So you can guess who the next major villain is going to be causing more problems for our heroes. And as for the introduction of Moreland's manor at the beginning of this chapter, its exterior is based off this real place I found online, called the Longfellow House on Brattle Street in Cambridge, a city in Boston, Massachusetts.

Chapter Thirteen

Dinner Disaster

This house had been his that he worked long and hard for in uptown Boston, this two-story estate whose previous owner suffered financial difficulties and was forced out. Dr. Eric Moreland mused this as he prepared the last of his hot dinner for six in his white-and-slate updated kitchen which had at one point been falling apart from years of neglect before it was his. Dan and Francesca would be coming, and so would Heather...and Herbert West, his old friend and fellow scholar from school days. He remembered very vividly from the old days how he clashed with Dr. Carl Hill in his own neurology classroom in front of Eric, Daniel and the other students, calling his work a copy of a Dr. Hans Gruber's whom Eric himself knew all too well, but shouldn't be surprised when some of their peers didn't know who he was at all.

Moreland had moved to Boston right after the carnage in Miskatonic Medical's morgue because things at the school hadn't been well, and Dan had been through a lot of issues when he turned in his former partner. Eric had no exact involvement in their "monstrous" activities, but that did not mean he wasn't aware. They might have kept it a secret from the world until the terrible second time around, but they couldn't keep it from him. Even speaking to Dan about it wasn't much help for his mental state at the time. Herbert had been a brilliant colleague, his theories and experiments spat upon...but Eric Moreland always wanted a part of it, and it made him angry that his own friend didn't trust him as he did with Daniel. Now that girl.

Not long after hearing about the Arkham Penitentiary's breakout and numerous deaths, he knew that Dr. West was returning, and hinted that the jail's doctor – none other than Heather Phillips – had been involved, so when she arrived in Boston, there had been the face he had not seen since his arrest. Sans glasses, Herbert West was the same as he remembered him, and he had not changed at all in thirteen years. Still arrogant as ever, still chasing his trails of corpses in the lab at the cemetery; I know he is, Eric thought with a smile.

His associate at the rebuilding prison had informed him that the young doctor had an assistant by the name of "Frances Dexter" last seen when she carted off a dying inmate to the hospital, but failed to return the next day when Phillips did. The answer he'd been given was that he was still new, but the last Warden who was killed in the chaos hadn't put his record in the system. Now his old friend, the new mortician, was under the name of "Frances Dexter" to the world for safety's sake. He and Heather clearly weren't careful enough, but Dr. Eric Moreland was a master of disguise himself, namely masking his true inner self.

Especially with his plan tonight, involving a certain little vial in his pocket he would gently salt over the dish of a certain ex. She would be playing a part in what he had next.

~o~

It was hard to believe that life was getting better, but it all felt like it was still a dream, a dream Heather wondered if she was even awake half the time. Here she was in her bedroom, surrounded by soft greens and shades of gray for serenity, wearing her dress for tonight: black flattering her body's curves, zipper trailing from the front top down, silver lining down the front as well like chains. In her ears were earrings in five parts, each stone in the five classic shapes of romance. She chose to let her hair run wild. She felt really pretty, but nervous at the same time. Mostly because she, Herbert, Dan and Francesca were heading to Dr. Moreland's house for dinner. She had never been to his house before, not even when she first moved to Boston, but she guessed it was bigger than the Cain residence and much nicer. Not one single person alone could rival a happy family like this one.

There was a knock on her door. Heather answered in time to see Francesca standing out there, her hair elegantly piled behind her head, her dress a two-piece and glittering gold with scrolls about the jacket and hem of the skirt, and her earrings and necklace patterned interlocking golden knots – just the bedazzled Italian gem that she was. "Oh, you look amazing," Heather said, opening the door wider and letting herself be seen for the other woman's eyes.

Francesca's eyes glittered. "Mio Dio, mamma mia! You're stunning; he's going to love to see you!"

Heather grinned and stepped out after her, closing the door behind her, black clutch in hand. "Finally warmed up to him now?"

"He's not so bad after all, like he used to be," the older woman answered as they walked for the steps downstairs. "He hasn't been any trouble."

The men were downstairs already; Dan's suit was gray with a white shirt and burgundy tie; Herbert was back in the black suit, white shirt and tie, obviously not comfortable trying something new, and Heather couldn't picture him in anything else but this. He's just so handsome this way. His attention snapped upwards with Dan to see her and Francesca descending the stairs towards them; his jaw literally fell to the floor. It made her laugh. The exterior-composed Herbert West, weak at his knees at the sight of her; it made her smile wider, baring her teeth at him. "Oh, Heather..." Yep, he was speechless.

Dan had his wife by his side before announcing them leaving now. "Adrian is staying the night at Robbie's, so we got tonight for ourselves then. Should we leave now while it'll last?"

"You bet." Heather had the time to look at Herbert, deep into his warm eyes and melt under them before accepting a kiss of tender love and affection before they followed their friends out to the car.

