I'm going to be honest - for the past four chapters or so, I'd completely forgotten where I intended to put the box in this story. I honestly had no idea who had it as I was writing, just that it wasn't Kirsty. It's more elusive than the pin!
Ah well. We're back on track with that little plot point, ya'll. Onward and upward. Be kind and stay spooky.
-Inky
"Kirsty?!" Joey was the one who could shout, but Tiffany was faster. They had both left Terri in the car as soon as they'd realized Kirsty was missing - not answering her phone, nowhere to be seen, not even anyone around who could have seen her. Joey ran behind her sister and shouted Kirsty's name.
It was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity later that Tiffany stopped in her tracks. Joey caught up to find her staring, hands unmoving at her sides.
"Tiffany?" She looked at her sister, but Tiffany didn't budge at first. Joey followed her gaze, and her heart dropped into her stomach. It was the back door to the museum, hanging just slightly ajar. That by itself wouldn't have been an issue, were it not for the sound.
It was the sound of a crowd cheering, finally pouring into the museum for the opening event. There were still hundreds flocking in, even with those that'd left before, and if Kirsty had come in before them...
"How the hell are we supposed to find her like this?" She looked to Tiffany, who was already texting Kirsty again. No responses came - she didn't even leave them on read. Tiffany looked at Joey with glistening eyes, then back to her phone. She switched contacts.
[Kirsty's missing] she typed, and Joey watched as a little bubble indicated Captain Spencer's response.
[I found her, but I can't reach her.] Joey and Tiffany looked at each other with wide eyes.
[Where is she?]
[She's safe, but I don't know for how long. My other half has her, and unfortunately he's not alone. They're somewhere in the museum, but I don't have a sense of where, just that it's dark.]
[Is he going to hurt her?!]
[It doesn't look that way, but he isn't my main concern regarding Kirsty. I can't get close to her either, but there is another resident of the Labyrinth wandering around, and she seems to have plans of her own that involve the Cenobite Prince. I will try to warn her of his companion before she returns, but in the meantime, you two try to get back inside. I'll work with Terri. Good luck.]
He stopped typing. Tiffany pocketed her phone and looked at her sister; Joey nodded, face uncertain.
"I can get us inside," she said, "but getting past security will be tricky. Kirsty would be able to handle it no problem." She looked back to the museum. "...If we can figure out who his companion is, do you think we can follow her to where Kirsty is?"
"We could," Tiffany signed, "but what if she does hurt Kirsty before we can get to her?"
"Good point. We can try to figure out what she wants first, and maybe how to slow it down." Joey tied her hair back, a firm look on her face. "But we are getting our sister back. Are you ready?" Tiffany nodded, and the two slipped into the back door. It closed behind them.
Damn. Despite her efforts, they'd gotten the power back on; perhaps she should have been more thorough with her attempts to keep those wretched crowds at bay. Now they flocked the museum, pointing and chattering and saying look how pretty! at the designs that mirrored her true home, a pale reflection of paradise.
She would fix that soon, she thought to herself as she followed the tour group through the halls. To her frustration, the LeMerchand led the group, clearly too focused on his presentation to remember her. She had almost coaxed him into showing her the basement, where she could have gotten him started on his real work, but that was clearly not going to happen at least until nightfall. Angelique would have growled in frustration if there weren't so many witnesses.
This was proving fruitless. She split off from the group, weaving her way through cologne-covered and perfume-soaked patrons, making her way for the basement. If she could not get to work on opening the portal now, she could at least enquire to her newest toy about where he supposed the Lament Configuration could have been.
Toy indeed. Though she had yet to see him as the Leviathan intended, what she had seen was quite impressive; an immaculate face calculatingly decorated, a tomb carved with devotion and intricate detail. This was a Prince worth keeping, alright; though he hardly possessed the experience of those before him, clearly he'd taken no time in claiming a reputation in their world of respect, admiration, and fear. Yes, he'd make a fine toy until she could open the portal and claim this world alongside her own.
Angelique slipped past the guards and made her way back to the basement entrance, and as she did the air grew thick with the taste of the Labyrinth. Despite her frustration, she smiled. It seemed she would be pleasantly surprised.
And indeed she was, for at the bottom of the stairs she found a pile of rubble in the column's place; but more important was the figure behind it, striding in from behind some boxes. Did he wait until I returned to make that entrance? She thought with a hint of amusement, stepping forward.
