A Little Help?
Nov. 11th, 2005 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cinaedOkay, I...failed for the whole Nano thing. *shifty eyes* Instead I have been working on a short story that...just appeared out of nowhere. Only now I'm stuck. 3,000 words into it, and I'm stuck, almost at the end. If anyone can could they possibly offer some suggestions? Thanks!
WARNING: Egocentric American annoying the crap out of much smarter British folks. *nods* And who Just Doesn't Get It.
Tanner Quintana had often wondered if being right would be worse than being wrong. Now he knew. He gazed up at the large mansion, with its faceless gargoyles and ivy-encrusted walls, and tore the letter that had brought him here into pieces. He had known from the first line of the letter that this would be a very worthless gesture, but his father had insisted, out of respect of Tanner’s mother, and so the man found himself here, standing before a run-down mansion that had seen better days...better centuries.
He sighed, and then mounted the steps. Hesitating for a moment, at last he reached out to touch the knocker. It was almost slimy to touch, moss having choked the brass to death long ago.
Swallowing, he straightened his shoulders and knocked. The knocker made a dulled, almost soggy sound – Tanner had no doubt the large door was rotting; he half-expected the door to splinter into a million pieces. There was no answer, and he knocked again, this time calling out, “Is anyone there?”
Of course there was someone there. Someone was always at Sathanos mansion, even if that someone never bothered to repair the building. After all, one would think at least one of the owners in the past three hundred years could afford some renovations!
So he was annoyed when no one answered at the second and then the third knock. He glared at the door. “Fine, then,” he said to the silence. “I’ll just leave. The letter must have been a mistake.”
At that, the door opened. An unfamiliar woman peered out at him, but she wore a look he knew all too well. A self-satisfied look, as though just by standing on the doorway he had proven her right somehow. “So you’re Tanner?” she said, in an unexpected British accent. Well, it shouldn’t have been unexpected, really, he supposed. After all, he had flown over the Atlantic to his mother’s homeland, dear -- no, make that dreary -- England. “Come in, and...make yourself at home.” She smiled, a private joke, but Tanner didn’t smile back. “We’ve been waiting.”
He rolled his eyes at that. “Yea, for the house of Sathanos is always waiting,” he said, almost hearing his mother preaching those words in his head as he said them. “And forever are we of the sacred house to wait for that pure soul that will free us from our chains and let us loose. Yes, I know. Get on with it.” Tanner flicked a piece of the torn letter at her, and was rewarded with an expression of dismay.
“You cannot joke about this, Tanner...Quintana,” she snapped, and made a face as she said his last name, as though it was vulgar to her. “This is a very important moment for the house of Sathanos–”
Tanner couldn’t help but cut her off. “From which I’m descended, yeah, I’ve heard it all, okay? I’m Tanner Quintana, the last of the Sathanos line since everyone else managed to get knocked off in some fantastically stupid ways, so I’m here to complete the ritual and be on my way.”
“I do not think you appreciate the severity of the situation, Tanner Quintana,” she said sternly. “There is a curse, and--”
Again he cut her off, unable to believe the woman. Didn’t she understand he didn’t believe in this hocus-pocus crap? “Can we get on with this? I took time off school for this nonsense.”
The woman looked about to argue some more, but instead sighed and opened the door. “Come inside.”
Smirking a little as the woman caved, he entered the mansion, and wrinkled his nose at the smell. There was a sickeningly sweet, almost cloying smell that lingered in the air and made him instinctively gag. If he was the last heir to this run-down hell-hole, he would definitely have to have someone come to see if the whole place wasn’t rotten through and through. He almost chuckled at the thought, knowing the woman would be horrified at the very idea.
“Your uncle tried to burn the mansion down, you know,” came a voice, different than the woman’s, and Tanner turned to stare at the young man who had suddenly appeared beside him. No, more of a boy, really, a teenager of about fifteen or so, not yet grown into his gangly legs. He grinned at Tanner, revealing slightly crooked teeth that somehow created an endearing quality to him that made the American like him. He was that dorky kid in school you protected from the bullies. The boy spoke again, and this time Tanner paid enough attention to realize that the boy had an accent, only more Irish than anything. “Well, maybe you don’t know. He brought his wife and three children back to the mansion one day, and tried to burn it down. They found him and his children dead of smoke inhalation and his wife gone all queer.”
