When storms fade off a warm day in the southern Atlantic coast of the USA, often times a dark line of clouds will reside, leaving reminders to the rain that passed. Sometimes, a fog will rise from the sea, providing an eerie calm to an otherwise crashing shoreline. On special days, they happen simultaneously, and a gray, featureless day arises.
In the early hours of such a day, near the southern tip of Georgia, such a day was brewing. In the dim light of a day not yet at dawn, a small airboat propelled its way out of a large cluster of reeds. Two figures, a man currently steering the ship, and a younger man, sitting calmly in one of the six seats, watched the gentle, calm waters. As the boat emerged from the mess of vegetation, the engine was cut, and the ship began to drift out into open water.
No wind met them, and so the ship sailed ahead, unhindered in its efforts. The older man, of small wrinkles and cool, dark skin, peeked around with squinted eyes. A fisherman cap atop his head, he stared into the fog with a wary eye. The younger man, of a gently milder complexion and a tired, but pleased look, yawned loudly.
"Shh," the older one scolded, "You'll scare 'em," he said, his voice filled with a twang.
"Sorry, dad," the younger man nodded, "Don't want to upset the crowd."
"They ain't gunna bite if they hear us," the older man sniffed, and looked off into the fog.
"Assuming they're out here," the boy said, of a clearer vernacular. He leaned closer to his father as the old man approached him, scooping up a box of fisherman tools, and setting up a fishing line. "I thought it was a bad time to fish when it rained."
"It is, but 'tain't raining," the man shook his head, and glanced above, "Ain't gonna rain for a while. Early. Foggy. Fish'll bite now. Good dad and son time," he added with a wink.
"If you say so," the younger man nodded with his own smirk, and also looked around.
From the low and thick fog, a dark looming approached. The son, sharper, wider eyes than his father spotted it quickly. "Hey," he patted his dad, and the man glanced up. Though the father said nothing, his eyes honed in on the sight and he stalled his knotting.
"Dad, I thought we're past Marsh Island," the son said, glancing to his dad after a moment.
"We are," the older man said, his eyes growing wider.
"Then... is that Cumberland Island?" the son asked with confusion. "We only just got out of the marshes. Did I miss-" the son looked to his father again, and realized the apprehension on the old man's face, "...Something?"
The old man finally looked to his son. After a long pause, where even the gentlest of cresting waters seemed to shout into the quiet water around them, the man spoke up.
"That there's Gracey Island," the man warned and cleared his throat, going back tying knots together.
The son stared at his father. After a good pause of five or so seconds, the son let out a prolonged, disbelieving laugh.
"What?" he said, shaking his head, and looking to the distant shadows, "Gracey Island?" he stared and tried focusing in on the distant object. Through the foggy outline and distant image, a vacant, warn and weathered docks awaited. The mist billowed around it, a slow, steady stream of water vapor, much like the river they floated on.
The son snorted. "That's just a scary story."
"It is," the father noted.
With a quick look to his father, the son added, "Only a story."
"No," the fisherman gulped. "It's a real place."
The son chuckled gently. His father, unblinking and open in his fear, stared into the unbelieving eyes of his son. The effect took a toll on the son, and his courage and steadfast humor waned. Slowly, he turned back to the island, watching the fog around it twist and turn in disturbing shapes.
Decidedly, the father noted, "This is gonna be as close as we get."
"Dad," the son looked to him as he shook his head, "It's not haunted. I don't care what the news and what the tabloids have been saying: ghosts aren't real."
"They said mermaids been round 'ere," the father noted, "Round that island."
The son laughed. "Even if there were mermaids, like real, live, mermaids, they'd have nothing to do with ghosts, dad," the son chided.
"Mermaids are supernatural. So are ghosts."
"C'mon dad," the son sighed.
"We ain't going near that island," the father announced with a low growl. "Cursed land."
"There's no such thing as curses," the son said easily. "Or ghosts. Or mermaids. Are dragons real, dad?" he asked pointedly. Before the father could do anything other than glare at his son, there was a loud bump on the bottom of the boat. The father jumped, holding his chest. The son chuckled, and said, "It's probably just a manatee, dad. Don't be so..."
The son's eyes were being pulled away. In the water, he saw a dark figure. Many dark figures. He slowly stood up, gasping for air. It was amazing to see: life in such numbers swimming all in the same direction. The father noted as well, and spun to look at the direction, and he too shot up.
"See?" the son patted his father's shoulder, "Just manat-"
Then a human-like head bobbed out of the water just a few feet from them before promptly re-submerging. The two gasped, and the son's mouth fell open. The murky depths made it hard to see, but they were both certain they saw copper-like skin and long, dark hair. Now, among the mix of the swimming figures, were bodies that held humanoid resemblances, with fishy tails.
The father jabbed his son with a rigid finger in the chest. "Next time maybe you'll listen to your pap."
"It's probably just an illusion – err, you know? Hallucination," the son said, his head shaking in place as he spoke.
The father grasped inside the boat for a hand-net. "We're gonn' catch one!"
"Dad, no!"
"If we send it to fancy science folk, they'll reward us money," the dad argued with a nervous grin.
A pair of hands grasped the side of the boat, and the two screamed. The net was dropped as a man emerged from the water. Long, wavy chocolate hair fell past his head, and two deep brown eyes peered at them. The creature, sporting only a sea-shell necklace, smiled at them with a parting in his front two teeth.
"Hola!" he quickly waved to them, using only the silkiest and graceful of Latino accents, "I need to warn you-"
"MERMAID!" the father shouted, scrambling for his net.
"Dad, stoppit!" the son said, trying to prevent him from gathering the net.
"Really?" the creature in the water sighed, rolling his eyes quickly, "Merman! I am clearly male! Look at these pectorals!" he said, pushing himself away gently, flashing his well toned, muscular chest.
The son, holding his father back, who was trembling, approached. "Are you really a mer... folk?" he asked.
"Yes, but you are in danger!" the young-adult looking creature leaned in closer, "You need to distance yourself from the island, quickly now!"
"I told you!" the father whacked the boy's head with a quick punch. The son winced, flinching less from pain and more from shock, only for them to scramble away from the other side of the boat as another figure arose from the water. This time a manatee, wearing a large pink dress and a golden and red crown, emerged and spoke in fluent English.
"Please," she spoke in a calm, soothing voice, "Retreat from this river! Back to shore with you, landwalkers!"
"Oh my god, manatees can talk," the boy said, his mouth falling open.
"Please!" the merman begged. "Get out of here before-"
From the island, a terrible bellowing wail cut into the air. The fog parted, and the distant island finally came into focus. Tall trees of close proximity covered the island, which was a lone hill in the river. Atop the trees shone the single building that inhabited the island, and the two in the boat felt their blood freeze as they saw it, finally. As their eyes focused, the two figures dived back into the water and vanished.
A single, derelict, but still standing, mansion.
