Sleeping Beetle

A Beetlejuice fan fiction by Lady Norbert

A/N: Does this make sense? I hope it makes sense. It should make at least some kind of sense, even if it's nonsense.

Of late I find myself concerned about the tone of the series. Cinderjuice was more silly than anything, but from the second story onward I know things have gotten considerably more serious and a bit dark. I hope that's okay.

Chapter Eight: On a Fog of Doom

Following the directions provided (however reluctantly) by the locals, Lydia and BJ started heading north. "It certainly feels weird around here," she commented, "but maybe I'm just feeling like that because I'm expecting to feel it."

"When it comes to weird, Lyds, you're kind of an expert," BJ pointed out. "You married it."

She chuckled. "You make a good point."

The nearer they drew to their presumed objective, however, the less comfortable Lydia felt. Something dark seemed to loom just out of reach, beyond the trees. "No, this definitely feels off," she decided, winding her arm through BJ's almost instinctively. "It's here and it's not here, kind of like the lady said. I can't put it any better than that."

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked. "We can always tell your editor that the place burned down or something. They'll never know."

"No." She shook her head. "If it was just the assignment, maybe. But whatever's behind all this has been hurting people, BJ. It's killed kids. It has to be stopped."

He nodded. "Guess I can't argue with that, but let's be real, Babes. If something's got enough power to pull a whole building into the Neitherworld, and yet still come and go between the two worlds?" His blue human eyes were clouded with unease. "That's something even I can't do, not without your help. So either this is one crazy powerful specter we're talking about, or it's a handful of 'em who've joined forces. Either way, it's bad news, and I don't exactly feel like taking chances with you."

"I see what you mean..."

"Bottom line, BJ and Lydia aren't gonna be much of a match for this strigoi thing."

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I would think that the Ghost With the Most and the Princess of Beetles should be able to handle just about anything together." With a half-smile, she added, "Especially if they really are the Avatars of Life and Death."

"I hate being heroic," he grumbled.

"No, you don't. Anyway, my big scary poltergeist can take on just about anyone," she teased.

"Well. When you're right, you're right," he acknowledged, and Lydia tried not to laugh as he puffed out his chest. "Lay those magic words on me, Babes, and we'll show this bloodsucker who's boss."

It had taken her a little time to get used to the transition to the Neitherworld now that it also included her physical transformation. When appearing as the Princess of Beetles, Lydia continued to have a pulse, but she was otherwise exactly as she had been during the unsettling period of time following Hugo's faulty ritual almost a year earlier. Her hair was still black, but longer than usual; her large dark eyes were slightly sunken, and her cheeks were hollow and even paler than nature had left them. The silver diadem gifted to her by Prince Vince was automatically positioned atop her head, and she wore a red and black dress reminiscent of the old poncho, with the spider brooch Beetlejuice had given her pinned firmly above her heart.

The poltergeist, brushing off the sleeves of his familiar striped suit, gave her an amused sort of look. "Ready, Princess?"

"As I'll ever be." She felt distinctly uncomfortable. The Neitherworld rarely made Lydia feel anything but welcome and happy to be there, but their current surroundings were shadowy and unsettling. "Do you think maybe we ought to send a message to Prince Vince? I'm sure he doesn't know that one of his subjects is visiting the Outerworld and hurting people."

"No, I bet he doesn't, Lyds, but maybe it's better to get an idea of exactly what we're up against before we call him in." Beetlejuice shrugged. "You represent the crown, y'know. Vince'll back you up on whatever call you make."

"I know. It just..."

"Don't tell me you're scared?"

"No! I - well, not exactly. I don't know how to explain it." She thought a little. "It's like when we were in the cemetery in New Orleans, right before we met Hugo, and you thought someone was watching us. I have that same kind of creepy feeling."

"Hey, someone was watching us."

"I rest my case."

He didn't say anything, but there was very little distance between them as they walked, and she appreciated that. Slowly they continued through the Neitherworld forest, surrounded on all sides by thick brambles and unfriendly trees, and despite the time of year there was a strange chill in the air. As they followed the winding path, it appeared as though the vegetation was becoming sparser.

"...deadly-vu."

They came upon a clearing and abruptly froze in their tracks. Rising against the sky before them was an elegant structure, a modest but imposing castle, clearly centuries old. The keep looked to be some four stories high, with turreted towers at the northeastern and southwestern corners - at least, as far as Lydia could judge direction in this unfamiliar place. The gray stones seemed to be permanently radiating shadow in spite of whatever the weather might be. "This is the ruin they talked about back in the village? This isn't ruined at all!"

"Lots of magic at work here," Beetlejuice noted, sniffing the air a bit. "I'd say whoever's inside must have rebuilt it from whatever was left of the old castle. Made some changes too, I'd guess - look at the owl statues over the door. Ties in with what they told us. Kinda weird, though, I thought these guys liked bats. Not owls."

"So now what do we do?" Lydia wondered. "We need to get inside somehow."

