Chapter Two: Truth
Author's Note: A big big thank you for all your comments! This is a bit shorter than the last but the plot will thicken quickly! I've decided to add on very special plot elements in the next chapter. Cookies for whoever guesses the media source for them right!
"Uncle, whom pray tell is this?"
It began innocently enough. Mindless years of work, and Junior hadn't changed. Rather he refused to change…as he clung on to the hope that he might find Laore again. If he changed, he'd become an unrecognizable lump of a person, too twisted and warped for anyone like Laore to understand, much less recognize.
But then Minnie brought forth something from the dust sprinkled past that made him shiver and shake before falling to pieces before his little girl's very eyes. They had been going through and reorganizing the photo albums, Junior having wandered off to investigate the albums in his father's room, whilst Nergal and Minnie sifted through the dusty tomes in the attic.
This tome, was from Grim's wedding.
It was completely full, enough events and people crammed into the leather bound book. Billy practically smeared the book with his image, a wild frenzy of orange hair and punch splattered on the camera. Nergal's own image showed up in the backgrounds, a mere glint or flash of his figure before moving onto the other guests.
But in her hands, Minnie held a photo featuring Mandy and Grim posing in neutral dissention with Billy, each yanking him up as he giggled silently for the photo. But it was in the back that Nergal found something he had sought for a long, long time. His face was more visible, blurred only by the slight distance from the camera. And on his arm…the smile a mere shadow as hair fell from her floral headpiece to cover her eyes…was Laore.
Dear, dear, sweet Laore.
The good memories, the arguments and apologetic touches that followed, hours with coffee and talk, the softness of Laore's lips when he first kissed her the eve of the wedding, the wafting smell of plastic and the clean scent of soap that coupled her form…it came back like a barrage of bullets; striking Nergal to his knees in a blissful, painful onslaught. His hand burned like fire from where he'd struck Laore, and her face, as shocked and white as a statue, on her knees on the floor of their home made him howl. Minnie was taken quite aback, putting her arms around her frantic, wailing uncle as she tried to shake him back to his senses.
"Uncle! Uncle! I beseech you….please, please tell me what plagues thou?" she begged, her poetic voice stricken with worry. Nergal could only gasp, his entire body convulsing as tentacles slipped out, lashing about dangerously. The photo was held an eerily gentle fashion, his hands trembling as if trying to hold onto a fluttering butterfly.
After a hour of ceaseless trembling, he calmed. Minnie had brought up a cup of tea to soothe his nerves, but nothing could really hold back the violent thudding of his heart, which throbbed incessantly to be nearer to Laore. "Uncle…perhaps thou must go and rest…" Minnie said hesitantly. Nergal shook his head. "No…no I'm fine. I've…merely been looking for something like this for a long time. Just a hint…" No longer was he as tearful, but it was next to impossible to tear his eyes away from the background blur. Minnie however was unshakeable in her attempt to see the truth.
"Uncle, I must beg that you explain thine peril and grief. Surely the anonymous maiden is worth mentioning? Just in secrecy?"
"It would be very dangerous for us both Minnie,"
But she pressed on even more gently, and Nergal saw a familiar flicker of stubbornness that he had seen before….the night Laore saw his true form and the night love encased his heart like ivy. He caved in, and as his tea sat forgotten and chilled in his palm, he told her The Story.
It was hard to explain the beginnings, for it seemed so awkward and irrelevant in the way it started. But it smoothed out its edges and sides, and Nergal remembered when he was still just Junior, just another student, just another man. An unfamiliar tighteness had quietly throttled his heart, but as he spoke and remembered it began to loosen and fall away. It felt good to let it out. If Minnie had not pried as she did, Nergal was sure that at some point he might have ended up screaming it. At the same time it was frightening; he was baring his soul to a child…and children had been guilty of unchecked cruelty before.
He finished, and collapsed onto the dusty floor, sending his tea spilling into a dark stain as Minnie cried out in shock. As she heaved her uncle up, he was surprised to see the tears on her face.
There was nothing further to say, nothing else to do, but to sit in the decaying presence of the many books. Minnie dared to glance at Laore's faint presence in the picture. Grim must have taken special care to extract her presence from ever corner of the house-but the photographer had bested him with her faint ghost in the one picture not worth mentioning.
