Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.
The words her uncle uttered hung in the air – "I wouldn't do that if I were you" – halting Torie in her tracks. The door to the shack was tantalizingly close, but just out of reach.
Standing frozen like a rabbit before a descending hawk, Torie looked at her uncle for several long seconds, before asking, "Why not?" It dawned on Torie that her uncle appeared unarmed. There was no reason that she couldn't overtake him if she made a mad dash for the door and he tried to prevent her from escaping. Why hadn't she tried it sooner? Because, you are an idiot. Now scoot!
But while Torie's hesitation was brief, it was still long enough for her to get grabbed from behind. What the fuck? Torie tried to spin around to look at her captor, but she was pinned in such a way that her head was pinned under their chin.
"So he could have enough time to detain you."
Sonofabitch!
Torie could feel the outline of a gun pressing against her lower back. Her upper arms were clamped by large, meaty fists, pressing her back against a decidedly beefy torso. But knowing that the weapon was tucked inside the waistband of his pants, rather than in his grip, made Torie grasp onto an idea.
Knowing that she didn't even have seconds to spare, Torie took a deep breath and then stepped on the insole of the man holding her with as much force as she could. A grunt echoed in her ear and taking a calculated risk, Torie kicked behind her, hoping to make contact with her captor's groin. When her heel connected, Torie knew that either the next thing she did would help free her… or be her last thought.
Turning slightly towards the man as he fell, Torie grabbed the pistol that had been shoved into the front of his pants and then spun around to face her uncle. The barrel of the gun made contact with his chest just as Torie felt a knife blade knick the skin her neck.
Looking down the length of her uncle's arm, she didn't recognize the man who stared back at her. He was completely unhinged, manic eyes stared back and a smile curved his lips that scared the bajeezus out of Torie. A clenching of his jaw and a hard swallow that caused his throat to contract caused Torie to whimper quietly. His smile broadened and a growl rumbled up from his chest as his weight surged forward from the heel of his left foot to the ball of his right foot. The knife edge bit her skin, warm blood blazed a trail down her neck and onto the thin white t-shirt she wore.
Instinctively, she pulled the trigger, wincing and turning away as she did so, feeling the knife blade dig deeper, then retreat and clatter to the floor.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
The gun soon followed suit as it slipped from Torie's hand. She had shot – and killed – her uncle. There was no doubt that he was gone, vacant eyes staring into nothingness and the point-blank shot through the heart left little to conjecture. The man who was her Confirmation sponsor in 8th grade. The man who taught her how to drive when her parents left her alone for the summer. The man whom she loved like a second father.
A pool of blood started to spread out in an ever expanding pool. Shaking uncontrollably, Torie took a step back, then another, before kicking the prone figure of the man who had grabbed her from behind. A low moan escaped past his lips. And before Torie could skip away, he reached out and grabbed her ankle.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
"Thank you."
It took a moment for the two words to register in Torie's brain. Then, once she realized that it was not her uncle who spoke, but instead her captor, the words seemed to echo inside her brain. She had totally forgotten about the other person in the room. Why the hell did she drop the gun? Looking for it, she saw that it was now an island in the sea of blood. Torie looked from the fallen weapon and then back the man grasping her leg, staring in horror for several long moments before the man started to shudder, then transform into a…
Spriggan. Can this get any more trippy?
Staring for several long moments, Torie stood frozen in place as she looked down in horror at the humanoid being at her feet. No longer was it at all human-looking, but rather a grotesque little creature that writhed as if in agony. But still it held onto her foot, as if its very life depended on it. So repulsive did it look, Torie had to fight back the desire to hyperventilate and instead focused only on the hand encompassing her ankle.
Remember, this fucker tried to kill you. Do not let him succeed.
"His… his hold on us is over. Now that he'd dead." The words were barely a whisper, spoken in near rapture. The grip on her ankle loosened, although contact was not completely severed. It was as if the… creature… was clinging to her out of desperation rather than detainment.
Torie retreated away from the small, grotesque man, breaking free from his grip, giving the pool of blood a wide arch. She was beyond terrified and was slowly inching towards the only door she saw. "So what does that mean for me?" she asked carefully. Oh geez, I don't want to die.
A humorless chuckle skated past its lips. "That we owe our allegiance to you." The Spriggan rose to its feet, slowly, staggering from the exhaustion that was tangible, wrapping Torie in its power and causing her to nearly fall. What the fuck? Their only allegiance is to treasure. But mentioned 'his hold'… Did Uncle Brian use some sort of spell on them?
But Torie really didn't care. She just wanted to go home. But with her uncle dead on the floor and her would-be murder standing but a few feet away, Torie wondered if she would ever see her friends… Sam… Lance… ever again. Her words came out in a haggard whisper, "How about we call it even? Just give me some advice on contacting the local authorities about what just happened." All I want to do is collapse. Is this the stress just hitting me like a ton of bricks or did that Spriggan do something that makes staying upright nearly impossible?
The Spriggan caught and held Torie's gaze. "Nothing happened." Long moments passed without either one of them looking away. Finally, Torie blinked first, which unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
No, no, no, no, no… This did happen. "Uhm, I beg to differ." I am not brushing this under the carpet. I am owning up to what I did to the authorities. If he lets me get to the authorities.
"Nothing. Happened." The words sliced through the air. There was no room for question.
Fuck. He tried to kill me before. Don't antagonize him. "Uhm," Torie swallowed hard, not really sure how she was supposed react. "Okay. So what then?"
Eyeing Torie warily, the Spriggan looked at her for a long time, silent, then admitted, "If I were you, before I would release your bond over us, I would ask for help in getting back to my friends. Once with them, whatever you wish, I will help make happen." He… it… looked pained, as if too much information had just been revealed.
Forcing herself to look away from the creature, Torie cast her gaze down at the deceased man. The blood was so dark, like a lake at midnight under a moonless sky. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the rising nausea at bay. "What… what will happen with my uncle?" She almost gestured at the prone figure, but she couldn't get her arms to listen to her silent command.
The Spriggan shook its head and grabbed the sheet Torie had been wrapped in off the pallet on the floor. Quickly donning it around his waist, since the pants it previously wore now lay in a heap on the floor, a make-shift kilt was quickly assembled. Looking bored with the conversation, it spat out, "He is no longer of this world, so it is no longer your concern."
The response gave Torie chills. But best not to linger on the topic and antagonize it further. "And you all? Are you no longer a concern?" Her healed wounds now ached nearly as bad as when she came out of surgery.
A quick slash of the head in a negative. "None. We are beholden to you."
Torie shook her head, as if what she heard was too much for her to bear. "Get me back to my friends and as I said, we can call it even." I don't need an army of minions at my beck and call who previously tried to kill me.
Bowing from the waist, the Spriggan maintained full eye contact. "As you wish." His voice sounded flat, but Torie knew that there was surprise minutely inflected in the words.
Speaking of logistical concerns… "One question though…"
The Spriggan looked as if unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. "Yes?"
"How did you get from England to here? Isn't that where you all were from?"
A snort of contempt. "We were beckoned by that man, then told that there was treasure hidden inside the totem."
"Ah." It makes sense. Lie to them – tell them there is something they covet inside a piece of wood and their greedy little minds will focus on nothing but. Genius, of sorts.
"There is not." The tone was full of disbelief and disgust, causing Torie to rub her arms involuntarily as the hairs stood up on end.
"No. No there isn't."
"Your uncle misrepresented himself and his situation."
Torie closed her eyes, as if the process of keeping them open was too much to maintain. "He certainly did."
What was it that the profit Bob Seger sang… I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then.
The whole world seemed to be washed in shades of grey as Torie sat on her hotel room balcony, which seemed to match her dark mood. Oh, she was glad that the whole chapter was closed and now behind her, but it also reminded Torie that her parents were not only gone, but done so at the hands of her uncle.
And how it could have been the end of her, as well.
Dawn would be spreading its pink fingers across the sky soon and Torie was never more grateful to see the hints of a rising sun. Their flight would be leaving in a few hours and by the end of the day, depending on what time zone she wanted to use as a guideline, Torie was going to be safe and sound – and in Hellboy's arms – before bedtime.
Next time, I'll remember never to turn down his offer for help. Not only is he better equipped to handle situations like this, but dammit, this being away from him for so long just plain ol' sucks. I understand that circumstances might intercede and separate us for this long – or even longer again… but never again by my own stupid pride.
The screen door slid open, interrupting Torie's internal monologue, and Monica stepped out, a cup of coffee in each hand. Bestowing a mug to Torie, she smiled. "Hey sweetie."
Hugging the warmth of the cup, Torie smiled in return, but knew that the action didn't quite reach her eyes. She said a silent prayer that Monica would ignore the sadness tingeing her eyes and move on. "Heya, you."
Monica looked hard at her friend, but knew better than to ask how she slept… for exhaustion pinched all of Torie's features. Instead, she put on a cheery front, knowing that Torie was reliving the horrors she experienced when she was re-kidnapped. "How long you been up?"
Torie sighed and looked at her watch. Realizing that it was more of an instinctual reflex to look at the time rather than a source for an answer to Momica's question, Torie looked up beseechingly at her friend, shrugging her shoulders. "Out of bed… not long. But haven't really slept yet."
"You're going to take something to knock your ass out on the plane. No arguments." A brow arched, emphasizing her statement.
Torie rolled her eyes and smiled wryly. She had planned on doing just as her friend suggested, but kept her mouth shut. There was no way she would give Monica the satisfaction of being right.
Slipping into the other chair, Monica took a long sip of coffee before asking, "Ready to head back?" She was speaking more in terms of being packed, but knew it would be construed as a question pertaining to Torie's mental preparedness to head back to the States. Of which she already knew the answer.
Slowly – mechanically – Torie nodded her head. She was more than ready for this bad dream to end. "Yeah… Ready to head home. And then some." So can't happen soon enough.
Sinking into the chairback, Monica eyed her friend carefully. She knew something went on during the kidnapping that Torie wasn't telling her. After a little gentle prying, and getting nowhere, Monica realized that either Torie would tell her what happened in her own sweet time… or would internalize the events that transpired and never speak of them. Regardless, showing as much compassion, without inducing cavities from sweetness, was Monica's way of offering support. But there was no way that Monica was not going to tease her friend. "I thought home was anywhere you lay your head," she stated, softening her words with a wink.
Torie knew that Monica was baiting, but didn't have the energy to fight back. However, she gave her head a lopsided smile. "It was. Things have changed. Home is where I'm safe," Torie said, shrugging sheepishly.
There were times when she came close to spilling what happened in the shack, but always Torie held back at the last moment. Telling Monica about what happened would make it all too real. She would deal with her emotions… later. When she was able to bury her face in Lance's neck, eat a whole carton of ice cream, and then have Hellboy hold her until she fell asleep… that's when Torie would be able to process all the events that preceded her boarding the plane to head back to Fairfield. But not before. Not just then. And maybe not ever.
Monica rose to her feet and shook her head. She wanted to grab a shower before the cab came to pick them up. Pausing in the doorway, Monica chose her next words carefully. "Home is with Sam?" she teased, already knowing the answer to the question.
Rising from her chair, Torie mock pushed Monica into the room. But her voice was soft when she answered, "Yeah."