CHAPTER 3

A/N – Dear all, I must confess that I am surprised by all the attention this creepy tale is getting. Anyway, I'm glad you people enjoy it, so here's the last chapter! ;)

Warning: character death

It had been almost a month now from that day, but Matthew remembered it as it had been yesterday. They'd never found him, not a single trace, like he had vanished into thin air. Sure thing, the swamp was deep, hard to search… Francis had not told to the police the whole truth about the 'prank'. More precisely, he had told them Alfred had agreed to the whole thing. And they had believed him. On top of it all, he realized that Francis had changed, to the point that he didn't know him anymore. They had always had their differences, but his lover was a good man, never capable of such a thing. The more Matthew thought of it, the less it appeared to him as an innocent prank and more as a carefully planned scheme. Francis refused to speak of it, he constantly avoided the subject, which only made him more suspicious. He'd never thought that Francis' jealousy would take such a turn. Never.

And now he was all alone in the apartment he and Alfred had shared. All Alfred's things were here, in more or less of a mess, his favorite guitar in one corner, everything just as he had left them, as if he had never left… The Canadian felt so helpless now, so unfair of them, who were supposed to be his friends, to leave him here all alone with his disappeared boyfriend's stuff, like he was still here.

The thought of Alfred lying somewhere, in that dark, muddy water sent shudders along his spine and his brow covered in cold sweat. The image of the ripped tree bark was ever present before his eyes. What terrible fate had they put him to? He was dead, that was for sure. There was no doubt about it - the blood, his blood, left no doubt. No hope. He, them, had caused his death, he and Francis. Murderer! whispered a voice in the back of his head, digging deep into his brain. It was his fault. He was guilty. The ringing of his cell phone momentarily brought the young man back from his thoughts.

"Mon cher, what's going on? Why didn't you answer earlier? I called two times," he heard Francis's voice at the other end of the line, somehow impatient.

"I just, you know, I've been thinking…"

"Oh? What have you been thinking of?"

"It's not… it's not fair, it just isn't. What's going on. And you've changed. You weren't like that, Francis," the Canadian said pressing a hand on his brow.

"What do you mean it's not fair? And I've changed? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice was harsh and now Matthiew knew he was mad.

"You just… don't care about me anymore, now that I'm all yours and… You left me here alone with all Alfred's stuff!" the smaller blond shouted.

There was a pause. Then Francis's voice came in a much cooler tone. "Matthieu, listen to me, very carefully now. Alfred is dead, he's not coming back. You have no reason to be afraid or anything. I'll call his cousin next week and tell him to come pick up his stuff. Don't worry about it, oui mon cher?"

"How do you know he's dead? They never found him," his lover whispered in reply.

"Amour, if he wasn't dead he would have returned, or let us know where he is, or we would have found out something about him, don't you think?"

"You seem so sure he's dead, when we didn't even find out what actually happened to him!"

"Matthew, you saw yourself…"

"And you lied to the police too! It was you, your idea, you did this to him! You…" but the younger stopped right before saying it.

"I what? I killed him? Is that what you were about to say? That I killed him?!" the Frenchman shouted back.

"No, I just think…"

"And since when do you fucking care about him so much?! Now you miss him or what? I don't fucking understand you anymore!"

"Francis, I just feel…" he whispered but the doctor had already hung up.

Alfred felt like he was waking up from a deathlike sleep. His body bore an unexplained fatigue and numbness, yet somehow his senses were sharper than ever. He was rediscovering the world all over again through them, though his eyes were closed. It was like his eyes could somehow perceive the bright sunlight and he could hear all the sounds, some near and clear, others distant and vague. He gathered all his strength to lift his eyelids and discover where he was.