Mandy sensed the secrecy between her daughter and Nergal. It was obvious by the conspiratal glances they threw one another, and the increased closeness. Junior also saw the almost visible growth in their relationship, if only from the amount of time Nergal preferred to spend with his niece. However, Mandy let it slide and did not send Nergal to the torture chambers to see if he had indeed spilled his darkest secret. Nergal could only guess, but perhaps she was giving him a small reward for his dutiful work as a godfather. His regular visits were anticipated by the children and tolerated by Grim.
Only Junior acted, but only in small, petty, jealousy; he often liked to tug Nergal away to play sword-fight knowing that Nergal had the power to chop up every tiny bone into micro-dust. Nergal went along with it, but when the play was over it would be Minnie would request a teacher…not a playmate.
"Brother? This path shall surely tread upon calamity, will it not?"
"You wanted to see the Human World too right?"
It was sometime later in the giant castle on Deathridge, that Minnie and Junior decided it was high-time for another sneak-in to their father's collection room. It was a dark and dreary place, piled high with books on necromancy, dark arts, and other such dangerous works. It was maze-like, and every so often the place was dotted with valuable and dangerous treasures. Once in a while, to cure the spells of boredom left during their small vacations from Helga the tutor, they snuck it to look for something to pass the time with.
Junior heard of their next sought after item from behind the curtain when their parents spoke alone in their sitting room. It was a crystal ball, once in possession of the Greek goddess Eris, and was capable of peering from one realm to another. Wild with curiosity on the Human Realm, he quickly hurried to Minnie. As begrudgingly as he did so, he knew it would be too hard to navigate the labyrinth of collections by himself. Minnie was quick to agree. There was something else in the Human Realm she wanted to see.
"Let us turneth upon the first sign of shimmering glass my brother," Minnie directed, "Forsooth, we shall find our crystal ball among them."
Junior opened his skeletal jaw to contest this, but he quickly shut it as he spotted the prize along a row of glassy objects. The crystal ball was a smooth emerald green, held up by a silver claw, and there was a faint sound of whispering surrounding it. Not waiting any more for something to delay their curiosity, Minnie scooped it up, tucking it into the folds of her cape as they hurried back out of the collection room.
Junior had the first possession of it, and Minnie found it difficult to coax it from him. He mimicked tons of things from the Human Relam, including sports which he found unbelievably delightful. It was several weeks, until Minnie managed to slip it from his room as he kept himself preoccupied with trying out one of the sports with some of the staff demons in the wide back yard.
Minnie was anxious, but careful. If Nergal had been right about the enormous importance of secrecy concerning his lost love, Minnie had to be wary of the ears in the wall. So she quietly stole her way to the attic again, hiding behind several large trunks before she whispered to the crystal ball. "Showeth me Laore."
The green crystal shimmered and cleared out, showing a clear pool of a vision. It showed the vast green expanse of a lawn with handsome hedges and a garden lush with life. Women in white nurse uniforms aided various people carted in wheelchairs while some remained alone on the grass. The crystal zoomed in on one woman, sitting in between the hedges. Minnie bit her lip and tried not to gasp. There was no mistaking that visible fluff of dark hair and delicate limbs, that once where bedecked in ivy green and white roses. Nergal's love seemed so close that Minnie touched the cool edge of the glass in a faint attempt to touch the foreigner. It was important not to judge a person by their appearance, but Minnie would not be surprised if Nergal had liked that about Laore too.
But Laore was different…very different.
She was wearing a faded yellow sundress that was too short, and she kept yanking it down to hide the smooth white thighs that were marked with grass stains. It must have fit someone of a far shorter stature, it was beyond Minnie why Laore chose to keep wearing it. Laore's eyes carried the shadow of sparkling interest and swift intelligence, now looking greyer and sleepier with a cloud of foreboding defeat. She was slumped and exhausted, her breaths coming up in stuttering yawns and her eyes trembling with the effort to stay awake. But what pained Minnie to see were the deep red marks in her left arm-the cursed scars left behind in her uncle's blind moment of rage. It was a literally impure wound, and while it was scabbed over in a faint attempt to heal, Laore kept pecking and peeling it away to bleed afresh, pinching the flesh to let it bleed.
It was all done in front of a strange man, and a familiar man.