“Lovely,” Tanner mumbled. Great, so the dork was morbid.
“Funny thing....” The boy’s voice went suddenly soft, and Tanner glanced at him and noticed the serious expression on his face. “Funny thing is, there wasn’t a scorch mark. Anywhere.”
For a second, he believed the boy, and then he laughed. “Nice try, kid. Next you’re going to tell me to believe in ghosts.”
Both the woman and the boy just stared, and he found himself clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Er, anyways....” They both continued to stare, and he felt himself begin to wilt under their disbelieving looks. “Look, we don’t believe in ghosts in the US! Well, okay, so like 50% of us do, but...I’m not one of them.”
The boy almost smiled at that. “Your mother didn’t teach you very well.”
Tanner bristled at the implied insult. “My mother taught me more than you’ll ever know!” he snapped, and was rewarded by the boy looking startled and stepping away from him. He lowered his voice to an almost threatening growl. “One more negative word about my mother, and I’m walking out of here and never coming back.”
Again, the boy gave another half-smile, as though what Tanner had said was a joke. His piercing blue eyes regarded the American for a moment, and then he said, “I apologize. Now, shall we go do the ritual?”
“I’m supposed to meet a guy named Brand. Denton Brand.....” He sighed when the boy just looked at him. “Should’ve known it’d actually be a fourteen-year-old who wrote me that letter.”
“Hey!” Denton protested. “I’m...fifteen. Almost sixteen!” He looked appealingly at the woman. “Tell him, Aunt Marietta!”
Now it was the woman’s turn to smile, and Tanner watched with interest as it transformed her face entirely. There was a sense of humor buried deep within this woman, and it had taken Denton to drag it to the surface. “Almost sixteen, are you? That’s not what my calender says....”
“Aunt Marietta!”
Both Tanner and Marietta smiled at the boy’s outraged howl, and then Marietta said, “He really is fifteen.”
While Denton looked mollified, Tanner took an opportunity to survey the hallway. It was as dark and dreary as he’d suspected it would be, and that cloying smell lingered in the air. Neither Denton nor Marietta seemed bothered by it though.
“Come with me.” Denton surprised him by extending a hand to the guest. After a moment, Tanner took the hand, and was surprised at the calluses he felt. Denton noticed his look, and grinned almost mischievously. “I get stuck gardening with my mother when Marietta’s busy. And somehow Marietta is always busy.”
“Your mother?” There were more people in this run-down mansion?
“She’s...busy at the moment,” Denton explained. “Selling her flowers at the fair.” He smiled ruefully. “Otherwise she would have come to greet you, but she’s gone to the fair for thirty years and isn’t about to miss it, even for the heir to the house of Sathanos.”
“Nice to know I’m so respected,” Tanner remarked. He somehow managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Again, Denton offered a crooked little smile, and then the teenager began tugging the American down the hallway. “The ritual’s always been done in the master bedroom,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s where your uncle and his children were found. Aunt Marietta aired out the room though, so it won’t smell like smoke.”
“Nice of you,” Tanner said to Marietta, who was following behind. She just gazed back, the self-satisfied look back on her face. He groaned aloud when he realized that they were getting closer to the sickeningly sweet smell, and the words slipped out before he could consider him. “Do you Brits think that smells nice?”
“What?”
“That...smell. It smells like...I dunno....” He struggled for words. “It smells...sweet. But not in a good way. It’s enough to make anyone gag!”
Denton and Marietta both stared at him, and Denton visibly sniffed the air as Marietta said, “I don’t smell anything, Tanner Quintana.”
He gazed suspiciously at them both. They had to be kidding But no, they seemed earnest enough, and he sighed. “Then you both have no sense of smell,” he informed them. “Can we just get to bedroom and do the stupid ritual?”
Denton nodded. “It’s just at the end of the hall.” Blue eyes surveyed Tanner for another moment, the gaze searching and bewildered, but the teenager resumed his walk, leading the trio towards the master bedroom. “Your uncle didn’t really take care of the mansion -- he and his family actually lived abroad and rarely visited here.”
