DWinchester
patreon
Bonus Content: Darkest Reflection Ch. 3-7 (complete)
🕑 Added 2023-06-12 14:01:02 +0000 UTCThis is the rest of the story if anyone feels like a spot of supernatural horror. 11,500. I rather like how it turned out.
Ch. 3 - Just a Taste
Now the Marquess was leaning forward and hanging on her every word as Josephine continued to tell her story.
“So he was just sitting there, surrounded by mirrors?” he asked thoughtfully as he considered her words. “How very peculiar.”
“It was,” she agreed. She was tempted to relate the true strangeness of the sight, but she doubted that Hugo would care about the tiny details she found so jarring. It didn’t matter to him that hand mirrors had been nailed in the gaps between large full-length and smaller vanities, but the effect had been striking to her. There was something about the way the oval mirrors had been scattered at random through the field of almost uniformly rectangular ones that unnerved her. He’d even used a few compacts and put a few shiny pots in the gaps once he’d run the whole house out of mirrors.
That wasn’t an important detail, though, so she continued. “The truly curious thing wasn’t Morty sitting there in the chair. I wouldn’t have put it past him to fake some kind of spell or trance to get the reaction he wanted after our previous encounters. The strange thing was that the footman. He’d finally had enough of the charade and had gone into the room to retrieve his master while we were on our way over. By the time we arrived, he’d been standing stock still, frozen in place for almost half an hour.”
“And so Ezekiel decided to go in after them?” Hugo asked darkly. “How very foolish of the old man. I would have expected more from his vaunted instincts.”
The way that he spoke those words made Josephine sure the centuries-old Marquess sitting across from her knew something. He always sounded arrogant when lording secrets over the foolish mortals he found amusing. She didn’t let that distract her, though. She’d wait to ask until her tale was complete.
“Not Exactly,” she corrected him hesitantly. “Ezekiel thought that he might be able to step in only a few feet and toss a rope over the other man so that we could drag him out of whatever strange, dazzling effect that many reflections had caused on his enfeebled mind. Since neither I nor the priest could feel anything malign, he assumed that whatever had happened was more related to epilepsy or hypnotism than the supernatural, so he planned to go in with his eyes closed to do just that.”
“But he got stuck too, didn’t he?” Hugo asked, with enough certainty that she found herself nodding in agreement until he finished his cryptic statement. “Because sometimes you don’t have to see things. They just have to see you.”
“What do you mean,” Josephine asked, suddenly on the back foot. “Have you heard of something like this before?” She hadn’t even told the Marquess about the brief but overwhelming surge of terror she’d felt at the moment that Ezekiel had stopped moving. Suddenly it was like a landslide was barreling toward her through the ether, just before it reached her, it suddenly vanished into smoke.
She didn’t think she would have to tell him though. He seemed to know much more than her already, and he’d never even seen the room.
“This? Have I seen someone foolish enough to let anything that might be watching view him from every possible angle simultaneously until he’s nothing but a metaphysical lure drifting in waters far deeper than he realizes? No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “But I have seen enough strangeness in the last century to know that what your young client did was a remarkably terrible idea.”
“I agree,” she answered truthfully, “But I was thinking—”
“You were thinking that since I have no reflection, I might be able to go in there and retrieve your friend before anything worse happens?” he asked, interrupting her.
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” she agreed. “I know it’s only 6 hours to sunrise, but I was thinking you could do me a favor and…”
Josephine’s words trailed off as he suddenly vanished from where he was sitting, only to reappear behind her. He could feel the evil radiating from him at that moment, and it was an act of will not to bolt away from him in disgust rather than fear.
“You recall that I offered you a favor, but at the time, you seemed so resistant. I recall you using the word never.” he whispered in her ear, “Now the tables have turned, though, and you reek of desperation, so I must ask, do you recall what I said the price for such a thing would be?”
Goose flesh rippled across her neck and back at his proximity and the way that his accent tickled her ear. It was a good pickup line, and she supposed it worked on almost every other woman, but even his little mind games couldn’t get around her revulsion.
“I remember,” she whispered, drawing her switchblade from where she kept it in her sleeve. “You said you wanted a taste, and I told you that you would never, ever bite me, but the stakes are high, Monsieur, and we are both reasonable people. I’m sure we can reach a compromise somehow.”
As Josephine finished speaking, she flicked open the blade and ran it along her left wrist with her right hand as she leaned away from the vampire looming behind her to let the blood drizzle into her now-empty brandy glass. She’d considered cutting her palm instead, but she didn’t like the idea of damaging her life or her fate lines any more than tonight was already likely to do, so she chose to add one more scar to her extensive collection instead.
