Chapter 4:- Grainy Memories

Disclaimer:- I own absolutely nothing in this.

If the steadily increasing volume of the hostile snarling was anything to go by, then the blasted hellhounds were getting far closer than what would be healthy for him. He spared a second to throw a glance over his shoulder, a move he soon came to regret as his feet slid over the gleaning cobblestones which had been made slick by last night's rain. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed wildly at anything in the nearby vicinity, trying to regain his balance. His hands found purchase on the roughened surfaces of the walls near him and his fingers grabbed at the uneven stone forcing himself upright. He had twisted his arm, the additional burning sensation in his palm alerting him to fact that it was bleeding. But there was nothing that he could do about that, he needed to keep running. As he tore down the streets, cradling his injured arm to his chest, he searched for a place where he could take refuge. The early morning mist was doing little to aid his visibility, but in hindsight it was as much a blessing as it was a curse. If he couldn't see too well, then the Yard wouldn't be able to see him either. Now if he could only eliminate those mutts from the picture, he'd be alright.

Veering towards the right, he set off down a dark alley. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, there was a bakery nearby and they had started their early morning work. He needed to find an abandoned house, an outhouse or a shed before the sun came up or else he was done for. This time, he'd been far too careless with his masterpiece, should the Yard catch up to him, he'd never get out alive.

Hope itself seemed to flee from his being as he was faced with an unforeseen conundrum. The alley that he had taken was dark and out of the way yes, but it led to a dead-end. Turning around he was met with his sole option, a huge manor that was most definitely not uninhabited.

The wrought iron gate was partially hidden by thick tendrils of ivy which had taken over the walls that surrounded the manor. He could either climb over the wall or try his luck opening the gate; given that he didn't have any rope and couldn't assure himself a safe descent, he decided to go with the latter. Carefully, he teased the gate open just wide enough for him to slip inside. As he crept through the manicured garden, he had but one aim in mind, to keep out of sight until it was safe for him to leave. And then maybe he'd start over, perhaps head to Wales. He'd heard that Wales was quite nice in the summer months.

A rustling in the bushes caught his attention and he froze. A young woman had emerged from the shrubs, fully armed with what appeared to be a pistol. Elegant and attractive, her long dark hair fell past her shoulders in waves. She wore a traditional gown and a pair of matching gloves, but she seemed accustomed to the feel of the pistol in her small hands. But what captivated him entirely were her eyes; black as coals they were, with none of the comforting warmth that coal had when it was burnt. They stared at him fixedly, unmoving without a single ounce of fear. He shivered involuntarily as he felt himself sinking in their bottomless depths.

Feebly, he attempted to salvage the situation. He straightened out his now disreputable brown suit and attempted to tip his hat at her. Perhaps if he didn't shift too much, she would be unable to see the tears in his coat, the mud that was caked on his shoes and the blood on his sleeve. "A very good morning to you madam." He said, hoping that his tone would be sufficiently gallant to startle her, gaining enough time to make his next move. But the woman remained unfazed and asked him, her tone cold as the morning air, "I would be quite happy if you would care to explain to me the reason as to why you are trespassing on my property and at that this time of the day."

"Well…you see… that is to say…" "I do not appreciate liars at all my good man." It was the eyes, he'd later tell himself, there was sorcery in her eyes. That was only the reason why he'd make a mistake like he did next, "I'm running from the police. I killed someone." He was shocked at his sudden revelation, but the events that followed would create an even murkier mystery than that.

To his utmost surprise, the woman lowered the pistol slowly, although her finger never left the trigger. Bowing her head so that he could no longer see her face, she said, "I see…And would you say that you enjoyed it?" The man had never truly felt fear; it was an emotion that had until this point been foreign to him. He was the creator of fear, not the other way around. But when she lifted her head, a grin that he could only describe as demonic stretched across her pale face, his blood curdled. He felt very much like the young woman whom he had slaughtered only a day ago. "What is your name?" she enquired in an amused tone, her grin becoming impossibly wide. "Jack," he said swallowing thickly, "My name is Jack." He felt his heart stop as he caught sight of her eyes, or at least what should have been her eyes. He stared in horrified bewilderment at the black sockets of emptiness that peered back at him.