Yet what made them scream and scramble in their boat was not the sight of the building, nor the island, nor the scream that seemingly parted all the fog from around it. It was the racing of shapes that poured out form the island. Spectral, warped forms that mocked life in movement flew around them. Screams of pain, shouts of terror, and wails of sorrow flooded the air.
The son, ever the current and up-to-date fellow he was, took to his father's stunned inaction, and raced to the controls. With one look to the terrible sights around them, and now steering the boat away, the son had only one thing to say:
"NOPE!"
The airship roared life back into the river, and soared away.
The terrible, misty images slowly faded and dissipated from the mist, falling away into only the fragments of what they had been. The fog slowly returned to its fullest, and the island was blanketed by its mist.
Half a mile up river, the gathering of thirty merfolk and manatees breached the surface. The one with a crown floated to the one with a gap in his teeth.
"What shall we do, my darling?" the manatee asked, holding her stubby, short arms against his toned, humanoid ones.
The merman shook his head. "The island's curse grows. It may no longer be safe for our peoples to inhabit these shores. Soon, or even now," the man worried.
"But that would mean evacuating many communities," the manatee royalty reminded him.
"Yes..." the merman stared at the distant mist, a scornful glare in his eyes. "This human haunting has gone on long enough without resolution. We need someone to end this, for all our sakes!"
"But who, my lord?" a blond mermaid approached, worried as she looked between the merman and manatee. "Humans are still terribly frightened of us! They may try catching us if we ask for aid. Or just turn away and flee!"
"I hate to agree, but you are correct," the male merfolk growled, and splashed the surface of the river with an angry slap. "I only know of two who I could trust, and as far as I know, they are painfully far away."
The manatee queen tapped her fin onto the merman's shoulder. "I may know of one. My father spoke of a dark figure who has had many dealings with such loathsome things. Perhaps... he can be of aid to us?"
The merman shrugged. "How do we contact him?" he asked.
As if on cue, the manatee lifted a cell phone from under the water, and dialed it quickly. It rang only briefly before the tone was cut. "Daddy," the crowned manatee asked, "I need you to call the human you told me about. Spooky, old, but handsome?"
With a concerned life of his eyebrow, the merman asked, "Who?"
Ignoring him for the moment, the Manatee lady gasped. "Yes," she nodded, "Yes that one: the Guardsman."
Fifteen hours and nine minutes had passed since Waddles was left to Mina the Mastodon, and Mabel felt every single second of it a long, dreadful, absence.
It was early in the morning, and the group had come to stop on a beach parking lot off the highway. Dipper, late in the night, had tried cheering up Mabel by taking her to see the seashore while they had rested. Dipper had fallen asleep hours ago, still in his car. Mabel, sadly, had never once rested her eyes. On a banking of sand some fifty feet away from the parked cars, Mabel sat on the beach, staring at the grey morning. The waves were short and crashed often, providing a din that only submerged Mabel further in her mind.
Her entire train of thought was combative. She struggled against her own criticisms, for once, and made poor defense in replying fully.
You left behind waddles.
He was in danger if he stayed.
You could have protected him better.
I... can protect the people I care about.
You can't even protect yourself!
Yes, I-
Waddles is a pig.
So!?
How could you protect him?
The same way I-
How could you protect your friends? Your own brother?
Mabel sniffled and rubbed her ears. She patted the sides of her hard, trying to 'knock away' the terrible self-doubt that had infected her. Had she made the right choice? Was she arguing with her own selfish reasons for wanting Waddles around her? It was hard for her to say, as she was so tired, she couldn't even think in complete thoughts.
Yet she would not sleep. Sorrow crushed her.
Maybe it was her sleepiness that deprived her sharp senses from warning her of someone coming up to her. Maybe she was too deep in thought to recognize someone joining her. It didn't matter: she barely flinched when a girl with long, red hair sat next to her with a sigh, resting her arm on her knee and looking out to the sea.
"Mabel," Wendy said with a gentle smile.
"Hey," Mabel smiled back, trying her best to emulate happiness.
"You haven't slept yet," Wendy pointed out.
"No, not feeling like a sleepyhead," Mabel lied.
Without looking to the brunette, Wendy asked, You sure?"
"Sure as a shore," Mabel winked.
Wendy slowly nodded. "Uh huh. You cold at all?" she said, eying Mabel's exposed lower legs.
"Eh," Mabel shrugged.
"I'm just guessing, because you've got some goose bumps on your skin there," she nodded to Mabel's legs, and Mabel then scooted them closer to her.
"I'm okay," she insisted.
"You sure? I could get you one of the blankets in the car-"
"No, don't bother," Mabel said, smiling her best attempt. Wendy's concerned stare only told Mabel that she hadn't succeeded, and then dropped all pretenses of happiness. "I miss him, Wendy."
"Waddles?" she asked. Mabel nodded. "I know, man. He was a pretty cool pig."
"There may never again be a pig so cool," Mabel added with a sniff.
"But... he's going to be okay, right?" Wendy asked with the smallest of smiles. "Dipper didn't want to, uh, tell us anything you didn't want to say first."
Mabel rolled her eyes. "That's stupid. I'm not hiding anything else," she grumbled, and turned to Wendy, "We found him by the lady's place, and when we had to go, Dipper thought that, after all that had happened, maybe it was time we sent him somewhere he could be safe," Mabel grumbled.
"And happy," Wendy added.
"What?"
"He said that he'd be happy with Mina," Wendy shrugged.
"He better be," Mabel added, "Because if he's not, I'll break every nose in my path to get back to my pig."
"Dang, Mabel," Wendy whistled.
"He's my pig. My Waddles," she said tearfully.
"Dude," Wendy scooted closer, wrapping her arm around Mabel, "That pig has seen some crazy stuff. He was there when we beat Bill three years ago. He was here when we escaped the reality explosion thing several weeks ago. That pig is about as tough as we are, and as fluffy as you," she added with a clever grin.
"Pssh, stop it," Mabel struggled and failed to contain a smile. She then looked to Wendy. "I'm just scared that, well, if I can't protect a pig, how will I protect everybody?"
"Mabel, dude, first of all," Wendy leaned in, "Don't worry about me. Right? Solid as an oak!" she said, thumping her chest with her fist.
"But what about Dipper?" Mabel asked.
"What about him?" Wendy asked, her eyes squinting, to study Mabel.
"Well, he was really ready to use magic to find Waddles," Mabel explained, "Even though he's seen the kinds of people who really use magic."
"Huh, really?" Wendy said, her face suddenly resembling stone.
Mabel looked ahead to the sea, not noticing the red-heads change. "I mean, Gideon used magic. Bill is magic. Graupner, Mister Steindorf, Grunkle Ford; they've all used or use magic. Dipper wants to be on the same list of all those people?" Mabel asked, "Someone who uses magic?"
"Well, I mean," Wendy shrugged, "Lists always have exceptions. Like my family," she smirked, "Mostly dudes- well, mostly men. I'm a dude, but I'm also a chick."
"And I'm worried about you," Mabel added.
"Heh," Wendy sighed, and played with a small tuft of sand next to them, "I wouldn't."
