idea of any family being caught in the madhouse. I sighed, sagging my shoulders in defeat.
"Let me get my coat."
The drive up to the asylum was largely uneventful, and I found a parking spot with ease. Overall, the whole thing seemed a bit too convenient, and I was beginning to get unnerved by it. Everything was going so smoothly, sooner or later it was bound to collapse down around our ears into a total disaster. But when I relayed my concerns to Cat, she only laughed and waved me off.
"Donna be silly, Jeannie. Ye're here now, so it's gonna be fine." she said firmly, though I could have sworn she had a nervous expression for a brief moment. Not that I could blame her. I didn't exactly want to be here, not when this drama could fall apart at any time…and not when I remembered Joker had yet to escape the asylum since my encounter with him. I hoped and prayed that our luck would hold fast and we'd be in and out again with Jesse in tow with little trouble or delay, but a sense of dread began to take root deep in my stomach, and I was unable to shake the feeling.
We were let in almost at once, and I figured it had to owe to the way in which the guard glanced at Catriona; he probably recognized her from earlier. He merely looked at us sideways, but I still felt the gooseflesh rise on my arms beneath my sleeves. The entire asylum was huge, with catwalks and open ceilings on the floors until the roof slanted almost six stories above. Even from the ground floor I could see rain sliding down the glass in the skylight windows, which incensed my feelings of unease. The atmosphere was tense with a damp chill lingering on the air that permeated both skin and clothes. A few quick glances at some of the orderlies only confirmed this, as they wore thick, heavy uniforms, probably to keep the chill at bay. I hadn't expected Arkham to be completely silent, but it wasn't loud either. Voices carried here and there, but it was the sort of muted sound of a community college library, where the law of silence was never stated, but enforced by the same influence that ruled the building.
"Cheery place, innit?" Cat muttered next to me, starting off in a certain direction, obviously knowing where she needed to go.
"If you are referring to Edgar Allen Poe's particular brand of cheer," I sniffed, biting back my growing anxiety, "Then I suppose you've hit the mark, Cat."
We continued the rest of the walk in an apprehensive silence until we reached an office door, where we were stopped by a guard.
"Do you have an appointment with Dr. Strange?" he demanded, cur that he was.
"Catriona Macallister, sir," my cousin swooped upon him at once, flashing him a dazzling smile and batting her eyes slowly, "I was here earlier, an' the good doctor said I was needin' an older family member t' sign my brother's release form."
I was less than thrilled to discover my younger cousin was learning forms of flattery that belonged to the protagonists of many a Nora Roberts' novel, but I had to admit her flirtations seemed to do the trick. The guard swallowed as a flush rose in his cheekbones and he adjusted the collar of his uniform, though whether from discomfort with the atmosphere or from Cat's unexpected provocation, I dared not think about. He gave me a glance and began to open his mouth, but I was already a step ahead and produced my driver's license from my wallet, thrusting the ID at him a bit more hostile than was perhaps necessary.
"You two are related?" he asked, glancing up from my license to look between us.
"I've kept my mother's maiden name." I answered jerkily, irritated. "Now if you'd please let us in to see the doctor, it would be most appreciated."
And much to my surprise, he straightened up instantly, handed my license back, and stepped aside to let us through. Cat gave me a wide-eyed look, though what for, I've not the foggiest notion, and we stepped into the office of Dr. Hugo Strange.
The office was a large room with a ceiling that sat on the same level as perhaps the third floor, and only a few windows set high into one of the walls, filtering in very little light indeed. There was a coat rack on the opposite wall, a few bookshelves, some filing cabinets, an armchair, and an oblong, waist-high, flat desk. And sitting at that flat desk was a rather portly, balding man whose eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective glasses. He looked up from something he was writing as we came in, and a tiny smile slowly spread over his face.
"Ahh, Miss Macallister. I wasn't expecting to see you back so soon." he remarked.
Now I'm not one to judge, but something in me had a knee-jerk reaction to this man's presence and I knew at once I disliked him intensely.
"Aye, Professor." Catriona said seriously, striding up to his desk, "I've brought me older cousin, Jeannie."
"Forgive me for prying, Miss Macallister," Strange said, "But why exactly, could your mother not be troubled to come out here?"
"She's ill." Cat answered quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, if the smile on the psychiatrist's face was anything to judge by.
"My apologies," he responded, not sounding sorry or sympathetic in the least.
"Ye did say I could bring any relative over twenty-one—" she began.
"So I did." Strange replied indulgently, before his head turned just a fraction to focus on me. "You said this is your cousin?" He rose to stand from his desk, though there was truly little height difference when he did so, and extended his hand to me. "It is a pleasure, Miss…"
"Harker," I replied, shaking his hand only out of formality, "Jeanette Harker."
Black eyebrows rose high on Strange's forehead, and his voice took on an unusually interested tone as he asked, "Jeanette…Harker, did you say?"
I snatched my hand back, decided I was definitely uncomfortable, and gave a tiny nod. I disliked his smile the moment it had come on his face, and now I liked it even less than before. "Yes, Harker. I've kept my mother's maiden name."
"You wouldn't happen to be the same Miss Harker who had the…misfortune to encounter one of my patients on his most recent escape, would you?" he spoke with the distinct curiosity of a child who suspects he's about to be given a toy he'd been begging for. I clenched my jaw before answering.
"Yes…"
"Most fascinating." the shrink's smile grew as he steepled his fingers together. I opened my mouth, ready to cut short any further remarks he may have made, but to my astonishment, he merely turned and pulled a paper forward on his desk and held up a pen. "I do take it you wish to the sign the release form for your cousin?"
