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melanielocke · 3 years

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 27

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Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 26

Next Chapter: Chapter 28

Thomas was still in the same position on the couch by the time Alastair reached him, both his parents on the other couch, carefully monitoring him. Thomas had put on a movie, and Alastair got the idea he was trying to ignore his parents, who both looked worried. Alastair found a way to sit beside him on the couch.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘I slept for several hours,’ Thomas said. ‘Then my parents arrived and found out I was sick and pretty much everything went downhill from there. What about you? Did you encounter anything? No offense, but you kind of smell.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘Seriously, what happened?’

‘A deer.’

Thomas frowned. ‘A deer?’

‘I have always been terrified of deer. Today just reminded me why. Or perhaps it wasn’t really a deer. Lucie decided to call it eldritch horror deer, which is the closest I can come to describing it. You don’t want to know more, trust me. Either way, it’s dead now, no need to worry about it.’

Ever since he’d seen his father’s memory of that monster, he’d been afraid of deer. Because that deer had looked completely normal too before he’d realized it wasn’t, and Alastair had realized anything could hide a monster.

‘So you smell of dead eldritch horror deer... It’s not so bad as after we got the skin and you had to swim through I don’t know what.’

‘This is why I don’t want to dedicate my life to fighting these things or be a hero or anything like that. Dead body parts are disgusting no matter what creature they come from and you always come back covered in gross smelly things. I’m going to take a bath. You want to join?’

Thomas turned very red, although that could have been the fever.

‘Maybe it’ll help you get warm,’ Alastair added.

He went upstairs to draw a bath, and threw in a good amount of bath foam with eucalyptus scent. Alastair loved the fresh sharpness of eucalyptus, and used many eucalyptus scented products. He quickly got into the shower while the bath was still not full, rinsing off the worst of the dirt, before inviting Thomas in and getting in the bath tub. Thomas still turned around while undressing, and Alastair politely looked in the other direction. With the amount of foam he’d used, there wouldn’t be much to see once Thomas was in the bath anyway and he understood Thomas might still be a bit awkward with this.

Thomas settled next to him, and Alastair turned on the bubbles. He tried to remember if Jem’s house had a bubble bath, but if not it needed one. He was pretty sure there was a big bathroom, at least, and as far as he remembered there was a bath tub but he had no idea what Jem had done to the place.

‘Is it alright if I lean against you?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas didn’t answer, just opened his arm and allowed Alastair to find a comfortable position leaning against his shoulder. Thomas really was warm and feverish.

‘How are you feeling?’ Alastair asked.

‘A lot better now that I’m in the bath. Still a little cold but I imagine that’ll be over soon enough. I’d slept for several hours on the couch and everything kind of hurts now. I took another two paracetamol before coming here, so hopefully they’ll start working soon. The eucalyptus scent really wakes me up though.’

‘It opens the airways,’ Alastair said. ‘Did the fever change at all?’

‘No, not really. I just took it again. It’s still around 38,5 degrees,’ Thomas said. ‘When I woke up my parents were there and I had to explain what was going on. They were kind of upset I didn’t immediately tell them I’d fallen ill and immediately started the whole routine of taking care of sick baby Thomas. Which is exactly why I didn’t tell them.’

Alastair took a hold of his hand. ‘Did you tell them why you didn’t want them to find out about your sickness?’

‘No,’ Thomas said.

‘Why not? It makes you unhappy that they are treating you this way.’

‘I don’t want to hurt their feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I know they mean well, and I know they’re scared too.’

Alastair looked him in the eye. Often he forced himself to do that, make eye contact at just the right moment despite the discomfort. For a long time, he’d wanted nothing more than to be normal, and eye contact was part of that. With Thomas, it was easier. His eyes really were beautiful. The discomfort never quite went away though, so he settled his gaze on Thomas’ brow instead. People usually couldn’t tell when he was faking eye contact. It was only when he lied that he had to avoid someone’s gaze altogether.

‘So they have no clue that you hate being taken care of?’ Alastair asked. ‘You’ve never once asked them to stop and leave you be?’

‘I think sometimes they do ask if they’ve hurt my feelings,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When they’re being too protective. But in the moment, I always downplay it, I don’t want to hurt them and I understand why they’re protective.’

‘But if you want them to stop doing it, you don’t do it by hiding your sickness from them. You tell them how you feel, even if it is uncomfortable for them to hear.’

Alastair knew he wasn’t much better in that regard, he didn’t know how to deal with what he felt well. He was far more aware of what he felt than people thought, but that didn’t always mean he could explain it without feeling like he was crazy. Repressing and hiding was easier, but Alastair had learnt the hard way it made everything worse in the long run.

‘Maybe I can do that,’ Thomas said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime. You had no issue telling me you didn’t like being taken care of,’ Alastair said.

‘No, I know that. I’m not sure why it’s different. Perhaps because if I tell my parents, they’ll have to feel guilty for being overprotective practically all my life, whereas you’ve never done that before. Telling you to stop would be less hurtful than it would be to tell my parents.’

‘The longer you wait, the worse it’ll get,’ Alastair said. ‘They are right to be worried, you are in danger and we’re running out of time. But that doesn’t mean they can’t change how they treat you when you’re sick.’