"But I can't help it!" Mabel cried out, turning to her fully, "You're always hurting, and no matter what Dipper wants to think he can do-"
"Mabel," Wendy put her hands on Mabel's shoulders. "Look man. I'm okay. It's not perfect, right? But I was alone for nearly nine months straight in three separate years. This? This adventure Zander's sending us on is crazy, dangerous, and all sorts of insane. But," she added with a smile, "I get to keep company. That's more than I can say I had this winter. And besides, now I can go on walks in boggy woods without worrying about mosquitoes. Won't even come close to me," she winked.
"Some pros to being undead?" Mabel asked.
"There's a few. Weird senses," Wendy listed off with her fingers, "Can't really be hurt or killed, don't really need to eat or drink... if that's really a pro," she grumbled.
"I just don't want you to hurt yourself or..." Mabel stalled, looking at Wendy with shimmering eyes.
The redhead studied her. Where a gaze from green met hazel, a connection of unspoken worry was bridged. Wendy slowly nodded, and stared out into the sea.
"Mabel, as long as nothing really bad happens to me, I think we'll be okay, I mean, I'll be okay," she sighed. "I've put up with too much to get all this way just to go crazy at the end of it," she admitted.
"Man, when you sat it like that, that makes Soos probably the luckiest of all of us," Mabel snickered. "Doesn't have magic problems, or crazy people looking for him specifically when we're not around," Mabel chuckled.
"Ehhh," Wendy turned her head around her shoulder, looking to the dragster that Soos had adopted from Stanley. "I dunno. He's been mumbling a lot in his sleep lately." Mabel made to open her mouth, but a loud door slam shocked her and she closed her eyes. Wendy turned to the direction, and chuckled. "It's your brother."
"Course it is," she mumbled.
Stepping through the sand behind them was Dipper. Groggy, and looking more than just sour, the teenager looked to the two ladies as he approached.
"We gotta wake up Soos," he said loudly.
"Why?" Wendy called back, letting Mabel rest on her sand mound.
"I just got a text from Zander," Dipper grunted. "He says to call back. It's urgent."
Mabel scrambled to her feet; her eyes wide as new adrenaline pumped into her ears. "Zander? What?"
"I don't know," Dipper sighed, "Hasn't replied to my text asking for details. We'll just call."
Waking Soos was not any kind of chore. The large man-child shot up with a sudden jolt, saying the last things from his dream, and quickly apologized. Before he could explain his last words, Dipper already wrangled him to Wendy and Mabel, and the three of them stood, atop a sandy hill, as Dipper called Zander Maximillion.
The man of many identities answered curtly. "Good morning, Angles," he chuckled.
"Cut the humor. It's too early," Dipper grumbled.
"Hi Zander!" Mabel smiled earnestly, warming her face with a flush. "Has everything been good with the paths since the Florida fights in the woods?"
"Yup," Zander replied curtly, "We mopped everything up. A lot of people had to be hospitalized, and are being treated for psychiatric re-conditioning."
"Huh?" Mabel tilted her head to one side.
Dipper reiterated, "Doctors are trying to fix their brainwashing."
"Oh! Goodie!" Mabel smiled.
Zander, over the phone, said, "And while I can say the fight is over, I still have some weird, unsolved mysteries from that night."
Dipper shifted in his seat, glaring at the phone. "So, where's the next Starkissed?" he demanded.
"Actually," Zander said slowly, "I'm not calling about Starkissed. I think."
Wendy frowned. "Huh? Wait, something else came up?" she asked.
"Oh dude, maybe we'll meet Godzilla?" Soos asked excitedly, "I always wanted to meet a Godzilla."
"No, sadly enough, no Godzillas to report about," Zander said, the faintest of an auditory smile in his voice. Soos sighed and his shoulders dropped in disappointment. Zander told them, "I have a favor to ask of you four."
"What?" Dipper growled.
"Sure!" Mabel squeaked. "Anything!"
"Mabel!" Dipper hissed.
As Dipper tightly clenched the phone, Zander's voice explained, "Not an hour ago, I was contacted by the king of the Manatees, Manatros. He's calling in a favor I owe. You see-"
"Wait," Dipper interceded the chatter, "Are you just dumping a favor you owe onto us? Really?"
"Dipper, I'm sorry, but with my current state, I'm not equipped to handle this situation. In fact, my presence could actually make it worse," Zander sighed across the phone. "And you four have experience in this kind of matter."
"Well, let's hear it," Mabel chirped.
Dipper leaned forward to her, and quietly shook his head. "No way," he whispered. "He's already having us run around the country. Why is he sending us around like errand boys?!"
"Because he trusts us," Mabel calmly replied. Dipper recoiled; his face screwed up in a scowl. Mabel's inner mind felt the dark clouds of doubt return, and she quickly looked to Soos and Wendy. "What do you guys think?"
"Dude, Zander's chill," Soos shrugged. "I'm in."
When Mabel and Dipper looked to Wendy, she gave each a significant look, and nodded. "Let's have him explain it first," she said, "And then we'll decide."
"Okay, fine," Dipper nodded slowly, and lifted the phone back up, "Let's hear the details."
The voice on the phone picked back up. "On the southern edge of Georgia is an uncharted island on modern maps. This island was once known as Gracey Island. Now, the reason it no longer is on maps is because over one hundred and fifty years ago, it was cursed."
The gang all exchanged silent reactions. Dipper groaned, putting a hand over his face. Wendy closed her eyes and let out a steady breath. Soos cringed and leaned away from the phone. Mabel, on the other hand, just said, "Yuch!"
Zander grumbled, "I don't know the exact specifics of the curse, but since it came to be, no one inhabits, comes close to, or marks the map on anything. It is a self-containing curse... or at least, it was until recently."
"Can't be worse than cursed gems that rearrange gender or shrink you, right?" Dipper snickered. The three glared at him.
"This is very serious," Zander snapped over the phone, his voice suddenly rising. "Curses are not something to take lightly!"
"I know," Dipper hissed, "It was just a joke. Jeesh."
"This curse, to my guesstimation," Zander admitted, "Became agitated around the same time the Stone of Conservation was destroyed. The return of magic is causing whatever negative energies manifest there to amplify. The curse may have been dormant for the past one hundred and fifty years, but according to the locals, it's growing in size and potency."
"So how do we get there?" Dipper sighed. The others looked to him, surprise behind their looks. Dipper, despite his morning fatigue, did not miss their stares. "What?" Dipper shrugged, "I don't care who sends us, but a curse isn't something we should just turn from."
"Aww, bro," Mabel rubbed his head through his hat, "You're so good sometimes."
"Sometimes!?" he barked.
Zander continued. "There used to be a land bridge that connected Gracey Island to Jekyll Island. But the southern bridge was eroded by water. I can only guess that the curse had something to do with that."
Dipper argued, "Wait, so there's no way to get to it unless we, what, swim?"
"I have a boating license," Soos lifted a hand.
"One legal for Georgia?" Dipper inquired.