Minnie had never seen him before, but he had a resemblance of Nergal. But he was darker and slimmer, and with inky black skin and a look twisted by cunning. Minnie could not hear what he was saying, for the crystal only provided images, but she could see his expression furrow and sneer in dangerous apprehension as he spoke to Laore, who would not even reply. He looked fervent and annoyed, even coming to snatch at the hand picking at the claw marks on her arm. Laore could only look mournfully back, and feebly pushed him off. He narrowed his eyes, flung down her wrists, and trudged off looking murderous. Minnie felt her tears renew at her eyes as she saw Laore collapse onto the grass, biting her lips hard enough to bleed as she too wept in silence, the two of them sharing grief miles apart. Orderlies spotted Laore's distress and came hurrying over, picking her up gently as they carried her back inside. Minnie watched them…and on top of the door she spotted the words; St. Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled imprinted atop.
It was such a beautiful place, and Laore was such a beautiful woman. But like slivers of broken glass, she was broken and pained. Minnie couldn't imagine what could have happened to land her in there. She could, and would, find out. Minnie already knew where Laore was. It was merely a matter of getting there.
"Minnie?"
There was a knock on her door with the sound of rattling bones. She hurriedly stuffed the crystal into one of her pillows, burying it under the bed. "Yes?" she said, trying not to sound too alarmed.
"Mandy and I have a surprise for you," he spoke in his heavy accent. "You 'n Junior best be gettin' ready now."
"Yes Father."
She pulled on her light cloak, but as she laid a hand on the door she looked uneasily at where the crystal ball was hidden. A faint glow emitted from the space under her bed, and she felt a slight sense of disturbance. But she shook it off, and headed downstairs. There wasn't time to contemplate it now. She use the time off to think of a plan first.
The door slipped shut, and a whispery sound came fluttering through the curtains of Minnie's window. The room was empty, dried flowers crisp and quiet in a lovely vase as other girlish items and trinkets were tidy and well kept. His granddaughter was a girl worth seeing, even if it was a one-sided sight.
The dark figure looked around for the crystal ball, opening drawers and the closet, only to wince at the hissing and irritated snarls from the creatures that liked to lurk in the dark. Then, the green glow caught on the silver fastenings on his shoes and he looked down. He pulled out the pillow, and was pleased to see the crystal ball glowing inside.
But he immediately froze at the sight. For Minnie had forgotten to clean the image from the crystal and he could see Laore clearly now, sitting quiet and mournful by the window of her room as she looked for something beyond his sight. His grip tightened and slackened on the ball as he seethed quietly.
Laore had rejected every other option. And Minnie was closing in. There was only one choice left to make…for his son's sake.
He wiped an inky black hand over the surface of the ball and the image faded into the emerald crystal. He put it back where Minnie would find it again. But when she did…she would no longer need it.
Nergal was at home, although it seemed a mockery to call it now. He wasn't home, he'd never be home, and the hellish pit of the Underworld was no place to consider home. But he was in a place where he had solitude. No soldiers, no enemies, not even godchildren to distract him. Mandy must have disliked for him to be alone with his thoughts; they could more than easily become distractions for his work and Mandy would not tolerate a less than perfect general out of Nergal.
But he could only think of the same things now. Minnie had unknowingly ruptured the calm control he had over his memories and they kept coming back in heart-aching bursts. Now it seemed nearly impossible to not think about Laore. He couldn't say he wished they'd never met…he'd only be left as a merciless and heartless husk of himself, and would fill his empty spaces with bloodlust and wickedness. He didn't want to degrade himself to the child he'd been before. But it stung him strongly to remind himself that those times with Laore were long gone. He couldn't even remember her scent now-
Wait…what?
He was so shocked that he stood upright. Something…was wrong. He racked his brains and breathed deeply, as if the still air of the Underworld might present some small hint of Laore's intoxicating scent, but nothing came. He trembled and clasped a hand over his mouth. Suddenly the dead airs of Hell made him feel sick, physically and emotionally. How…how could he forget?
He stuck his head out the window. He usually chose not to do so, keeping the windows tightly bolted to keep out the sounds, sights, and smells of the Underworld. But he wrenched open the window, the wood and bolts snapping and splintering under his strength. He was hit in the face with thick sulfur and the sounds of howls and screams. He let them overwhelm his senses, and his urge to vomit faded.
But like scars and bruises, the ache and horror lingered. Laore had vanished as sure as the wind, and she was taking his memories of her with him.