Monsieur Monmoreant was fixated from the moment the red drizzle started to slowly fill the glass. And moved to watch it as it slowly inched upwards.
“Very bold, Mademoiselle,” he said with a smile. “I admire your panache if nothing else. I shall accept this token of your… esteem, but only because of your boldness. Please know, though, that the next time you come knocking at my door, the price of my assistance will be higher.”
“Then I shall make certain I never have need of it again,” she said, pulling her wrist away from the now half-full glass and wrapping a clean handkerchief around the wound to staunch the bleeding.
“With the life that you lead and the people that you spend your time with… You’ll forgive me if I don’t find that likely, Mademoiselle,” he laughed.
Then, without preamble, he shot back the contents of her bloody glass and smiled.
“Very earthy,” he murmured. “Very old world. I think that I shall look forward to the next time you find yourself in trouble. One can only imagine how much more delicious the wine is when drunk straight from the vine…”
He smiled then in a way that she was sure would have been seductive if the traces of blood hadn’t been so revolting. That view, at least, dispelled the urge to explain to him why his awful metaphor failed on so many levels. Though she was quick to snap back at other men that talked down to her, so, in this one case, she would make an exception for the good of all parties involved.
“Shall we then?” she asked, trying to keep a cheerful tone in spite of the fear and disgust that warred behind her fragile smile.
“I think we shall,” he agreed, “Though I must warn you that even if I can remove your friend from the gaze that he is enthralled within, he might not survive the experience intact.”
Josephine nodded at that but said nothing as Hugo left the room and started shouting orders at his pet mobsters. “Frank, pay the ladies for me and ask them to come back tomorrow night. I’m sure to work up quite an appetite from tonight’s activities.” he called out, “and Johnny, please bring the Duesenberg around. I think the three of us will be going on a little outing for a few hours.”
“Mr. Monmoreant,” the man that she presumed to be Johnny responded hesitantly, “Don’t you think we should clear something like this with the boss? He said he didn’t want you raisin’ a ruckus like you did the last time without his say-so.”
“I understand, Johnny,” Hugo agreed as he kissed his disappointed companions goodbye for the night. “But this won’t be like last time. This is out in the country to help Josephine’s dear, sick friend. If you drive fast, we can be there and back in just over an hour, which will give me two or three hours to see what can be done about the situation before I must call it a night.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Johnny said, taking the keys from the peg on the wall. “But I’m gonna bring an instrument or two anyway, just in case.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t put much faith in those things where we’re going,” Hugo laughed. “Now come, Josephine. We must hurry! The sunrise waits for no one.”
Ch. 4 7,000 Years Bad Luck
The miles flew by as they flew over the pavement at what Hugo assumed was well above the speed limit. He didn’t trouble himself to remember such things - not when he could enjoy the view instead. Though all the area outside the headlights was lost to the two humans accompanying him, he could see deep into the darkness on both sides of the roads.
The woods they went through were lovely of course, but especially towards the edge of the city, they were devoured by new homes springing up like weeds with increasing frequency. Though he doubted that the woods to the west of Baltimore had ever been as primeval as his beloved Forest of Compiègne, it still had its charms. Plus the drive gave him time to study his beautiful companion. He would have wanted her just for the challenge of the thing, but the traces of her enchanted Romani bloodline only made her more desirable, and so, he watched her pretending to be unafraid as his car’s tires devoured mile after mile.
The drive there was uneventful, and upon reaching the Garish Bergman estate, which had all the charm of an austere protestant church, they were ushered inside, after Josephine made it very clear that the head butler actually had to invite Hugo in. The brief confusion that this caused made Hugo smile, and he was half tempted to show the servants his fangs just for the shock value, though he was fairly sure that it wouldn’t be the strangest thing that they would see tonight.
Once inside they were quickly ushered to the room of mirrors, and Hugo was surprised that he indeed felt nothing unusual, just as Josphine had said. So, throwing caution to the wind, he stepped inside and walked over to the young master that had started all this.
“Be careful,” Josephine called out, but he ignored her. If she’d been careful in the first place then he would be at home enjoying a nice ménage à trois with his lovely dancers instead of looking into things that were better left alone.
When Hugo reached the young master, the first thing he did was pick up the book the man was holding to make sure he hadn’t actually gotten his hands on some ancient grimore, and finding it to be another trashy pulp novel he tossed it casually aside.
“Harrowing Tales of Wonder, eh?” he said to himself as he moved to pick up the lad, “I could tell you some tales that would turn your hair white!”