"Such license is absence," Soos lowered his hand.
"No," Zander said, "No renting a boat. That could put others in Graupner's path. That Warlock has enough anger issues to dish out on us. We don't need more caught in his crosshairs."
"Fine," Dipper surrendered his plans to Zander, and asked, "How do we get there?"
"There is a dock in the Fancy Bluff Creek, which empties into the same river that Gracey Island sits in," Zander explained, "The locals that contacted me will get you across without endangering themselves."
"Wow," Mabel smiled, "I like them already!"
"Well, Zander, you're sending us on a super-secret mission to a cursed island and we have no idea what to expect," Soos summarized, "What can you tell us about the horrible past of the island?"
Zander was silent.
He finally said, after a long, pained pause, "Actually... not much."
"Wait, what?!" Wendy said. "You always know stuff! Like, weird, kind of important things," she admitted, scratching her hair.
Agitated by his own ignorance, Zander admitted, "I know the 'before the curse island' Gracey Island. It was named for the family which owned it – the Gracey's. They were a politically important and economically rich family, who had a lot of respect in the days post-civil war. They made a lot of wealth in vessel ownership. Aside from that, their wikipedia just sort of ends by saying the fell from power in the eighteen sixt-."
Clawing at the phone, Dipper shouted, "You're reading this from a wikipedia!?"
"Yeah?" Zander asked over the phone. "Why?"
Wendy demanded, "Is that where you get most of your credible information?"
Perhaps caught a little out in the open, Zander said, shakily, "Uh... no? Only the times when I actually don't know anything about it. Look, guys," he said, hearing the groans of worry from most of the group, "This just came up on my radar. I don't like rushing into situations without a bit of planning, but to the people in the area, this needs to be solved soon. Their lives and livelihoods depend on us helping them. So, I don't have time to go rummaging around an ancient library, okay?"
"Well," Mabel caressed the phone out from Dipper's hand, "We're going to do it. As long as this curse doesn't snag or possess us or anything, I'm two hundred percent in."
"Great!" Zander exclaimed, brimming with excitement and joy. Mabel nearly swooned.
Dipper snatched back the phone. "Zander, do you really think it's just a curse? Could there be Starkissed there? It kind of feels like wherever we go, we find some of this stuff nearby paranormal things."
"There could be," Zander said, "Or there may not be. Curses are weird things. Starkissed tend to attract weird and magical entities to them, but curses have their own science to them outside of standard magic. If a Starkissed was used to create a curse, the sudden reactions to the surge in magic could cause it to expand like this, or it may be that the curse never had enough residual magical energy to grow on its own, and only now-"
"Man," Dipper suddenly cut in, a crooked smile worn, "You certainly know a lot about magic for someone who always talks against using it."
A venomous pause followed his words. Mabel stared at her brother, a hot, angry red creeping into her face. Soos looked between the twins, and took two half steps away, before Zander finally replied.
Cool and tense, Zander replied, "I have had a lot of time to learn from my enemies, Dipper."
Sensing the ending of the call coming soon, Wendy spoke out hastily, "Uh, Zander, speaking of which–"
"Sorry guys, I need to go. I trust you can find your way to the docks in Fancy Bluff Creek. Good luck," he said, the faintest traces of disregard in his voice. The line then cut.
As Dipper pocketed the phone slowly, his sister walked past him, shoving his shoulder deliberately. "Hey! What?!" he demanded.
"Nothing," Mabel snapped, "It's not like I wanted to talk to him or anything!"
"Mabel, he was hiding..." Dipper started, but she whipped away from him, and got inside the car, taking the driver's seat long before Dipper could. "Dang it, Mabel," he quietly said.
"She's just tense, dawg," Soos patted his shoulder, "You know, like 'I just lost my soul animal' tense. Like a twelve on the one to ten scale of tense and emotionally raw. Like a-"
"Thank you, Soos, I got it," Dipepr glared at him.
"Awesome dude, just making sure," Soos patted his shoulder genuinely, and made for the El Diablo dragster.
Dipper turned to Wendy, only to find her walking past him. "Wendy?" Dipper asked, "You... you're one Mabel's side here?"
"Look Dipper," Wendy turned, shaking her head, "I don't like that Zander isn't telling us everything. He's clearly not. But we need his help."
"Do we?" Dipper asked Wendy.
"Yes," she nodded firmly, "I think we do," she noted, and walked to her bike.
Dipper decided it was better to climb into the back seats of the car that morning, rather than take passenger. With Mabel's driving, for better or worse, the four turned away from their stop on Hilton Head Island and made their way south. Tracing footsteps back down the highway to their destination, the trip was an entirely silent one.
Mabel's face was screwed up with determination and visible frustration. From his back-seat, Dipper could see his sister's state from the windshield reflection. Her anger, either justified or otherwise, was an intimidating one.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was right. Zander had to be a bad guy here; one that just happened to be on their side at the time, right? Dipper reflected on the last time a person of great authority came into his life and he trusted him.
Three years ago, when Stanford Pines returned through the portal, he fooled the whole gang. Acting on Bill's orders, he re-tuned the portal; acting as an agent for Cipher. Dipper never had found out if the things Ford had told him were meant to drive him and his sister apart, but they had nearly succeeded that summer. It hadn't mattered how he had admitted, right at the end, how much he hated to do it. What matters is that Ford had done it – betrayed his family for Bill.
Even if he had been the one to sacrifice himself at the end, allowing them to throw him, becoming possessed by Bill, back into the portal. Dipper clenched his fist, the pain from that night still a part of his life. In the end, their connection to their friends and Stanley had grown, but at the cost of Ford.
Dipper realized, as he stared at the many groves and bayous as the traveled southward, that since then he had never come to trust any adult who claimed to want to help without relaying their real deal. Zander could just be the next Ford.
He wouldn't ever let his guard down. Even if they were on the same side.
Some hour and a half later, they were off the highway again and taking a curving, winding road into the swampy lands of coastal Georgia. Moss spanned the thin leaves of the trees above them, further filtering out the light on the day of gray that had become their morning.
It wasn't even nine by the time they finally arrived. Mabel parked the car, and glanced back to her brother. Even though her face bore no fury, the embers of her anger were still visible in her eyes. Regardless, she asked Dipper, "You ready?"
Swallowing away his own reluctance, he gave her a small, "Yeah."
All four exited, and met behind Dipper's car.
Once he was with the other four, he wove them towards the back of his car. "Okay, I've had some time to think about it," Dipper said as the trunk door opened, "But curses cover a wide-range of topics. If this is a curse laid on by energy alone, we just need to sprinkle some anointed water, salt, and some burning herb through the island," Dipper explained, "And the curse will dissipate."
"Okay," Soos collected a water-gun for such a thing, a salt-shaker, and a pile of herbs into his arms, "I am the person for that job."
"If this is a curse that was made by disrupting natural energies, we need to un-do that disruption. If," Dipper gave the condition some thought, "Say, someone built a house on a fairy spring, we'd need to demolish the house."
