CHAPTER 2

A/N – I know. After reading this, you will ask yourselves 'what the actual FUCK did I just read?. Yeah, admittedly this is by far the creepiest, weirdest and most absurd crap I've ever written and now adapted, so why the hell am I bothering with it regardless? Who knows, mostly because I hate leaving things unfinished and besides, why miss the opportunity to leave you folks baffled? Ha.

"Oh, Francis, you're terrible! When we said we all needed a couple of days to relax, I'm sure none of us thought of a trip to a swamp in the middle of nowhere and some old country house…" Matthew complained from the back of the van.

"Come on, Dr. Braginski's property is beautiful, especially this time of year. Nature is a great place to relax, to put order in your thoughts. There are other things in this world besides shopping malls, you know?" Francis replied, shaking his head and mentally noting how horribly shallow his lover could be sometimes. "Isn't it, Alfred?"

"Definitely, man," the bespectacled blond answered as he scribbled down some lyrics on a notebook he had on his lap.

"What do you guys think?" Francis turned to his cousin Lovino and his friend Antonio. But the two sat silently, cuddled up in the back of the van next to Matthew. "Love birds," he teased, turning his attention back to the road.

Francis had arranged for them to stay over the weekend at the lake cabin, not far from Dr. Braginski's house. It was a simple place, a 19th century wooden house which the former owners had restored and arranged as a guest house for the summer time. As his former teacher had told him, this had been before the painter had chosen to isolate himself from his family and live here permanently, so there wasn't much comfort to it, nor had any cleanup been done in quite some time. But Francis thought the place was great. In fact, as far as his plan was concerned, perfect.

They arrived to the place at noon, and Lovino and Matthew started to fix them some comfort for the night, helped by Alfred. The young doctor however was more interested in exploring the house, as he had only had a quick view of it the time Dr. Braginski had showed it to him. The place had a rather large basement and in he descended with a flashlight, followed by a curious Antonio.

"Man, this place is ancient..." the olive-skinned young man commented. "Look at all the stuff lying around down here - wooden wheels, a horse harness, geez! Are you sure this place isn't haunted or anything?"

But Francis's attention had been caught by a set of thick ropes piled up in one corner. "Well… what if it was?" he said fingering the ropes and checking their resistance.

"Mi amigo, I know you like pranks. Are you trying to scare us or some shit? Is that why you brought us here?" Antonio asked suspiciously.

But the Frenchman only laughed, shaking his head. "Not you, that's for sure. I wouldn't need to bring you here to scare the shit out of you. I have a quite different plan."

"Oh… so what do you have in mind?" his friend wanted to know, drawing closer with a wicked smile.

"Mon ami, I'm only trusting you with this because I know that you tend to enjoy this as much as I do. Weird pranks, I mean," he blond whispered mysteriously.

"Let me guess then," Antonio replied in a low voice. "If I'm not extremely wrong, I dare say Alfred is your next victim?"

"Clever boy," Francis smiled patting him on the back as he lifted the pile of ropes. No wonder they – together with their friend Gilbert - were called the Bad Touch Trio.

"But what do you want to do with those, man?"

"To keep it short, there used to be a legend in these places about some terrible witches living in this swamp. Human sacrifices were made to them and the ones chosen were taken into the swamp, tied to a tree and left there. And the witches came and took them away… Dr. Braginski has some books about it. Anyway, that's what we're going to do. Take him to the swamp and leave him there for the night."

Antonio scratched the back of his head, looking confused. "Um… and how are we to do this? How do you think we can take him there and tie him up?"

"Well mon ami, a plan involves planning. I took care of this little matter," Francis said, producing a small pill box out of his pocket. "This should be enough to make him dizzy enough for a little while, after which he will wake up there…"

"But… what are we going to tell Lovi and Mattie?"

"I'll talk to Matthieu, explain to him. Not in very much detail, obviously. And Lovino doesn't have to know until morning. You know how sensitive he is."

"The dinner was great! It's amazing how much you can do with so little if you are creative," Alfred said rising to get himself another beer.

"I'm glad you liked it, baby," Matthew smiled, giving a quick squeeze to his hand.

"So, I hope tomorrow morning we're going to see the famous water plant greenhouse of Dr. Braginski," Lovino said as he also stood to pick up the plates.

"Oh yes, definitely! It's absolutely beautiful, it has about seven different varieties of water lilies, from pink to light blue. And it's open, Dr. Braginski doesn't keep it locked."