‘You really think that’s what this is, isn’t it? I’m going to die.’

Alastair took hold of Thomas’ hand. ‘No, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.’

Not even if it cost him his life, Alastair told himself, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to worry Thomas.

‘What else can we do?’ Thomas asked. ‘Tatiana’s gone.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Gone?’

‘My dad went into the village and asked people about her. The staff from that hotel and restaurant said she’d left, so if the plan is to go after her… We have no clue where she is. On the bright side, phones are back in order, and we’re no longer trapped.’

‘It’s not entirely true that we can’t find her,’ Alastair said. ‘Lucie did find something today, before our encounter with the monster. A locket, and a note from Jesse. How he wrote it as a ghost, I have no idea.’

Alastair’s best guess was that Jesse had grown stronger as Thomas had gotten sick, and that he could now hold things. Closer to being alive than he had been before.

‘Anyway, Lucie can summon him with the locket. Assuming he’s been around Tatiana, but I can’t imagine where else he would be. He can lead us back to her.’

Alastair knew they needed a plan, and fast. He had promised Lucie he would help her work on Barbara’s memory. So far, no success. Alastair couldn’t see dead people, and his power didn’t work on dead people. Lucie was still convinced that in between her commanding ghosts and Alastair’s access to people’s memory there was a way to witness the realm of the thief of souls. If that didn’t work, they’d have to go after Tatiana. Stopping her would at the very least save Thomas for the time being, buy them enough time to find a way to permanently defeat the thief of souls.

Grace had said he’d been a mortal once. He was not a god or a devil, or something that was meant to exist. He’d been a mortal who’d claimed a world and started stealing souls, but he was not meant to be there. Which meant he could be defeated, and Alastair was convinced that with cortana and Lucie’s magic, their chances were better than most people’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean those were good chances.

‘Did you call anyone?’ Alastair asked. ‘I think I should call my mother.’

‘My sisters,’ Thomas said. ‘They were both very upset. Eugenia had just gotten off her flight back from India with her friend Kamala, they’ll come here as soon as they can. Barbara’s still in Paris with her boyfriend, but she says she’s getting on the next flight.’

‘I’d love to meet your sisters,’ Alastair said.

He was nervous too, people rarely liked him, why would Thomas’ sisters? Then again, Thomas liked him, Thomas’ parents seemed to like him, so maybe he had a better chance with Thomas’ sisters than with the average person.

‘Preferably not now though,’ Thomas said. ‘I urged them not to come here, but they wouldn’t listen. I told them it would be dangerous, but they both insisted on coming and told me I couldn’t stop them.’

‘It seems the stubbornness runs in the family,’ Alastair said.

‘Dad called uncle Gabriel,’ Thomas added. ‘Uncle Gabriel tried to convince Barbara to instead come to London and watch the children for him while he and Cecily come here to help. So far, I think Barbara is insistent on coming.’

Alastair could imagine why. Even if they were hopeful, even if they had a plan, there was a chance Thomas would die. He understood Thomas’ sisters wanted to be with him in case that happened, to at least be able to say goodbye.

It was time for dinner when Alastair and Thomas got out of the bath, dried off, and dressed themselves. Thomas felt less cold, which Alastair guessed was good, but still very tired and had very little appetite. Instead of joining them for dinner, he retreated to the couch again, only eating some soup and a piece of bread. At least it was something.

Alastair had to stop himself from taking care of him. Thomas didn’t want it, he just needed some rest. Thomas put on another movie, not yet tired enough to fall asleep, and Alastair retreated to his bedroom so he could call his mother.

‘Alastair, it’s been so long since I heard from you!’ his mother scolded as she picked up.

She spoke in Farsi, and it was somehow comfortable to speak to her in her language.

‘I’m sorry, maman. A lot has been happening, and we couldn’t reach anyone outside.’

‘I think you and your sister should come home, you’re not safe there,’ his mother said.

Alastair sighed. ‘We can’t. Leaving won’t make the problems go away. Thomas needs me, and Lucie is in danger as well. Without Cordelia and her sword, neither of them stand a chance.’

‘I understand, azizam. I just wish I could know you were safe.’

‘I can’t make a any promises. But I’ll protect Cordelia. We’ll be home before you know it. Jem told us about the baby.’

‘You’re not mad, I hope?’ his mother asked.

‘No, of course not,’ Alastair said. ‘I can’t wait to meet my baby brother or sister, same for Cordelia. It is not what either of us expected, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.’

‘I haven’t seen your father,’ his mother promised. ‘I must have gotten pregnant before we left, it was an accident, but one that I am happy about. I’ll be raising the baby by myself. Risa has promised to help, of course.’

‘I’ll be there too,’ Alastair promised. ‘The baby will have everything they need.’

‘I hope you are not angry with me,’ his mother said quietly.

‘Why would I be?’

‘Because I didn’t protect you,’ his mother said. ‘I thought you could handle it, you could protect Cordelia and we would be fine. But I was wrong, protecting you was my responsibility and I failed you.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Alastair said and he meant it.

It wasn’t the first time his mother or someone else had pointed out she should have been there for him, should have protected him, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame her for it. She’d been a victim too, he’d told her, he’d told his therapist. Maybe she could have done better, she could have seen he was struggling sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to see. Father had told her Alastair’s odd behavior was normal, that teen boys went through times like that, and he’d believed her.

