I want to thank everyone for all of the lovely comments I've received on this story. This was a bit out of my comfort zone but it has been so much fun to write!
Also adding a reminder that this story will contain a non-consensual spirit possession so if this is an issue for anyone, I'm again giving ample warning.
And now, here's Chapter Two!
Hearing her father's voice above the crackling static of the radio was as welcome as a muse to Emma's ears. Tyler Sprat and his friends has been found so they could all now go home. While she hadn't had much of a chance to explore the butler's quarters before receiving David's message, she was glad there wasn't a need to. Compared to the lavish decor of the mansion, this section was like the thrift-store knock-off, filled with cheap furniture and a decades-old television that still had a rabbit-ear antenna. In truth, it was probably the creepiest place she'd seen in the entire property because it was like stepping back into one of the many foster homes of her childhood, none of which she wanted to revisit.
She was simply anxious to rejoin her husband and father so they could put this night behind them. Pulling the door to the butler's quarters closed behind her, she hurried back down the corridor leading to the kitchen. Emma didn't linger in that room at all, pushing through the swinging doors into the square room, then she passed through the propped open door into the dining hall. She paused at the sideboard to replace the candelabra she'd borrowed. Perhaps it was her imagination toying with her again, but she swore there was a faint whiff of smoke in the air - even before she blew out the four candles she'd been utilizing. She dismissed the improbable thought while she flicked the power button on the flashlight, readying it to light her path back to the vestibule. She was exhausted and eager to go home, but the next sound she heard sent chills all the way to her core and ushered in a gut-wrenching sense of deja-vu.
She heard her father's voice - but this time, it wasn't coming through the radio. He was shouting, loud enough that she could hear him clearly, but it was precisely what he was shouting that terrified her - Killian's name.
Still searching for a way to gain access to the possible attic space above him, Killian was naturally surprised to hear the sound of David's voice on the radio, especially his announcement that the three adolescents had been located. Perhaps his weary mind was playing tricks on him, but Killian was certain that the faint, distant voices were continuing to call to him. Maybe not to him per se, but they were undoubtedly attempting to communicate with someone. They whispered to him in jumbled phrases: "Can you hear us?" "Is it this one?" He wasn't able to make sense of all their messages, but clearly his ears betrayed him if these disembodied voices did not belong to the lads and lass they sought.
No matter, he thought, closing the door to one of the bed chambers as he turned back toward the staircase. The youngsters had been found and were safe with David so their work here was done and he could now happily return to the ground level to rejoin his wife. If all went as planned, he'd be tucked back into his own bed within the hour, and since technically this was still Emma's shift, he'd leave the infernal paperwork to her.
As he threw a quick glance over the railing before descending the curving stairs, he could make out a beam of light from an electronic torch illuminating the vestibule below him. David was speaking to the three teens, apparently chastising them for their reckless decision to enter this dwelling, but it was at the sound of one of the boys responding to David's questioning that Killian took pause on the top step. The entire time he'd been on the second floor, Killian had been certain that he'd been hearing the voices of those adolescents, but listening to the the boy's voice now, it most certainly did not match any he'd heard.
If he hadn't been hearing the missing teenagers speaking, just whose voices had he been listening to?
Was there someone else trapped in this damnable mansion too? He knew the previous Author, Isaac, had once been imprisoned here. Were there others?
"Everyone accounted for?" Killian called down to his father-in-law before taking another step.
"Just waiting on Emma," David replied, "but the rest of the gang is all here." Killian nodded an affirmative, not that David could see the movement of his head. There was sufficient light provided by his lantern and David's modern torch for Killian to clearly make out the shapes of four individuals standing in the entryway. So, shrugging off his lingering doubt, he placed his hand on the banister to guide his way in the dark, and continued his descent.