“And look where it got him,” Marietta said, and there was a tone of cruel satisfaction in her voice. “Damned, twice damned, thrice damned, for forsaking his blood and trying to raze the mansion of Sathanos.” Surprised at her venom, Tanner looked at her, and was even more astonished at the look of pain that belied her satisfied words.
“A pity about his children,” said Denton in a soft voice. He was still looking forward though, so Tanner couldn’t see his expression.
Marietta’s face smoothed over and looked almost empty. “Yes. A pity for them.”
“And his wife, of course.”
Marietta opened her mouth, as though to protest, and then closed it and whispered, “Yes. Her too.”
All right, so Tanner had changed his mind about liking these two. Denton and Marietta were both just a little bit crazy, and Tanner happened to like spending his time with sane people. Even if Denton inspired a sort of big brother complex, as soon as he finished this stupid ritual, he was getting out of here and going back to the US. He kept his mouth shut though, and so it was silent as they reached the master bedroom.
Denton stood before the door for a long moment, still not looking back. After a long moment, he whispered, “You really don’t believe in ghosts?”
“No,” Tanner said firmly.
The teenager opened the door, revealing darkness, and stepped aside. He finally looked up at the American, and as those blue eyes surveyed him, Tanner inexplicably found himself comparing the boy’s eyes to the blue heart of a flame. “Then good-bye. It was...nice to meet you.” Those flaming blue eyes bore into his for another long moment, and then Denton threw his arms around Tanner and hugged the American, hard.
Tanner froze, and then wrapped his arms around the boy in the awkward, jerky gestures of someone who doesn’t hug people very often. When he finally relaxed, he realized Denton was shaking. “Hey, I’ll be right out. All I have to do is say a few words and come right back out....” How could Denton really believe all this hocus-pocus? Well, Denton was still a kid. Once he reached college, he’d learn the difference between fact and fiction.
“If you do, will you take me to America with you?”
He heard Marietta make an odd noise, but ignored her. “Sure, I’m sure you can come on a trip. I’ll take you to see all the great places. New York City, DC, Disneyland even, if you come during the summer so we can do major road trips. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect.” Denton released him, and looked up, grinning shakily. “Really perfect. Thanks, Tanquin.”
Tanner blinked. How had Denton known his mother’s nickname for him? He frowned, about to ask, and then firm hands were pressing into his back, and Marietta was saying in a crisp, professional voice, “Go inside, Tanner Quintana. And for the sake of Sathanos, don’t forget your lines!”
“I won’t!” he protested even as Denton stepped aside and Tanner found himself being shoved unceremoniously into the room of darkness. He stumbled over the threshold, and began to grumble, “You didn’t leave the light--Hey!” He whirled at the sound of the door slamming, and glared into the pitch blackness. “Thanks a lot!” When only silence answered him, he grumbled and turned back, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. There were the vague blobs that he figured were the bed and drawers, and the sickeningly sweet smell was all around him. Surprisingly, he found that the smell wasn’t so bad now, once he’d gotten used to it. In fact, it was losing its cloying scent, and instead just becoming pleasantly sweet.
The silence stretched on, and then he laughed. Had he been expecting Marietta or Denton to urge him on? Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes and began to recite the words that his mother had murmured to him almost as a lullaby.
“I have come, the heir to the cursed house of Sathanos, to plead for the mercy of the gods. We have been so long waiting for the curse to be broken and for us to be forgiven. So we entreat you, oh mighty gods, forgive us our trespasses--” He paused, unable to resist a snicker. Forgive us our trespasses? Even if he was supposed to be speaking to some polytheistic pantheon, it sounded like the first Sathanos had stolen that line from the Bible. Where had been again? “Forgive us our trespasses, for we of the Sathanos line are mere mortals, foolish mortals, who have suffered so long for the sake of one.”
He paused. “Too long, if you ask me, really,” he said to the darkness. “I mean, my mom was telling me how this has been going on for hundreds of years, well, more like thousands. What could one guy have done to piss gods off so badly? I mean, my mom would’ve mentioned if he’d done something like feed his son to the gods as a joke or something--”
“Complete the ritual!” The voice came at him from in front of him, angry, and Tanner found himself cowering against the door before he realized he’d moved. That hadn’t been Marietta or Denton! That had been a man’s voice, an older man’s voice, harsh and unyielding.