~o~

When Herbert stayed behind in Boston for Heather to clear things up in Arkham, he'd reunited with the man who had been one of his longtime friends and colleagues, Dr. Eric Moreland, and the meeting had been nothing short of pleasant, though Herbert knew better to be on the lookout and not take this too lightly. People change with time. When he told Dan this, he simply laughed and told him to not be silly, that Eric was the same as he remembered him, welcoming him back with opened arms. Him and another colleague, Dr. Leslie Coburn, who also happened to be Eric's ex-wife, divorced after three years of marriage some time ago.

Dr. Coburn had taken a liking to him, but she was also still wary of him, something he was still used to. But that didn't stop him from worrying if he thought she knew who he was and could make the step in calling the cops when he lowered his defenses. Dan interfered again, stating Leslie knew nothing about him, but chances were her former husband could have told her some parts of the story. It makes me wonder how they put up with each other despite separation. He snorted at the thought; Eric Moreland had been known to lose his temper but not physically lash out at anyone.

Both ex-husband and wife would already be at the house before them. The house was almost like a plantation in New Orleans or something: yellow and white-trimmed, dark shutters, and overall charming. Herbert never paid attention to places of residence as long as it was a roof over his head, but to think of this place better than the Cain house – Eric must be thinking he's better now that he still has a house like this to himself, if his ex-wife doesn't have something better for herself now. It sickened him that today the battle of the sexes hadn't changed one bit. He believed a man and woman should be equal, not one better than the other.

Nobody said much of anything to each other as they ascended the three flights of four steps up to the front door, stopping only to hear shouting voices on the other side. They froze, unsure of what to do before Herbert made the first move and walked to the door, pressing the side of his face to hear muffled threats he could make out coming from Moreland to Coburn, who had chosen to take back her maiden name after the split: "Just pretend to enjoy tonight with us or so help me God –"

"Herbert, could you just ring the bell and make them stop?" Dan called up.

His voice had gotten the attention of those on the other side, and there was the sound of footsteps rushing to answer without waiting for the bell to ring. Eric stood there, smiling his best – Herbert wondered how long he'd practiced before now for that – and in a dark navy suit and gray silk shirt. "Oh, come on in, everyone. Sorry you had to hear everything."

"Let's just pretend we didn't, Eric," Francesca said with chilled politeness as she stalked past him and walked over to Coburn, who was remarkable in a citrus yellow dress and heels, her jewelry of exotic gold coins jingling every now and then. Heather followed her, and the women whispered to each other while the men had their fair share of private chatter.

"What was that about?" Dan demanded.

"Just that she still refuses to see me the way we used to," Eric snapped back. "She's here only for you guys."

"Could it be that perhaps she simply does not see eye-to-eye like she used to?" Herbert questioned, eyes hard on him. "That perhaps you should accept the fact it's over now and move on?" His attention soon landed on what looked like the old wedding photograph in Tiffany silver, the once-happy couple holding hands, and she stunned the eyes in a geometric-patterned dress too simple for a destined-to-be-happy marriage. "No couple should live at odds regardless of the situations they find themselves in." Except random silly times, like myself and Heather.

"Les and I were great together before –" Eric started before he was interrupted.

"Eric, are we going to get started on dinner before it gets cold?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. Everyone, let's enjoy the fine meal and welcome the newest member of the team...and a very old, very dear friend." He winked at Herbert, who caught something fishy in the way he said that.

Dinner was rather pleasant, save for the obvious tension between the ex-married couple as all of them savored white wine with scallops, spinach and rice; it made Herbert feel like he wanted to sleep early tonight, but he forced himself to remain awake for the duration; Heather's hand on his knee made him jerk slightly. She smirked at him; it was her method of keeping him awake. She drove him crazy, but that was one of the things he loved about her.

All the talk of love made him realize it now, and he couldn't turn back now. He knew he loved Heather Phillips because she was smarter than any other woman he encountered in his life, she got him away from that godforsaken place once and for all – hopefully he would never return again – and her sister's death did not turn her on him. She helped him go forward with his work; she might question him at times, but she learned in the end. He didn't want to lose her at all, so now he was also sure about the one thing he knew he was missing out on that he wanted to ask her but, at the same time, was worried she wasn't ready for such a big step.

He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts when there was the sound of coughing, coming from none other than Leslie. She put a hand over her mouth and quickly apologized before standing and walking for the door. "I'm sorry, but I'm suddenly under the weather. I should be heading home now."

Eric stood from the head of the table. "Les, are you sure?"

"Very," she returned, and the door slammed shut behind her.

Instinct told Herbert something was wrong, and he looked to Heather with a silent nod. She caught his signal right on. "We're going to be right back," she told the others, and she was out of the house in a buzz with him just in time to see Leslie choking up blood and leaning against her car for support. She hacked up more blood, leaving burgundy gunk on the gray concrete below. Herbert rushed over and helped her up; she was now gasping and holding onto him, at the same time holding her car keys out to Heather, who took them and ran around to jump into the driver's seat to start the engine. Herbert helped Leslie into the back of her minivan, where she was still gasping for air and trying to speak.