"Well Jack, we're very happy to have you here." Tipping her head back, she laughed and Jack swore that he could hear someone else, no something else, laugh along with her. As he followed her meekly back to the manor, he noticed for the first time the iron bars behind the windows and the small, frightened faces that peered out anxiously at him.

Present Day

Arthur was speechless; he didn't know what to tell Francis. The man was beyond distraught and from what Arthur could make out, had experienced another encounter. This was different though, the spirit had purposefully led Francis to her, and it was much more worrying than the previous events simply because it meant that for whatever reason she was now targeting them. The four of them were in his room, after the Brit had deemed it unsafe for them to return to their room and while Francis paced up and down in the hall, Alfred and Matthew sat at the dining table, preoccupied with a coloring book that Arthur had bought them.

The biggest blow however had been when they had tried to relocate the room to figure out what was going on. When Arthur had asked the man at the welcoming desk, he'd received a puzzled blank look. The receptionist had politely explained to him that Room 814 had been unused since the inauguration of the hotel. According to the young man, sinister fortunes had befallen anyone who set foot inside.

When a maid, who after entering the room went mad and gouged her eyes out, tried to hang herself from the ceiling fan, the manager had decided that enough was enough. He had locked it up and declared it off limits for all clients. So, explained the man, there was no way that they had seen anything in the room. Arthur didn't press the matter further; he knew that none of this would look good on Francis' evaluation.

Back in his own room, the aggravated Frenchman continued his pacing, long since switched back to his mother-tongue. Arthur had given up on trying to comprehend what the man was muttering, the rapid translation effort was staring to give him a migraine which honestly in part was because of the fact he had skipped lunch in his rush to return to the hotel and the family. Taking a deep breath he decided to calm the man down. "Francis, don't you think that's quite enough. The boys will get worried."

Francis stopped pacing, but turned to glare at Arthur, "Why didn't you ask the man at reception about the room again? How do you know that he wasn't lying?"

"Because, he had absolutely no reason to lie. I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Don't you? You didn't believe me did you? What, did you think I was insane? This is your way of placating the crazy French man?" Arthur blinked, wasn't it just yesterday that he had been called the lunatic. "You're getting it all wrong, now sit down and let me explain."

Sitting down on the sofa, he patted the spot next to him in what he hoped was an inviting way. Francis sat down gingerly and watched him expectantly. "I thought that it would be better not to press the issue. After all, what if he brought it to the notice of your supervisor? Trust me, seeing things won't make getting a steady job any easier." Francis was still irritated, and snapped at him, "Then you were doing all this out of la bonté de votre coeur? Is that it?"

"What else do you want me to say?" Arthur asked, his temper starting to rise as well, "I was worried about you!" "Why?"

Arthur responded before thinking about what he was saying. "Good lord man, haven't you realized that I care? What do I need to do to make you understand that I care… I care about Alfred and Matthew?"

"And me?" Francis added quietly, "Of course I care about you! Why wouldn't I?"

It was then that Arthur realized what he had said. Flushing, he was about to turn his head away when Francis took his hand and clasped it firmly in his own. "Mon cher," he said softly, forcing Arthur to focus his gaze on him, "I do not claim to understand why or how, but after only a few days already you have become such an important part of my life. Arthur, I made a mistake once; I do not want to make the same mistake again."

Arthur gulped, a small part of him was urging him to pull his hand away and make a break for it. But the remainder urged him to stay, to be honest with Francis. "Francis, I don't know…I don't know what to say." He winced at the crestfallen expression on the handsome man's visage.

"Oh come now you dolt. Don't put on such a saddened expression. I'm not saying that I don't want this, whatever this might be. It's just… it's been a terribly long time since I've felt anything even close to this. You have to understand, I have no idea what to do. But I know that there's something that keeps drawing me to you, and I'd like very much to try to make this work."

Francis smiled warmly at him, "Mon cher, that is the beautiful thing about love. Sometimes, you have to let go of the logic and leave the need to understand behind. You will know what is right. Et mon coeur me dit que c'est correct."

He drew the smaller man towards him, slowly closing the gap between them. Almost instinctively, Arthur shut his eyes. "Non mon cher, ne fais pas cela. I want to see your beautiful eyes." If Arthur hadn't been blushing enough before, now he was completely red in the face and judging by the warmth, his neck, ears and part of his chest were flushed as well. Francis began to draw him closer once again.

