Chapter 11: Gathering Darkness
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica Schwarz, Luke, Volker, and the plot that isn't from the movie belong to me.
Author's Notes: A huge thanks for the tons of reviews I received! It's the most I've received on one chapter ever! I'm very happy right now; on January 5, 2007, I received my acceptance letter from college! And cd2185, who is writing a Hellboy fanfic called All Part of Fate? drew two beautiful pieces of fanart of Erica and Kroenen in A Shadow to a Heart! Anyways, here we are at chapter 11: Get ready for a topsy-turvy ride of fear, insults, and romance. Honestly, what could be better? If you don't know them by now, here are the German to English translations: 'Ja' is yes, 'Nein' is no, 'Mein Gott' is My God, and 'Guten Tag' is good day. Enjoy the chapter!
vihnanime: Ha, sorry about the cliffhanger, I promise there isn't one in this chapter!
musicamode: Oh joy? Most people would be happy never to see Rasputin again. But from a plot-moving-forward view point, his reappearance does mean lots of entertaining trouble.
Psycho Clowns: Yes, there's definitely something romantic involved with Erica and Kroenen. But their problems are about to get much worse with the addition of a certain someone…hint hint!
Schemergirl: A new reviewer! A big hello and thanks for the huge review! Lord of the Flies? I could see that, with the talking pig's head sort of like the Shadow Man. And I'm pleased you think Erica has avoided Mary-Sue-dom, perhaps it is because she has character flaws? And as for Erica's last name, I believe you're the first one to catch onto the meaning!
Psycho Llama: I'm flattered that you love my writing so much! And yes, poor Abe, he doesn't realize he's going to have competition for Erica…
iluvrocknroll: No evil cliffies in this chapter!
amyltrer: No, the Shadow Man isn't one of the Ogdru Jahad; he's the embodiment of all evil, plus a personality. And yes, I suppose he would have a higher rank in Hell then they would. Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet the Shadow Man? Oh, and you reminded me to address the problem of punishing Kroenen, and inspired by your review, I solved the problem and put it in this chapter! I think you'll like the solution.
Elena-Unduli: Another new reviewer! Hello! As for updating, I do it about once a month, give or take a few days.
DarkCloudRider: WOW! That has got to be the biggest review I have ever seen! I'm flattered that you devoted so much time to reading my story, and that you enjoyed all the characters and scenes I added (the undertaker, the werewolves, the vampire, Jake and Anna, Kroenen and Ilsa 'sneaking around'). And as for the thing with Abe, I have a feeling it won't work out, no matter how much he and Erica might want it to. And as for Luke, I'm not sure if he had a stroke, I haven't gotten that far with his character. But you will be seeing him again, and you've given me a great idea for him! Thanks again!
"Revenge should have no bounds."—Shakespeare, Hamlet
"Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose."—Samuel Johnson
The BPRD
Professor Broom's Study
Night
Abe's obsidian eyes flicked open as something disturbed his sleep. He floated idly and sleepily in his tank, gazing blearily out at the darkened study just beyond the aquarium window. Nothing was amiss, the dark silhouettes of the furniture and untidy piles of books were all familiar and comforting. Abe relaxed and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to slowly overtake him again. He drifted off into the darkness, breathing slowly—
BANG!
Abe's eyes flew open in shock at the loud noise; he turned towards the aquarium window so sharply that he spun into an awkward flip. He expertly righted himself and peered anxiously into the study. The door, he thought, one of the study doors must have hit the wall. Abe's gaze focused on a moving figure running towards him, dodging the furniture and the piles of books that littered the red carpeting. It was Erica.
I wonder why she's awake? Abe thought. Then he saw her face; it was pale and tense. The fish man's stomach clenched with dread—something was horribly wrong.
"Abe!" she shouted, seeing him.
In her rush, Erica brushed by one of the tables; the books and papers on top of it tumbled to the floor in a flurry of newspaper clippings. Abe stared at her as she stopped a few inches from the glass. Her grey eyes were wild and Abe could feel her heart thundering. Abe's vision blurred as her fear-drenched thoughts slammed into his mind like an eighteen-wheeler hitting a concrete wall at 100 miles per hour.
Erica tried to speak, but only an odd choking sound escaped from her lips.
"What's wrong?" Abe asked anxiously.
In reply, Erica launched into a string of broken German mixed with English. Abe had no idea what she was trying to tell him; she was babbling incoherently and her thoughts were so scattered and disconnected that he was unable to make head or tails of them.
"Erica, slow down," he said gently, trying to calm her.
She stuttered and struggled for a moment as she tried to switch to English. "Gri—H-He's back!" she exclaimed. Her breathless voice shuddered as she spoke. "He's back!"
Abe didn't need to ask who she was talking about—as he looked into her eyes an image of an eyeless man dripping in blood appeared in his mind.
Oh God, Abe thought, horrified.
"He's back," she murmured; her German accent was stronger than usual. She hugged her arms around herself like a small child; Abe could see she was shaking. She leaned her face against the aquarium window and her tears smeared across the clean glass.
"Wait right there," he said, starting to swim away from the glass and up towards the surface. As he went he heard her whisper, "Don't leave me."
Abe quickly clambered out of the water and crossed over the intercom set into the wall, heedless of the water he was dripping all over the spotless tile floor.
"Professor?" he said, speaking into the box as he pressed the button set into it. He repeated himself three more times before he got an answer.
"Yes, Abe?" The old man's voice sounded sleepy.
"We have a problem. Erica's in the library," Abe said, unable to disguise his worry, "I think she's had a vision of Grigory's return."
"I'm on my way," Broom replied. There was urgency in his voice.
Abe hurried into the study. Erica was still kneeling on the floor beside his tank. Abe knelt in front of her and strengthened his mental shielding before he put his webbed hand on her shoulder.
"What happened?" he asked, searching her face, "Are you all right? Did you have a vision?"
"Yes. Nein. Forced astral projection. I was there—He saw me!" Tears ran down her cheeks. "Abe, he's going to kill me; he knows where I am."
"Shhh," Abe whispered, trying to comfort her. He pulled her closer and hugged her; he could feel her body shaking as she wrapped her arms around him. "Shhh. It's all over."
"No it's not," she said, speaking into his shoulder, "It's starting all over again."
She buried her face in his shoulder, oblivious that her clothes were getting wet from the water on his skin. Abe could feel her salty tears sliding down his skin along with the water that was slowly dripping onto the carpet. He felt something warm and thick running down his side and gently disentangled one of his arms so he could touch it. His webbed fingers came away wet and sticky—it was blood. Erica's blood, he thought. He looked down at her and noticed her right arm was spattered with small crimson drops of blood.
"Why are you bleeding? Did you fall?" Abe asked.
"Nein. Kar—Kroenen stabbed me."
Abe was extremely unsettled. What? How could that happen in a vision?
There was only one way to find out: he cautiously dropped his mental barriers and opened his mind to whatever images or thoughts were in Erica's mind. What he saw hit him like the knife Kroenen had used to stab Erica's arm. The chaos of the disturbing images laced with fear assaulted Abe like a nightmare and he quickly jerked away.
"What's wrong?" Erica asked.
Abe realized her had let go of her. "I'm sorry," he said, hugging her again once he had restored the barriers, "I saw more than I was prepared for."
"Me too," she whispered, resting her head on his chest.
The door of the study swished open and Broom appeared; he was wearing slippers and a brown dressing gown that had been hastily pulled on over his pajamas. He clutched his cane and limped towards them, his aged face tense with worry.
"Are you both all right?"
"Yes. Some of us more than others, Professor," Abe answered.
"Erica, would you tell—no, I won't put you through that again," Professor Broom said, "Abe, would you show—er, tell me what you saw?"
Abe quizzically blinked at the Professor but did as he requested. When he had finished, Professor Broom slowly straightened up, tightly gripping the handle of his cane.
"Sixty years," he said, "Only sixty years. And they're back."
Erica's sobs had slowed to sniffles; she pulled away from Abe a little and wiped her face with her hand. Her eyes were pink and swollen looking.
"Mein Gott, what am I going to do?" she murmured.
That was a good question. Abe knew how lost and scared she was; he wanted to help her. Suddenly he had an idea. "You're going to come with me to the Medical Bay so I can bandage that cut. Then we're going down to the kitchen to make hot chocolate."
Erica smiled at him through her tears. "That sounds wonderful."
Abe smiled back, feeling suddenly warm and happy despite the ominous news about Grigory Rasputin. He stood and helped her to her feet. As Erica started towards the door, Abe looked back at Professor Broom. The Professor smiled at him and nodded his approval before a more serious expression clouded his face.
"Take care of her, Abe."
"I will."
Abe wasn't sure if Professor Broom meant at the moment, or if he had guessed the fish man's real interest in Erica. Abe had a feeling it was the latter; sometimes the Professor was as perceptive as any psychic.
What a strange time to fall head over fins in love, Abe thought.
But he didn't care at all.
XXXXX
The BPRD
Conference Room
Morning
A plate of donuts and bagels sat in the middle of the table next to a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Erica cradled a cup of hot chocolate in her hands as she watched Tom Manning toss back what had to be his fourth cup of black coffee in the last hour. I can't believe he can sit still with all that caffeine running though his system, she thought.
Manning set his coffee cup on the table. He was tired; due to last night's emergency, the meeting had been called in session earlier than it had been scheduled. Manning had been awakened at home by the phone ringing, and, after talking to the agent on the other end, had rushed out the door. He wasn't sure he was glad he had arrived on time: it was a somber group that sat around the table.
Hellboy sat on one side, glowering at his father and holding his coffee mug so tightly it was amazing it hadn't shattered. The red demon finally relinquished his death grip on his mug to grab a bagel, which he sawed at vigorously with a bread knife, tossing crumbs across the table in the process. Abe was fiddling with the projector; it was on the fritz, apparently because it had been doused in orange soda at the party in the cafeteria the night before. And on top of that, instead of discussing the wrap-up of the werewolf mission, they were talking about a twice-dead monk.
"Ah ha!" Abe announced triumphantly. Light flickered on the screen on the wall and finally coalesced and focused into a black and white photograph of a man. The caption read: Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin.
"So. This Rasputin is back," Manning said, "Why?"
"Damn! Chocolate chip! I thought it was cinnamon raisin!" Hellboy said around a mouthful of bagel.
Manning glared.
"What?" Hellboy asked, shrugging.
"Ahem. To get back to the subject at hand…" Professor Broom said sternly. Hellboy studied his coffee intently. The Professor continued, "Rasputin is back to finish what he started. Fortunately his efforts to release the Ogdru Jahad were stopped the first time he tried." The Professor met Erica's eyes and they both shared a small smile.
"And do we know how he's going to do this?"
"Not really," Abe said, "I doubt he would attempt the construction of another portal generator; he knows Erica will have alerted us. He doesn't have the time. Nor does he have the influence or the power he once had; as far as we know he only has two supporters."
"Who?"
Abe changed the picture being projected to an old black and white photograph of a masked man and two women in Nazi SS uniforms; one of the women was Erica. Manning frowned at the photo; he hated Nazis. He directed his baleful gaze down the table at Erica, who didn't notice.
"Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, the Fürher's Top Assassin and the Head of the Thule Occult Society," Erica said. She gestured at the masked man in the photograph. "And Ilsa Haupstien, a member of the Thule Society, and Grigory's lover. Both of them were with Rasputin last night."
"And what do they have to get out of helping this guy destroy the world?"
"Paradise, or so they believe," Broom said.
Manning sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair. There's always some psychotic nut trying to wreck the world, he thought. "Do we have any idea where they are or might go?"
"Ja," Erica said, her voice quieter than usual, "They're coming here."
"Why?" Manning demanded.
"Kroenen told me he knows where I am. He's going to try to kill me when he gets here."
Manning glanced at the photograph projected on the screen and decided he didn't like the look of the masked assassin. Kroenen was creepy, just like the rest of the freaks Manning had to deal with every day, and that included the ones inside the BPRD.
"So we shoot them before they get close, big deal," Manning said, taking a drag on the stump of his cigar.
"Ilsa may die, but Kroenen is undead," the Professor explained, "And he's not the 'normal' undead."
Manning turned on Erica. "Any idea why an undead Nazi is after you?" he asked accusingly.
She shot him a look that said 'where have you been?' Manning gazed back; he wasn't one to let himself be intimidated. He couldn't be expected to remember the ins and outs of everyone's file, after all. After a short pause, Erica started on an explanation.
"I betrayed him, injured him, and then managed to escape. I think that's probably more than enough reason in his mind," she said, sounding irritated.
"And what if this Kroenen—assassin—does come here because of you?" Manning asked. His expression was far from concern as he imagined informing more families that they'd lost a son or a father. "You'll be endangering everyone in the building! If someone is killed, it will be your fault!"
"Tom. Calm down," Professor Broom said. It wasn't a suggestion.
Manning reluctantly settled back in his chair and took a few deep breaths. For her part, Erica looked composed, though her grey eyes were icy.
"Even if I left, Kroenen would still come here. I'm not the only one he and the others are after," Erica said; her voice was steady. Manning waited for her to elaborate, but instead she looked up at the photo on the wall, seemingly lost in thought.
Beside her, Abe grimaced as he caught a whisper of her thoughts. Despite her calm exterior, Erica was afraid that her presence would bring Kroenen to the BPRD. The fish man shuddered as he caught some very graphic images of the people Kroenen had murdered in the past.
"Maybe the danger would be less if I was gone…" Erica murmured, speaking just loud enough that Abe and Hellboy could hear. Abe could see in her eyes that she didn't really believe it.
"Nah, we can deal with him," Hellboy said confidently, "You and me and Abe? Hah, we can take him, no problem!"
"I agree. We'll be in more danger if we split up. And no one can enter the BPRD against our wishes; the building has wards on it," Abe said; he directed his words more at Manning than at Erica.
Manning picked up the pristine papers in front of him and shuffled them intently, trying to ignore the fish man's gaze. Manning's eyes fell on two of the pages: reports of the vampire in Transylvania and the 'Werewolf Incident'.
"The reports mention that Volker and Luke both issued warnings to you. Independently of each other. Volker said something about the dead and the undead traveling fast, and the long dead being alive. The werewolf said the dark was stirring," Manning said. He shuffled the papers again out of habit and stared over them at the three special agents. "The BPRD doesn't like patterns."
"Luke isn't on their side," Erica said.
"We don't know that. Your report says they hired a vampire. Why not a werewolf?"
"Luke helped us," Hellboy said. His golden eyes narrowed.
Manning dismissed Hellboy's comment with a wave of his hand. "Since the vampire has been destroyed, I propose we find this Luke and bring him here for questioning."
"If I may interject," Abe said, "That will take a considerable amount of time. We don't know the location of Luke's home or the appearance of his human form. And with the latest threat of Grigory and the others, I think our resources would be better used preparing to deal with the remaining members of the Thule Occult Society."
"That's settled, then," Professor Broom said, jumping in before Manning could continue. He stood up, leaning on his cane. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to leave for my doctor's appointment."
CRASH!
"Damn it!" Hellboy cursed as his coffee mug toppled over, spilling its scalding contents across the table and onto the projector, which fizzled ominously.
Everyone leapt to their feet to avoid being burned by the coffee. Professor Broom slowly closed his eyes and shook his head as Hellboy scrambled to clean up the mess with a wad of paper towels. Over on the wall the image of the photograph flickered and then disappeared as the projector gave up its life to the coffee's onslaught.
"Great. That will have to be replaced," Manning growled. He gathered up his few papers that weren't soaked in coffee and walked out, grumbling.
Professor Broom turned to Abe and Erica. "Expect Clay to arrive before I get back," he said, and then lowered his voice so only Erica and Abe could hear. "The new agent should arrive shortly after my return." The Professor winked and then headed towards the door—without saying goodbye to his son.
Abe watched Broom leave, concerned for his friend. He's not telling us the entire truth, he thought, Something is wrong. He just said he was going to a doctor's appointment, but last time he said it was important personal business. And he wouldn't let me touch him so I could show him what Erica saw last night…Oh well. He knows what he's doing; I won't pry into his business. He must have a good reason…
The few remaining members of the meeting broke up; two agents came in to escort the still-grounded Hellboy to his room.
"Aw! Come on you guys! This isn't about the coffee, is it?" Hellboy protested as he was led away.
Erica stood in the middle of the concrete hall and stared after him.
Hellboy chirped happily and crawled into Broom's lap where he sat smiling and contentedly twitching his tail like a pleased cat…the baby demon batted at the rosary dangling from his father's wrist…
Erica smiled at the memory of her voyage to America, and at an event that had followed soon after:
Professor Broom stood in front of her, hands on his hips, looking extremely irate.
"Do you know what Hellboy said?" he asked.
Erica shrugged and looked back down at the book she was reading.
"Pamcakes?" she guessed.
"No," the Professor said, a hint of danger in his voice, "He was sitting next to me, playing with marbles and gurgling nonsense, and what did I hear him say?"
"I wait with baited breath."
"I heard, out of my sweet little baby, the German word 'arschloch'."
"Oh. Oh dear."
"I can't imagine where he might have learned that, can you?" Broom asked, leaning in close.
"I, um, didn't teach it to him," she said, searching for an explanation.
"No, I thought not. Which means he overheard you say it!"
Needless to say, Hellboy's foul language had stuck with him to the present day.
Erica watched as Hellboy, escorted by the two agents, turned the corner. Her gaze lingered on his right hand and the symbols engraved in it. She shuddered as she remembered what she had said to Professor Broom on that rainy October night in 1944:
"Where did you find him?" she asked, gazing at the half-demon baby cradled in the Professor's arms.
"In the ruins." Broom answered.
"And it didn't occur to you that he came through the portal? That Rasputin sent him through?"
"Yes, it did." he admitted. He absentmindedly arranged the blanket that the 'baby' was wrapped in.
"Then why didn't you kill him?"
"In cold blood!" exclaimed the Professor, shocked, "That's murder! He's just a child!"
"He's a demon," Erica insisted, "And Grigory Rasputin sent him here with a purpose—to destroy the world!"
Broom gently put the baby down on his bed of blankets and then turned to face Erica.
"Erica, listen. I know he's a demon. That's something that I can't change. But I can raise him to be one of us—I know I can! No one is in a better position than myself to raise a demon so he isn't evil."
Erica desperately hoped Professor Broom was right. She knew she wasn't the only one Grigory was after.
She just hoped Hellboy knew, too.
XXXXX
Airspace over the North Atlantic Ocean
Morning
The airplane roared over the sparkling ocean that lay far below. But in the warm interior of the plane the sound was reduced to a muted growl. Grigory—no longer covered in blood, but still eyeless—was sitting in the front of the plane's cabin, eating and drinking with a grace amazing for someone resurrected only a few hours before.
Ilsa watched him from her chair in the middle of the cabin. She wondered what thoughts were running through her lover's mind. Grigory had shared part of his plans with them as they had descended the mountain, aided by magic since Grigory had been too physically weak at the time to climb down the rocky trail. After that they had gone to an executive airport in Moldavia and bartered passage on a private flight—unrecorded, of course.
And now they were headed towards the United States of America. And revenge.
She smiled and her long, red fingernails tightened like talons on the armrest of her chair.
Behind her, in the back of the cabin, Kroenen was brooding silently. The black folds of his leather trench coat had settled around him like wings; he resembled a depressed vulture.
The only time Grigory has spoken to Kroenen was to give him orders, Ilsa thought. Kroenen shouldn't have disobeyed him by trying to kill Erica. But I can't really blame him; the temptation must have been terrible.
Rasputin was punishing the clockwork assassin where he was the most vulnerable, and in a way that Kroenen couldn't enjoy the resulting pain: Kroenen's punishment was psychological pain.
Rasputin was ignoring him.
I wonder how long it will be until Kroenen doesn't care anymore, Ilsa thought. He already has pain and guilt about not killing Erica sixty years ago. And then there's his murderous obsession with her. Maybe he's insane enough that he'll just stop caring about being ignored.
But that wouldn't be for a while. Kroenen was a proud man. He was still the Head of the Thule Occult Society, he was still the best assassin on the face of the Earth, and he was still the best manipulator of clockwork. He would not take well to being treated as a servant, only spoken to when he was given orders.
In the back of the airplane, Kroenen sat, staring unseeingly at the tan wall opposite him. He didn't know how he felt; he was simply existing. He was happy that his Master had returned, but that happiness had been seriously marred by Erica's appearance a few hours before, and his resulting punishment. The clockwork assassin knew he deserved it, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.
And he was frustrated: Grigory had ordered him not to kill Erica until Anung-un-Rama was in Russia. Kroenen wondered if this was just further punishment.
The assassin clenched his teeth together, just barely preventing the escape of an angry hiss. I don't want to wait—that traitor has lived sixty years longer than she was meant to!
However, Grigory was allowing him to torment her—providing the resulting wounds weren't serious enough to keep her inside the BPRD. They needed to get her out in the open and keep her busy; their entire plan relied on the BPRD being too active and tired to notice what was really going on.
Of course, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself when I find Erica, Kroenen thought. He was surprised Grigory had trusted him to have self control; the incident in the mountains had proved Kroenen barely had any where his Angel was concerned.
On the other hand, Kroenen wanted to avoid blindly murdering Erica in a fit of temper. He wanted to savor his revenge. He wanted her to die properly; a sacrifice to the Ogdru Jahad. Perhaps Grigory is relying on that to keep me restrained. But why does he need her alive until then? Surely if she was dead there would be less of a risk she would interfere with our plans.
Kroenen didn't know, and he didn't like it. But it's all for the best, he thought. He wouldn't disobey his Master and risk further punishment. Then he grinned wickedly. Besides, I haven't quite finished my plans for when I meet Erica. But gods and mortals had best beware when it is finally time for me to claim my right.
He peered out the window, watching the ocean race away as the airplane sped towards the United States—a place Kroenen had only dreamed of visiting in order to kill his wayward Angel. The game has begun, he thought. With Grigory to lead them, Kroenen knew they would be the victors.
They had made their move. The clock was ticking.
XXXXX
The BPRD
Professor Broom's Study
Late Morning
"This beacon Kroenen put in me—is there a way to get rid of it?" Erica asked.
"I certainly hope so," Abe said as he scanned book titles. He was perched precariously on the rung of a ladder, and he was much higher up than was comfortable for him. "The connection is dangerous; whatever he's plotting to do to you in your dreams isn't going to be good. Here—catch!"
Below him, Erica caught the book; she added it to the pile on the table as he descended the ladder. Needless to say, Abe was quite happy to have his two webbed feet back on terra firma. It's not my most favorite element, he thought, but at least I'm not afraid that I'll fall.
He picked up the nearest book and began flipping through it; Erica did the same.
"It's odd that I could find the beacon but couldn't get rid of it," Abe said, "Kroenen must have used some other method than just perverting psychic abilities."
"Ja," she said, and then trailed off in thought. Abe glanced sideways at her, knowing she was debating with herself.
"Abe," she said, breaking the silence, "I have an idea. Do you remember the books Professor Broom and I recovered from the ruins of the mansion?"
"Where Kroenen and the others lived?"
"Ja, those."
"What about them?"
"Kroenen had to learn how to create that beacon. If he learned it from a book, maybe that book survived the fire."
"Perhaps," Abe said, cocking his head as he considered the matter. "But be careful; those books were made by evil to be studied by evil. The books know you're no longer their rightful master."
Erica nodded and started up the iron spiral staircase, stepping over a pile of books heaped on the lower steps as she went. Abe watched her go; he only returned to his book when she had disappeared and the only sound was her jackboots striking the final metal steps at the top of the staircase. For a few minutes he was alone, scanning yellowed pages and then carefully turning them with his webbed fingers. The comforting bubbling of his water-filled collar filled his ears and provided a nice backdrop of white noise to prevent the silence from becoming oppressive.
Erica's return from one of the storerooms was heralded by the clatter of her descending the staircase. Abe glanced up just long enough to see she was carefully carrying a large box in her arms; it was made of an unidentifiable dark metal, and every inch of it was inscribed with protective wards and symbols of power.
Erica set the heavy box on the table with a loud thump, wiggling her fingers out from under it just in time to avoid smashing them. She pushed the box back from the edge of the table and fished around in the pockets of her trench coat for the keys.
I really do hate using these books, she thought, sighing. She shuddered as her fingers suddenly wrapped around the three cold iron keys in her front pocket. Reading them makes me feel unclean, like I'm so dirty that no amount of hot water and soap could ever wash it away. But they might help me…
Erica vividly remembered the trip to Germany she had made with Professor Broom. It had been several decades ago. Professor Broom, with her assistance, had recovered some books from the charred ruins of the mansion she, Kroenen, and Ilsa had once called home. Most of the extensive collection of occult books and scrolls had burned to ash or disappeared by their own means, but a few of the books—the ones now in the possession of the BPRD—were powerful enough that they had barely been damaged by the blaze that had greedily devoured the decadent mansion.
Erica unlocked the box. She took a deep breath, and opened the lid. It swung easily on its hinges, and the air that rushed out smelled of yellowed parchment and old, charred wood. If you ignored the chains wrapped around each book, they looked innocent enough. But Erica knew better.
She scanned the titles, mentally translating the foreign and forgotten languages into English until she spied a likely candidate. She cautiously removed the book from the heavy metal box and then quickly shut the lid.
She unwound the chain from the book and—holding her breath—opened the book to the first page. It was blank. Erica thought for a moment and then dragged her fingertips down the page. Instantly, handwritten letters appeared on the page, written in something that horribly resembled blood. Her stomach did a violent flip-flop as she read the words:
Guten tag, Erica Schwarz.
She shuddered, hoping that the book wasn't remembering her from all the hours she had spent in Kroenen's library. Unfortunately, it probably is, she thought. Sixty-some years ago it hadn't bothered her that the books would write messages to her, suggesting demon accomplices or such and such poison, but now she found it extremely disconcerting. It was like they could read her mind. And a few of them probably can, she thought. But at least I can usually force them to cooperate, even though a few of them have discovered that I betrayed their former masters.
As if on cue, a string of demeaning, profanity-filled sentences scrawled themselves across the page. Erica frowned. The book's foul language would have outdone a professional rapper.
Another sentence appeared below that, containing a condescending message about what Kroenen and Ilsa, the book's true Masters, would do to her when they caught her. Erica rolled her eyes at the self-righteous and gory monologue and turned the page.
The next page, if possible, was even worse, this time complete with graphic, hastily drawn stick figure illustrations accompanying the book's smug captions. The silver crucifix ring on Erica's hand clicked against the table as she drummed her fingers in growing irritation.
The book, however, continued right along:
Judas kissed his master and cried, 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm. Et tu, Erica?
Erica had had enough. She slammed the book shut, wrapped it in its chain, and thrust it inside the metal box.
"Any success?" Abe asked. There was slight smile on his thin lips.
Erica shook her head as she locked the lid of the box. "Nothing useful, but I was reminded of about fifty different ways to cuss at someone in a variety of dead languages."
Abe chuckled. "Those books really don't like you."
"That's an understatement," she muttered. The book's 'Et tu, Erica?' was replaying itself over and over in her head. "How about you? Find anything?"
Abe shrugged, his webbed hands making a graceful but helpless gesture. "Not yet. However, from what you've told me of Kroenen's abilities, I would hypothesize that he has to remove the beacon himself."
Erica's stomach fell like lead as her hope of evading Kroenen's plot was squashed. "That's never going to happen," she said gloomily. She sank down on a sofa and held her head in her hands.
Abe watched her with concern; she looked so despondent compared to the Erica he was used to. But considering the circumstances, he really couldn't blame her.
"You mentioned you were able to force Kroenen out of your mind in the past," Abe said, sitting down beside her and resisting the urge to hug and comfort her, "when you were planning to betray the Thule Occult Society. Perhaps you could do the same in your dreams?"
Erica looked up at him. "Maybe," she said. There was a note of hope in her voice. "I could try, at least. I'd prefer it if I didn't have to, though."
"Agreed," Abe said, and then changed the subject. "Kroenen said he knows where you are. Do you have any ideas about what to do?"
Erica's face grayed at his words. "Heighten security and make sure the wards on the BPRD stay up. And pray."
"That's not what I meant," Abe said. Erica looked puzzled. Abe met her eyes and held her gaze. "What are you going to do if Kroenen appears? How are you going keep yourself safe?"
Erica looked at him oddly. Abe wondered if she had caught the hint of more than friendly concern that had slipped out in his voice; he half hoped that she had.
Erica stared at Abe, trying to read his face. As usual, it was next to impossible. Still, the tone in his voice... And Abe had been so kind and compassionate to her last night—but no. That was expected of a friend. He couldn't be interested in her. He would have said something by now if he was.
"I'll have to fight him," she said at last, returning her focus to his question. "There won't be a way to get around that; Kroenen wants a fight. I don't stand much of a chance, though." She absentmindedly fingered the T-scar on her face.
"What are his advantages?"
"Climbing vertical surfaces, speed, strength, and stealth. Oh, and not dying, which means fighting him is practically suicide. And on top of teaching me how to fight, he knows me so well it'll be child's play to him to figure out what I'm going to do."
They were silent for a moment, deep in thought as they contemplated the clockwork assassin.
"No…wait," Erica said softly. Abe saw her eyes shining and knew she had a glimmer of an idea. "That's his weakness," she said with growing excitement; she jumped to her feet. "He's overconfident. Kroenen thinks he knows what I'm going to do."
"You can surprise him," Abe said, sharing the sudden exhilaration of her idea, "Do something unexpected. Instead of hand to hand combat—throw explosives at him."
"Ja! It might be enough to hold him off for a while," she said. "If I can find him before he finds me. I wish I could use my visions…"
Grigory's warning about the use of Erica's visions was fresh in Abe's mind; he knew there was no point in incurring the mad monk's wrath and putting Erica in further danger by forcing the issue. What other way could she use to find Kroenen? Abe wondered. Nothing. He had no idea. What if I approached the question from the other side? Kroenen has to be able to find Erica, so how would he do that? Abe blinked; the answer was right in front of him.
"Erica," he said slowly, "you don't need your visions. Kroenen accidentally told you how to find him. He said he would use your blood bond to find you—"
"—and I can do the same thing!"
Erica hugged him; Abe happily returned the unexpected embrace, mirroring her smile.
The hug lasted a few moments longer than befitted a pair of best friends, and Erica started to pull away, looking a little embarrassed. Abe, for a reason unknown to the rational part of his brain, immediately noticed. And ran with it.
Abe gently tightened the embrace to prevent her from pulling away; Erica looked at him quizzically. Abe's mind rushed for an explanation, but couldn't find one—except the truth. But what if she says no? he thought. His stomach clenched and he felt a huge, black pit of despair opening up somewhere in his mind, just waiting for the response that would send him tumbling over the edge. I'll—I'll ask her something—A test—So I won't be embarrassed if I'm wrong.
"Erica—last night—why did you come here?"
"The Professor's study?"
"No, no. To me. Why didn't you go to Professor Broom?"
The question hovered in the air between them. Abe's heart raced as he waited for her answer.
"I don't know," Erica said, shrugging. She suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable and didn't know why. No, that wasn't true. She did know why she felt awkward: Abe could hear every thought rushing through her mind, including everything she had recently thought about him. It was an embarrassing proposition, and she struggled against the heat rising in her cheeks. "It just felt right, somehow. I knew you could help. You're my best friend."
"Oh."
Sometimes we have to take risks in order to seek happiness, Abe thought. He took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind.
"Would you like to be more than friends?" he asked quietly.
Erica was so shocked she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. Did Abe just say what I thought he said? She saw a small splash of dark blue on Abe's cheeks. Abe was blushing!
He's serious, Erica thought, he means it! A smile slowly spread across her face. Her brain had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do. Fortunately her heart figured it out for her.
"Yes," she said, and hugged him.
And feeling Erica's warm, lithe body pressed up against his, Abe's anxiety faded into nothingness.
He was happy.
Author's Notes: Awww! So cute! I hope everyone enjoyed the humor—I felt I needed to break up the seriousness of the past chapter or so. Which also explains my first attempt at writing fluff, which I think turned out okay, but I suppose I'll find out. Also, the quote about Judas is from Shakespeare, if anyone was wondering. Please review!