‘Still, I am sorry. I know you do not blame me, but that does not mean I don’t regret what I did. How has it been with the Herondales? I’d thought you would be happier there, but I never imagined all this would happen to you.’

‘It has been nice here,’ Alastair said. ‘But yes, also dangerous. Nothing to be done about that. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten any of my text, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with Thomas, and he’s my boyfriend now.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. I’m happy for you, joon-am.’

‘Me too. I’m just scared something’s going to happen to him. He’s gotten sick and I think he’s going to get worse. It’s not looking good.’

‘I know I never wanted you and Cordelia to run towards danger like Elias did. But if it saves the boy you love… I have faith in you, Alastair.’

After ending the phone call, Alastair returned downstairs to find Thomas had finished the movie and was turning off the tv. As Thomas closed his eyes and presumably fell asleep again, Alastair sought out Lucie.

‘I think we should give it another try,’ Alastair said. ‘With Barbara’s memory.’

‘You’re right. She’s at the Lightwood cottage, she doesn’t like big crowds and prefers to stay there. I’ll ask aunt Sophie.’

Lucie returned to the kitchen, where Thomas’ parents were doing the dishes, and Alastair returned to Thomas, who had his eyes opened once more.

‘I’m going with Lucie to see if we’re getting anywhere with Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘If your parents are bothering you, you tell them, alright?’

‘I’m considering it. Kiss me before you go?’

Alastair obliged, leaning down to kiss Thomas on the mouth before leaving him to get some more rest.

‘Rest well, delbaram,’ Alastair said.

Alastair returned to Lucie and Sophie, who were on their way back to the Lightwood cottage.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Sophie said. ‘I cannot leave Thomas alone for too long when he’s so sick.’

Alastair wondered if he should say anything. He didn’t want to speak for Thomas, but it seemed clear that Sophie had no idea how Thomas really felt about his parents concern.

‘Thomas has gone back to sleep,’ Alastair said. ‘He said he wanted to rest, best to leave him until he wakes.’

Telling her not to worry felt wrong, so he didn’t. Thomas could die, of course she was worried. Alastair was too. He wasn’t sure what he’d have to do, to keep Thomas alive. He’d read a little about the ritual, and together with that memory of Gideon who’d once interrupted his father, Alastair knew how to summon the thief. Perhaps that was how he could be defeated, by bringing him here and then attacking him. Although if it was that simple, Alastair wondered why no one else had tried it.

‘Alright. Please tell me you have a plan,’ Sophie said.

‘We’re going to try to get information from Barbara,’ Alastair said. ‘Based on that, we figure out how to take on the thief of souls. If we need more time, Lucie will summon Jesse and find out where Tatiana is, confront her there and stop her. If she does not fulfill her end of the bargain, Jesse will not live and therefore Thomas will not die.’

Alastair was mostly certain of that. Mostly. There was a chance that Jesse was far enough gone that when Tatiana stopped, the thief of souls could once again choose which of Benedict’s grandsons he wanted, and let the other go. If that was the case, Alastair wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t choose Thomas.

‘And we want to find out how to defeat the thief of souls,’ Lucie added. ‘He is mad with me because I stole Barbara from him, so he’s going to come after me either way. Perhaps he even realized who my mother is. Not to mention I don’t want Jesse to go back to being trapped there.’

The three of them arrived at the Lightwood’s cottage. Even if with a ghost living in there, Alastair felt the little cottage with its adorable garden was welcoming. A nice place to spend the summer.

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie commanded, and Barbara appeared, sitting on the couch.

‘How have you been?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m alright, thank you. The other ghost at your house can be a bit much, so I am happy to stay here for now.’

Alastair hoped Barbara meant Jessamine, and not another ghost he didn’t know about. As much as he was used to the supernatural, ghosts made him a bit uncomfortable, mostly because he couldn’t see them and he could never be sure he wasn’t being watched. At least Jessamine was far more prudish than he was and Alastair trusted her to turn around and go somewhere else when he was in the bathroom or changing or kissing Thomas.

‘We want to try once more to enter your memory,’ Lucie explained. ‘Are you up for it?’

‘Of course. Not much else here for me, I’m afraid,’ Barbara said. ‘I wish I could be of more help. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, like a dream that slips away when you wake up and I just can’t remember.’

Alastair could imagine that was frustrating. It was hard for him to picture, not being able to remember something. Dreams could be trickier, and sometimes he lost them, but Alastair did not care much for dreams and would much rather not dream at all. Memories, however, could never be lost, he could never forget. At most he could get frustrated if he couldn’t find the right memory for certain information.

‘Can you command ghosts to be alive, Lucie?’ Alastair asked.

Lucie frowned. ‘I can’t bring people back from the dead.’

‘No, but perhaps temporarily. You can make ghosts visible, you can make them corporeal enough to touch things. All of those bring them closer to what qualifies as alive. Perhaps if you command them to be alive, they will be able to do all these things at once, even if for only a moment. And then I’d be able to access her memory.’

‘Alright. I’ll give it a try. Barbara, I command you to live.’

Alastair couldn’t see anything change, but when he tried to enter Barbara’s memory, he found it was there. She did put up a bit of resistance.

‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’s just me, you can let me in.’

Barbara relaxed, and Alastair tried to search for the right memory. Usually, people tried to recall the memory, they controlled what memory was shown, not he. But Barbara couldn’t recall what she didn’t remember. He’d found ways around that, ways to bring back lost memories. When he was younger he’d tried to restore his father’s memory of a night he’d been too drunk to remember, thinking it would help. Alastair had long given up that practice though, it didn’t make a difference. He’d believed once that if his father remembered what he did while he was drunk, he would stop. He would realize how much hurt he was causing and stop drinking. But it didn’t make a difference, and his father had mostly found it inconvenient. It was easier for him to forget.

With Tessa, he’d used a different, harder strategy of searching through association, starting with what he knew ought to be there. Jessamine, the house. Tessa still didn’t remember everything, but she was getting there.

With Barbara, he took a different approach. The trick in this case was to start at the last thing someone remembered and then speed things along a little. Alastair knew the last thing Barbara remembered, which was her fight with her husband and then her death. He tried to brace himself as he asked Barbara to remember that, hoping he wouldn’t get lost in his own memory.

They managed to start the memory after Benedict stalked off into his own study and Barbara rushed to get the children. He could tell she was confused, but took the opportunity just the same, rushing through the mansion. In the distance, he could hear a baby cry. Alastair assumed that was Tatiana. Then Barbara collapsed to the ground and Alastair felt something awfully painful in his back. Blood. The spinal cord, severed. Was it Benedict, behind her, who had stabbed her? Barbara didn’t turn around, didn’t see her attacker, but it had to be. She hadn’t dropped dead when Benedict had made the deal. She’d been murdered. Because the thief might prefer spouses, but those weren’t connected by blood, so he couldn’t kill them himself.

Alastair wondered how Benedict had gotten away with murdering his wife, a knife in her back while she was at home was hard to explain away. But then he guessed it was easy for the thief of souls to make her body disappear, or use some magic to change it to resemble a suicide. He didn’t know, had not asked Gideon what he’d once believed happened to his mother. He thought that would be too painful.

She was in pain for only a little while, and then the Lightwood’s manor disappeared. She was in a forest not unlike the one around here. It was dark and cold and gloomy. Alastair could feel the chill touch his skin. Barbara looked around, taking in the environment with great care. There were others like her. People, but there was something unusual about their eyes. Alastair couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was not right. Those had to be the other souls. There were many of them, spread out across where Barbara could see.

‘Follow me.’

There was a woman. She looked like the others, human, but something was not right. She appeared a little more alive though, a little less broken. She seemed to be somewhat in charge here.

‘Who are you? Where am I?’ Barbara asked.

‘Follow me,’ the woman repeated.

Reluctantly Barbara followed. Alastair sped up the next part, as the walk was rather long. The woods seemed endless, which made Alastair wonder where this was exactly. In the land in between, some buildings still existed, but here there seemed to be none at all. There were souls all over though, what was their purpose? Some were doing something, carrying things Alastair couldn’t identify, working for the thief? Others wandered around aimlessly. Alastair did the best he could to take in any landmarks she passed. He never knew if he would have to navigate this realm.

At last they reached a castle. The castle the others had been dreaming about. Alastair was the only one who hadn’t dreamt and he was glad for it. Although perhaps compared to his usual dreams, nightmares about a spooky castle were an improvement.

Barbara entered the castle. Based on the gothic building style, the many sharp shapes, Alastair guessed it must have been built somewhere in late medieval time. It certainly wasn’t the style he would choose if he could live in a castle, too bleak for his taste. He’d prefer a bit more welcoming style, big windows, light and bright colors. A big private bathhouse. Old Persian style, or perhaps Roman or ancient Greek. Instead, the inside of the castle looked dreary and a bit messy. Had it been rebuilt over time, or was this an indication of how old the thief of souls was?

The woman led Barbara into the throne room. On the throne was a man with dark hair and a skin the color of paper. His eyes were red and glowing, and his head was decorated with big antlers. He’d been mortal once, so where had the antlers come from? Alastair could only say he was right that deer were scary.

‘I take it you had to walk here,’ he said.

His voice was surprisingly human, although loud and authoritative. Barbara didn’t say anything.

‘Yes, my lord, she appeared in the forest approximately seventy miles south of here,’ said the woman who had accompanied Barbara.

Seventy miles… Had Barbara really just walked that far? Alastair suspected distance was different in the land of the thief.

The red eyes glowed a little brighter. ‘Did I ask?’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ the woman said.

She had to be one of his souls, but somehow she’d gotten a higher position in serving him. Were there more souls like this?

‘Your name is Barbara Lightwood, isn’t it?’

Barbara looked up, shaking on her feet. ‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘Barbara, Barbara… given to me by your husband. Betrayal after marriage has its use for me, but it is surprisingly common, I’m afraid. All sorts of marriages go sour and so often people have grown to hate their spouse so much they’re willing to sacrifice the soul. Still, it is an interesting sort of betrayal, a broken vow. Did you see it coming, Barbara? Were you afraid of your husband?’

Barbara was silent.

‘You are new here, and so I will be forgiving. But it does not do to ignore my questions,’ the thief of souls said, angry but calm and in control. ‘When I ask you a question, you will give me an honest answer. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes… Yes, sir.’