Suddenly darkness and silence struck him alike and he winced in dismay. He was lying in an old wooden bed, in a small stone room with only one window. He was frozen to the bone. Two old women were standing on each side of the bed, staring at him inquisitively, their countenance showing an increasing disgust as they visually examined him from head to toe, yet they did not say a word. To Alfred, their appearance was positively horrifying. Their features were gruesome and their long arms covered in dry skin ended with long curved claws. They wore weird robes of indefinite color and their long grey hair was tied in countless knots.

Suddenly, Arthur appeared out of nowhere and leaned over him, with a playful smile.

"What… what happened?" the bespectacled blond asked in a low voice.

"Not much… Your wish came true, that's all."

"My wish?" Then he remembered saying it. The back of his neck burned and he pressed his hand over the aching spot. The old women headed to the door whispering inaudibly and they closed it behind them.

"You need some rest now," the green-eyed boy said softly, pressing a cold hand on his forehead, making his prey fall back to sleep almost instantly.

Alfred was awake again, but his state had improved only slightly. He was still somehow dizzy, but now the night's events were coming back to him with surprising clarity - the talk with Francis and Antonio, being taken to the swamp and tied up to the tree. Nothing made any sense whatsoever. And where was he now and who was this strange boy?! The next thing he realized was that Arthur was sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at him with an unreadable expression. The other blond quickly sat up and moved a bit away from him, wincing when the wizard's cold hand cupped his face gently.

"I know you are confused now, but it will all go away, do not be afraid."

"What?! Where am I? And what do you mean? What will go away?" Alfred muttered, struggling to find his words.

"The memories of your… human life," Arthur replied, still caressing his cheek and drawing closer.

"No, no, wait! This is not… I cannot do this!"

"Why not? You no longer belong to that world," the boy whispered as his pale, thin fingers now drew small circles on the other's jaw line.

"What do you mean?! No! I have… There is a man I love! I do! Matthew!" Alfred screamed, but his voice seemed to fade with every word he spoke. "I will stay true to him…" he added bowing his head.

The wizard stood up and looked down at him, frowning all the sudden. "I think you haven't seen the sun in a while. It is time to do so."

He grabbed the bespectacled blond's hand and led him out of the room, on the stone terrace. The afternoon sun blinded Alfred and he instinctively shielded his eyes. They walked up to the left end of the terrace, which was sunken in shadow and stopped in front of a large stone bowl. It was filled with clear water and various colorful pebbles lay scattered on the bottom.

"What is this?"

Arthur dipped his hand in the bowl and ran his long fingers through the pebbles, scattering them even more."Rhunes. You have some questions and now they shall be answered. Just call me when it's over," he explained pointing briefly to the bowl and left the taller blond alone.

Alfred leaned over the bowl's edge and touched the water with his fingertips. It slowly began to change its color, growing a darker and darker shade of green. Mattie… he whispered inwardly, suddenly wondering where his lover was now. Was he searching for him? Just as he thought it, the water surface changed and took the appearance of a mirror. For a brief moment he could see his own face, but then the image changed completely. He could recognize Francis' place, his bedroom. Francis was lying in bed, with a wild expression of fury all over his features. Alfred had never seen him like this. The image puzzled him and he took a step back. The sight of Matthew entering the room made him quickly approach the bowl again and lean even more over the edge.

He needs some fucking pills! Cause he can't sleep… Francis said as Matthew climbed in bed next to him. Alfred gripped the edge of the bowl and squeezed until his knuckles went white.

What if I want his money? You know I don't care about him!

The words struck him with bruising violence and the pain gathered in his throat, choking him.

Now Matthew was in his room, wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing him.

I just felt I couldn't stay any minute longer away from you!

He felt the touch painfully on his skin and closed his eyes, crushing his tears under the eyelids.

What have you done to me?

These tears were poisonous. Alfred quickly wiped his cheek with the back of his trembling hand.

Why am I here?

Francis sat on a wooden bed, in a room resembling to the ones in the house they were in last night.