“Who’s there?” he demanded, squinting into the darkness but not seeing any human-like blob.
“Let him speak.” This time it seemed like a hundred voices at once, deep and rich and...amused? “He speaks his mind, and new words. We have not heard such originality in...over a millennium.” Softer, the echoing voices sounding almost parental, Tanner was told, “Speak, child. We would hear more of your thoughts.”
It took Tanner a long moment to get his heart out of his throat. This was all...a trick. Denton and Marietta were probably doubled over with laughter outside, imagining him frozen in fear against the door. He cleared his throat again, and the words tumbled from his lips. “I...I mean.... I was just saying, what would my ancestor have done to piss these gods off so badly? Did he feed his son to the gods as a joke? Not a funny one, but some guys have weird senses of humor. Maybe he tried to rape a goddess? I’d guess a goddess would have to be beautiful, so some guys would be crazy enough to jump one, not knowing or maybe not caring if she was a goddess. But you know, even if he did, that’s not really fair to his descendants. We never tried jumping a goddess--”
“He doesn’t mean it!” It was the same angry voice that had shrieked before which yelled the denial now. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Don’t listen to him! He is our last living heir, don’t place the curse of Sathanos upon him for his arrogance! I-I beg you... He is our last chance!”
Trying not to be obvious about it, Tanner tried to turn the doorknob, and wasn’t surprised when he discovered it was locked. The letter hadn’t mentioned this furious voice or the thousand voices that now spoke again, rattling his teeth with the volume and intensity of the words.
“Do not think to order us thus, Gilbert Sathanos! He would not be here if you had not tried to escape your duty! You were trusted with this ritual, and you forsook it and instead tried to burn this holy place!”
“I-I did not mean....” Now the lone voice sounded very, very alone indeed, soft and weak in the darkness. “He...I only....” There was a long silence, in which Tanner wondered if he should ask if he’d guessed right, that Sathanos had tried to rape a goddess, and then suddenly the lone voice shrieked, angry again, “Your mother was a whore, Tanner Quintana, and I see she has passed her foolishness onto you! We are all doomed!”
And then suddenly instead of pressing himself against the door, someone else was pressing him into the wood. He cried out in surprise, but the shout seemed to be swallowed up by silence as someone clawed at him, jagged fingernails gouging his face and then powerful hands taking hold of his throat. “St--” The hands tightened, and he choked. Darkness was replaced by whiteness as stars erupted in his vision and he writhed against those punishing hands. Where were Denton and Marietta? Was this their idea of a joke? Vision entirely white now, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, he felt his eyes begin to roll towards the back of his head.
“Let him go.” The thousand voices were almost mild, and he felt the hands tighten on his throat, digging into the tender flesh. “We have ordered you to release him, Gilbert Sathanos!”
Any response of his attacker -- Gilbert Sathanos -- was lost from the roaring in Tanner’s ears, but in the next instant the hands were gone and Tanner could breathe again. He slid to the floor and instinctively grabbed his aching throat, taking in short, shallow, grateful breaths.
“Be still, Gilbert Sathanos. You have already failed. If he fails, it will be one of his own making. Now speak, child. He will not touch you again.”
He started to speak, to tell Gilbert Sathanos to go screw himself, when the last name registered. Sathanos? “B-but all of the Sathanos are dead!” It felt as though he was stabbing his throat with a knife on every syllable, and his voice was hoarse even to his own ears.
“There is a difference between being dead and being gone, Quintana.” The anger in Gilbert’s voice had fled, replaced by a wearied sort of contempt that had no real bite to it. “Didn’t you understand what Tatum taught you for all those years? She told me she’d taught you everything!”
Tatum. It had been so long since he’d heard his mother’s first name, and Tanner’s stomach twisted in grief. In the weeks following her funeral, he had gotten a deep, hurting ache in his belly at the mere mention of her name. Eventually though, the frequents exclamations over his mother’s tragic death had ceased, and so the deep ache had ebbed and eventually ceased. Now it flared up again, as hard as punch to the stomach. “She taught me everything. Told me every little story,” he said, voice hollow. “And then she died.”
“Story? It wasn’t a story....”