"Sounds like you were pretty impressed," Alfred said as he returned.

"Indeed, mon ami," Francis confirmed. "And the house, that was even more interesting, too bad the doctor isn't here now. It belonged to a painter, in fact the whole property did. You should see the stuff this man had made, very weird!"

"Weird?"

"Yes. He was obsessed with a local myth - of swamp witches - and he made a bunch of sculptures and paintings related to that, on top of the vast collection of books he had about it," the other blond explained. "Back in the 19th century there were three villages around here in the swamp area, but the houses are now abandoned - only this one and the doctor's remained. The people in these villages were pagans and believed in the existence of swamp witches, who were some sort of goddesses who decided their fate. They worshipped them and made human sacrifices to win their favor."

"Human sacrifices? Come on, man…" Alfred smiled in disbelief.

"No, really, they did. Young people, both boys and girls. Not children, though. From each and every family and apparently they did it every year, at the beginning of fall. About this time of year…" Francis smiled, a mysterious smirk lingering on his lips as he paused to assess the others' reaction.

"What did they do to them? Just spilled their blood?" Lovino asked.

"Nothing of the kind, actually. They took them to the swamp at midnight, tied them to a tree and left them there. In the morning they were gone. The witches took them away…"he ended in a whisper.

"Yeah right," the American replied ironically.

"It's serious actually, mon ami. The painter believed the whole of it and he even offered himself to the witches. He went into the swamp woods one night and never showed up again!" the young doctor said, watching him intently all the sudden.

"What stupidities! Can't believe you brought us here to tell us this shit! And I'm so tired!" Matthew complained, heading to the door.

"Well guys, we're gonna go to bed now," Lovino said standing up too. "Have fun on your own and try not to drink all the whiskey."

"My caring little cousin," Francis said after Lovino had closed the door behind him. He picked a full bottle from his backpack and three glasses. With his back turned on his friends, the Frenchman quickly fixed the drinks and then handed them over.

"Mi amigo, your story is scary," Antonio commented taking a long sip from his glass.

"I'd say. I guess that's what you doctors call an interesting case," Alfred added.

"Hmm?"

"The painter. He was cracked, wasn't he? That's why he killed himself or whatever he did."

Francis seemed thoughtful as he spun the amber-colored liquid in his glass."I'd rather say that he was a worshipper. And he was rewarded for his faith too. The witches took him."

"No doubt," the bespectacled blond laughed, finishing his glass and rising to pour himself another.

Soon he began to feel weird, in a way he had never experienced before. The room was spinning around him faster and faster. His body went numb and he fell back on the couch, unable to move or speak, seeing and hearing everything around him as if in a dream. His eyelids were incredibly heavy, but before closing his eyes, he saw Francis whispering something in Antonio's ear. Just when he thought his body was going to somehow melt and become one with the couch, Alfred felt himself lifted up and carried out of the room. But instead of the softness of the bed, he was surprised to feel the cool night air. This was a dream, it had to be. Suddenly, he felt himself lifted to a vertical position and his feet sunken in knee-deep, ice cold water. The sharp sensation made the blond slowly open his eyes, just as Antonio propped him to a huge tree. He saw Francis unwrapping a pile of thick ropes and in the next moment he felt them around him, squeezing harder and harder, over his chest and stomach. This had to be one of those nightmares. But it was far from over, Francis pulled out a piece of cloth from his pocket and blindfolded him. Then, the darkness overtook Alfred entirely and he lost his consciousness.

The heart's unheard clock strikes midnight

The ancient ones creep back beneath the poisoned waters

We gather secretly under the full moon's light

And wordlessly we pray to our long lost fathers

"It's midnight. We should get going. I'll arrange the rhunes," Azelbe said, nervously rubbing her crooked nose.

"Yes, sister, we should I suppose. Go wake Arthur up," Aziade replied. "He has to go with us this time."

Azelbe fumbled with the small pieces of stone in the wooden rhunes bowl in front of her. "Aziade, as you are my older sister it's my duty to obey you in everything. You know I've always done that… But if Arthur comes with us tonight, it would be his first prayer to the fathers. The law says that he is entitled to ask them something. Now I beg you, think of it!"

"Nonsense! Arthur is blood from our blood. And it was his decision to join us here, in serving the fathers, he is devoted," Aziade replied sharply.