But then he heard it again, a tiny wisp in his ear: "Need this one…" Who was talking to him? Killian asked himself, pausing once again halfway down the stairs. He rotated his head, glancing back toward the landing above him just as the unseen force struck. Before he knew who or what had hit him, he found himself tumbling down the remaining steps. Unable to grasp anything that would help him gain purchase, momentum carried him to the marble floor at the bottom. There was a shout of his name in those fleeting seconds, but Killian wouldn't recall hearing it as his head and body collided with the unyielding marble and he swiftly succumbed to unconsciousness.
Hearing her father shouting Killian's name sent a renewed shiver down Emma's spine - David rarely used Killian's given name and there was alarm in his voice. The combination spurred a sense of urgency that sent her dashing out of the dining hall, through the darkness of the corridor towards the entryway, running as quickly as she could without fear of colliding with furniture or walls in the dim light. Reaching the vestibule, she stumbled into Killian's broken lantern before recognizing the silhouettes of her father, kneeling at the bottom of the stairs, and those of the three teenagers hovering above, but she couldn't make out where her husband was until she passed the staircase.
It took her a moment to realize that David was actually kneeling beside Killian as her husband was sprawled out on the floor, and he didn't appear to be moving. "Killian!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees next to her father, momentarily ignoring the three gawking teens who'd drawn them into this mess in the first place. "What happened?"
"I don't really know," David replied, shifting to his left so his daughter could move in closer. "One minute, he was asking if everyone was accounted for, and I said everyone but you was here. Next thing I knew, he stopped halfway down the steps and looked up toward the landing like something startled him, and then he fell. It was like his feet slipped right out from under him and he tumbled down those last eight or nine stairs and hit the floor hard."
"Are you kidding me?" one of the boys spoke up, although David wasn't really sure which one was speaking. However, what the teen was about to say was going to change their perception of everything that they'd experienced. "He didn't fall - something came up behind him and pushed him!"
"Pushed him?" Emma almost didn't believe what she'd heard as she tried to determine how severely her husband might be injured. "What do you mean? Who pushed him?"
"I can't really say it was a who. More like a what…" the boy continued. "I think it was the same shadowy blob we've been chasing all night…"
Shadowy blob? Emma tried to contemplate exactly the boy's description meant as her fingertips found a swollen bump at Killian's temple, figuring there would be a matching one on the back of his skull based on how he'd landed. "He's got a nasty bump here, but I can't see if there's anything worse because it's too dark."
"Hook's lantern is shattered so it won't help. I've got another flashlight in the truck though," David offered. "I'll go get it and I'll be right back." David stood and directed his attention back to the teenagers. "You three - you're coming with me so I can get you home before your parents worry any more."
"But we want to know what happens…" Aiden said, his eyes pleading to stay, but David was having none of this.
"You're going home and so are we - as soon as Emma can make sure Hook's okay," David stated. "Let's go." David gave Aiden a little shove towards the front door but it was Tyler who reached it first. The teen turned the glass knob, but when he tried to tug the door open, it didn't budge.
"Sheriff..., the door won't open," Tyler stated. "I think it's locked."
"From the inside? We didn't lock the door when we came in," Emma said as she glanced over suspiciously.
"It won't do anything," Tyler reiterated, anxiety creeping into his voice, fearing they might be trapped again.
"Maybe it's just stuck?" David suggested as he gave it a try, but he also failed to open the front door. "He's right. It won't open but it isn't locked. It's like there's a force field or something holding it shut."
"Or a protective spell?" Emma shuddered, instantly reminded of this mansion's history.
"We're trapped in this house again, aren't we?" Aiden groaned, his excitement over chasing ghosts in an abandoned mansion now fully dissipated.
"There has to be a way out," Emma assured them, although her gut kept trying to deny it. Her immediate concern though was for her husband's welfare. She suspected he had a concussion, but it was just too dark in here to get a good look. Her fingertips gently explored his head and neck, feeling for injuries and finding a wet, sticky substance matting his hair. Killian was bleeding, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from or how severe it was. "Damn…," she sighed. "We need more light. I can't see how badly Killian is hurt and I need to make sure we all get out of this miserable place. There are a bunch of big candle holders in the dining hall. I used one of them myself earlier tonight. Would someone go bring a few of them in here?"