There. That's all I've got. And now I'm stuck. ^^;; Any suggestions? This is the rough copy -- haven't edited at all, really, so sorry about any errors.
WARNING: Egocentric American annoying the crap out of much smarter British folks. *nods* And who Just Doesn't Get It.
Tanner Quintana had often wondered if being right would be worse than being wrong. Now he knew. He gazed up at the large mansion, with its faceless gargoyles and ivy-encrusted walls, and tore the letter that had brought him here into pieces. He had known from the first line of the letter that this would be a very worthless gesture, but his father had insisted, out of respect of Tanner’s mother, and so the man found himself here, standing before a run-down mansion that had seen better days...better centuries.
He sighed, and then mounted the steps. Hesitating for a moment, at last he reached out to touch the knocker. It was almost slimy to touch, moss having choked the brass to death long ago.
Swallowing, he straightened his shoulders and knocked. The knocker made a dulled, almost soggy sound – Tanner had no doubt the large door was rotting; he half-expected the door to splinter into a million pieces. There was no answer, and he knocked again, this time calling out, “Is anyone there?”
Of course there was someone there. Someone was always at Sathanos mansion, even if that someone never bothered to repair the building. After all, one would think at least one of the owners in the past three hundred years could afford some renovations!
So he was annoyed when no one answered at the second and then the third knock. He glared at the door. “Fine, then,” he said to the silence. “I’ll just leave. The letter must have been a mistake.”
At that, the door opened. An unfamiliar woman peered out at him, but she wore a look he knew all too well. A self-satisfied look, as though just by standing on the doorway he had proven her right somehow. “So you’re Tanner?” she said, in an unexpected British accent. Well, it shouldn’t have been unexpected, really, he supposed. After all, he had flown over the Atlantic to his mother’s homeland, dear -- no, make that dreary -- England. “Come in, and...make yourself at home.” She smiled, a private joke, but Tanner didn’t smile back. “We’ve been waiting.”
He rolled his eyes at that. “Yea, for the house of Sathanos is always waiting,” he said, almost hearing his mother preaching those words in his head as he said them. “And forever are we of the sacred house to wait for that pure soul that will free us from our chains and let us loose. Yes, I know. Get on with it.” Tanner flicked a piece of the torn letter at her, and was rewarded with an expression of dismay.
“You cannot joke about this, Tanner...Quintana,” she snapped, and made a face as she said his last name, as though it was vulgar to her. “This is a very important moment for the house of Sathanos–”
Tanner couldn’t help but cut her off. “From which I’m descended, yeah, I’ve heard it all, okay? I’m Tanner Quintana, the last of the Sathanos line since everyone else managed to get knocked off in some fantastically stupid ways, so I’m here to complete the ritual and be on my way.”
“I do not think you appreciate the severity of the situation, Tanner Quintana,” she said sternly. “There is a curse, and--”
Again he cut her off, unable to believe the woman. Didn’t she understand he didn’t believe in this hocus-pocus crap? “Can we get on with this? I took time off school for this nonsense.”
The woman looked about to argue some more, but instead sighed and opened the door. “Come inside.”
Smirking a little as the woman caved, he entered the mansion, and wrinkled his nose at the smell. There was a sickeningly sweet, almost cloying smell that lingered in the air and made him instinctively gag. If he was the last heir to this run-down hell-hole, he would definitely have to have someone come to see if the whole place wasn’t rotten through and through. He almost chuckled at the thought, knowing the woman would be horrified at the very idea.
“Your uncle tried to burn the mansion down, you know,” came a voice, different than the woman’s, and Tanner turned to stare at the young man who had suddenly appeared beside him. No, more of a boy, really, a teenager of about fifteen or so, not yet grown into his gangly legs. He grinned at Tanner, revealing slightly crooked teeth that somehow created an endearing quality to him that made the American like him. He was that dorky kid in school you protected from the bullies. The boy spoke again, and this time Tanner paid enough attention to realize that the boy had an accent, only more Irish than anything. “Well, maybe you don’t know. He brought his wife and three children back to the mansion one day, and tried to burn it down. They found him and his children dead of smoke inhalation and his wife gone all queer.”
“Lovely,” Tanner mumbled. Great, so the dork was morbid.