"Ohh!" Mabel raised her hand, "I can do that!"
"Same here, sista," Wendy nodded, and the two high-fived, "Demolition experts."
"Right," Dipper rolled his eyes, "And if what I think is going on is true, we'll maybe also need some more anointed water, an EMF detector, and my journals," Dipper sighed, "because my guess is that this is also a haunting."
"Like that wicked ghost in Pacificas house!" Mabel said. "Axe him a question about this, hehehe."
"What?" Wendy gasped. She glanced to Soos expectantly.
Soos sadly shrugged. "Yeah, I missed that one too. Sorry, no juicy deets from me."
Dipper collected his own anointed water, and put it in his vest. As he lifted the EMF detected, and gave it a test, it screeched horribly. "Whoa! What!?" Dipper gasped. Turning in his place, he faced it around. "It's already getting a spike! How is that-"
As Dipper clapped at the side of the device, Mabel suggested, "Maybe it's broken?"
Soos pointed to it, "Oh! Maybe it's Wendy!"
To her credit, Wendy stepped back. The device continued to loudly hum. "Don't think so," she told them.
Frustrated, Dipper declared, "No, Wendy had been nearby these before. There wasn't a reaction then. Why would there be one now?"
Mabel suggested, "Maybe because of all the new magic? Maybe, 'cus Wendy is magical, she's more likely to trigger it."
"Oh," Wendy hummed, scratching her chin in thought, "Maybe that's it."
"Oh. Dang," Dipper sheepishly tossed the device into the trunk of the car, "Well, there goes that then. Can't work if it's screaming at us all the time."
As the trunk door was closed, Mabel cried out, "I can see the docks!" Mabel pointed.
"Alright dawgs, let's go meet some locals, who probably don't have much teeth left," Soos noted, and walked with Mabel. Dipper locked the door and followed after Wendy and the gang.
The docks they had come to were moldy and... entirely abandoned. There was a caved in shack to its side, where its old, broken glass covered the insides. No tools remained that could be used, for they too had succumbed to time and rot. To their eyes, they saw no one. However, an oar-less rowboat large enough for maybe six floated at the end, unattended.
"Did we beat the locals here?" Mabel asked, "Talk about time management."
Dipper quietly argued, "Or laziness on their half."
"What if they locals are the boat," Soos asked. The three turned and looked at him. "Sorry, just throwin' ideas out there. You never know."
"It'd be more likely we ran into some crazy magical creature," Dipper admitted, "than a boat that can talk."
A voice floated over from the boat. "You know us too well, Dipper my friend."
Dipper, Wendy, and Soos stared at the boat, their mouths fallen open. Mabel however stepped closer. "I... know that voice. That beautiful voice. So silky! It can't be!" she gasped, and ran towards the boat.
Soos cried out as the others followed, "Watch for splinters!"
True to Mabel's guess, there was someone behind the boat, in the water. Half a body emerged from the murky depths, and the other half an attractive humanoid form with gentle copper-toned skin.
"Mermando!" Mabel shouted, and dived into the boat, hugging the sopping wet half of a merman.
"Mabel!" the merman shouted back, hugging in kind.
As they separated, they all could see him. Grown was the boy merman from three years ago. He was taller in form, and much more muscular. His hair, still voluptuous and voluminous as ever, swayed behind his back to his rear, where the beginnings of a large fish tail started. His dark brown eyes peered at Mabel and his grin exposed the gap in his two front teeth.
"It's so great to see you again!" Mabel cried out, and nudged his wondrous jaw-line, "Any luck on that 'legs' buisness?"
Mermando's smile faded and he stared a Mabel for a moment. "You're lucky you're cute. It's got a lot going for you."
"I know," Mabel admitted.
Dipper stepped closer, flanked by Soos and Wendy. "So, let me get this straight, Mermando, you're the local who's called for Zander's help?"
"I'm not the only one here," Mermando held his hand behind him.
On cue, a large swarm of Manatees and other Merfolk merged from the river water. Many of them ogled the land-dwellers, just as they were watched in awe.
Eying the brigade of sea-dwellers, Soos said, "Wow dude, you're like some commanding force or something."
"I am. I am Royalty now, after all," Mermando admitted with half smile.
"Oh," Mabel sat up straight, suddenly rigid. "That's right. You're with-"
A manatee emerged right next to Mermando, with pink clothing and all-too impressive crown. She spoke up, "The Queen of Manatees, Manatier."
Mabel gasped, and then bowed, saying, "Your highness."
"What kind of name is Manatier?" Dipper quietly asked to Soos.
The Queen heard him. She snapped back, "What kind of name is Dipper?! To be Dipped!"
"Hahaha," Soos chuckled with Mabel as Dipper blushed, "She got you there, dude"
"I didn't know you were the suffering locals," Mabel admitted, "This is horrible! We thought it was just dumb hicks in the woods."
"Well, no," Mermando shrugged, "It's just dumb hick merfolk in the coast who are suffering."
"Oh," Mabel nodded, "So not much difference."
"Please," Queen Manatier pleaded, nudging her head against the boat, "Step inside. We shall explain on the way."
"Royal escort to a cursed island?" Soos noted as they stepped in, "This day couldn't get more exciting."
With a dark look in her eyes, Wendy said to him, "Dude. Really?"
"What? It's just a curse," he shrugged, "Not like anything worse could come from-"
Holding her hand out to stop him, Wendy said with a glare, "Soos, I'm going to need you to stop talking for a bit. For everyone's safety."
Into the river the boat was slowly pushed away. Around them, the masses of merfolk and manatees watched them with interest and wonder.
"So, do all humans look like you?" a blond mermaid asked Dipper, leaning into the ship briefly.
"Ah, no?" Dipper replied shakily, aware of her intent stare.
"Wow, we must be so lucky then," she said, battering her eyelashes, "To have such handsome explorers come to our aid." Dipper chuckled nervously incapable of saying much else but small protests of his glory. She leaned closer, her big blue eyes scanning him. "Maybe you and I could go for a swim-" her eyes flickered to another member in the boat, and suddenly she sunk back into the water.
When Dipper, shocked at the sudden departure, turned to see the source of fear, he only saw Wendy gently whistling to herself, looking away.
Soos leaned in to Dipper. "It totally wasn't her, dude," he insisted with a whisper.
Wendy growled, "Soos I can hear you."
"Sweet! Glad I got your back?" he smiled in earnest.
Wendy closed her eyes and stared at the coming blanket of fog. The four in the boat took notice how it did truly make a sort of wall. Rather than reaching out with natural rising vapor or low-hanging mist and cloud, the fog merely started at a certain point, and rose to consume the entirety of the larger river ahead.
"So, what is happening?" Dipper asked as they passed through the fog. Then he heard the splashing behind him. Many of the merfolk who had been trailing around the boat, along with the manatees, stopped by the fogs edge. "Why aren't they coming?"
"This is the edge of the cursed waters," Mermando declared.
"Yes," Queen Manatier added, "The island known as 'Gracey' emanates a terrible dark power that has begun to spread throughout our waters. Many of our settlements by the reefs have had to flee for their lives."