"I'll go," David offered.
"I'll go with you, Sheriff Nolan," Angie chimed in. "We can bring twice as many that way."
"Alright then. We'll be right back," David promised.
"Thanks," Emma replied with the faintest of smiles before turning to the two boys. "You two - can you get a cell signal over by the door?" She dug her phone from her jacket pocket and passed it to Aiden. "If you get a signal, call your mothers so they won't worry…"
"Sorry, not getting a signal, Sheriff," Aiden responded as he returned the phone a minute or two later, just as David and Angie emerged from the shadows with candelabras in hand.
David rested his two candle holders on the stairs behind Emma while Angie placed hers on the floor. "Want to do the honors and light these up?" he asked Emma.
"I wasn't able to light them with magic earlier so - here…" Emma rummaged through her pocket for the lighter and then held it out for her father. "You'll have to use this…" Taking the lighter from her outstretched hand, David flicked it a few times to ignite the flame then hurriedly moved from candle to candle igniting the wicks. The flickering candlelight immediately brightened the room, enabling Emma a better view of Killian's bumps and bruises.
Regardless of whether Killian had actually been pushed or simply tripped and fell down the staircase, he'd struck his head hard. The swollen contusion that Emma had felt at his temple was already darkening to a purplish-red and was a fair indicator he'd struck more than just the marble floor. His right shoulder was contorted in an unnatural manner that suggested dislocation, most likely from a futile attempt to stop his descent. She still couldn't be certain whether he'd broken any bones, but his lingering unconsciousness was making her wary.
"Think you can heal him?" David inquired, interrupting her thoughts.
"Maybe…," Emma replied tentatively. "Hopefully...especially if we're stuck in here. My magic has been a little wonky though. I should have been able to light those candles earlier… What if I can't do it?"
"Let's worry about crossing that bridge if we come to it," David tried to encourage her with that old adage. Emma eked out a weak half-smile as she hovered her right hand over Killian's torso with her palm facing him. She closed her eyes to concentrate but she couldn't will the magic within her to come to the surface. She could feel the tingle of her powers just beneath her skin, but that was as far as they would reach. Something seemed to be draining the magic away from her right when she needed it the most.
"Damnit!" Emma exclaimed in frustration. Magic was failing her and she wasn't even sure why. Her gaze drifted downward to Killian's face as she lowered her hand to tenderly stroke his stubbled jaw, her touch trailing across his cheek and finally coming to rest on the patch of skin where his neck tapered into his shoulder. "I promise, we'll figure this out," she whispered to her husband's ear.
The last thing Emma would have suspected at that moment was that Killian, even in his unresponsive state, was about to provide the answer.
Killian remembered falling.
Perhaps he'd missed a step in the darkness and lost his footing, but then, no - he hadn't. He recalled that he'd paused and turned toward the voice in his ear and then he was tumbling down the staircase. He knew that his head was throbbing and his shoulder ached as if someone were trying to wrench it from its socket. Forcing his eyelids open, he also felt the twinge of discomfort in his left ankle and determined he would probably need David's assistance with some additional light to assess the damage. If it wasn't too bad and he could still put weight on it, he'd be content to hobble out of here and worry about the injured joint later, but if it was severely sprained or worse - broken, he would need Emma's assistance with a little reparative magic.
But it was as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, Killian began to realize that something was very different about his surroundings than before he'd fallen. First off, why was it so bright? Even if his lantern was still alight, it wouldn't be creating this level of brightness. Had he knocked himself out so severely that it was now morning? Second, why wasn't he hearing any familiar voices? He didn't hear Emma, nor could he hear David, which seemed highly improbable. If he'd been injured that severely, Emma wouldn't likely have strayed far from his side until he awakened - especially if he'd been unconscious for several hours.