“Funny thing....” The boy’s voice went suddenly soft, and Tanner glanced at him and noticed the serious expression on his face. “Funny thing is, there wasn’t a scorch mark. Anywhere.”
For a second, he believed the boy, and then he laughed. “Nice try, kid. Next you’re going to tell me to believe in ghosts.”
Both the woman and the boy just stared, and he found himself clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Er, anyways....” They both continued to stare, and he felt himself begin to wilt under their disbelieving looks. “Look, we don’t believe in ghosts in the US! Well, okay, so like 50% of us do, but...I’m not one of them.”
The boy almost smiled at that. “Your mother didn’t teach you very well.”
Tanner bristled at the implied insult. “My mother taught me more than you’ll ever know!” he snapped, and was rewarded by the boy looking startled and stepping away from him. He lowered his voice to an almost threatening growl. “One more negative word about my mother, and I’m walking out of here and never coming back.”
Again, the boy gave another half-smile, as though what Tanner had said was a joke. His piercing blue eyes regarded the American for a moment, and then he said, “I apologize. Now, shall we go do the ritual?”
“I’m supposed to meet a guy named Brand. Denton Brand.....” He sighed when the boy just looked at him. “Should’ve known it’d actually be a fourteen-year-old who wrote me that letter.”
“Hey!” Denton protested. “I’m...fifteen. Almost sixteen!” He looked appealingly at the woman. “Tell him, Aunt Marietta!”
Now it was the woman’s turn to smile, and Tanner watched with interest as it transformed her face entirely. There was a sense of humor buried deep within this woman, and it had taken Denton to drag it to the surface. “Almost sixteen, are you? That’s not what my calender says....”
“Aunt Marietta!”
Both Tanner and Marietta smiled at the boy’s outraged howl, and then Marietta said, “He really is fifteen.”
While Denton looked mollified, Tanner took an opportunity to survey the hallway. It was as dark and dreary as he’d suspected it would be, and that cloying smell lingered in the air. Neither Denton nor Marietta seemed bothered by it though.
“Come with me.” Denton surprised him by extending a hand to the guest. After a moment, Tanner took the hand, and was surprised at the calluses he felt. Denton noticed his look, and grinned almost mischievously. “I get stuck gardening with my mother when Marietta’s busy. And somehow Marietta is always busy.”
“Your mother?” There were more people in this run-down mansion?
“She’s...busy at the moment,” Denton explained. “Selling her flowers at the fair.” He smiled ruefully. “Otherwise she would have come to greet you, but she’s gone to the fair for thirty years and isn’t about to miss it, even for the heir to the house of Sathanos.”
“Nice to know I’m so respected,” Tanner remarked. He somehow managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Again, Denton offered a crooked little smile, and then the teenager began tugging the American down the hallway. “The ritual’s always been done in the master bedroom,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s where your uncle and his children were found. Aunt Marietta aired out the room though, so it won’t smell like smoke.”
“Nice of you,” Tanner said to Marietta, who was following behind. She just gazed back, the self-satisfied look back on her face. He groaned aloud when he realized that they were getting closer to the sickeningly sweet smell, and the words slipped out before he could consider him. “Do you Brits think that smells nice?”
“What?”
“That...smell. It smells like...I dunno....” He struggled for words. “It smells...sweet. But not in a good way. It’s enough to make anyone gag!”
Denton and Marietta both stared at him, and Denton visibly sniffed the air as Marietta said, “I don’t smell anything, Tanner Quintana.”
He gazed suspiciously at them both. They had to be kidding But no, they seemed earnest enough, and he sighed. “Then you both have no sense of smell,” he informed them. “Can we just get to bedroom and do the stupid ritual?”
Denton nodded. “It’s just at the end of the hall.” Blue eyes surveyed Tanner for another moment, the gaze searching and bewildered, but the teenager resumed his walk, leading the trio towards the master bedroom. “Your uncle didn’t really take care of the mansion -- he and his family actually lived abroad and rarely visited here.”
“And look where it got him,” Marietta said, and there was a tone of cruel satisfaction in her voice. “Damned, twice damned, thrice damned, for forsaking his blood and trying to raze the mansion of Sathanos.” Surprised at her venom, Tanner looked at her, and was even more astonished at the look of pain that belied her satisfied words.