"What from?" Mabel asked, eying the manatee carefully.
"We are not entirely sure," Mermando admitted. "Images like that of mankind, but not... whole."
"Whole?" Dipper repeated.
"They are incomplete," Mermando shuddered, "And frightening."
"Well, we're here to help!" Mabel cheered, "Anything for you and your beautiful wife," she said with a genuine smile to Queen Manatier.
"Oh!" the Manatee spun in the water, and looked to Mabel. "Th-thank you, Mabel. I'll be honest, after how you two met and how my husband and I came to be, I would have thought there would be... upset feelings towards me."
Mabel sunk in her seat a little. "Mermando let me know as soon as it happened," Mabel said, her tone soft and her voice quiet. "I can't hold this against you, even something like an arranged marriage, "she added, looking to the Manatee. "Especially one as pretty as you."
"Mabel, you truly are a charmer," the Manatee smiled. "Mermando told me that you were a such a deliciously plump creature, but he failed to mention that you had such a way with your words."
As Mabel cooed in reply, Mermando cleared his throat. "We're approaching the island," he noted.
The mists around them finally parted, and with a steady gasp, the four inhabitants of the small boat stood and stared at the coming landmass. Gracey Island lay before them, a tall, forested hill among the river fog. The trees lay dead or dying, leaving little to the imagination. A trail by a horribly wilted and rotten dock led to a looming, distant shape. A house, or large estate loomed in the distance, cresting the hill proudly. Eerie sounds drifted outwards, of the faintest of creaking trees and crying of birds.
"Spooky," Soos noted.
Dipper said quietly, "I can see why people assume 'cursed'."
"The dock here," Mermando noted, "Will be where we must part."
The boat floated over, still pushed by the merfolk and manatees brave enough to escort them. The moment it made contact with the soil nearby the dock, the four hopped out, their feet squelching loudly in the mud. Mabel turned, a thankful smile ready, but she gasped. "Hey!" she cried. The merfolk and manatees, excepting Mermando were fleeing. "Guys, wait! We need a ride out, ya know!"
"What gives?" Wendy demanded of the merfolk still present, "You guys were going to help us!"
"My kin are highly fearful of such things," Mermando cringed as he looked past them to the dark building in the distance. "They do not wish to linger."
With a nod, Soos assured him, "I get that. I'm kinda vibing that whole 'forbidden castle' sort of thing. It could be spookier, but hey, still scary."
Mabel whined, "But you can't get us out if we need a quick evacuation, not at least alone."
Mermando nodded sadly. "Indeed. While my strength is palpable, I do not have the strength to do so quickly. I will need my allies and wife to do so."
"Eh," Mabel rolled her eyes, trying not to look at his pectorals, "You're probably okay on your own. I think, at least."
"But if you're going," Dipper said, "How do we get off the island?"
Mermando swam closer. "My kin have a trick. It is a sort of sending method, that we have developed over many generations."
"Ohh, echolocation?" Soos gasped.
Mermando shook his head. "No, it's called magic."
"Oh!" Dipper gasped. Mabel frowned and grumbled, standing up fully.
"The spell, 'Sending', as it is called," Mermando explained, "Requires you to focus on a person's face you know. You need to feel a connection with them – something that drives you two to act and be friends willingly. Then, once you find that connection, you may send them a brief message by first saying 'Auxilium Animus attentus'. If they wish to aid you, they will hear your message," Mermando explained.
"That's amazing!" Dipper said, pulling out his own blue and silver journal. "It's not one I know of in my books. I'll write that-"
"Well, Mermando," Mabel said, rubbing her hands together, "Thanks for the advice, but we have these nifty little techno-devices called cell-phones. They do the same thing, but better," Mabel grinned, lifting her own that was gifted from Dipper.
"Ah yes, I have one too," Mermando said, and lifted a water-cell phone.
"Where were you holding that phone all this time?" Wendy asked, an eyebrow raised. "You 're not wearing anything with pockets, so how did you-"
"Well then, should you need me," Mermando suddenly blurted out, swimming away quickly," Contact me!" and he dived in the water.
The four stood together, at the edge of the water on a supposedly cursed land. With one movement, they all turned in unison, peering away from the water to their next destination: the building. Dipper sighed, and adjusted his cap. "Well," he sighed, "if there's a place for a curse to reside, it'd be in a creepy building."
"Dang straight," Soos sniffed. "Throw down of the curse-busters!" he declared, crossing his arms dramatically.
"Welp," Mabel cracked her neck in a brief stretch, "If we're going to do this, let's do this before it gets dark."
"Mabel," Dipper laughed, "It's probably, what, just after noon? Curses aren't ghosts or anything like that. We just need to find the cause, and remove it, and we leave. No problems." Wendy instinctively reached over and wrapped her knuckles against a dead looking tree. "Thank you," Dipper remarked. "Now, let's do this."
The four, walking in unison, approached the building.
"Hold on, let's get a selfie of this," Soos said, and lifted his phone while walking. Angling the camera to face them all, Soos waved, Wendy grinned, Dipper rolled his eyes, and Mabel stretched her mouth open with her fingers as they walked up the hill.
Putting away the phone after three rapidly taken pictures, Soos and the three with him walked up the hill. To their dismay, the approach only brought more ominous sights. The land surrounding the manor was covered with gravestones. A mausoleum to their distant left stood proudly against the backdrop of dead trees.
Yet ahead was the prize: the Mansion. A grand design of older plantation days, the mansion was easily sculpted to suit the hill it rested on. A large, entirely circling stone porch awaited them, nearby a marble, but worn, set of stairs. The building itself was entirely dilapidated. Broken windows and fallen doors awaited them. However, despite the external appearance of total wear, the actual structure still seemed... intact.
"Still upright, after a hundred and fifty years," Dipper noted. "Not a good sign."
"Here," Wendy waved over, spotting the large front doors.
Two carved, once intricate doors lay before them. One still upright and locked in its hinges, the other on the ground and rotten, their way was revealed. The interior, both fortunately and frighteningly, was a nearly pitch-black foyer. As they stepped inside, smelling the air of mildew and fetid wood and fabrics, their eyes adjusted.
Formerly grand and luxurious paints had peeled, peppering the floor with curled strips of gold and red. Tattered remains of curtains still hung up, or rested on the ground. The carpet on the tiled stone floor around them was more of a patch of patterned soil. Aside from two curving staircases that lead to an overlooking balcony, a trio of hallways were open to them.
"Okay," Dipper sighed, "We're now invasive. If this curse is self-aware, we're going to be seeing activity soon."
"Unless it's a friendly curse," Soos shrugged.
"Sorry, a what?" Dipper whipped to him.
"You know, like a curse of never-ending Pizza? Or soda?" Soos shrugged. "I think there was a TV show about a Friendly curse which everybody called Cas-"
"Let's look this way," Dipper suggested, clicking up his phone and using the screen as a flashlight as he walked directly forward to the front hallway. Soos and Mabel followed suit, leaving Wendy to peer around faultlessly.