"No, don't speak," he crooned, holding her close. But he had to know what her intuition was. "What's happened, do you think?"

She croaked it out. "P-poison. I t-th-think he..."

"Moreland did it to you," Heather seethed from behind the wheel. "That bastard, I should have known he'd do this. I know cases like this time and time again."

"I knew a man who killed his wife via domestic abuse," Herbert said, remembering Lt. Leslie Chapham. "He was one of the final straws before my arrest. Like Hill, he got what was coming to him."

Heather chewed her bottom lip. "We have to take you to the hospital," she told Coburn, who shook her head frantically before throwing her head back and coughing up more blood that stained her chin and dribbled down over her dress, staining scarlet against yellow. There were a few more frantic gasps before they both soon heard no more. Herbert checked her pulse. She was dead. He swore under his breath.

Heather swore, too. "Jesus Christ, what did Moreland do to her? What kind of TOXIN did he feed her and where?"

"Either the wine or the food...not that it matters. Police charges might not be pressed against the celebrated physician himself since I know him better to clean up after himself," Herbert fumed. He knew all along that his old friend had changed over time, just knew it. Dan was a fool, once again, but he would realize it soon enough. Eric was now their enemy, but he would be dealt with soon enough. And right now, his murdered ex-wife needed "care". "Take us to the lab."

Heather did as she was told and brought them to the cemetery where he and only he was around at night safely from prying eyes, and where he kept another set of his nanoplasmic device and more re-agent. He carried Dr. Coburn's corpse in his arms as he and Heather marched up the steps to the embalming room where his creation was kept. As soon as they were inside, Heather turned on the lights and walked in first, following the routine in preparing a syringe and then another of Thorazine. He'd taught her well. Herbert smiled and closed the door behind him with his foot; it slammed shut loud with a bang. Then he crossed over and laid the body down on the metal table reserved for the corpses before her. He then took her ankles and wrists, tying them to all four corners. "Okay, she's ready." Heather marched over and brought the syringes; he took the Thorazine from her and nodded for her to start it. She'd done it before, and he'd seen her without failure. She nodded mutely and lifted Coburn's head, exposing the back of her neck, and brought the needle to the very top where the spine met the brain.

She pulled it away in time and quickly took the Thorazine needle from Herbert, jabbing it into the main vein within the crook of the dead woman's right elbow, finishing the job off in time for the body to twitch and lash its head forward with a strangled cry, blood spurting from its mouth once more and splattering in more directions other than its own dress, nearly hitting Herbert and Heather in the process. Heather backed away behind the head of the table as Dr. Leslie Coburn returned to life, gurgling and choking on her own blood like she did in her last moment on earth.

"Dr. Coburn!" Heather shouted when the spasms and inhuman shrieks became too much for her. She ran over and took the face in both hands, holding it down. "Please, calm down!"

At the sound of her voice, the undead woman stopped struggling and settled on wheezing and gasping for air. Herbert rushed over to the closet where he kept the capsule and power cord – and the NPE of the mortician before him. He plugged it into the wall and moved over to the table, where Heather now had her head raised for him to insert the tines; Leslie jolted and squeaked at the metal contact in her neck. Heather then laid her head back down for him to do his thing with flipping the switch.

Moments later, Leslie was calm and relaxed, moaning and blinking her eyes to adjust to her new surroundings. The sooner she did, she flipped her eyes between him and Heather, frowning. "What happened? Where am I?" Another quick look at her surroundings, and her eyes went wide with alarm. "I'm in a morgue, aren't I?!" she shrieked, struggling against her bonds Herbert thought was for the best. He walked over to her, smiling softly, and put his hand on her shoulder, easing her back down.

"Please, Doctor, don't strain yourself, and please calm yourself. Eric poisoned you, and you were dead for but a few moments. But we saved your life, and we'll make sure he pays for it," he promised her.

Her face relaxed then, but the doubt was still there. He was half-expecting what happened to Laura would happen to her, but nothing. It seems her will to live is stronger than I think. But how can I be certain? He moved to help Heather untie Leslie, him staying on one side and Heather on the other. I suppose we'll find out.

However, just as Heather was helping her colleague stand, there was the sound of clapping hands from the shadowed back of the room, and Herbert was instantly on high alert as he moved to stand before the two women as they both faced the suited man who had come from the unlocked back, which Herbert cursed himself for not checking.

"I must say, Herbert, that was marvelously done," Eric Moreland said, his slimy smile in place. "You triumphed over all obstacles in your way and conquered death, but it's a pity it had to be in unauthorized situations. And the wrong timing when you should have been more discreet."

Dun dun DUN! Yeps, old friend turned enemy. I hope I managed Eric Moreland so far; like I said, he's tough. And WHO do you think his mysterious "associate" at the prison is? And most of all: WHAT is he planning?

Also, please don't judge Herbert about the unlocked back door. ANYONE can make that mistake; he's human like everyone else. I hope I wasn't too critical.