So sorry for the long delay on this chapter! I worked extra hard and made it extra long (and extra good...?) I also went back and fixed an error in the first chapter; Alyssa's birthday is in April so the game should be taking place in the spring, not the fall. A minor change, really, since most of the game takes place in the past anyway. Thanks so much for all the great reviews, everyone, I really appreciate them!
Chapter 14: Battle Eternal
Alyssa was greeted by a sea of scarlet. The sudden shift in color and brightness made her flinch and shield her eyes for several moments. When she lowered her hands again, she felt awash with relief; she was back in the mysterious room hidden behind her mother's bedroom wall.
Away from the freezing rain and unsettling darkness her mind grew clear and calm again. Fingering the key still clutched in her hand, she absently paced the length of the room and back as she thought.
Alyssa didn't know what she had seen in the darkness, but she knew it couldn't have been her mother. How could she have traveled back in time with her when she had driven off somewhere? And even if her mother had found a way, she wouldn't have walked away when they finally found each other.
She had seen her enemy's handiwork; was he as skilled at creating illusions as he was at crafting barriers?
When this thought entered her mind, it made Alyssa frown hard. She looked down at the key she was holding again, wondering if she had been wrong about it, but there was no mistaking the unique triangular pattern on the side. She had seen her grandfather use it many times to lock and unlock the desk in his study. Dick Hamilton had always been a rather private person and he made sure to keep his most important papers locked safely away. And with him gone, who else could have left the key where she would find it but her mother?
Alyssa continued to pace as she replayed the moment in her mind, but it was no use. She couldn't be sure if she had really seen what she thought she saw, or if her tired mind had been playing tricks on her. Either way, the key was real enough, and she knew her next step was to find out what other secrets her grandfather's study held.
When she stepped outside the hidden room she stopped in surprise. Despite the late hour she had just left, she had expected it to still be in the afternoon at home. Instead, there was no trace of sunlight through the window above her mother's bed. The sky had grown cloudy and dark, making the room appear blurry and monochrome. The clouds looked too murky for there to be any starlight tonight.
Stepping carefully so not to trip in the poor light, Alyssa moved across the room and opened the bedroom door. To her surprise, the hallway lights were on. Alyssa smiled to herself as she headed for the end of the hall; Dennis must still be lurking about, searching for clues. She remembered that he fancied himself a bit of a detective when they were small.
Despite the burning lamps, the house was darker than before, and it made everything feel a lot less welcoming. Quickening her pace, Alyssa hurriedly pushed open the door that led to the stairway—and almost yelped in surprise as someone on the other side let out a startled cry.
Heart thumping from the sudden fright, Alyssa peeked around the door and saw Edward leaning against the nearby railing. He had a hand over his heart and was chuckling nervously.
"An inch closer and I would've had to kiss my boyish good looks goodbye," he joked.
Alyssa felt her cheeks heat a little; she had forgotten he was in the house. "Sorry," she murmured. "I was..."
"You're back a lot sooner than I expected," said Edward, interrupting. "Did you vanquish the forces of evil that quickly?"
Alyssa lowered her gaze to the key in her hand. "No, I..."
She was embarrassed. Not because of the teasing way Edward was speaking to her, but because she had come back so soon. She felt guilty, too; Albert and Dorothy were dead and suffering eternally, and she had run away from the darkness and rain like a frightened child.
But, as she clutched the key tightly between her fingers, she knew she had come back for more than that. That little voice inside her was firmly telling her that she needed to find whatever information was hidden here before she could continue on. She suspected that her grandfather knew as much about Subordinates and how to fight them as her mother did, and all she needed to do was find the knowledge they had left behind for her.
Edward suddenly moved away from the railing, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he frowned. "What's this now?"
Alyssa looked at the desk key again. "This? It's nothing. Just..."