“A pity about his children,” said Denton in a soft voice. He was still looking forward though, so Tanner couldn’t see his expression.
Marietta’s face smoothed over and looked almost empty. “Yes. A pity for them.”
“And his wife, of course.”
Marietta opened her mouth, as though to protest, and then closed it and whispered, “Yes. Her too.”
All right, so Tanner had changed his mind about liking these two. Denton and Marietta were both just a little bit crazy, and Tanner happened to like spending his time with sane people. Even if Denton inspired a sort of big brother complex, as soon as he finished this stupid ritual, he was getting out of here and going back to the US. He kept his mouth shut though, and so it was silent as they reached the master bedroom.
Denton stood before the door for a long moment, still not looking back. After a long moment, he whispered, “You really don’t believe in ghosts?”
“No,” Tanner said firmly.
The teenager opened the door, revealing darkness, and stepped aside. He finally looked up at the American, and as those blue eyes surveyed him, Tanner inexplicably found himself comparing the boy’s eyes to the blue heart of a flame. “Then good-bye. It was...nice to meet you.” Those flaming blue eyes bore into his for another long moment, and then Denton threw his arms around Tanner and hugged the American, hard.
Tanner froze, and then wrapped his arms around the boy in the awkward, jerky gestures of someone who doesn’t hug people very often. When he finally relaxed, he realized Denton was shaking. “Hey, I’ll be right out. All I have to do is say a few words and come right back out....” How could Denton really believe all this hocus-pocus? Well, Denton was still a kid. Once he reached college, he’d learn the difference between fact and fiction.
“If you do, will you take me to America with you?”
He heard Marietta make an odd noise, but ignored her. “Sure, I’m sure you can come on a trip. I’ll take you to see all the great places. New York City, DC, Disneyland even, if you come during the summer so we can do major road trips. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect.” Denton released him, and looked up, grinning shakily. “Really perfect. Thanks, Tanquin.”
Tanner blinked. How had Denton known his mother’s nickname for him? He frowned, about to ask, and then firm hands were pressing into his back, and Marietta was saying in a crisp, professional voice, “Go inside, Tanner Quintana. And for the sake of Sathanos, don’t forget your lines!”
“I won’t!” he protested even as Denton stepped aside and Tanner found himself being shoved unceremoniously into the room of darkness. He stumbled over the threshold, and began to grumble, “You didn’t leave the light--Hey!” He whirled at the sound of the door slamming, and glared into the pitch blackness. “Thanks a lot!” When only silence answered him, he grumbled and turned back, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. There were the vague blobs that he figured were the bed and drawers, and the sickeningly sweet smell was all around him. Surprisingly, he found that the smell wasn’t so bad now, once he’d gotten used to it. In fact, it was losing its cloying scent, and instead just becoming pleasantly sweet.
The silence stretched on, and then he laughed. Had he been expecting Marietta or Denton to urge him on? Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes and began to recite the words that his mother had murmured to him almost as a lullaby.
“I have come, the heir to the cursed house of Sathanos, to plead for the mercy of the gods. We have been so long waiting for the curse to be broken and for us to be forgiven. So we entreat you, oh mighty gods, forgive us our trespasses--” He paused, unable to resist a snicker. Forgive us our trespasses? Even if he was supposed to be speaking to some polytheistic pantheon, it sounded like the first Sathanos had stolen that line from the Bible. Where had been again? “Forgive us our trespasses, for we of the Sathanos line are mere mortals, foolish mortals, who have suffered so long for the sake of one.”
He paused. “Too long, if you ask me, really,” he said to the darkness. “I mean, my mom was telling me how this has been going on for hundreds of years, well, more like thousands. What could one guy have done to piss gods off so badly? I mean, my mom would’ve mentioned if he’d done something like feed his son to the gods as a joke or something--”
“Complete the ritual!” The voice came at him from in front of him, angry, and Tanner found himself cowering against the door before he realized he’d moved. That hadn’t been Marietta or Denton! That had been a man’s voice, an older man’s voice, harsh and unyielding.
“Who’s there?” he demanded, squinting into the darkness but not seeing any human-like blob.