A small smile appeared on the thief’s face. ‘Alright then, Barbara. Amuse me. Did you see it coming?’

‘I… Yes. And no. I knew he was dangerous, I knew he might hurt me or the children. But I did not think any of this existed, or that he would choose me as a sacrifice.’

‘Intriguing,’ the thief said. ‘It has been such a long time since I was one of your kind. Your love, hate, betrayal. It is absolutely fascinating. What drives a husband to betray his wife to me? How much power do I need to offer, for them to stab someone they claimed to love in the back. Can any soul be corrupted? And what was the reason your husband first was unwilling to make a deal, but now summoned me and told me it was done and you could be mine?’

Alastair could not feel what someone else was feeling in their memories, not entirely. He got a glimpse of it, but little more. He could tell Barbara was horrified though, betrayed. And for the thief, it was a source of entertainment besides power. He seemed intrigued by the horrors humans were capable of, and loved to bring out the worst in them.

‘I was leaving,’ Barbara said slowly. ‘I knew my children and I weren’t safe there. He found out I was leaving, and got angry.’

The thief of souls laughed, his face bright. ‘Of course, that’s so often the cause. People are far more likely to sacrifice someone who is leaving them. Perhaps if you’d been a good wife and stayed, he would have let you live.’

Alastair tried to push down his anger, his sense of helplessness. This whole conversation was difficult to listen to, the way the thief was fascinated by the way people used and abused others and liked to leverage such situations to his advantage. The way he blamed Barbara for what her husband had done. He felt sick, and had no choice but to push away and leave. Both he and Barbara were on the couch, shaking. Sophie was sitting opposite to them, whereas Lucie looked like she was about to fall asleep.

‘Did you find what you needed?’ Lucie asked, suppressing a yawn.

‘More or less,’ Alastair said. ‘I got to see his realm. It is a huge dark forest and the souls are everywhere. Some have jobs, or I don’t know, serve him somehow. Many just wander around. And he was human once. Apparently, it’s not so uncommon for people who deal with him to sacrifice their spouse. Even if because of the whole blood connection thing, people have to kill their spouses themselves.’

Alastair didn’t want to think about the kind of people that did. No one in a good and healthy relationship woke up one day and sacrificed their partner for power. The thief said he wondered if anyone could be corrupted but Alastair didn’t think so. He imagined many had been abused before. It made him wonder, if he’d stayed with Charles, if Charles had known about all this, would he have been willing to sacrifice Alastair to get the power he wanted?

‘That sounds rather awful,’ Sophie said.

‘Not very romantic,’ Lucie added.

‘Marriage isn’t always,’ Alastair said. ‘Nor are relationships. Sometimes it’s less about love and more about power.’

‘Benedict was all about power,’ Barbara said. ‘At first, I thought he was good underneath that cold exterior. He could be so charming, but they so often are, aren’t they?’

‘They are,’ Alastair said, thinking of Charles.

‘I thought that my love could temper his moods,’ Barbara continued. ‘It was just like a romance novel, you know? Average woman meets cold but charming and wealthy man and her love changes him. I always loved those.’

‘I like love stories too,’ Lucie said. ‘But real life is not always like the stories. Sometimes someone is not who you think they are.’

‘Stupid, isn’t it? I should have known. I should have seen through his charm and his stupid lies.’

Alastair twisted his fingers, pained. He told himself that so often. He should have known Charles could not be trusted, should have known he only cared about himself. He should have known Charles was taking advantage of him. It had all been so obvious to Cordelia when he’d told her, so why hadn’t he known better?

‘It’s not your fault,’ he said instead, because he was still doing the best he could to convince himself of that. Funny how it was so much easier to believe it when it was someone else. ‘It’s his, and his alone.’

‘Being naïve or looking past warning signs doesn’t change that,’ Sophie added. ‘You deserved better. Your children did too. I hope you can find peace.’

Barbara smiled at Sophie through her tears. ‘I’m so happy my son found someone like you.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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cyberdva · 5 years

Text

Lost Grieving- Richie Tozier X Reader {Chapter 1☆}

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Summary- The reader gets stuck in strange implications and finds herself in Derry, Maine, the location of the infamous Steven King book ‘IT’. Unknowingly she stumbles across the Neibolt House, the dirty and burnt remains of a tragic fire. She remembers what horrors had happened and is hesitant to stay. What will happen when she runs into the one and only Losers Club? What will they do if the strange new girl claiming to be from another universe, tells them they’re all made up characters from a book? Will she help them ‘defeat’ the morbid Pennywise or give up and be lost in perishable hell forever, filled with lost grieving. Proceed with caution when you drive into this tale of horror, humor, and a handful of twisted romance with Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Main Masterlist

IT Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 (+)

Chapter 2

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 10/17/19

A/N: The first chapter got so much love, so I knew I had to write the next chapter ASAP!! Thank you guys so much!! Also the long italicised paragraphs is an excerpt from the book to put into perspective the problem from a background source, kind of like an example basically.