Her voice trailed off as Edward took hold of her other hand, turning the empty palm upward. The memory of her sudden fall to the rough pavement came back to her as she looked down at the series of scrapes and scratches that now decorated her palms. She had been too distracted before to notice, but now she realized that the harsh impact had torn through and scraped off several layers of skin. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but a few places were still oozing a little. As he studied the damage, Edward lightly touched one of the scrapes with his fingertips, making her hiss in pain.
He let go of her hand and took hold of her wrist, careful not to touch her injuries again. "Come on. I'll patch you up."
Alyssa opened her mouth to say she could take care of it herself, but no words came out. His warm hand was comforting as he pulled her downstairs with him, and the more she thought about it, the less she felt like being alone again. Closing her mouth again, she decided a little company was a good thing for the time being, though she still intended to bandage her wounds herself.
Neither spoke as Edward led the way back to his room. Along the way, Alyssa noticed that the lights had been switched on down here, too. It occurred to her that Dennis probably didn't know where the switches were for the different hallways, since their placement was a little confusing for someone who didn't live there.
When they reached Edward's bedroom she asked, "Have you seen Dennis recently?"
Edward shook his head. "Not since we parted ways upstairs."
He took a moment to close the curtains before leaving the room again. Since none of the lodgers had their own bathrooms, he had to head down the hall to find the nearest medicine cabinet. As she waited for him to return, Alyssa noticed that all of the newspaper clippings had been cleaned away.
As her eyes wandered the small room, she didn't see anything that looked like a personal belonging. The furniture, which had come with the room, wasn't embellished in any way that would make them unique to the room's current occupant. The single picture hanging on the right-hand wall was obviously one of her mother's simple landscapes, and the small bookcase off to the side held the same handful of classic novels found in every other lodger's room. Usually a lodger would put up pictures or posters, change the bedding or curtains, or add any number of touches that would make the room 'theirs'. Alyssa wondered why Edward never bothered to personalize anything.
Presently, the boy in question came back carrying a roll of gauze and a bottle of iodine. He indicated to the bed with a smile. "Have a seat."
After setting the desk key down on the nightstand, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed. Before she could reach for the gauze, Edward had dropped to his knees in front of her and taken hold of her right wrist.
"You don't have to bother," Alyssa said quickly. She tried to pull her hand away, but Edward held on firmly.
"It's no trouble."
"But..."
"You need to save your strength for when you go back to battle the legions of darkness, right?" He winked at her before proceeding to wipe her palm clean. Alyssa started to open her mouth, but her protest was cut off by a pained yelp as he began applying the iodine. Edward worked quickly and in a matter of moments he had her hand cleaned, disinfected and wrapped in gauze.
Another moment and he had finished her other hand. Alyssa absently flexed her fingers; her palms still stung a little, but she knew she was better off than if she had left her injuries unattended. She was glad her palms were now wrapped securely in gauze, considering the sort of unpleasant things she seemed to be encountering lately.
"All done," announced Edward, sounding pleased with him. He stood and recapped the iodine bottle. Alyssa flashed him a shy smile. "Thank you."
"No problem at all. I told you to come back whenever you needed to, didn't I?"
Smiling again, Alyssa got up and moved away from the bed. "Come again soon," he called as she headed out into the hall. "I get bored easy."
Alyssa chuckled a little. "I will. Thank you again."
She made it all the way to the other end of hall before she remembered the key. When she poked her head back into Edward's room he was lying down on the bed, ankles casually crossed and one arm tucked beneath his pillow. His other arm was extended towards the door, the desk key in his hand.
Alyssa flushed a little as she reached for Edward's upturned palm. She started to thank him for a third time, but her voice caught in her throat as his slender fingers suddenly closed around her own, trapping them.
"Next time you come back," he told her, his tone soft and a little lazy, "I expect a full report. Deal?"
Alyssa nodded, laughing a little. "Deal."
Back in the hall, Alyssa hurried to the main part of the house again and returned to her grandfather's study. Inside, she sat down behind the desk, unlocked the top right-hand drawer and slid it open. Lying inside was a plain brown notebook and a gray mask.