As soon as Hugo’s hand touch the boy’s though, he felt something stirring in the ether around the two of them. It was a vague, malicious sensation like sharks circling him just below the water, or a wolf pack on his scent that hadn’t quite found him. There was something there though, and for a moment he glimpsed the boy’s shattered mind like it he was looking over the shoulder of some else in a crowded movie theater.
In that metaphor though, he was the only stranger. Every other seat was filled with the same shadowy outline, as the entity there with him feasted on the boy’s life with hundreds of eyeballs, slowly leaching away all the things that made Morty the person he was. The death of his father. The fact that he’d been the one to electrocute the old man. The bullying that almost broke young Morty at the boarding school he’d been forced to attend for most of his childhood. The summer nights spent watching the fireflies. Even the vaguest memories of his mother when he was a young child were being devoured on that fractured screen all at once.
That he’d been enduring this psychic vamperism for almost half a day, and he had not yet succumbed was testament to some hidden strength that the boy had, but Hugo was sure that there would be no saving him. Were he to break the hold that this creature had on Morty, he would still spend the rest of his life as a turnip. So, he released him, letting the wolves and the sharks drift away as they returned to gorging on the prey they’d found rather than pursue a new victim that didn’t quite seem to be there.
Hugo considered checking in on the mental landscape of the footman who was just as locked in place, but he decided he didn’t care enough to bother with the help. So, instead he approached Ezekiel.
“You know,” he whispered into the old man’s ear, “I suppose I should thank you, even after all the trouble you caused me the last time, I still got to taste our sweet little strumpet thanks to what your carelessness. That’s just one more sin you can try to fruitlessly pray away.”
After Hugo had finished gloating he grabbed the old man and got the same flashes as before. This time the screen of that crowded movie theater was not yet shattered into a hundred different images, and the colors on the film were not so bleached. The only image to be seen here was the burning orphanage that would forever haunt the man. As much as Hugo would have loved to watch that little show and learn a bit more about the irritating pastor’s haunted past, he was forced to let go almost immediately because of the fervor of faith that the old man was projecting to hold back the onslaught bent on devouring every scrap of his soul.
“How ironic,” Hugo said, walking back to rejoin Josephine and the servants standing in the hall. “I’m the only one here that can reach your friend, but he’s too busy holding off the monster assaulting him with his faith that I can barely touch him. Quite the predicament.”
“Monster?” she asked, “Do you know what it is?”
“Know? No.” he answered. “But I suspect it is Aazruth… something that is sometimes referred to as the watcher between. And if I’m right that could make what happens next a bit messy.” Hugo chastised himself. He must be getting senile if he thought that invoking the name of an old one when it was practically in the room with him to be a good idea.
“Messy? What are we going to do?” Josephine asked with fear sparkling in her eyes.
“Well, given that I once saw something like this level a manor larger than this, I should think that you should get all the servants to run for their lives, while I go fetch Johnny’s instruments,” Hugo’s smile broadened as he saw his little fortune-teller’s worry deepen. “Be right back, though, because once I start distracting this thing you’re going to need to be the one to drag Ezekiel to the car before things get really crazy.”
“But can’t Johnny—” she started to ask.
“Johnny can’t save your pastor and be ready with the engine running at the same time now, can he?” Hugo pointed out as he walked to the front door. “This thing has his hooks deep into your friend already, so even after I steal the spotlight, you are going to have to get him as far away as possible to have even a chance that this thing will lose interest.”
To her credit, Josephine didn’t ask any more stupid questions. She just ran through the house screaming that there was a fire and that everyone needed to evacuate, while he told Johnny the plan. As a ruse it wasn’t complicated, but it was effective, and a dozen servants poured out onto the nighttime gravel drive even he was pulling the twin strength brooms from the trunk of his automobile.
Hugo didn’t care much for fire arms, because he preferred to use his hands to really experience the violence, but if they were good for anything, it was breaking things. So, with two hundred rounds of automatic killing power he walked back into the room to see just how angry he could make an eldritch horror of unknowable power.
With one gun in each hand and braced in his arm pits, Hugo open fire for the first time since he’d been forced to leave France. The bullets didn’t seem especially fast to him as they began to spray out of the twin barrels in a flurry of tiny explosions, but it was still hard to do much aiming with both weapons at once. He didn’t worry about that too much though. There were only a handful of people that he had to worry about not hitting as he slowly pivoted around the room, shattering mirrors by the dozens.
After the first few gave way in a spray of silvered glass, he could feel the dark pressure starting to build as the rage sought an outlet, but by the time he’d finished making a ruin of the second wall and was moving on to the third, the gaze of the blind god was becoming truly oppressive. It couldn’t see him, but it knew where he was and what he was doing, and it was outraged that anyone would interfere with it in such a way. Any human that was the focus of such rage would have already been a corse, gory marmalade right now, but Hugo endured.