Breakdown. It happens to a lot of people. Many are on the edge. Alfred is on the edge… He said it himself… The doctor muttered to himself, while an inhuman smile blossomed on his lips.

Alfred's hands went to his temples, squeezing hard, wishing he could look away, but somehow his eyes were stuck on the cursed mirror.

That's what we're gonna do. Take him to the swamp and leave him there for the night… Francis was telling Antonio, as he now fingered a thick pile of ropes.

The nightmare was coming back and Alfred couldn't handle it anymore. He crouched down on the stone floor, with his back turned on the bowl, but the voice still made its way to his ears.

A plan involves planning. I took care of this little matter. This should be enough to make him dizzy enough for a little while, after which he will wake up there…

The words echoed in his mind long after they were gone. He sat there motionless, hugging his knees, with his eyes closed, while bitter tears burned his cheeks.

At last he lifted his head and saw Arthur crouched in front of him. The wizard's deep green eyes watched him with curiosity and he reached out, collecting one teardrop from Alfred's cheekbone on his fingertip. He examined it in concentration for a moment, before wiping it away on his trousers.

"Is it over?" the boy wanted to know, helping him up at last.

"This is… I don't even know you, Arthur," the other blond said, turning his head to the side.

"Oh, but you do know me, Alfred. We met a long, long time ago, and ever since I have always been there… and you have always felt me, and all the spirits of the swamp. Is that not so?"

The green-eyed blond smiled and his fingertips caressed the other's cheek ever so gently, travelling down to his neck before he reached up and placed his lips on his. Arthur's mouth had the addictive taste of all forbidden, cursed love, that which is eternal but never quite present, never real enough to grasp. Alfred would pray, but his mind had gone blank, he would beg for mercy but he was at a loss for words. At length, the wizard pulled away and concentrated on the bowl of rhunes, lightly touching the water and making it freeze into a perfectly smooth surface.

"Alfred, I will have you. And in return, you can ask whatever you want of me."

The other young man drew back in dismay as he remember all the nightmares he'd ever had, every moment he'd been afraid ever since that day in his childhood and the cold he felt within deepened. It was pointless to oppose whatever venom it was that was taking over him.

"I want you to show me what it's like."

"What what is like, exactly?"Arthur asked somewhat suspiciously, looking up from the bowl.

"To be like you."

At last Matthew woke up from his febrile sleep. Outside was a cloudy day - a sick, filthy light was pouring through the windows, leaving no place to hide. A pronounced sensation of emptiness had started in his chest and now was spreading throughout his entire body, drying the blood and shriveling the flesh. As he was sitting curled up on the floor, next to the bed, he turned around quickly at the sound of a strong rain hitting the window. Big, liquid drops splashing, sliding quickly on the glass and gathering on the window sill. Looking closer, he was aware of the tiny particles of dust that the rain drops carried. The water on the window sill had something in it - mud. It was filthy. The Canadian drew back as it began to slip under the wooden frame and into the room, closer and closer to him. It slid incredibly fast, now it was already on the floor, making its way towards his bare feet.

He had desperately climbed up onto the bed, when he heard the front door opening. Pointlessly he shook his head, but the sounds would not go away. Steps were drawing closer and he waited in terror to see the door knob moving.

It opened with no sound and Alfred passed by him, walking up to open the wardrobe near the bed. He started gathering his stuff in no hurry and put them in his old backpack, while his lover watched him in a trance like state. His movements had something surreal and everything else seemed to have disappeared around them.

"Alfred? Is it you? Is it really you? You're back…" the smaller blond whispered, as tears began to slide down his pale cheeks.

His boyfriend took his time, then eventually closed the backpack and slowly walked back to him. At the sight of the look in his eyes, Matthew involuntarily drew back, crouching at the far end of the bed. Alfred's hand was cold and the other tried to escape his touch, but his eyes had remained captured by that deep gaze, which had nothing human in it any longer.

"Do you love me, Mattie?"