Though the mask sparked her interest, Alyssa moved it aside and took out the notebook first. Flipping it open, she immediately recognized Dick Hamilton's precise, almost severe handwriting. The message inside was brief, but it confirmed what Alyssa had come to suspect; her grandfather was well aware of the existence of Rooders and Subordinates.
'During my studies, I have made several interesting observations about the weapons of a Rooder. Specifically, the nature of their weapons or tools to completely change shape depending on the needs of the wielder. A Rooder's power is primarily the power of protection, so a lethal weapon only appears during the most dire of times. Intriguingly enough, the form this weapon takes differs greatly from person to person, a distinct reflection of that Rooder's inner-self. I have also seen evidence that an especially strong Rooder has the ability to summon their weapon at will, though this seems to be an extremely rare occurance.'
Alyssa sat quietly for a moment, thinking about how the letter she had found behind the fireplace said something very similar. The letter was still hidden in her pocket, and she pulled it out, unfolded it and began rereading it. As she did, a thought that had been teasing at the back of her mind almost since the moment she first read the word slowly crept forward; was all this happening because she was really a Rooder?
The evidence seemed pretty clear at this point, but Alyssa was having a hard time believing it. How could she be so different and not know it until now? And why had her mother kept all of this hidden from her? The more she thought about it, the more she felt sure that knowing the truth would have been much safer for her than being kept in the dark all these years.
With a small sigh, Alyssa folded the letter again and returned it to her jacket pocket before reaching down to lift the mask from the drawer. To her surprise, it was made from stone and was quite heavy. She absently hefted it in her hands as her eyes were drawn to the bare spot on the wall, and to the empty hook she had noticed before. It occurred to her that whatever mechanism the hook controlled probably responded to a specific weight; it was no coincidence that the mask she was holding was made of stone while the others were made of paper or light wood. It was also very plain, looking like nothing more than the vague image of a face.
When she placed the mask on the hook, something inside the wall groaned noisily, followed by a clicking sound. Part of the wall separated from the rest at an invisible seam, swinging inward like a door.
She had suspected as much, but Alyssa still felt a little awed as she stepped through the exposed doorway; just how many more secrets did the Hamilton house hold?
The little room was dark, but Alyssa could see the vague shape of a desk lamp. Switching it on, she looked around and saw that she was in what seemed to be a small, private library. The walls to her left and right were lined with books, but the long wall in front of her was covered in family pictures. Images of herself and her mother were scattered among the faces of distant relatives she barely knew, or didn't recognize at all.
This time, the item she was supposed to find was obvious. No doubt it was inside the large gold-colored box on the desk next to the lamp, glittering softly in the bright light. Alyssa expected to find herself on another key hunt before long, but the lid opened easily. Though the inside of the box was deep, there was only a slim object lying on the bottom; another notebook penned in her grandfather's handwriting. It was thicker than the one she found in the desk, and when she flipped it open she saw journal-like entries, starting with the 2nd of February, 1978.
'Our family—the Hamilton family—is just one of the many Rooder bloodlines scattered across Europe. Our lineage is particularly noble and I am quite proud to be a part of it—though, I admit, I did not at first believe in it, or in the Entities they have battled for so many centuries.'
Her heart thumping, Alyssa absently walked out of the secret room and sat down, growing so absorbed in her grandfather's words the rest of the world seemed to fade away.
'My late wife, Francesca, was the first to reveal the existence of Rooders, Entities and Subordinates to me, but in the arrogance of my youth, I dismissed it all as superstitious nonsense. I was also quite angry when I learned that the Hamiltons follow their own tradition in regards to marriage; since the Rooder bloodline only passes from mother to daughter, a male joining the family is expected to give up his surname and become a Hamilton, instead of the other way around. Naturally, I objected to this arrangement at the time, and when her mother clung to this tradition so hard and fast she went so far as to say I would be denied Francesca's hand if I disagreed, I very nearly walked away, but my love for Francesca won out in the end.