Still, as a distraction it wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, so when a particularly large shard of glass sprayed out from the slow motion waterfall of glass he was creating, he snatched it from the air and jabbed it into his side, ruining another suit in the process.
“There you go, Aazruthr'rhuren. Why don’t you see if you can find me now,” he grunted, tossing aside his now empty weapons as he felt the focus on him building.
Ch. 5 The Getaway Driver
Watching the vampiric Marquis stride past her with two automatic weapons was one of the most surreal moments of Josephine’s life, and her heart began to pound as she feared what would happen next. Then suddenly, the world was awash in the echoing sounds of gunfire and breaking glass. But even that riot of sensation was not enough to block out the eyes.
The instant the first mirror broke, a psychic scream made every muscle in her body tense, freezing her in place as she tried and failed to block it out. In the moments that followed, all of the intact mirrors filled with thousands of red, glowing eyes looking this way and that for the source of the pain. They fixed on Josephine for a moment but then turned away as they saw quite rightly that she could never hope to be a threat to whatever those eyes were attached to. In the vast ocean of darkness just beyond those thin layers of glass, she was a minnow at most, and tonight she had come eye to eye with a Kraken.
Josephine could not quite make out what the eyes were attached to and whether they were on stalks, or whether tentacles were wavering in the background behind them. Either way it made for a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of liquid flesh. She wasn’t sure if they all belonged to a single Stygian behemoth or if a whole school of piranha-like horrors was just waiting to catch the scent of her blood. It didn’t matter, though, because she couldn’t hope to defend herself in either case. She could only stand there in a mix of terror and awe as her mind began to creak under the strain of it all.
She might have stood there forever, slowly crumbling to nothing, if Hugo had not finally succeeded in breaking enough mirrors to distract the thing. Her only clue that she was free to move was when she watched Ezekiel suddenly collapse to the floor as the puppet master that had held his strings for the last several hours suddenly turned its attention to the stinging fly that was annoying it.
Josephine rushed forward, pulling at the man to help him to his feet. “Come on,” she answered. “We have to fly. Now.”
Ezekiel staggered to his feet with painful slowness, and the entire time Josephine was cognizant of the fact that if they lingered too long, they could be caught in the monster’s thrall once more. On their way out into the hall, Josephine took one final look back now that the gunfire had ceased, and the silence was broken only by the tinkling of glass. Her final view of Hugo was watching him stare defiantly at the mirrors, daring them to do something. What he didn’t notice was that they already had. A mirror just above him had dislodged from the ceiling and was falling straight toward the vampire.
She tried to warn him, of course, but it was too late. Such a blow, even from a heavy full-sized mirror that weighed at least fifty pounds, should have been little more than a scratch to the evil creature. Yet, it seemed to swallow him up, and when it shattered on the floor, there was no trace that the flamboyant Marquis had ever been standing there. She hoped he’d simply moved too fast for her eyes to see, but somehow she didn’t feel like that was what had happened, and that made her move even more quickly towards the front door as the house began to rumble and shake from the sound of distant violence.
“Where are we,” Ezekiel asked. “Wha-whats’s happening?”
“Our faker is the real deal,” she said. “That’s what’s happening. He caught the attention of something bad, and I had to go get the help of someone even worse.”
“The Marquis de Monmoreant?!” he asked, immediately guessing what she meant. “Are you mad! You can’t make a pact with a demon in human skin!” He tried to stop there to lecture her about her grave mistake, but he was too weak from his time as a statue, and she pulled him forward to the front door even as she felt a tremor go through the very foundations of the giant manor.
“I couldn’t exactly leave you there either,” she said, “but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Ezekiel asked other questions about what was happening and why the house was shaking, but when a tremor almost knocked her off her feet, she broke into a run where the long, sleek Duesenberg waited with the engine running. No sooner were they crammed into the back seat than the driver gunned it, sending the two of them sprawling.
“Hey, give us a minute!” Josephine yelled, picking herself up off the floor. “I thought that Hugo said you knew how to drive!”
“That ain’t the plan, ma’am,” Johnny said, flexing his fingers to show off his leather driving gloves, “and there ain’t a better driver on the south side than Fingerless Johnny, so if you got a complaint with my driving you take it up with Mickey Two-Tone, because I ain’t been caught yet!”
“I just don’t think we’re in that much of a hurry.” As she spoke, Josephine looked out the window and almost instantly changed her mind. The house, which was shrinking into the distance behind, was already collapsing, and a rift was growing in the tree-lined driveway they were racing down.