"Dad! I'm really hungry, can we go down and get something to eat?" Arthur and Francis sprang apart, but Francis didn't let go of Arthur's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Oui, bien sur. Go and wash your hands first and then we'll go." When the boys had left, he smiled ruefully at Arthur, "Trust Al's stomach to ruin the mood." Shrugging his shoulders, Arthur said, "Perhaps it was for the best. After all, don't you think that we should tell them about this first?"

"I think we should decide what this is before we tell them anything. The children adore you as well. But, you must know, I don't regret a single moment that we have spent together, although I do wish that it were under happier circumstances."

That last sentence pushed Arthur's brain out of hibernation. Jumping up from the sofa, he ran to the coffee table where he had kept his bag and dug out the book he had found. "Look," he said excitedly to Francis, "I found this in the library!" Francis ran his fingers over the spine, true he was interested, but unlike Arthur he failed to see the immediate significance that the work held. Something kept flashing through his mind, something that Arthur had said before this, which he had ignored before because it hadn't seemed important. But now that he thought about it, it made all the difference. "Arthur," he asked carefully, "Has something like this happened to you? Do you… do you know what is happening to my son?"

Arthur took a step back, opening his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. "Arthur, are you, are you like Alfred? Can you see things as well?"

Arthur let out a bitter laugh, "I guess you figured it out then. This probably reinforces your initial theory that I'm crazy doesn't it?"

Francis smiled ruefully, "No more crazy than the rest of us. When did you realize?"

Shrugging, Arthur closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself. In the darkness of his mind, he could feel himself traveling back to his childhood. The walls of the hotel gave way to the huge green expanses of shady woods that he grew up in. The sounds of the vehicles melted into the rustling of leaves and the gurgling of the river that flowed past their house.

*Flashback*

At six years old, Arthur was already different than the rest of the children who went to school. Smaller than the others, he was always off on his own, playing with friends that only he could see. The teacher had spoken to his parents and Arthur had been strictly banned from what his father termed, 'this flowery nonsense.' Even though he didn't agree with his father, Arthur decided to at least pretend that they didn't exist, if only for his mother. She was already so tired, being kept on her feet by his youngest brother, Peter. She didn't need to worry about more things. Besides, Llyr could see them too, he knew it. Minty had told him so and she never lied to him. But Iain and the others thought that he was crazy. Pouting, he scrambled up the tree trunk to his secret hideout, he wasn't crazy. He was just special like those wizards in the books that Mother read to them. Except without the pointy hat...

Faint giggling from the bushes snapped him out of his daydream. "Hi Arthur!" one of the faeries chirped, waving excitedly at him. "You're late," another one gently chided. "I'm sorry, but Mother doesn't want me coming out here. She thinks…she thinks that you're dangerous."

The fae fluttered about worriedly, "That's not true Arthur! You know that you can trust us. We're you're friends!" Arthur smiled at them, "I know." The fae showed Arthur how to make wreaths out of flowers and just as Arthur was finishing his, he heard a familiar voice calling out his name. Looking up brightly, he exclaimed, "That's my brother Llyr!" He was about to call him over, when one of the faeries put her fingers to his lips. "No my dear, you must not call him! He's trying to take you away from us!"

Arthur blinked, "But… he's my brother…" A dark look passed over their faces, "Arthur, you must come with us. You are our friend, aren't you?" Arthur's chin quivered, he didn't like this, something was wrong. He wished that Minty was here, or that Llyr would hurry up and find him. "Are you our friend?" The fairy repeated, this time more forcefully. "I…I am" he stuttered. "Then come with us!" The faeries began tugging on his arms, pulling him towards the forest. "No!" he cried out, "I don't want to go!"

"Come with us!" they called, louder, shriller this time. "You'll be happier with us." Arthur stumbled and would have fallen had it not been for a pair of hands that steadied him. Looking up, he saw Iain looking blankly at the forested area. Llyr was standing in front of them, shouting angrily at the faeries, brandishing a stick threateningly at them, "Gadewch fy mrawd yn unig!" he called.

The fae angrily retreated and Llyr turned to Iain, "Come on, we need to get moving before they come back. I've only stopped them for awhile." Iain tugged on Arthur's arm, "Come on lad, let's get goin'" Arthur clung to Iain's hand, occasionally letting out a pathetic sniff as he tried bravely not to cry.