"You can see everything fine?" Mabel asked, shocked with Wendy's peering eyes.
For once comfortable with her status, Wendy explained, "Eh, another perk of being what I am, I guess."
"Here," Dipper said, turning to an open door. Stepping inside with the others, they found themselves in an ancient, cob-web ridden library.
"Aw, c'mon, reading!?" Mabel cried out, "We're here to battle stuff, not to read!"
Countering her statement, Dipper declared, "We could skip the battle if we know how to beat if before the fight."
He walked towards a long table. The rest of the room was walls of tall bookshelves, all lined with various, colorful books. Many of the tomes and old scriptures had fallen into piles of moldy paper. Yet, pushing away some of the wet, grungy material, several remaining and legible texts.
Dipper mumbled, "Maybe if we could find journals that talked about the past here – like a master's manuscript, or something..."
Soos, dashing towards the shelves, asked, "Ohh! You think they have an eighteenth century comic book?!"
Mabel groaned. "Look, Dipper," Mabel said, "I'm going to look upstairs for a room that is clearly dripping with evil or something. You know, bleeding animal heads or something," she shrugged, "So, shout if something spooky happens.
"Mabel, don't go alone," Dipper said, "just wait here until-"
"That's okay," Mabel interrupted, "Wendy can come."
"What?" Dipper and Wendy asked.
"Well, yeah," Mabel grinned sheepishly at the redhead. "Let's go for a walk?" she suggested. "You never were the type to sit down and read through a billion books," Mabel added.
Wendy nodded her head from side to side. "Yeaaah, you got me there," she admitted. She glanced to Soos, who busy thrown down books from the shelves. Then, she looked to Dipper, who watched the two ladies apprehensively. With some sort of internal surrender, Wendy said, "Yeah, I'll keep an eye on Mabel. After all Dipper," she said with intent, "You're more than prepared for... stuff," she said.
"O-Okay," Dipper nodded, "if a Zombie attacks, you scream too."
"Back at'cha, bro-bro," Mabel winked. She then grabbed Wendy and pulled her out, nearly tossing the red-head to the ground as she darted out of the room.
Once in the hallway, and a few steps past ear-shot, Wendy said, "Dude," brushing herself free of Mabel as they turned to the left, heading back to the Foyer, "What is it?"
"Wendy, I wanted to talk to you about Dipper," Mabel admitted, leading the walk away from the library.
"Maybe this is something he should hear?" Wendy suggested.
"Yeah, once I know it's more than just sister-gut instincts," Mabel worried, clutching her phone as it emitted light unflinchingly.
"Uh-huh," Wendy slowly said.
"I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, Dippersauce and I," Mabel started.
"Like, for example, your nicknames for him," Wendy pointed out as Mabel turned towards a staircase.
"Exactly!" Mabel nodded, turning the lights towards the rotting carpets on the stone stairs, "We kind of differ to each other on them."
"This isn't about nicknames though."
"No," Mabel sighed, "It's about... well... magic."
"Oh."
Mabel found herself at the top, and again found three hallways, in nearly the exact same spots as the ones below. She immediately, like her brother, chose the middle one and stepped forward. "It's just," she continued, "I'm afraid he's sort of becoming tempted."
"…Yeah?"
"Yeah!" Mabel nodded, glancing back at her friend, still marching ahead, "He keeps bringing it up. He brought it up at Gideon's trial like a joke, and I laughed! But yesterday, he was really trying to convince me to use it to help Waddles."
"And you didn't?" Wendy asked, coming to walk next to Mabel.
"Well," Mabel grimaced, "No."
"Really?!" Wendy gasped.
"Yes!" Mabel barked. "Magic is bad!"
"I mean," Wendy looked around at the many closed doors they passed, "You'll get no argument from me. Not a fan of magic myself, to be honest."
"But Dipper is," Mabel whined, "He doesn't see that it always has consequences that are really... bad," she explained as she chose to turn down another hallway, to the right. "Like with Gideon being crazy and becoming power-obsessed. Or Stanford finding Bill and becoming his slave, or... or you," she added quietly.
"Mabel," Wendy said, her tone suddenly very level, "He is very aware."
"I-I know," Mabel nodded, "Sorry."
"Always trying to break this..." Wendy's voice lingered as the two ladies came to a stop, and she muttered, "Curse..."
The door ahead of them, at the end of the hallway, was in perfect condition, with one exception. A hatchet was buried into the center of the wooden panel.
"Okay. We can continue this chat another time?" Wendy asked Mabel, staring ahead.
"Agree, warrior queen Corduroy," Mabel sighed as she stared ahead. "Shall we?" she asked, looking to her.
"I ain't afraid of no ghosts," Wendy said, yet glanced ahead, "But curses..."
"We got this," Mabel gave a warm chuckle, and moved to the doorknob.
Sliding the wounded door open, the two found themselves looking into a cluttered, cob-web covered bedroom. Directly before them was a collection of... gifts; boxes wrapped with lace and bows.
"Aww, maybe it's a Christmas or Hanukkah curse," Mabel suggested, "Look at all these presents!"
"Yeah," Wendy slowly said, stepping in with her, "I don't know what, but..."
Mabel stepped further in, the awe at looking at so may old-fashioned, and well preserved, gifts. Many of the gifts were topped with a picture- of a man and woman sitting and standing next to one another. As Mabel looked from one to another, she realized one thing- the woman in each picture was the same, yet the man changed. She hummed to herself, lifting one of the pictures up and looking at it.
"Forever together, Peter and Constance," she remarked as Wendy stepped by.
"They're all... wedding gifts," Wendy realized.
"Wow," Mabel whistled, "I thought I was love crazy."
"Yeah. Can we go now?" Wendy asked.
"I guess – oh wow," Mabel gasped, and skipped past the red-head.
In a corner, still in its mannequin, was a perfect, beautiful, preserved wedding dress. Pinned still to the fabric-based doll, the piece of clothing was adorned with pearls and other small stones of white. Mabel slowly stopped, the light of her phone staring reflecting from it into her eyes. A single necklace was tucked beneath the dress.
"It's so... pretty," she cooed.
Now eager, Wendy pleaded, "Mabel, let's go."
"Huh?" Mabel gasped and turned to her, "why?"
Clang!
The two ladies jumped. Wendy spun around and Mabel looked past her to the source of the noise.
The axe from the door was now imbedded into the floor.
"Huh," Mabel nodded matter-of-factly. "And I think we've found our target," she said.
"Yeah, I hate this room," Wendy shuddered, "I'm getting all my undead-sensors fried inside this room. Like," she made a plethora of 'splooshes' and 'kaboosh' noises as her hands mimicked explosions around her temples.
"Let's get the boys," Mabel murmured, and the two hurried out of the room.
PAGE BREAK BRO
Down below, Dipper poured over a large charter book. There was a rustle, and Dipper knew another book had been unceremoniously thrown. "Soos, keep it down," Dipper asked, "I think I found some information."