And it was gaining on them.
“Hugo said not to wait for him,” Johnny said, talking down to her. “He said you get in the car, and I go like the devil his self is—”
“Can this thing go any faster?” she interrupted.
“Jeez, lady - make up your mind. Slow down. Speed up,” he mocked her. “Of course, this thing can go faster. It’s a GD Duesenberg! It’s the fastest thing on four wheels!”
Johnny barely tapped the brakes as he swung the big car onto the pavement in a wide skid that left her feeling like the heavy vehicle would topple over on its slender wheels, but after a long moment of skidding on the gravel that it carried in its wake, it finally gripped the road properly and shot forward as her crazed driver moved the vehicle into the next gear.
“This thing can get up to 90 on a long straight road, sister,” he bragged, “Just you wait and see!”
Josephine breathed a sigh of relief when the crack in the driveway didn’t follow them onto the asphalt, but her sixth sense still tingled in a way that made her believe they were not yet out of the woods. She quickly discovered why that was when they passed underneath a streetlight. For the moment that the glare turned the windshield into a mirror, and she could see three of those red glowing eyes searching for them.
“Duck down,” she told Ezekiel. He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but she pulled him down on top of her as she lay down in the seat so that none of the car’s many reflective surfaces could see her.
“You know, if I wasn’t a holy man, a man might take advantage of a situation like this,” the pastor teased, though he kept his hands to himself.
“Now isn’t the time for hanky-panky Zeek,” she sighed. “We gotta get you far away from this thing, and you’re probably going to have to live in a mirror-free world for a good long time when this is all done.”
“Well, I’m not any less tired of looking at this old face than the rest of you,” he laughed. It was only a good forgery, of good humor, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Her heart went out to the man. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked sympathetically, trying to ignore the vibrations of the car that were her only indication of how dangerously fast they were going. She hoped that in the middle of the night, the road to Baltimore was as empty as it had been on the way out, but the fact that she couldn’t see anything that was happening around her as the speedometer continued to climb just made everything that much more frightening.
“I-I can’t,” he confessed. “It was like there was something trying to look through me, like I was nothing but the pages of a book, and whatever words it read just vanished, leaving behind nothing but a blank page.”
“What was it?” she asked, not daring to speak the name she’d heard Hugo use for The Watcher Between. “I got an impression…” Josephine’s words trailed off as she realized she lacked the vocabulary to do the things she’d seen justice.
“It was… It was like a whale bigger than the whole city of Baltimore, I think. Maybe even bigger than the whole island of Manhattan, and it was like it was trying to squeeze all of that bulk into my thimble of a mind to get a closer look,” he answered falteringly after a moment of thought. “But it was also like one of those angler fish they discovered off Greenland a few years ago. Instead of having just one strange eye on a tentacle, though, it had about a million of them.”
Ezekiel went on to describe the thing at length. It was like once the man started talking, he couldn’t stop. Eventually, she had to shut him up because she felt like the more vividly he described the psychic monster, the closer it swam to the surface of her imagination, and that was the last thing that she wanted.
They were almost back to the city proper before their crazed driver slowed down, but when she popped up from the back seat, she couldn’t feel that thing’s dread presence any longer. Whether it was they had outrun it or they had hidden the person it was looking for in a sea of tens of thousands, she couldn’t say, but either way, she knew that they’d won. She only hoped that Hugo had fared half so well.
Ch. 6 Memories of Violence
When the mirror fell towards him, Hugo didn’t try to avoid it. He knew the score. This was hardly the first time he’d gone through the looking glass, though, he noted that it was the first time he’d done so, lacking a reflection. He wondered how that would affect things this time.
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. In an instant, he was transported from the room of broken mirrors to some Stygian abyss that was either deep underwater or somewhere in outer space. There were lights, but they were distant and blurred, and all they really told him was about the giant silhouette that lurked somewhere nearby.
Hugo pulled the glass shard from his side and held it like a knife, ignoring how it cut into his instantly regenerating fingers. A weapon like this was worth a little pain. When the first few eye stalks struck out at him along with their strangely distorted maws and sucker-covered tentacles, Hugo became a blur, slashing at all of them and severing from the body of the behemoth even as it roared in pain and outrage. That force might have liquified the organs of a lesser man, but it just made Hugo smile. He hadn’t been a lesser man in a very, very long time.
The carnage he left floating around him like a tiny solar system provided Hugo the clue he needed: which way was down in this topsy-turvy world. Even as he continued to lash out at any of the primeval appendages that got too close, he was swimming towards the surface or the edge of wherever he was.