'It was shortly after our marriage that I found the Book of Entities, and finally realized that the Rooders are far more than just a fairy tale. I spent the following years studying their history all I could, while Francesca devoted her time to raising Nancy, our daughter. I quickly grew proud and honored to be part of such a grand and noble calling, but I couldn't help feeling a little inferior and—it shames me to admit—jealous, in such a matriarchal environment.
'Like all Rooders before her, Nancy's powers hit their peak during her early teens. Francesca trained her carefully, and I armed myself with knowledge, but I was still terrified when the time came for her to face the battle she had been born for. Fortunately, the situation she faced was not nearly as life-threatening as some I have read about, and she returned home safely. Still...I could not help feeling frustrated by how helpless I was during the entire affair.
'Time flies by so quickly. Nancy is already eighteen, and her Rooder powers are almost gone. Like the generations of Hamilton women before her, she will soon marry in order to continue the bloodline. Just like that, her childhood is over and gone. Before long there will be another man in her life, and she will turn to him from now on instead of me. It breaks my heart to think of it.
'And so the Hamilton family continues; my first grandchild was born today. Nancy allowed me the honor of naming her, and I've chosen to call her Alyssa. I only wish my dear Francesca had lived to see this day. I can already tell that Alyssa will grow up wise and strong, and I sense that her role in the Rooder bloodline will be one of particular significance.'
The final date was marked the 25th of April, 1988.
Alyssa slowly lowered the book to her lap, her eyes wandering over to the nearby desk and resting on the dusty tome still lying open there. That old book was the first time she read the words 'Rooder' and 'Subordinate'; had the same book opened her grandfather's eyes to their existence as well?
Still clutching the worn notebook in her hands, she got up and went to gaze at the portrait of Dick Hamilton.
"So, it's true then," she murmured softly, both to herself and to the painting. "I am a Rooder...my whole family is. Mum tried to keep it from me to protect me, but..."
But I've the same Rooder strain that she has, she realized. "If she was able to do it, then I know I can, too," Alyssa decided, suddenly full of confidence and hope. "I'll go back and save Dorothy and Albert, and then I'll finally be free of this nightmare. And I'll find my mother, too."
She looked up at the portrait a moment longer before leaving the study. She hurried back up to the scarlet room and saw that the mysterious portal was still glowing, waiting for her. After straightening the glass bottle on her hip, she walked to the middle of the circle and was swept back to the stormy night in November, 1963.
When she felt the harsh pelting of raindrops, Alyssa ducked her head and made a beeline for the Rand's door, careful not to go so fast that she tripped again. Back inside, she retraced the map of the large house she had formed in her head as she walked briskly down the empty hallway. She was pretty sure she had been everywhere she could go, but there had to be something else here. Another secret passage, maybe; those seemed to frequently cross a Rooder's path.
As she moved by the adjoining hallway that led past the door imprisoning Dorothy, Alyssa paused. After she had been driven away by the force keeping the door shut she had forgotten about the other one, the one at the far end of the hall. Now she walked towards it, careful to stick close to the right-hand wall. When she reached for the doorknob, she almost expected it to jump or jerk in her hand, but it remained still. Completely still; no matter how hard she turned it, it refused to budge.
Grunting with effort, Alyssa pulled and pushed against the door as she alternately twisted the stubborn knob left and right, but it was old and rusted and stuck firmly in one position. Not ready to give up, Alyssa pulled back and rammed the door with her shoulder.
She didn't expect much to happen, but the feeble old door gave way with a splintering sound as part of the frame tore loose. Alyssa fell forward with a startled squeak, and the next thing she knew she was back outside. Her hands brushed the ground as she struggled to regain her balance, and she felt quite glad that her injured palms were protected from the dirty rainwater.