A sudden trepidation enveloped him as he feared the worst - what if he'd broken his neck and was back in the bloody Underworld? But no, there wasn't a hellish red hue to this light and truthfully, he doubted that had he crossed over, his afterlife would still look like the vestibule of the Sorcerer's mansion. No, there was definitely something else afoot here, Killian thought as he struggled to sit upright, ignoring the protest of his battered skull.
All around him, there was a smoke-like haze which obscured the familiar details as he sought out the faces of his family or even those of the three adolescents they'd been tasked to rescue. Where were they? Certainly Emma wouldn't have abandoned him in this place…
"Captain Hook," Killian heard his title and moniker spoken clearly, the voice unknown to him. "We've been seeking someone like you for a very long time."
"Have you now?" Killian countered, his eyebrow lifting to match the smirk on his lips as he challenged the unseen speaker. "Well then, show yourself. I much prefer to be able to see those who address me."
"We're all around you, Captain," the disembodied voice stated, leaving Killian momentarily baffled until the realization struck him, his cockiness vanishing in an immediate recoil.
It was the light that he previously couldn't explain - the light emanating from these unseen beings he now sensed surrounding him.
"Who are you?" Killian demanded, his voice now wrought with a hint of fear as he tried to comprehend what had become of him. "What the bloody hell are you?"
"You've no need to fear us, Captain. So few exist who are able to see and hear us, which is precisely why we need your assistance."
"Assistance with what, pray tell?" Killian wanted to know, nearly certain that he must be hallucinating. The blow to his cranium must have been far worse than he'd originally believed. "What sort of game is this? And where are Emma and the others?"
"Still right here with us. They are merely on a different plane…"
"Different plane?" A confused Killian tried to wrap his weary brain around it all. Nothing was making sense. "What nonsense is this?"
"This is the inbetween," the being informed him. "The realm of souls trapped between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. These souls are left to linger as nameless, faceless spirits, unable to cross over. Most are cursed to remain here because their souls are incomplete and do not allow passage into the afterlife."
"Inbetween?" Killian's head was spinning as he contemplated the veracity of what he'd just heard. "Wait...are you telling me that I've died and became trapped here as well?"
"No, of course not. You remain among the living, merely in a comatose state in which we are able to communicate directly with you." The apparition's assurance wasn't exactly quelling Killian's unease. "You, however, possess a unique quality - you have crossed into the realm of the dead and were returned to the living. It has given you the ability to hear our disembodied voices and now, to see our unearthly form. We've been searching for someone such as you who could serve as our conduit to the living world so that we may inform them of our plight. We only wish to be freed from this form of purgatory."
"How would that be possible?" Killian wondered. "I've been to the Underworld, yes, but I found that the souls trapped there were encumbered by their own unfinished business. They don't generally have the intervention of the living available to them as I did. What do you believe is different about your situation?"
"Our souls were trapped in limbo because we all died here in this land without our hearts, and the magic that preserves those hearts prevents us from passing on."
Killian had to admit that he was surprised by the answer. He'd known that people whose hearts had been ripped out and crushed could pass into the Underworld - encountering some who would move on and others remaining eternally cursed, but he'd never imagined that a different fate might await those who had perished without their hearts within their bodies. He immediately thought of the dozens - maybe hundreds - of glowing hearts that Cora and Regina had collected over the decades of their respective reigns of terror. Were these illuminated beings now conversing with him just innocent victims of the Queen of Hearts and her daughter, the Evil Queen?
"How do you expect me to help you?" Killian asked, his mind wandering with far too many thoughts of how this conversation might even be possible. Was he really still laying in an unconscious heap at the bottom of the mansion's ornate staircase while his subconscious conversed with spirits of the dead?
"As I said, your unique ability to serve as our bridge to the living world allows them to hear us through you…" Before he could protest, Killian realized that the entity was encroaching on him, rapidly closing the distance as the light grew even more brilliant until it completely enveloped him, its presence seemingly blending into his own.