He expected to surface on some dismal beach, but instead, he broke the surface to find the bright sun of his long-lost France. For a moment, a jolt of fear shot through him as he thought he would surely perish. However, when he did not burst into flames, he quickly realized that it was because it was not a true sun that hung above him but a memory of one. That was quickly borne out as he looked around and saw that he was standing in the courtyard of his lost and beloved Château Monmoreant.
He allowed himself only a moment to appreciate the gardens laid out around him immaculately in a way that he hadn’t seen since 1764. There was his beautiful hedge maze, and past it, he could see his kennels. As he spun around, appreciating the view, he even caught a glimpse of the long-dead Daphne on the third story, but even as his eyes began to well up at such a sight, he saw the fountain he’d just emerged from boiling and foaming.
“No,” he said flatly. “You will not taint the memory of this place with your presence, monster.”
The vampire’s force of will rippled out from him like a physical thing, and even as the tentacles erupted from the fountain sending chunks of concrete and stone in every direction as a miles wide creature tried to squeeze itself through a twenty-foot hole, time began to move forward for the imagined land as decades passed by in seconds. The Marquis refused to watch his beloved Daphne crumble into dust if she was still standing there, so he cruelly turned his back to her and instead watched the weeds invade his beloved gardens as the skies clouded over and darkened to the eternal night that he was so used to since he’d been bitten.
All around them, the world melted, and only the Château was constant, though it did slowly lose much of the beauty that it had in its earlier years. Still, even with fading colors and darkened windows, it had stood as an imposing edifice, lording over the countryside for over a century until the Germans finally came for it.
“Do you know where we are, Aazruthr’rhuren?” he asked the creature as he stepped back from its lashing tentacles while it rose ever higher. “Do you know when we are? If you wish to view the world and truly understand me, then you must go deeper still!”
What had once been a lurking leviathan was now a whirling tornado of eyes and mouths. It moved toward Hugo, intent of shredding anything that would dare defy it, and leaving nothing behind but flat, gray earth. The vampire watched it erase the whole world a few square feet at a time as he ran through the rear entrance hall and into the grand ballroom. It hadn’t been used in almost four decades, so a thick coat of dust was on everything, but he wasn’t concerned about that part. He was here because that was where the first shell had landed so many years before.
The monster was so fixated on who it wanted to shred and devour that it had paid no attention to when it was or how many tanks and artillery waited to break through the failing line of trenches to the east. When the first 15 cm high explosive shell hit the creature tearing its way through its home rather than shattering the hardwood floors like it did last time, Hugo smiled, but the success was only short-lived.
The scene could no longer simply be called violent. Instead, it had become a storm of shrapnel, and even as the vampire tried to dodge the shattered masonry while avoiding the hungry tentacles, half of a brick impacted his left knee with the force of a cannonball sending him to the ground long enough for the tentacles to grab hold. A large one wrapped around his chest as two smaller ones seized his right wrist, trying to pull the mirror knife from his hand. Hugo resisted with all his might, and eventually, the thing was forced to yank his arm off at the shoulder to take it from him.
Hugo used that terrible pain to fuel his rage and ripped free of the thing’s grasp even as his arm started to regrow. Then he ran through the winding hallways that he knew even in the dark, buying him some time to escape the thing that chased him. When he reached the front door, he ran straight for the three Sturmpanzerwagen A7Vs slowly driving up his lawn. Hugo had nothing to fear from such mortal weapons, though he thought they would provide a good distraction for the monstrosity that followed him, devouring the world in his wake.
No, He was running to a precise moment he would never forget, and the one weapon that humans had ever created that he truly feared: the flamethrower. The way that this had played out the first time, he’d flown from his home in a rage to kill every last German that had dared to defile it, but he’d thought too little of their guns, and by the time he was only halfway through the trenches he’d been weak enough for a soldier to turn him into a bonfire. It had taken almost a month to recover from that wound, and it was the one memory that he would gladly feed the beast so intent on unmaking him.
This time he wouldn’t burn, though. This time he ran through the trenches in his torn suit and took the head of the Kraut even as it had the other version of him in their sights. Meeting himself was an odd sensation, but he thought that both versions of him handled it well.
“What is that thing?” his older version asked in French.
“Our true enemy,” Hugo said, belting on the fuel tanks of the weapon he hated so much. Half a minute later, when the watcher between reached the trenches and devoured the few remaining soldiers on both sides, they attacked. The remembered version of himself fought like a wounded animal, which he was, while the real version of himself assailed the thing with gouts of fire from 20 yards away, making it shrink in fear for the first time.