"Nice," Soos said off-handedly as he threw yet another book from the shelves to the floor, "Lemme know if you come across a comic book or manga book, okay?"
"Manga?!" Dipper turned, laughing, "Soos, when did Manga even come out?"
"Oh, probably like a thousand years ago," Soos said, turning to him and placing his hand under his thin in thought. "After all, the Japanese culture is one of great tradition. Like, at least everything has been made in Japan a thousand years ago."
Dipper turned away, shaking his head. Reading the contents of the book, he spoke aloud. "It's a collection of receipts by the last master of this house, Edward Gracey," Dipper said, "Apparently, his family used to make ships and own customs buildings. By the looks," Dipper sighed as he flipped through pages and pages of marked bills, "They made a killing."
"Hehehe," Soos chuckled, "Killings. And they're all dead now."
Dipper allowed himself a laugh. Glancing over the pages, he then added, "But aside from that, I got nothing. No talk of curses, or family troubles, or trouble with other families, local witches... nothing," Dipper sighed, and leaned back from the book, stretching his back. Easing out, Dipper heard footsteps calmly walk in from the hallway behind him. "Hey, Mabel, Wendy, toss me one of the books Soos threw. Maybe it'll help – like a journal or something," he said, examining the very back of the book."
Shocked at the result, a faded pink journal with a pink metal heart was slid before him from the side. He lifted it up, gasping. A keyhole was in the heart itself, locking the pages closed. Yet he saw a name written onto its front.
"Constance Hatchetaway?" Dipper asked.
"What dude?" Soos asked from a distance.
Dipper shook his head, and turned to see them. "Nothing," he said, "But I think Mabel found-"
His eyes widened. As he faced Soos's back, he saw no one else. To dawning horror, Dipper found that he and Soos were the only ones in the room.
Instantly, Dipper went for the water gun in his vest. Out and ready, he looked around. He saw stone busts on the shelves of the bookcase. There were still pictures in the room, all entirely un-animated.
"Soos, come here," Dipper quietly asked.
"What dude?" Soos said, turning away, holding a small book, "I think I found one! It's called, 'What Ho! A tale of most excellent and ridiculous taste'," Soos read aloud. "Kinda seems comic-booky."
"Soos!" Dipper hissed, "Come here!"
Soos gulped and rushed closer. "What?" he asked.
"I don't know," Dipper said, his breath short and shallow, "But I think the curse is beginning to warm up."
Biting at his fingernails, Soos asked as he looked around, "Like... it's stretching?"
"Maybe?" Dipper shrugged. Soos reached down, and lifted the heaviest book he could- a step-by-step process to making a cat a gentleman. The two shook and trembled as they heard movement from the hallway, and they saw coming light.
"Who-who is it?" Dipper quietly asked.
Then, with a rush of sound, Mabel leapt out. "BOO!" she roared.
"HIYAA!" Soos yelled, throwing the book at Mabel as Dipper let out a high-pitched shriek.
Mabel caught the book and opened it instinctively. "Aww, these cats are such proper fellows," she cooed happily, flipping through pages of pictures. Wendy stepped next to her, looking inside.
"You guys look like you've seen a ghost," Wendy worriedly said, "One that isn't me."
"I may have," Dipper trembled, and reached behind him to the journal. The three surrounded him as he held it out. Mabel gently laid her book behind her, and bathed the journal in light. Dipper explained, "This thing just fell into my lap."
"Wow, and you weren't even sitting," Soos marveled.
"Not literally," Dipper grumbled.
Mabel, eying the pretty, pink journal, asked, "Like it just faded into existence next to you? Sounds radical."
"More like slid next to me," Dipper gulped, "I thought one of you two had found it, and handed it to me... weird."
"You know what's weirder though?" Mabel replied, "A bedroom filled with Wedding presents." Dipper stared at her. Mabel then gasped. "Oh – follow up! That's related because it's what Wendy and I found upstairs. A creepy room with tons of presents and stuff. Really strange and spook-tastic."
With a shudder, Wendy admitted, "I hated it in there."
"Well, might as well give it a look," Dipper sighed, and lifted his pack up.
A voice behind them kindly asked in a proper gentlemen's tone, "If you young sirs and ladies won't mind, I must attend the library."
Dipper glanced over his shoulder with the rest of them, looking to the butler. "Sorry, we'll be going in a second," Dipper then turned back with Mabel and Soos, who helped him collect his things normally. Wendy, however, remained frozen in place, staring at the man. Dipper nudged her. "C'mon, he quietly said, "It's rude to st-st-st-st-"
His words failed him. He, Mabel, and Soos, one at a time, realized that Wendy's reaction was the proper one. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide, and face pale (even more than usual), she stared at the newcomer.
A man with a balding head, dark skin, and wearing entirely pleasant and up-kept butlers' suit, a man stood before them, wearing two white gloves. In one arm, he had wrapped a small towel. He stared briefly to each of them, giving Dipper's new journal a quick glance.
Clearing his throat before the four, he then said, "Now, if you all don't mind, I'd very much appreciate having the library to myself. It must be cleaned before the guests arrive for the ball tonight. Just outside, all of you. Besides, you wouldn't want to be in this room in this state," he chuckled, "Absolutely filthy."
So, yeah. I warned you guys It was exactly what it sounded like.
This episode and the next will be part of a small over-arch that marks the end of the unofficial season 4, if you count a season as ten episodes. If you don't, and keep track to the total, overarching story, this is only the beginning of the end of the first of three acts for season three. So, what I'm trying to say is that this will be part one of four, basically.
It's confusing, I know. Sorry. :p
HELLO MERMANDO! I knew I would be bringing him back into the story at some point! And trust me, we'll see him a bit more before this small arch is over. Him and his little wife are something I had always wanted to get to, and now... Ahh man. Been waiting for it.
Can you See it, my friends? The ties coming together? Can you feel the tension building? I can't tell you how excited I am for part two of the Haunted Mansion. Aside from having the attempt at writing a better story than the one for the 2003 movie with Eddie Murphy, being able to write easily one of my favorite rides in all of the Disney Franchise has been a blast. I can't tell you how many hours of research I had to do to get things as close as they are canonically correct. Which, sadly, isn't saying much- there is a very fragmented story to the rides, but it changes over time and it's mostly speculation. Still, tying that to the good things the 2003 movie did and the best of the ride, I intend this to be a section of the story everyone wants to see.
And before people begin chanting 'cross-over', it's all Disney owned, anyway. It's not as cool as some other hinted cross-overs I've done previously... *WINK*
But anyhoo, I'm off for now. Apologies to those I could not get back to for reviews, because I am lazy and stupid, and there are SO MANY OF YOU. I still love you all so much anyway, so don't be mad or-
(A tombstone is thrown at EZB, which he attempts to catch. The sheer weight slams into him, and he falls back and is crushed with a loud 'SPLAT' on the ground. Jerk kind of deserves it for not getting back to the lovely readers. God they're just so attractive. ':D )