"I have never questioned his devotion. But he's… We are in our one hundreds while he is still in his teens. Why did we choose him – a boy on top of everything - from all the swamp witches who live around here? He's very young. Still wild…"Azelbe tried with her head bowed.

"Wild… but besides the fathers, we worship nature. Nature is wild. You fear what he might ask them for? I do not have such fears. Our fathers were all powerful, feared, obeyed. And wicked. Men have always bowed in fear before them, dreaded them. We, their heirs, have dwindled into shadow, into nothingness. No mortal soul knows of us, except some very few. You fear Arthur might not be evil enough?" Aziade turned her back on her sister and headed to the stair which led to the top of the stone tower.

Shortly, Arthur descended carrying his own box of rhunes. Azelbe eyed him critically, without saying a word – the boy looked so harmless and innocent and he was always a good child. Hard to believe he was ever going to become the evil, all powerful wizard Aziade hoped for. He looked rather fragile in the ceremonial night-sky blue cloak which contrasted with his pale skin and golden-blond hair. Aziade soon joined them in the small courtyard and they headed for the woods.

The altar of the fathers was a large rectangular piece of stone covered in symbols, placed in the middle of a circle of ancient trees. Their roots reached under the shallow water and embraced the base of the altar. The three stepped carefully among them and placed their rhune boxes on it.

"My child, it's your turn tonight," Aziade whispered in Arthur's ear.

The green-eyed boy closed his eyes, while his fingers started to arrange the rhunes on the altar, each in its carved location, in a design of perfect symmetry. As soon as he was done, they all kneeled in the pitch black water, bowing their heads in expectance. All around them the swamp was alive. Clear, yet indefinite sounds filled the air. One by one, the rhunes lit, burning blue and green flames which danced intertwined. Aziade rose and placed her open palms above them:

"Long lost fathers of ours

Who breathe in the wind

Who bring life as the first ray of sun

Who bring death as the unfolding of darkness

Whose wicked hearts beat in our chests

Whose cold blood runs through our veins

To you we pray tonight

We your humble servants"

"It's time for you to make a claim, child. Ask the spirits whatever you want in exchange for your offering" Azelbe told Arthur in low voice gazing at her sister which stood motionless.

Arthur took a small knife out of his box and held it above his palm. "Our all powerful fathers, bless us with your gift tonight…" he began, then suddenly turned towards his aunt Aziade in confusion.

"Child, what do you want? Just tell me if you do not dare speak to them."

"I want, uh, to see someone who… who is not like us, someone different. A common mortal. In flesh and blood."

"What stupid things you are saying. Different! Miserable creatures they are… Anyway, let me phrase it," Aziade replied with a look of discontent upon her figure. With that she turned to the altar and Arthur let a few drops of his blood fall into the nearest flame.

"Our all powerful fathers, bless us with your gift tonight! Let us spread your sacred venom once more upon a mortal! Bring us a victim!" Aziade spoke loudly, her words echoing strangely in the wind.

Azelbe flinched at the sound. She had said it, what they all have been craving for. She herself had always asked for the deepening of their powers and knowledge, but never had she so daringly asked for something for herself. In ancient times witches like them did not have to ask for human victims. They just got them as a worship token. Aziade placed an arm around Arthur's shoulders, as the flame was slowly changing its color from green to yellow and then slightly reddish.

"The fathers will grant your wish tonight, it seems," she whispered, as she started to collect the rhunes spread on the altar and placed them back in their boxes.

"Aziade, why did you ask for a victim? What are we going to do with him or her?" Will we kill them?" Arthur asked curiously, picking up his box.

"Witches of the old always received such 'gifts' from mortals. One of them. They usually enslaved them for the rest of their days, since their flesh seldom is any good. And the other mortals thought they were dead. It looked like they had died, so that the ones close to them would lose all hope. It was their tribute of suffering paid to us," Aziade explained with an evil grin. "But it's up to you what you shall do with your victim," she went on.

"But still, my child, the venom must be spread," Azelbe cut in. "Otherwise the fathers will be mad, don't forget!"

With that the two old women headed back to their stone tower, leaving Arthur alone.

Alfred was starting to slowly come back to his senses. But the evil dream had not gone away, now it was as real as it could be. The bonds held him so tightly to the tree bark that he couldn't move a single muscle. The darkness of the blindfold made the sounds of the surrounding forest even sharper and the chill air deepened the creeps he felt all over his skin and deep into his very flesh. The water around his feet was ice cold. For how long he remained this way, he couldn't tell. It felt like long hours of endless terror which he could not explain to himself. After all, not even a child would believe there was something there.