“Do you think that this is the only violence I can offer you?” Hugo shouted as the monster. “Do you think this is all I can hurt you with? You are vast but not yet infinite, and my centuries of pain may yet rival your leagues of power! How many eyes must I crush to render you blind?”
After the thing that should not be ripped the other version of him apart, it hesitated for a moment as the world around them stilled. Slowly the gunfire and the cannons came to a stop. In time even the distant artillery ceased, leaving the two of them in an infinitely flat and featureless field. Then suddenly, when he thought that it was going to unleash a second assault and force him to retreat back to earlier memories of wars fought with longbows and heavy cavalry, it faded out of existence, and its glowing red eyes became nothing more than globular clusters of distant stars, letting Hugo breathe a sigh of relief.
“I thought he would never leave,” Hugo said to himself as he went to retrieve the only way out that he could think of, the broken shard of mirror.
It took only a few minutes to find it among the short gray grasses and not much longer to stretch the thing into a doorway large enough for him to pass through. Still, once he was back in the space between all things, it became somewhat more difficult to find his way home. There were a thousand million worlds in the dark, and each of them had a million, million places and a million, million times for him to reemerge at.
Though there were other times that Hugo would have preferred to move toward, he had no way to find them. Half of those taken randomly would be during the day, resulting in an instant annihilation. Still, as he searched the void, he saw stranger versions of places he’d once visited.
He saw strange, almost Egyptian worlds of endless dunes and pyramids so large that they made the mountains behind them look small. There were also whole arboreal civilizations and cities made of glass tucked away in the blue forests of unspeakable age. None of those were home, though, and so he held onto the only thread that might lead him there, and so he moved past all of those bizarre sights and began to gradually drift closer and closer to the heartbeat of Josephine Green as blood called to blood across infinity.
Ch. 7 Scopaesthesic Paranoia
The tremors shook her cottage again, and the clattering of dishes in her cupboard woke her from a sound sleep. She hadn’t meant to drift off yet, and the romance novel she’d been reading still lay open beside her. She’d planned on taking a hot bath, but for whatever reason, she dozed off while waiting for it to cool a bit, and by now it had certainly gone ice-cold. She idly hoped that the shaking hadn’t slopped water all over the floor and made a mess of things as she stretched.
The tremors had been happening more often recently, and even though she only rarely made the trip into town, idle conversations with the locals made her certain that they hadn’t felt anything at all. That, more than anything, made her think that the watcher was getting close to finding her again, but unfortunately, she couldn’t go back to Baltimore to lose herself among the masses this time: not with the whole Gambino family looking for her after their very expensive hired muscle had vanished on her wild goose chase, never to be seen again.
It had been months since the Marquis had been seen in the mirror room, and he’d never returned from wherever the nightmare creature had taken him. Josephine wasn’t the least bit sorry about that or the part she’d played in making it happen. If she had to suffer to ensure his centuries-old evil had been snuffed out, then so be it.
The house shivered again as she sat on her bed wearing only a nightgown, which worried her. Normally they didn’t come so close together. She wondered, not for the first time, if taking a certain Gambino bullet would be better than the uncertain fate that awaited her at the hands of those red eyes and nightmarish mouths, but her will to live could not be quashed so easily by logic, and she would just take it one day at a time.
Then she heard a splash from the bathroom and was up like a shot. She hadn’t drained the tub, but It shouldn’t be able to act like a mirror in a dark room, should it? She thought to herself.
Josephine took the chance to pull the old plaid curtain nearest to her open just a crack. She saw no red eyes hunting her in the glass, but she did see the full moon, which told her everything she needed to know. Instantly, she was up and moving towards the bathroom door, where she heard something moving inside. She reached for the bat she’d left out just in case the mob found her, and then opening the door, she swung it hard at the dark shape crawling out of her tub.
It didn’t seem likely that it was a mobster, but it looked even less like a supernatural aquatic tentacle monster. The dark shape easily caught the bat in mid-air, but it was only when it looked up at her that the shadowed face whispered, “My little morsel, after all, we’ve been through together… After all I’ve done for you… this is how you repay me?” the familiar french voice said sarcastically.
Josephine shrieked in surprise and let go of the bat as she scrambled away from the vampire.
“But, but - you’re dead!” she yelled. “And even if you weren’t, I didn’t invite you in here!”