When they were at the edge of the woods, and their house was nearly in sight, the trio stopped. "Arthur," Llyr suddenly said, "Listen to me." The smallest boy didnt know where to look, he was still dazed by what had happened. "Arthur, I know you can see them, the fae that is. I can see them too." Arthur fixed a watery glare on Llyr, "Then why wouldn't you tell Mother and Father!" "Because, they wouldn't believe us. They can't see what we can, you've got to understand."

"I agree with 'im lad. I can't see 'em either ya know."

"There are two important things that you must always remember Arthur. First of all, never tell people that you can see them. No one will believe you and it's not safe. And secondly and most importantly, never trust them. The fae are born tricksters, they're not like us. To them, humans are just unlucky fools. They have neither love nor compassion for us and that means that they won't hesitate to hurt you. Do you understand?"

"Are they…are they all bad?" Llyr pondered over the answer for a minute, "No. There are some good magical creatures out there, that weird green monstrosity that you seem to know is one example. But more often than not, the ones that make contact with humans are bad Arthur and you must stay away from them. Is that clear?"

Iain's firm grip on his shoulder reminded him of how close he had been to being taken away. "Yes brother. I won't go with them again."

*End Flashback*

Francis was speechless, that sounded so similar to some of the things that Alfred and Matthew had told him before. He looked at the man in front of him, who with his arms wrapped firmly around his torso looked so vulnerable and small. Yet, his eyes were tired and lost. Instinctively, he stepped forward and looped his free arm over Arthur's waist. "What happened after that mon cher?"

Laughing humorlessly, Arthur said, "Father was furious that I had been fooling around in the forest, but Llyr and Iain never told my parents what exactly we were doing. I later found out what the fae wanted me for, it was an ancient ritual to gather power and longevity for their clan. I was the key piece for the puzzle, the human sacrifice needed to complete the ceremony. If it wasn't for my brothers…" he didn't need to finish the sentence.

They stood in silence for awhile waiting for Alfred and Matthew to return. Meanwhile, Francis absentmindedly flipped through the old book that Arthur had found. His heart wasn't in it; his mind was a thousand miles away, thinking about Arthur, Alfred, Matthew and what everything meant. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask but didn't know how. He was bemused by the notion that only a week ago, had anyone told him that there were others like his sons who could see spirits, he'd have called the police. Now, not only did he believe Arthur one-hundred percent, based on the fluttery feeling that he felt in his chest, he was falling strongly for the man.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Arthur yelped as Francis' arm around his waist tightened. "What is it?" he asked worriedly as he watched Francis pale as he looked at something in the book. "Cette image…." Francis managed to get out, "C'est la femme…non pas la femme, la chose, l'apparition on peut l'appeler que j'ai vu ce matin."

Arthur stared at the picture, the strange woman at the piano staring back at them. "That's impossible," he muttered under his breath, the book was dated to at least a century and a half ago. The caption underneath the picture was too blurred for them to make out. That was when he remembered, Antonio was here. Perhaps he'd be able to help them solve this.

Author's Notes: Here's chapter four. Sorry for the delay, my computer pretty much died on me for awhile. Llyr is Wales and Iain is Scotland, Peter is well...Peter. Minty is the Flying Mint Bunny because no story is complete without her.

Translations for the chapter:

la bonté de votre coeur- The goodness of your heart.

Et mon coeur me dit que c'est correct- And my heart tells me that this is correct

Non mon cher, ne fais pas cela- No, my dear (Essentially, mon cher is a term of endearment), don't do that.

Gadewch fy mrawd yn unig- Roughly, should be Welsh for Leave my little brother alone.

Cette image-This picture…

C'est la femme…non pas la femme, la chose, l'apparition on peut l'appeler que j'ai vu ce matin.- This is the woman, no not the woman, the thing, the apparition, you can call it that I saw this morning.

If there's any mistake in the translation (especially the Welsh), please let me know. I use Google for the Welsh. Also, for any of my readers out there, I'm looking for ideas for Arthur's pen name. If you have any please either mention it in a review or preferably, send me a PM.

Thanks for reading everyone! Don't forget to review!