Arthur stood only inches from him, watching him in silence. In the back of his mind, the wizard had doubted that the fathers would fulfill his wish. But here he was, real as could be, a common mortal in flesh and blood. The green-eyed blond stepped closer, drawn by the unusual warmth of the other's body. He seemed so fragile.

His hand reached out to the ropes, close, not yet daring to touch him, making Alfred wince visibly, moved up and gently removed the blindfold, causing the taller blond to blink quickly and squint.

"Who are you?" the wizard asked in a soft voice, eyeing him curiously in turn.

He tried to answer, but his mind was blank and his lips refused to move. The strange boy moved to his side to undo the bonds and propped his shoulder as he stumbled when they fell down.

"Uh… I'm Alfred…" he finally managed to say.

"I am Arthur," the other replied with a quick smile. "What are you doing here? Are you alright? What happened to you?"

"I… uh… Damn! I'm not sure…" the taller blond answered rubbing his forehead and bothered by his bad eyesight. "I guess some friends of mine played a prank on me. Guess they tried to scare me…"

"Weird prank," Arthur observed, looking straight into his eyes. "I thought it was a sacrifice."

Alfred looked at him quizzically, but the boy's face was perfectly serious and for a moment he completely freaked out. Upon reading his terror, the wizard's features softened somewhat.

"Just joking, goodness… Anyway, good thing I found you, then."

"Do you…. live around here?" Alfred asked somewhat suspiciously, observing the green-eyed boy's unusual outfit.

"Yeah. Actually my aunts' house is a bit further in the woods, but I was just enjoying a midnight walk."

"But… aren't you afraid? This is no place to walk alone at night!"

"Not really, no." The other smiled again fixing him with an unreadable expression in his peridot eyes.

"Well, then…" the American said, involuntarily taking a step back. It was rather awkward having a conversation while in knee-deep cold water, in a damned swamp, in the middle of the night.

"I think you should go back now," the smaller blond said at last, pointing to the house.

Alfred nodded curtly, but then the weirdest thing happened. "I don't wanna go back," he heard himself say. I must be dreaming again. It's a dream! It's a dream!

"What do you want then?"

"I want to be yours. Yours alone." His head dropped oddly, tiredly, in a sort of bizarre resignation.

"Then you shall be."

Arthur reached up slowly, his arm going around his neck and Alfred closed his eyes. This was not real. It was a sick vision taking over him, to the point he wasn't himself anymore. The venom of the fathers must be spread. The wizard removed the pin holding his cloak and thrust it into the back of his neck.

Matthew woke up startled by the alarm of his cell phone. It was barely seven in the morning, but he slowly got off the bed and headed downstairs to make some coffee. Oh, his boyfriend was going to be really pissed after this 'joke' Francis and Antonio had done to him, they had positively gone too far. Francis had gone too far and he knew why. The Canadian was all the sudden overwhelmed by an unexplained fear and rushed to Francis's room, shaking the doctor awake.

"Francis, you must wake up! Now!"

"Mmmm, come on…"he moaned. "What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter! We have to go after him. I have a bad feeling about all this!" The smaller blond was almost shouting.

"What's going on?" Lovino asked, stepping out in the corridor. "What's wrong?"

"He and Antonio played a prank on Alfred last night. They took him in the swamp. Now we have to go!" Matthew explained in a hurry as he nearly dragged Francis to the front door.

"A prank? Wait! What kind of prank? What do you mean you took him in the swamp?" Lovino grabbed his cousin's arm but Matthew pushed him outside. Antonio soon followed, still half asleep.

In the morning fog, they carefully approached the tree where the young doctor and his friend had tied the American up the night before. Pieces of rope and the blindfold were floating ripped apart on the water surface. The tree bark was scratched as by a giant claw and stained with fresh blood, glittering in the faint light.

Matthew let out a loud scream and stumbled back, clinging to Francis' arm.

"What the hell, man?! Where is he, man? What, what the fuck is this?!" yelled Antonio in shock, while Lovino pressed his palm over his mouth.

"We've got to find him! Do you hear me? We've got find him!" Matthew cried in despair.

To be continued

A/N – Oh God. Worst thing ever.