“Ma chérie,” he smiled, stepping into the hallway enough that she could clearly see his soaked and bedraggled form in the moonlight. The right half of his suit was shredded to ruin, and the remaining clothing was stained with blood and ichor. She had no idea what he’d been up to in the time he’d been gone, but she was quite sure she didn’t want to know. “I have been dead since before your grandparents breathed their first breath, and for me to require permission, a place would need to be a home. This is hardly that. This is just some flop house rented by the week to people who would rather not be found, and I can come and go as I please.”
As he advanced slowly on her, she walked backward until she found herself against the wall, but when he got there, he didn’t murder her or tear out her throat. Instead, he caressed her cheek lightly and said, “You know, that little job of yours became much more complicated than any of us thought it would be. I wonder how many people died because you had no idea of what you were doing…”
“One,” she whispered, her voice trembling in fear. “The footman was crushed when the house collapsed, but Morton Junior survived, b-but he’s in hospice. His mind… it’s gone.”
“All that destruction, and yet he somehow managed to survive,” Hugo teased. “How remarkable. I’m sure your pastor would have something to say about the almighty and plans and all that.”
“That the boy’s survival was an act of providence, there is no question,” she said shakily, slowly regaining her nerve despite her proximity to the monster. “As to Ezekiel, he and I haven’t had the chance to discuss it - he’s been upstate in a religious retreat for months and—”
“Months?” Hugo laughed. “My little morsel - it has only been a few nights, or perhaps a week since I have finished putting that thing in its place.”
“It’s been six months,” she said flatly, not sure what the vampire’s game was here. “Closer to seven now, honestly.”
“Seven months?!” he yelled in surprise, making her flinch from the volume before he walked away to open the front door. She was tempted to try to get to her crucifix, but she knew that the symbol would do much less in her hands than it would in a man of faith’s. She could never cow a monster like this the way that Ezekiel could. “My goodness - how times does fly when you get lost between worlds. I’d quite forgotten that from my last trips.”
Finding the weather cold and a little unmelted snow in the shade of the pine trees, he turned and sat down on one of the dining chairs in the living room. “I have been gone too long then, Madame Green. I had only been planning a short social call to thank you for leading me back, but you must tell me everything that has transpired in my absence.”
Though Hugo’s tone was as unflappable as ever, the vampire was as close to shaken as she’d ever seen him, which eased her fears somewhat. So, taking a moment to fetch herself a housecoat and make herself decent, she turned on the lights and got the vampire a towel before she put the kettle on to make herself some tea.
Then she told him everything. She told him how the boy was a vegetable, but she’d still read to him until her falling out with the Gambinos after he’d been away two weeks. She told her about Ezekiel and the gaps in the man’s memory. She even told him how the watcher still looked for her on dark nights, and she feared that one day soon, it would find her.
Hugo listened to her whole story patiently, not interrupting to ask a single question, and then he said, “Then it’s settled. You can move into one of my spare rooms for the foreseeable future. It will solve all of your problems.”
“My problems?” she scoffed. “That would make every problem I have worse!”
“Au contraire mademoiselle,” he teased. “No one in the Gambino family or any of their affiliates would dare to touch you if I vouched for you. I wouldn’t let them. And being close to me for a month or two would likely make The Watcher Between Worlds lose Interest in you altogether.”
“How do you figure?” she shot back incredulously.
“It’s afraid of me,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“Creatures like that exist beyond the bounds of our world and are afraid of nothing,” she countered as she got up to remove the whistling kettle and make herself a cup of tea.
“Nothing human,” he agreed, with a patronizing smile that made her want to hit him. “Let’s just say that when it comes to fighting things that are bigger than me, I don’t play fair, and all elements of chivalry go right out the window.”
“You’re just trying to get me to owe you a favor so that you can finally bite me,” she said grudgingly, not sure that she believed a word of it.
“Not so,” Hugo smiled. “Just this once, it so happens that I owe you a favor.”
“How do you figure that one?” she asked. “You went through hell because of me.”
“Well, yes,” he agreed, “but sometimes a trip like that can be worth it. It just so happens that along the way, I got to see my favorite person, however briefly, and I had the chance to feed that thing one of my most painful memories, even if I can’t quite now recall what it was, so all in all it was a lovely trip. Now I need only get a bite to eat and all will be right with the world.”
Josephine looked at the vampire across from her dubiously. Taking him up on his invitation seemed like a horrible idea, but living in fear and waiting in the darkness long enough for an otherworldly monster to devour every memory that made her who she was while she waited for the mod to lose interest seemed even worse to her.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally answered grudgingly.
“Excellent,” he said, standing. “I’ll go get everything straightened out and send someone around with the car tomorrow to fetch you then.”
“Wait,” she called out, but it was no use. He was already fading to mist. She waited until he was fully gone before she sighed. “Josie - what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?”
