Dragonproof - 8. Chapter 8

He grunted. Minutes later we turned into the drive for the cemetery. “Go over onto the side street. There's a gate with a bad lock we can get through,” Char said.

“Over there?” Vern asked and started moving even before she answered. Soon we were inside the fence, a stone fence from when people thought the dead needed to be penned up to keep them from the living. We followed Char to the back of the grounds, picking our way past the stones overgrown with grass and wildflowers. The stone of the mausoleum reared up in the dark night, made darker by the clouds starting to coalesce above us.

“Shit,” I muttered. Stepping up to the mausoleum, I saw that Char hadn't done much to hide that it had been broken into. Entering, we found a cold space with spaces laid to either side with the members of the Bledet family. One of the stone faces, that of Simone, was broken open.

“What did you use on this?” I asked, not expecting her to reply.

“Chisel and a small sledge,” she replied.

I examined the edge of the box inside the stone enclosure, noting the broken seam of the coffin. Pushing the lid up a bit, I smelled old rot, faded, as the corpse had long ago been reduced to bones and dust. I studied the lid and then paused, closing my eyes and letting my breath in and out slowly before opening them again to see with my magical senses extended. There was a broken streak of magic, weak as it was, around the lid. I thought I could probably reseal it for now, which might reset that damn Draugen.

“Okay, so I think-”

“What were you doing?” Char asked, stepping up beside me.

“I was checking to see if there was something here that triggered the Draugen being released, and there was. It's weak, but still there.”

“Show me?”

“Let's get this thing resealed. I can show you once it's done. Okay?” I really needed to stop talking. My throat was sore, and I imagined I'd have some bruising on my neck, not to mention my back was sore from the damn thing throwing me around like a dog shook a toy.

Reluctantly – and I understood – Char put the necklace back in the casket. I pulled the lid down and then went into my bag for the oil, of which there wasn't much left. The wind picked up, and the first few drops of rain landed outside. I applied the oil along the seam of the casket as far as I could reach.

“Is that thing coming again?” Vern asked.

The wind got suddenly worse, and I felt water flying through the open door of the crypt. I placed my hands against the seam, touching the oil and feeling for the broken threads of the spell used to seal the body inside. I didn't have the ingredients that would have been used to create this original spell, but the oil was a great magical conductor, so I figured it may work. All I had to lose was the three of us getting butchered by this manifestation, so no pressure. I closed my eyes, but was shocked by a loud bang. I was suddenly slammed in my side and knocked back from the open grave into the wall, jarring my shoulder painfully.

“What the fuck?” I grumbled, looking around. The door to the mausoleum stood open, and a tree branch was trapped in the open doorway. The curved end where it had been peeled from a nearby tree must have been what had slammed into my ribs, which were just starting to register some pain. The Draugen let loose its rusty faux-mechanical scream.

“It's not working!” Vern hollered.

“I didn't get to try it,” I yelled, or tried, back over the wind swirling around us. I slipped on the smooth stone floor, falling to one knee and fighting my way up to the casket.

“It's here!” Vern hollered.

If we live, Vern would make a good play-by-play man, I thought. I reached out, put my fingers on the oil, and pushed my will into it, feeling the magic pump through my body in time with my racing heart. The wind picked up, and the Draugen screamed again but then began to fade like it was falling down a well. I slumped, sliding down until I was on the floor, propped up by the stone of the grave markers.

“It worked,” Char said softly. Squatting down, she asked, “Are you okay?”

I gave her the thumbs up and quietly said, “Aces.”

She tilted her head. “You don't look great.”

I was going to say something uncharacteristically nasty about how Charlie must have thought something similar, but both of us were saved when Vern squatted down. “Need a lift up, Nico?”

“I won't say no.” We gripped each other’s forearms, and Vern pulled me to my feet. I swayed a little and then steadied out. The grass around the mausoleum was pushed down, leaning away from the stone structure – flat in places. A few grave markers were crooked, leaning the same direction as the grass. We made our way slowly between the stones in the dark, the moon still rising in the night sky. Eventually we were back in the car, and I had Vern drop me off on a corner downtown.

Things may have gone well, but I wasn't sure I wanted them to know where I lived.

“Hey. So. How do I know how many memories it stole?” Char asked me as she climbed out of the car after me.

I sighed. “No way to know until we crack it open.”

“How do we do that?”

I shrugged and winced. “Have to figure that out, first.”

She shifted on her feet. “Well. How do I reach you?”

I gave her my number and told her to text me in a few days, after I'd had a chance to heal up. After they pulled away, I turned the corner and went a block, then turned another corner before heading down my street. I was shuffling and scuffling my way along, mentally listing the first aid items I thought I had and dreading patching myself up.

Tyrathaxion said I needed to find better ways to get money; maybe I should knock over a pharmacy. Get myself some good meds out of the deal. Maybe I'd just take a hot shower and roll into bed. Sure, I'd be stiff and sore in the morning, but whatever I did to clean myself up probably wouldn't change that. I could just try first aid while being sore and stiff, which really sounded like fun.

“Nico? Jesus! