Sleeping Beetle

A Beetlejuice fan fiction by Lady Norbert

A/N: The plot continues to have its way with our heroes.

Chapter Eleven: Free To Go His Way

Lydia was growing very suspicious.

To say she was suspicious of Vasile would be like saying that Beetlejuice was mildly fond of spider cookies (the kind made with real spiders). She had walked into the situation forewarned, forearmed with the understanding of what he was and what he had done. Even without that prior knowledge, his malevolent red eyes and unsettling courtesies would have placed her on her guard immediately.

No, what she hadn't anticipated was that the castle itself would set its will against her. That was what disturbed her most.

For the first two or three days, she might have been content to believe she was imagining things. It was a strange place, after all, even to someone who was intimately acquainted (in more ways than one) with the strange and unusual. One would naturally expect a haunted castle to be weird, and Owl Castle certainly delivered. It had no clocks and no mirrors, which more or less made sense given that its master was a sort of vampire. It was also as adorned with owl imagery inside as it was outside, and the round faces and unblinking eyes gave the strong impression that she was being watched. In fact, all things considered, she wasn't completely persuaded that she was not.

Harder to accept was the darkness. Vasile, she supposed, could see well in the dark; not only was he dead, or undead, but he could turn himself into an owl, so this fit. But she was never able to see more than her own immediate surroundings. Lamps and candelabra would spring to life as she approached, then extinguish themselves as she walked away, leaving her with just a pool of light illuminating her steps at a given moment. With nothing but her mortal eyes to guide her, she would have fared badly on her own.

Fortunately, she wasn't alone, and Beetlejuice was only too willing to transfigure himself into a black and white striped flashlight. "You'd think this Vasile guy was terrified of his electric bill or something, the way he keeps this place," he remarked, casting a ray of light into a particularly shadowed corner. The owl statues seemed to glare at them from on high.

"It's freaky. And I usually love freaky, but this is a little too much even for me."

"Well," he said after a moment's pause, "we could just... leave."

"Leave?"

"You took the pictures, right?"

"As best I could, yes."

"Then we could get out of here. You've got what you really came for, after all. We don't have to deal with him all by ourselves."

She considered that. "It's the middle of the day, so he's asleep," she noted, quietly. "Okay, let's try it. We can go to the prince and come back with help."

Beetlejuice regained his usual form and they crept down the carpeted stairs, trying not to draw attention to themselves. The front door was in sight, and Lydia suddenly felt the powerful urge to rush it - light and fresh air lay just beyond, and it seemed like she was starved for both.

It was when she placed both of her hands on the ornate handle and attempted to pull it open that she realized things were much worse than she'd allowed herself to believe.

"Is it stuck?" Beetlejuice asked.

"I - don't - know," she grunted, twisting and turning and tugging with all her might. "It - won't - open!"

"Babes, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let me try." Pulling her gently to the side, he seized the door with his own hands and, clearly anticipating similar difficulty, pulled as hard as he could. The door instantly flung itself open, almost sending him flying, sunlight beckoning. "Lyds, you've gotta start eatin' your Wheaties or something!"

"Hmm." Still suspicious, but grateful to see the outdoors, she started to cross the threshold.

"Babes! Speak to me!"

A few minutes later she regained consciousness, and blinked up at the anxious face of her husband. He was tapping her cheeks gently with his fingertips, and after a few seconds she realized she was lying on the floor.

"What - what happened, Beej?"

He picked her up carefully and dusted her off. "The second you tried to walk out the door, something sent you flying across the room. I couldn't even grab you, you went by so fast - you just tumbled straight over the couch and crashed on the floor." He peered into her eyes, still troubled. "I couldn't get a lick of sense out of you for a couple minutes. Are you okay?"

"I think so... but what knocked me back?"

Beetlejuice grimaced. "If I had to guess, I'd say there's some kind of magic keeping us trapped here." He paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Then again... maybe it's more like there's some kind of magic keeping you trapped here."

"Me?!"

"Well, I was able to open the door and you weren't. I bet if I'd stepped outside, the door would have slammed behind me."

"But why would Vasile want to keep me here?"

He scowled. "That, Wifey-Babes, is one of those questions where I know the answer is gonna be something I don't like."

The only times they really saw their "host" was at dinner, when he would insist on sitting with them at his lengthy table. Lydia was too hungry to refuse food outright, but she ate as little as she could; she didn't have any way of knowing what exactly she was eating, and the possibilities were stomach-churning. She also steadfastly declined Vasile's repeated offers of wine.

"You don't care for wine, Princess?" he inquired pleasantly.

"I..." How to respond? I can't be sure you're giving me actual wine sounded a little too rude. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you was even worse. She met Beetlejuice's eyes across the table.

Abruptly, she recalled something Beetlejuice had said to her not long before their trip, and the best possible answer came to her in a flash.

"I'm pregnant," she said. "I can't have anything with alcohol for several months, it's too dangerous."

Beetlejuice's eyes looked ready to fall out of his head, and she tried her best to silently command him to play along. After a moment, he must have gotten at least the bare bones of what she was trying to communicate, because he relaxed and settled back in his chair. "Yep."

Vasile, on the other hand, had reacted to the news by clutching his own wine glass so hard it shattered in his fingers. "Ah - clumsy me," he grumbled, gesturing vaguely to clean up the mess by magic. This was lucky, Lydia thought; it was probably the distraction which caused him to miss Beetlejuice's initial bewilderment. "Well. My congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. "We're very excited. We only just found out shortly before we came, we haven't even told anyone else yet - you're the first one to share our big news."

"How happy you must be," he managed, his crimson eyes fixed on her.

"Sure hope so," Beetlejuice said nonchalantly, twirling a spoon between his fingers. "You know what they say - happy wife, happy afterlife. I'm pretty excited myself, too. We're gonna call him Junior."

"No, we aren't," she replied with a chuckle.

He smirked, and glanced at Vasile, putting up one hand as though to conceal the side of his mouth. "We're still negotiating the name," he said conspiratorially, "but I'll wear her down yet."

"In any case, we should be getting back to the palace soon," she continued. "My royal brother will want the details of our visit, and I can't wait to tell him he's going to be an uncle."

"Oh, but you've only just arrived," Vasile protested, more smoothly now. "It would be my distinct honor to have you remain as a guest for at least a few more days. Surely he -"

The words were cut off by the chiming of a bell. "Ah. Excuse me, it seems we have another visitor."

The second he was gone from the dining hall, Beetlejuice sat up straight. "Are you really?" he muttered in a low voice.

"No," she hissed. "But there's no way I'm drinking any of his wine - if that's really what it even is. I figured that was the best excuse I could offer; he can't argue with it."

"Ohh. Okay."

Vasile returned a few minutes later, and Lydia thought he seemed to be tucking something into the folds of his cloak. "My apologies. It was a... colleague of mine, bringing me something I had requested. Now, where we we?"

"We were talking about our needing to get home," Lydia reminded him.

"Quite. At least, Princess, give me the pleasure of being able to entertain you in my household until the end of the week? Surely our good Prince Vince can spare you so long as that?"

"I..." Was there really a way out of this? "I suppose that's... all right."

It was soon tolerably evident that Mr. Monitor's camera people were on the scene.

They were taking unusually great pains to keep themselves out of sight, since Lydia never actually saw any of them. However, while exploring the castle a bit more, she occasionally overheard them speaking to one another.

"This is a waste of time. This Vasile guy never shows up on film anyway!"

"Who cares? Boss isn't interested in him, he just wants the other two and their wacky hijinks."

"Yeah, but if something doesn't happen soon we might all get fired."

"Well, we can't interfere. Prince's orders."

That was reassuring. Prince Vince was undoubtedly keeping tabs on the situation via Tumblr, and he knew that things weren't right. But just how not right they were didn't become fully clear to Lydia until the following night at dinner. Vasile was present, of course; he was punctual almost to a fault.

Beetlejuice, on the other hand, never materialized.

"Have you seen my husband, my lord?" she inquired politely, trying to swallow a growing sense of panic.

"Not since last evening, Princess. I'm surprised, really; he's so often found wherever you are."

"Yes, we don't separate often," she agreed. "But I lay down for a nap this afternoon - I had a headache - and when I woke up he wasn't there. I assumed I'd see him now, if not sooner."

"Strange indeed. Well, he can't have gone far, I expect. Not with you still here. In the meantime, I shall endeavor to make amends for his absence by supplying my own companionship."

"How considerate."

"I can understand you not wishing to partake of the wine," he continued, "given your delicate condition. But surely you realize you're not eating enough to sustain both you and the child?"

"I get so ill," she explained. "Pregnancy sickness, you know. So I eat a little bit continuously throughout the day to keep it at bay. It's an old wives' trick I learned a long time ago, and always meant to try when my time came." This, at least, was the truth - not her eating habits, of course, but she had learned that particular trick from a pregnant teacher in college, and had filed it away for possible future use.

"A wise woman," he noted approvingly.

The conversation continued in the vein of largely meaningless chatter throughout the meal, but still Beetlejuice didn't show. Lydia was finally able to excuse herself for the night, half hoping that he was asleep in the little suite of rooms Vasile had provided them. But there was no sign of him at all.

"He couldn't have left," she mused, combing her hair. "Could he? I mean, I guess he could, he's not physically incapable, but I don't believe he would. Not unless he had a really good reason for going without me. Which he'd better, if that's what he did." She sighed and flopped onto the bed, tired and worried. "The bigger problem is, if he didn't, then where is he now?"