His voice seemed to come from a distant dream, yet it was dreadfully present.

Fearful, helpless tears welled up in the smaller blond' eyes. "Yes! Yes, Alfred, I love you! I do love you, you know how much I love you!" he cried as he gripped his boyfriend's hand, trying to remove it from his face.

"Yes… I know how much you love me. And that's why I trust you shall do the right thing, my love…"

The words stung like needles deep in Matthew's brain as he felt the other's fingers digging into his flesh. He closed her eyes for a moment and when he reopened them, Alfred was gone. So was the rain, the water on the floor and the horrible feeling in her gut. They were all gone. He was sighing in relief when he noticed a small unknown bottle on the nightstand. It contained a strange liquid, which seemed to permanently change its color. His hand clenched around it against his will and for a few seconds the young man hopelessly struggled with his own thoughts. Then, his mind went blank and he slipped the bottle into his pocket.

The Frenchman was already a bit worked up as he parked the car outside Matthew's block. Why the hell did he act this way all of the sudden? He knew that Francis couldn't take him to live with him right now, all their friends would get suspicious. He kept replaying the smaller blond's words in his mind over and over again - was he really accusing him of what had happened? It was true that he'd had vile intentions, but he was no murderer. He had not wished this to happen, never, he had just wanted back what was his. Anyway, Francis knew that being hard on Matthew would not do any good.

"Matthieu? Where are you?" he called in a soft voice peeking around. He found his lover in the living room, crouched on the couch. "Are you alright, mon cher? Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you the other day, I promise it won't happen again, okay?"

The other stared blankly at him for a moment and then lowered his gaze to his feet, but remained oddly silent.

"Look, I really don't understand what you are acting like this right now. Do you really think I did anything on purpose to hurt Alfred?" He tilted Matthew's chin up as he spoke. "After knowing me all these years you think I am capable to kill someone?!"

But the other still didn't answer, instead staring blankly at the wall. The doctor was beginning to lose his temper and walked to the bar to pour some whiskey. His lover looked up at him and suddenly jumped from the couch, gripping the hand with which he held the glass.

"No, no, don't! You mustn't, no!" the Canadian yelled trying to get it from his hand. Startled, Francis laid it on the table.

"What…?"

"Francis, listen to me!" he hurried to say cupping his face with both his hands. "Listen to me! Alfred… Alfred was here! He was here today, he… he was here and, and…"

"Matthieu, calm down, calm down alright? You're not feeling well!" the taller blond shouted, grabbing his arms. "You must calm down! No one was here, oui? It's all in your mind, it's not real!"

"Yes it was, he was here, he picked up his stuff! Francis, you have to believe me, his things are gone, you can… you can go check if you want!"

"No no, you listen to me! I don't want to check anything, this is insane!" The Frenchman took the glass from the table and was going to drink when his lover snatched it out of his hand and slid its contents down his own throat.

"I had to do this… You must know, I tried to tell you…" he whispered, collapsing into his arms.

"Matthieu?! Matthieu, what's wrong?!" the doctor yelled.

"He knows, Francis…"

"What? MATTHIEU!"

But the younger went limp and his eyes closed. Francis let the body drop to the floor and looked around wildly. "This is not happening!" he screamed, hands desperately gripping his disheveled strands of hair.

"You are on the edge and will have a breakdown, I guess…"

It was sometimes pleasant to spend a Saturday evening far from the world, with a fine book and a glass of vodka, Dr. Braginski thought as he enjoyed his cigar at the window of his swamp house. It was so quiet here. However, the pile of exam papers waiting on the table caught his eye and he turned from the window, mumbling.

The sound of a car coming his way caught his attention and the Russian returned to the window, curious. Then he saw his former student Francis alone in his car, heading straight for the swamp and could not believe his eyes. He stormed out of the house calling him, but only a moment later the car vanished from his sight, as if it had never existed.

A week later, Dr. Braginski sold his property.

THE END.