“Let him speak.” This time it seemed like a hundred voices at once, deep and rich and...amused? “He speaks his mind, and new words. We have not heard such originality in...over a millennium.” Softer, the echoing voices sounding almost parental, Tanner was told, “Speak, child. We would hear more of your thoughts.”
It took Tanner a long moment to get his heart out of his throat. This was all...a trick. Denton and Marietta were probably doubled over with laughter outside, imagining him frozen in fear against the door. He cleared his throat again, and the words tumbled from his lips. “I...I mean.... I was just saying, what would my ancestor have done to piss these gods off so badly? Did he feed his son to the gods as a joke? Not a funny one, but some guys have weird senses of humor. Maybe he tried to rape a goddess? I’d guess a goddess would have to be beautiful, so some guys would be crazy enough to jump one, not knowing or maybe not caring if she was a goddess. But you know, even if he did, that’s not really fair to his descendants. We never tried jumping a goddess--”
“He doesn’t mean it!” It was the same angry voice that had shrieked before which yelled the denial now. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Don’t listen to him! He is our last living heir, don’t place the curse of Sathanos upon him for his arrogance! I-I beg you... He is our last chance!”
Trying not to be obvious about it, Tanner tried to turn the doorknob, and wasn’t surprised when he discovered it was locked. The letter hadn’t mentioned this furious voice or the thousand voices that now spoke again, rattling his teeth with the volume and intensity of the words.
“Do not think to order us thus, Gilbert Sathanos! He would not be here if you had not tried to escape your duty! You were trusted with this ritual, and you forsook it and instead tried to burn this holy place!”
“I-I did not mean....” Now the lone voice sounded very, very alone indeed, soft and weak in the darkness. “He...I only....” There was a long silence, in which Tanner wondered if he should ask if he’d guessed right, that Sathanos had tried to rape a goddess, and then suddenly the lone voice shrieked, angry again, “Your mother was a whore, Tanner Quintana, and I see she has passed her foolishness onto you! We are all doomed!”
And then suddenly instead of pressing himself against the door, someone else was pressing him into the wood. He cried out in surprise, but the shout seemed to be swallowed up by silence as someone clawed at him, jagged fingernails gouging his face and then powerful hands taking hold of his throat. “St--” The hands tightened, and he choked. Darkness was replaced by whiteness as stars erupted in his vision and he writhed against those punishing hands. Where were Denton and Marietta? Was this their idea of a joke? Vision entirely white now, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, he felt his eyes begin to roll towards the back of his head.
“Let him go.” The thousand voices were almost mild, and he felt the hands tighten on his throat, digging into the tender flesh. “We have ordered you to release him, Gilbert Sathanos!”
Any response of his attacker -- Gilbert Sathanos -- was lost from the roaring in Tanner’s ears, but in the next instant the hands were gone and Tanner could breathe again. He slid to the floor and instinctively grabbed his aching throat, taking in short, shallow, grateful breaths.
“Be still, Gilbert Sathanos. You have already failed. If he fails, it will be one of his own making. Now speak, child. He will not touch you again.”
He started to speak, to tell Gilbert Sathanos to go screw himself, when the last name registered. Sathanos? “B-but all of the Sathanos are dead!” It felt as though he was stabbing his throat with a knife on every syllable, and his voice was hoarse even to his own ears.
“There is a difference between being dead and being gone, Quintana.” The anger in Gilbert’s voice had fled, replaced by a wearied sort of contempt that had no real bite to it. “Didn’t you understand what Tatum taught you for all those years? She told me she’d taught you everything!”
Tatum. It had been so long since he’d heard his mother’s first name, and Tanner’s stomach twisted in grief. In the weeks following her funeral, he had gotten a deep, hurting ache in his belly at the mere mention of her name. Eventually though, the frequents exclamations over his mother’s tragic death had ceased, and so the deep ache had ebbed and eventually ceased. Now it flared up again, as hard as punch to the stomach. “She taught me everything. Told me every little story,” he said, voice hollow. “And then she died.”
“Story? It wasn’t a story....”
There. That's all I've got. And now I'm stuck. ^^;; Any suggestions? This is the rough copy -- haven't edited at all, really, so sorry about any errors.