Warnings: Cursing

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“Excuse me?” the small boy peered up at me, he picked up what seemed to be an inhaler. He didn’t have his signature cast yet, I was here before most of the catastrophe. How should I approach him, there’s no way I’m telling him directly, he wouldn’t believe me. What the hell should I tell him then? He stared at me like I was crazy, taking a step back for good measure. I mean I don’t blame him, I look like I’ve been rolling in the dirt. I panicked, it was going to happen one way or another.

“Uh, I think I’m lost.” It was a simple explanation, he kept looking at me, like I had five heads.

He gave me a swift look of disgust, probably since I was covered in dirt. “I’m sorry my mom told me not to talk to strangers.” Shit. He was the germaphobe, eternally clung to his mother’s side, until she dies at sixty-six.

“I’m sorry, I need to get home.” He brushed past me and jumped at the sudden contact, his pills flooded out from his fanny pack and piled onto the ground. Some rolled forwards while most of them flew in different directions. An abundance of different pill bottles fell next, the short boy looked at the now germ infested medicine in horror.

I didn’t know what to do,”Do you want my help or would you prefer me not to touch?” He dropped to the ground and sorted pills by color and stuffing them back into the right tube.

“How do I know that you’re not some psychopath that could kill me?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Fair point, just grab the red ones. Be careful my mom will flip of she figures out what just happened.”

Ah, Mrs.Kaspbrak, a woman that completely overprotects her child to the point of isolation and creates illnesses just to keep him ‘safe.’ I thought of the book, how it showed his mom slowly incasing his youth in a small orange pill bottle.

Eddie gasped. He could see a foot floating inside a shole filled with green smoke. The bones in his foot! He crossed his great big toe over his second toe and the eldritch bones in the scope made an X that was not white, but goblin-green. He could see-

His mother shrieked, a rising sound of panic cut through the quiet shoe store like a runaway reaper-blade, like a firebell, like doom on horseback. He jerked his startled, dismayed face out of the viewer and saw her pelting towards him across the store in her stocking feet, her dress flying out behind her. She knocked a chair over and one of those shoe-measuring things that always tickled his feet went flying. Here bosom heaved. Her mouth was a scarlet O of horror. Faces turned to follow her progress.

“Eddie get off there!” she screamed. “Get off there!” Those machines give you cancer! Get off there! Eddie! Eddieee-!”

I remember that chapter, I felt so bad for Eddie and yet I’m here ‘talking’ to him. Reality keeps straying quicker and quicker away from me. Next thing you know I’ll be fooling around with the damn Losers Club. As fun as that seems I had ongoing worry, is my mom ok? Will I be ok? Am I in a coma?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my fate, could I be dying. Is this the last moment I’ll spend until my time is up. In Derry, Maine! The ‘shittiest place on earth.’ After all these murders and that clown rampaging in the sewers I see why the town was coined the title.

Most importantly to the subject, why does Eddie have so many pills? We began to pick each up out of the sorting it didn’t take long to pick them all up. No eye contact was made, my chances were dialing, if anyone could help me with this phenomena it would be the clown-fighting teens.

Eddie looked around, “I’m missing one.” How the hell does he know that. Lurking silence was downed upon us as we glanced around a grim voice cut in.

“Do you think this will help me, Eddie?”

We whipped our heads above us, a creature will drool castading out from its mouth crouched holding the last red pill. Its hair was knotted, ratty. Lumps and sores were plucked all over its thin and lanky body. There was no nose, horrible retching sounds came out of it as it inhaled and exhaled. Ripped cloth adorned the body, bandages came as a pair. A huge pile of them were attached to its left ‘foot.’ A moan escaped his mouth area, Eddie groaned. The two of us scattered as we ran from the monster. I remembered this from the newer movie and book, IT is here, he found us. How can I even see it, only people affected by….. Shit. The monster got up and limped towards us, we were cornered. I was racked with fear, tears filled my eyes and my vision was inconceivable. It screamed and retched as we ran towards the dirty Neibolt house. The makeshift cast banged against the ground with such force and rhythm, he was on our tails.

Eddie made sure to check back to see if he was dreaming or not, his nerves got the best of him and he kept tripping. A few tears escaped my eyes, I couldn’t be scared isn’t that what the clown wants? I know I couldn’t die from this, but if I see IT what will stop me from just that. We reached a fence, the screaming stopped, as did the banging. I glanced behind me. This can’t be real.

Above all the grass and weeds was what you could only read about, what you could only dream about, something that you should never see in real life. It should’ve been a fictional character, in a book, but there it was, right in front of me. That’s when I realized I can’t go back, how can I wake up from this, it’s real. It has to be.

Pennywise the Dancing Clown.

Rows of red, rubbery balloons covered his face. His white clown outfit hung in ruffles with three red pom-poms. The balloons went above his head, disappearing into oblivion. A crooked smile was slapped across his face. ‘Just Kill me now.’ I thought. It was him, down to the makeup and hair. Eddie was petrified.

“Where ya going Eds?” His voice made a shiver go up my spine. “Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

The clown looked over to me, “And you, Y/N. You can’t go home, can you?” He giggled. What does he mean, why can’t I go home. I want to be in bed, waiting for that last day of school.

“Come join the clown Eds.” Eddie looked at me. “You’ll float down here.” IT shrugged his shoulders.

“We all float down here. Yes we do!”