"It seems the extra help is unnecessary," she said, eyes drinking in the sight before her. Oh, he was a work of Leviathan without question; a soldier's posture and broad shoulders bound in exquisitely-shaped leather, marred only by the wounds inflicted on his front. Despite herself, Angelique quietly hummed in approval.
"So it seems," he responded, "though your fortune does not appear so rich. Was your search wasted, Princess?"
"Not so," she responded with a pout, resisting the urge to fold her arms over her chest. He looked down at her between the pins that masked his face, and she had to say that the missing one was less pronounced when she had to look up to make eye contact. "I found our LeMerchand, and while he does not have the Configuration, I can sense its influence." She reached up and stroked his cheek, just for a moment, and those black eyes followed her hand. They were the color of the Labyrinth's waters, she thought, but before she could continue he caught her wrist. The prince did not squeeze it, but did lower it.
"That is where we should put our focus, then," he said with a trace of disinterest she didn't appreciate, "if we are to open the doors as you so hope, Princess."
"Do you not hope so as well?" She could taste the ambition seeping off of him - none of the restraint of a Leviathan's Son. Still he did not appear as interested as she had hoped, but perhaps that was only because he needed some persuasion.
"Hope is not an indulgence of mine," he said, and while she could sense the but floating on the end of that sentence, he didn't speak it. Instead he folded his hands behind his back. "I am interested in flesh, and how best to subjugate it to my design." She took a step to his side, slowly circling around him, and let herself smile.
"And what is your design, then?" She asked, watching his eyes follow her until she disappeared behind him, stepping back into view on the other side. "Do they involve all those lovely toys hanging at your waist?"
"I believe you would know them well, Angelique. The Labyrinth has always been a continuation of what has come before it." He appeared nonplussed as she traced hand down his chest, even as a drop of red blood stained her finger. She pressed further; he moved her hand away. "I've heard stories of the time before the Cenobites, Princess." His tone turned... well it was something, but she couldn't tell if it was teasing or a warning. "A great many stories, of seduction and ensnaring of souls."
Whatever he intended, Angelique decided, he did not sound impressed. Did he think himself better than her? Were he not Leviathan's chosen of the age, she'd have slapped him for such an implication, however imagined. But this is not the time, she thought to herself, and smiled at him again.
"It has been so long since then," she cooed, pushing the thought from her mind, "Surely you wouldn't mind catching me up on a few things, hm?" She hoped for a spark, a raise of an eyebrow, something, but there was no light of interest in the Prince's eyes. "Tell me about the souls that restored you. Where are they now?"
"Returned to the Labyrinth," he said, "to be shaped by the Engineer, no doubt. I did not control the column, though I had my own designs for them had I the opportunity." There may not have been interest in her, but she could hear the cruelty laced in his voice, the turning of gears in his dark mind. Perhaps there was a way to get through to him after all.
"There will be plenty opportunity," she said with a smile, daring to reach her hand up again, "to enact your designs, Cenobite, when both realms are ours to command. I can promise you that. And I would be delighted," she said as she traced his jaw with one blood-stained finger, "to see such designs in person."
Any gentility in his touch was gone; he grabbed her hand away and dropped it beside her, even as he smiled with such a look that could have been either genuine interest or its mocking facsimile. His grip had been fleeting, but she could feel the twinge of a budding bruise nonetheless.
"Such promises, Princess," he said, a hint of mirth in his tone. She pouted, but he did not sway. "Let's not waste time making more. We cannot proceed without the Lament Configuration. Find it, and I will remain here and take hold of the museum. I believe Merchant will be easier to bend once he is at another's mercy, rather than there whim."
Angelique's hand was hurting. Her wrist had five points that buzzed with displeasure, and she was not enjoying this game. He was a brute, this prince, a brute more interested in torture than temptation, and he was playing with her like a toy. How disrespectful, she thought, for him to disregard her legacy and talk down to her.
"I will do better than that," she said, "I will have both before anyone even knows you're here." She didn't wait for a response, instead turning and striding up the stairs and towards the din of the masses that had finally come inside. She wasn't perfectly clear on where the box was, but she had theories - and if he had been so close, the puzzle must not have been far behind.
Angelique pursed her lips. She had sensed the box before, and it would not be hard to follow her senses again. She slipped back into the crowd, through the doors of the museum, and disappeared into the afternoon buzz.
So this chapter got really long on me. Chapter 9 to come soon!
-Inky