Straightening, she looked around and saw that she was in a narrow space between the house and another building, which she assumed was also owned by the Rands. She was facing the side of a set of stairs made from brick and iron, and to her left was a closed door. A glance inside told her that it was just an outhouse, so she headed to the bottom of the stairs and started upward.
At the top of the steps were two doors leading inside the brick building next to the Rands' home, and off to the left was another set of stairs leading downward again. Alyssa tested the closest door and discovered it was locked, so she followed the soft light cast by the nearby glass sconce to the other door. As she drew closer, she noticed that the rain wasn't as heavy here. The air was still unbearably cold, and she was relieved that the second door was unlocked.
As soon as she stepped inside the new room, her nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh wood, different types of glue, and the strong aroma of paint. There was a long workbench running along the walls, almost encircling the entire room. To the right of where she stood was a set of double doors, which she guessed led into the room that was locked from outside.
This room, which was obviously where Albert made his toys, was a mess. There was a table and a set of chairs in the center, all knocked aside or tipped over. Parts of unfinished toys had been knocked from the bench and scattered around, and rows of unfinished laundry hung above her head from strings. Alyssa was drawn to the workbench, knowing that if there was anything lying around that could help soothe Albert Rand's soul, it had to be here.
Alyssa slowly made her way around the room, checking all around and under the bits and pieces of unfinished toys. As she pushed aside what looked like the framework for a rocking horse, she bumped a fat green bottle that reeked of strong chemicals. She gingerly pushed the bottle safely away from the edge of the workbench, careful not to breathe too deeply.
As she turned away from the dangerous-looking substance, she noticed that the room had somehow turned brighter. She turned around and saw that the light hanging from the middle of the ceiling had switched on. She also noticed, with a rapidly beating heart, that the room was now neat and orderly. The laundry overhead, which had been brittle and stiff from hanging too long when she first came in, looked freshly hung and damp, and the scent of detergent mingled with the other fragrances in the room.
The sound of footsteps were approaching, making her heart beat even faster. With a rapidly forming realization of what was going on, her eyes darted around the room, seeking some place to hide. She quickly spotted and darted into what looked like a storage cubby in the corner of the room. It wasn't very concealing, with only a curtain of beads hanging in front of her and a screen draped with laundry nearby that partially shielded her from view, but it was the best she could do.
As she scooted further back in her hiding spot the side door swung open and Albert Rand strolled in. Not the tortured soul she saw a little while ago, but a sturdy-looking man who stood tall and walked with brisk, deliberate steps. He paused near Alyssa's hiding place, making her insides clench fearfully, but then he moved on and stood next to the workbench.
Alyssa wasn't afraid of him—not at all—but of what was about to happen. She watched, hand pressed to her mouth to hide her breath, as she watched Albert examine a smooth length of wood. After turning it over in his hand, he picked up an awl and began gouging a tiny hole with the sharp point. Behind him, the door swung open again, making him turn around in surprise.
"You shouldn't be wandering around alone," he gently chided the kind-looking old woman who shuffled in, cane in hand. "Especially at night."
"Oh, nonsense," said Dorothy, half-resisting, half-allowing her son to guide her to a nearby chair. "I'm not so far gone that I can't call my only son in for dinner."
Her sightless eyes closed, Dorothy listened with her head slightly cocked as Albert put his tools away. "You've been squirreled away in here for days," she commented. "Perfecting some new wooden wonder, I imagine?"
From her hiding place, Alyssa watched as Albert turned away from his mother and reached for something on the workbench. She held still and kept silent, but on the inside she was screaming. She wanted to shout at them to run, to find someplace to hide, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. She was helpless to stop what was happening right before her very eyes.
Just like May, the Rands were being forced to relive their deaths over and over again. Any second now their murderer would appear. She wondered, vaguely, if they were as unaware of what was to come as they were the night it first happened, or if they knew all too well and were powerless to stop it. Perhaps they were screaming inside as well, helpless as their pretend bodies were puppeted through their final actions before death.