A shrill laugh came out of its mouth, why did this have to happen to me! Eddie screamed and I followed him as we ran through a fence parting. His breaths were choppy, the boy fell once more and the sound of a balloon popping was all that was left.

He glanced back at me, “Please tell me you saw that too.”

#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #it #it ch 1 #pennywise #richie tozier x you

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London Lovecraft Festival: A Teatrichal Celebration of the Works and Mythos of H.P. Lovecraft. February 3-9, 2019 at The Old Red Lion Theatre, 418 St. John Street, London, UK. Info: oldredliontheatre.co.uk; londonlovecraft.com.

Taking place over seven nights, the festival will have original and gently-loved productions presented to London audiences deep in the depths of darkest pub theatredom. With world premieres as well as tried and true creations, both Lovecraft novices and deeper initiates should find their palates tickled and their brains disturbed.

6:00pm Sunday, February 3rd Pickman’s Model Meet Richard Upton Pickman, an artist shunned by the establishment because of his horrifying paintings. But what kind of company has Pickman been keeping? And who — or what — pays a visit to his studio on one terrifying evening? The story is perfect material for Nunkie Theatre — one-man performances by Robert Lloyd Parry, who is best known for his adaptations of the work of PD James. He’s an amazing actor, with a real talent for bringing a story to life and sending a shiver down your spine. Although this is a rehearsed reading, the fright factor should be very high as the original story is one of Lovecraft’s best and Parry is an expert at filling intimate spaces with lurking horror.

7:30pm Sunday 3rd Night of 1000 Tentacles Clocktopus Cabaret presents: Night of 1000 Tentacles! On their second expedition, Captain Bang Bang and her trustworthy first mate, Stormina Teacup, set out for eldritch realms. Join them and a host of London burlesque and cabaret favorites, including Dolly Trolly with a brand new Lovecraft themed act, and necromantic sorcerer – er, magician – Chris Benkin with his sleight of tentacle, for an outstanding steampunk/transdimensional night of wonders. You will gasp, you will gibber, you will wonder … where did they hide those eyeballs?

9:15 PM Sunday 3rd Cool Air Dr. Muñoz has spent their life battling the forces of death. When Miskatonic University student Natalie Peaslee comes looking for help for her heart, she has no idea how far Muñoz will go to win that fight. As summer rages, they’ll both need to keep a cool head to make it out of Arkham alive. This staged reading directed by Emma Muir Smith marks the European debut of Ron Sandahl’s stage adaptation, originally presented at Seattle’s Open Circle Theatre in 2005.

7:00pm Monday 4th Lovecraft Shivers Do you like stories that make the hairs stand up at the back of your neck? Sam Enthoven’s Shivers nights have been giving aficionados that sensation of spiders down the spine for more than a year now. Sam picks and adapts the finest frightening literature and finds great performers to read it. The twist with Shivers is that these tales are then paired with live sounds from his uniquely uncanny instrument, the theremin, and some of the best up-and-coming artists from London’s experimental music scene. The result is a kind of cinema for the ears and imagination, with storytelling and sound combining to draw you irresistibly in, to reach cold fingers into your mind, to give you Shivers. The stories of H.P. Lovecraft have, naturally, featured at previous Shivers nights. We’ve performed From Beyond in the chapel of Abney Park Cemetery and Dagon in the hold of Spanish galleon The Golden Hinde. The opportunity, however, to put together a new all-Lovecraft Shivers for the festival that celebrates Horror’s dark prince himself is, like his legacy, irresistible. We look forward to scaring you.

7:00pm Monday 4th Albertina West: Reanimator Schoolmates Albertina West and Carla Milburn are scientists in pursuit of knowledge – about reanimating the dead. But when the formula only seems to work on the freshest of bodies, it’s a small step to take from robbing graves to murder. And for some reason, the awakened dead don’t seem very happy about it… In this work commissioned especially for the London Lovecraft Festival, TL Wiswell extends her suite of genderswitched Lovecraft tales to this perennial favorite. Come and see a play Borne and Walk (but not come back for revenge).

7:00pm Tuesday 5th and Wednesday 6th Providence “Life is a hideous thing.” Prepare to be amazed, terrified, and driven insane! Great Cthulhu may be sleeping beneath the sea, but in Providence, Rhode Island, Lovecraft can’t get a wink. Join the morose and miserable Howard Phillips Lovecraft, author of ‘The Call of Cthulhu’, ‘Shadow Over Innsmouth’ and other incredibly weird tales, as he contemplates the many mistakes that make up his life. His father went mad when he was four. He suffered a mental breakdown when he was eighteen. He lived with his overprotective mother until he was thirty. He loathed seafood, loved coffee and hated immigrants. Indeed he despised anyone who wasn’t an 18th century English Gentleman. But he hated himself most of all. Lovecraft’s losses were fortunately our gains as his enigmatic, tortured mind gave birth to a body of work we now consider as the foundations of the modern horror genre. Using physical comedy, live music and all the classic horror tropes you can rattle a chain at, Dominic Allen (Belt-Up, A Common Man) and Simon Maeder (Superbolt Theatre) explore a wretched life and ask a haunting question: can any love be salvaged from one so filled with hate? Winner of Vaults Festival ‘Pick of the Week’ award.