"We could pretend we're selling Sappy Face Ghoul cookies," he suggested.

"No," she replied shortly. "We could just act like we're lost travelers... I think that's how Jonathan Harker got inside Castle Dracula in the book, or something similar - it's been a while since I read it."

"What do you mean, no? Geez, you make one batch of oversized anthropomorphic cookies that threaten to kill people and you never live it down," he grumbled.

"You made multiple batches. Look, we'll go up and knock on the door. Worst thing that happens is that we can't get past the butler."

There was no butler. Instead, they walked up a magnificent stone staircase to the main entrance, and when Lydia knocked, the door swung slowly inward. As they peered into the corridor beyond, candles lit themselves, as though urging them to enter. The scene both beckoned to Lydia and urged her to run.

"Well, that's not remotely suspicious," she muttered, taking Beetlejuice's arm. "Maybe we should go."

Almost by way of a response, a strong gust of wind blew up behind them, pressuring them across the threshold. They had barely gotten clear of the door when it slammed itself shut behind them, and though Lydia seized the handle and pulled with all her strength, it would not move. A thrill of terror washed through her.

"We're trapped," she said in a voice that was desperately trying not to be frightened. "What do we do, Beej?"

"Might be best for you to juice us back to the flip side," he mused, frowning. "I don't like the look of this place at all."

"Please," said a new voice, echoing across the entrance hall, "do not be so alarmed. It is my great honor to welcome you to my humble abode; pray let me get a look at you."

The speaker's voice was heavily accented, but his English, Lydia noted, was flawless. She turned around, carefully, and peered around Beetlejuice (who was doing his best to shield her from observation). Gliding toward them was a tall figure, so pale that his skin was nearly tinged blue, draped in rippling garments of not black but rather a soft brown. His face was pointed, his eyes large and hooded, and he blinked at them rather owlishly, she couldn't help but think.

"I have waited years for this day," he said, his tone evidently pleased. "I had hoped that the Prince himself would be the one to pay his respects to me and acknowledge my nobility. But you come on his behalf; I am certainly most sincerely grateful for the visit of a royal emissary."

It took Lydia a few seconds to realize that he was staring - almost hungrily in fact - at her tiara. "Er... yes." She decided to play along, stepping clear of Beetlejuice's shadow. "On behalf of my brother the Prince... I am here to... to meet you, er..."

"Vasile. In life I was a distant son of the ancient and noble house of Dragoș, once lost among the peasants of Moldavia. Now I am but another subject of His Funerary Highness, and your servant, Princess." He took Lydia's hand and kissed it.

"So you're a moldy oldy, huh?" Beetlejuice deadpanned. He had his arms folded, clearly not pleased.

Their host fixed him with a withering look before turning his attention back to Lydia. "I cannot claim to have heard much of you, Princess, but I am honored to welcome you all the same. You and your... ah... retainer?" Vasile's voice dripped with sincerity and supplication until the last word, which was filled with disdain.

"Her husband," Beetlejuice corrected him coolly.

"Is that so?"

Vasile's eyebrows lifted, and his lip curled back in the faintest sneer. He glanced again at Lydia, and she guessed he was looking for corroboration, so she nodded. "If you'll permit me, my lord - my name is Lydia, and I'm called the Princess of Beetles ever since Prince Vince adopted me as his honorary sister. You've probably at least heard of my husband - this is Beetlejuice."

"Beetlejuice," Vasile repeated slowly. "Wait... the Beetlejuice?"

"The one and only."

"Well. That... is interesting. I welcome you both, then."

At Vasile's insistence, they followed him through his castle to a dining chamber, where polished gold candelabra made the shadows dance as they seated themselves. "You catch me unprepared to properly entertain visitors, especially one deserving of so much respect as yourself, Princess. Still, I can at least offer a little wine and feasting."

"You're too kind, my lord. Really, we don't want to impose."

"Nonsense. You've journeyed so far to extend me this courtesy; hospitality is the least of what you are due." He seated himself at the head of the table and watched her intently. "May I ask why your royal brother did not come himself?"

"I - that is -"

"What she means," Beetlejuice interjected smoothly, "is that she's still learning all the finer points of being the Princess. So His Highness is giving her different jobs to help her ease into it. Obviously, visiting a nobleman of your stature was a very important task, and one that he thought she really needed to experience. So by sending Lydia in his place, Prince Vince is entrusting you to help with her royal education." He glanced at her, and winked where Vasile couldn't see.

Lydia had to admire the way he came out with that so easily. True, he had the soul of a con artist sometimes, but on occasions like this it was remarkably helpful. Vasile, for his part, looked like he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or gratified. "The Prince does me too much honor," he said finally. "You will, of course, allow me to do justice to his trust by remaining here as my guests for a few days."

She glanced quickly at Beetlejuice, but he clearly didn't know what to say either. "Well... if you insist, my lord," she conceded after a pause.

"Oh, I do, Princess. I do indeed."