Albert draped something over his mother's shoulders. Her worn hands felt the material curiously. "What's this?"
"A little something I put together during my spare time," her son replied, his voice gentle. "For when the nights get cold."
Though she couldn't see the shawl or its vibrant colors, it was clear the kindly old woman liked her son's gift very much. But before she could fully express her thanks the set of double doors behind her burst open with a crash that shook the small building to its foundations.
Alyssa let out a startled scream before she could stop herself, but the sound was lost amidst the Rands' own shouts of shock and fear. Dorothy, who couldn't see what was going on but knew that something was terribly wrong, was trying to duck beneath the table. Looming behind her was the same figure Alyssa had seen in the reporter's photographs, though he looked far more horrible in person.
The protective smock he wore was covered in red and brown stains, and the mask he was wearing hid his face. There was some kind of filter at the mouth, probably to keep him from breathing in the toxic chemicals he carried around. Like the previous Subordinate Alyssa had seen, he moved with almost animalistic aggression, although, she quickly noticed, his movements were much swifter. With a wild laugh, he shoved the feeble table aside and seized the terrified Dorothy by the throat. Her new shawl, made with such loving care, fell to the floor and was trampled beneath their feet.
"Happy families like you make me sick," he hollered, still laughing as he hauled the screaming old woman across the room and slammed her against the workbench. Toys and tools clattered and banged to the floor.
Alyssa had to remind herself that this wasn't really happening, that getting up and trying to help them wouldn't do any good. They were already dead, and if tried to interfere now, there was a pretty good chance she would get herself killed, too. She forced herself to stay still as she watched Albert vainly grab a chair, ready to pummel the undead being assaulting his mother.
The Subordinate just laughed and pulled something long, thin and tube-like from his back. As he turned around, still clutching the wailing Dorothy, Alyssa saw a tank strapped to his back. The object in his hand was connected to the tank with a slim hose and there was a small nozzle on the end. After easily knocking the chair out of Albert's hands, he pointed the nozzle at him and squirted a yellowish liquid onto his arm. Albert recoiled with a pained howl, knocking into the workbench as he backed away. His attacker bent and picked up something that had fallen to the floor, all the while laughing like a madman.
Suddenly Dorothy was released, but with no sight and her mind locked up in fear, she couldn't do anything more than stumble around blindly, screaming and sobbing as she called for her son. Behind her, the killer reached for Albert, the object he had picked up raised above his head. Alyssa saw a flash of silver and realized it was the awl Albert had been using earlier. Too sick to watch any longer, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and clamped her hands over her ears, but she wasn't able to block out Albert's screams, or shut the image of what she knew was happening out of her mind.
The screams only lasted a moment, and when Alyssa dared open her eyes again, the acid-killer was dragging Dorothy out of the room. Albert was half-lying, half-kneeling on the floor, one hand pressed to his bleeding face. The other was stretched fervently towards his mother, helpless to stop the man who was dragging her into the next room. There was a metallic banging sound and then he returned, hoisting Albert onto his shoulder as if he were nothing but a toy himself.
Alyssa scooted from her hiding place, staying close to the workbench as she crawled to a spot where she could see into the other room. There was little point in hiding now; this horrid moment in time was almost over, and then she would be the next target. Just like she had been after witnessing May's death.
Through the open doors she could see the killer pushing Albert, headfirst, into an empty drum. He then reached for a large container, like a gas can, one of several sitting next to the drums. "With both of you blinded, you'll be damned to wander the afterlife forever. You'll search and search, but you'll never find each other again," were his last words before he began pouring the acid into the drums.
There were more screams and a lot of noisy thrashing, but things quieted down again with shocking speed. Alyssa, breath ragged, gripped the edge of the workbench behind her as she got to her feet and stared through the open doorway. The killer had his back to her; if she moved quietly, could she get by without him noticing?
As the thought was forming in her mind, the undead killer turned around, acid-spewing weapon in his hand. "Would you like to join them?"