9:00pm Tuesday 5th and Wednesday 6th The Lurking Fear and other stories Nestled in amongst the Catskills, sits Tempest Mountain. Far from a vacation destination. This mountain is shrouded in death and destruction. At the heart of all the horror, sitting empty and imposing atop the mountain, is the legendary House of Martense. No-one from the town below, that lies quivering in the shadow of the Martense mansion, ever dares venture up there. Especially when there’s a storm brewing. That is until an inquisitive young journalist, with a self-confessed ‘Love of the grotesque and horrible’, finds herself alone, following the trail of what the locals will only call “The Lurking Fear”. Broken Word Productions Presents The Lurking Fear and Other Stories, an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Lurking Fear”, as well as an introduction to some of his shorter stories. With the aid of puppetry and storytelling, follow our Hero as she faces one of Lovecraft’s deadliest monsters. This is Broken Word’s second theatre production, following it’s 4 star debut with Train Journey at the Camden Fringe earlier this year. They are excited to be taking, somewhat of a darker turn in presenting the World Premiere of (in their opinion) not one, but two of Lovecraft’s finest horrors.

9:00pm Thursday 7th The Witching Hour Montague Rhodes James returns with another selection of unsettling tales of antiquarian terror! Brave the horrors lying in wait within “An Episode of Cathedral History”! Witness the spectral malevolent seeking revenge in “A Warning to the Curious”! One-man show and follow-up to our successful touring production of “Old Haunts”. Jonathan Goodwin plays M.R. James in a show scripted by himself, and directed by Gary Archer.

7:00pm Thursday 7th Lovecraft After Dark Allow the cosmic horror of Howard Philip Lovecraft to envelop your senses and blast your imagination! At any moment, the terrors of the Ancient Ones may be unleashed upon the world. The Elder Gods scrutinise our every deed, awaiting their opportunity to reclaim what was once theirs. Madness will be a blessing to those mere mortals who witness the crawling chaos soon to be released upon mankind! Jonathan Goodwin plays Cornelius Pike in Lovecraft After Dark. The show is scripted by Goodwin, and co-directed by Goodwin and Gary Archer.

7:00pm Friday 8th & Saturday 9th 3:00pm Saturday 9th Late Night with Cthuhlu It’s been a few hundred years since the Great Old Ones awoke from their ancient slumber and enslaved humanity. Yet somehow, against all the odds, life has gone back to normal…ish. Thankfully, the people of London now have something to look forward to at the end of a long day of suffering and toiling. A being known only as THE PRODUCER has ordered the city’s best Television Station (or maybe the city’s *only* television station) be reopened, and for the broadcast of a new state-approved talk show “Late Night With Cthulhu” to stretch its tendrils onto the airwaves. Join your hosts Arabella Fenneck Reid and Sebastian Baxter Thompson for the newest instalment of your new favourite (and mandatory) evening of post-apocalyptic light entertainment. Late Night With Cthulhu is a heart-shuddering romp through a world after the return of the Great Ones. So come along and tune in for an evening of all stars, guest stars, and things beyond the stars! If you’re lucky, you might just go insane…” Trigger warnings: Strobe Lights, Loud Noises, Creeping Dread.

5:00pm Saturday 9th Writing Lovecraft A rehearsed reading of the winning play written for the London Lovecraft Festival.

9:00pm Friday 8th and Saturday 9th The Colour Out of Space With their signature live-Foley treatment, Shedload bring the already potent storytelling of Lovecraft to life through a carefully structured mix of live readings by highly-trained and experienced actors, and sound effects, performed by our very own Foley experts. For this, we rely on a whole ‘shed’s’ worth of sound makers, including every day items such as gardening tools, coal scuttles and salad spinners, as well as more niche instruments such as the ‘sea hoops’, grapefruit (and other choice fruit & veg items), and our prized possession: the Waterphone; an instrument that will no doubt be familiar to every horror film fan. So picture the scene – a dimly-lit stage, with a set comprising Arkham’s town sign and boundaries; a lone narrator, centre stage, using to great effect Lovecraft’s faithfully-adapted writing to describe the horror of the disintegrating farm animals before him – but hang on! – not only are you picturing this, you’re hearing it too: A pig barks out its last rattling breath as its skull collapses – its rotting flesh spills out onto the ground… – voice actor, red pepper, grapefruit, and a hammer – The RØDE mic does the rest. Chilling screams from the attic, complete with nails scratching on wooden floorboard, and the palpable wail of the strange celestial matter plaguing the farm… namely, The Colour out of Space.

12:00pm through 10:00pm, Sunday 3rd through Saturday 9th Patient 4620 Gretel Sauerbrot: a once famous artist, admitted to the Raventhorne Institution and then never heard from again. You are invited to the Royal Museum of Contemporary Art, and through a series of audio guides you explore and uncover clues to Gretel’s past. This unique theatre show is a blend of immersive theatre, auditory storytelling, and art installation; resulting in a rich and sensory experience that won’t be easily forgotten. To experience the show at its fullest, audiences should bring a Smartphone or WiFi enabled device, along with a headset. In the event you cannot provide your own device and/or headset, you will be loaned items on entering the show.

#lovecraftian #h.p. lovecraft #lovecraft #weird festival #festival #theatre #lovecraft on stage #london #uk #cthulhu mythos

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