I snapped my mouth shut again, determined not to mess things up now, and I strode over, taking the pen from him. I scanned the form briefly, found no loopholes or hidden clauses, and signed in a bold stroke on the dotted line at the bottom. Immediately I thrust the paper in Strange's face, and he took it as though in a daze, looking pointedly at my signature.
"If you require viewing my identification—"
"No, no," he said, not looking up from my signature, "That won't be necessary, Miss Harker. No, all is in order, and I have everything I need right here."
He looked up at me as he finished his sentence and I felt the sensation of cold fingers dragging down my spine. It made no sense, for there was no reason behind it but sheer intuition, but something about this man was simply wrong. I couldn't explain to anyone why or how, but he was very, very dangerous.
"Mr. Powell," he said abruptly, and the guard who'd been standing outside the door stepped in, "Would you please escort these two ladies to cell 322 for Mr. Macallister's release?"
The guard nodded dumbly, motioned at us, and we followed him to the door, my mind still screaming at me that this was all too convenient.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Macallister, Miss Harker." the psychiatrist called after us in a too-pleasant voice, "I do hope you both have a…relatively pleasant day."
I suppressed a shudder and picked up the pace, not looking back until Powell had shut the door behind us.
"Well, this way, ladies. If you'll follow me, please?" he cleared his throat, puffing out his chest a little as he snuck a glance at Cat. Fighting back a growl and utterly disappointed I couldn't launch a missile at Powell's head, we strode along behind him as he led us up to the third floor, passing other orderlies and a few patients along the way. I kept my eyes forward, focusing on Powell's back so I could avoid the temptation to stare, but my cousin was having no such luck.
"Jeannie…" I heard her murmur as we passed an orderly leading a thin, tall man with long dark hair and icy blue eyes.
"Keep your eyes on me, Cat." I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. "Focus on my ponytail or some other point."
We made it to the cell with little other incident, Powell abruptly declaring, "Well. Here we are."
My cousin rushed right past me and, bouncing on the balls of her toes, looked through the tiny window into the cell at her brother.
"Jesse!" she said, unable to contain her excitement.
"Catty?" I heard his unmistakable voice from inside the cell, surprised and a little confused.
"We're gettin' ye out, Jess! I brought Jeannie along t' sign th' form!" she answered his unspoken question rapidly, then stepped away so Powell could unlock the cell door.
"Looks like it's your lucky day, Mr. Macallister." he muttered as Jesse stepped out of the cell, wearing what I assumed could only be the attire of his "Fantasia" persona he'd created.
"When we get home, Jesse," I muttered softly, "You have a bit of explaining to do."
"Aye, Jeannie," he sighed, "I ken, I ken."
"What's this, a little family reunion in the middle of the nuthouse?" a new voice interrupted. We all turned to look as a woman around my own age in a straitjacket was being led down the hallway. What struck me as utterly odd about her was the fact her hair was almost the same shade of green as her eyes.
"Miss Curio's heading for solitary," the guard pushing her along remarked grimly, "Again."
"Nice getup there, emo boy," the green-haired girl sneered, "Trying out for a part in the new Harry Potter movie?"
"Ach, bite me." Jesse snorted, and without warning, the girl lunged forward, snapping her teeth like a bear trap. Her guard restrained her at the last second, yanking on the back of her straitjacket, but she seemed utterly unconcerned.
"Watch what you wish for, emo boy." she chuckled darkly, and I realized with a shock that her teeth were jagged and sharp, having been filed down into points.
"That's enough, Curio!" her guard snapped, giving her a rough shove forward again, propelling her past us.
"See you around," she said in a dangerous voice as she smiled at all of us.
"Looby gixie…" Jesse muttered, glaring after her.
Powell cleared his throat. "Well, if you three are finished here, I have to be getting back to my duties. I trust you know your way out?" And with that, he walked back down the hallway, throwing Catriona a less-than-subtle wink.
"This way. We're goin' back t' Jeannie's." she insisted.
"Neh. We have t' check back in with Mum." her older brother insisted. "An' there's an easier way oot fer us, Catty." He then offered me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Jeannie. 'S no' tha' I donna appreciate what ye've done here, but we gotta get back home first. We'll come back after though…?"
I sighed and gave him a reluctant nod. "Alright. I know how your mother can get. But then you have to come back; you do owe me an explanation."
"Aye, Jean. We'll be seein' ye in a bit then." he said warmly before taking off down the hall, Catriona in tow. I stood watching for a moment, wondering why they seemed to pass right under the notice of the orderlies, then figured Jesse had some sort of spell for that already cast, somehow causing everyone they passed to ignore their presence entirely.
Wish I could do that sometimes. I thought bitterly before rubbing some of the chill from my arms and starting back down the path Powell had used to bring us here. I hadn't gotten very far when something gave me an eerie feeling, kicking my paranoia back into gear. I picked up the pace, taking long-legged strides down a corridor, when I suddenly heard an all-too-familiar dark chuckle and froze.
No. It can't be…
"Uh-oh! Miss Harker's making house calls? But I paid all my overdue fines!" the voice rose and fell in mocking tones, and I cursed silently, wishing the hall wasn't completely devoid of guards. At that very moment, the alarms started to sound and lights flashed red all around me as I slowly turned on the spot, facing the living, grinning nightmare.
"Y-you're supposed to be in your cell." I tried to sound angry, but fear gave my voice a terrified whimper, and the Joker clapped his hands to his face, his eyes going wide as he made an 'oooooh!' expression.
"Whoopsies! Guess the flunkies have a worse case of the butterfingers than usual! And I'm afraid it's catching!" he laughed, just as the spring-powered boxing glove rushed out from behind his back, rising up to meet my face.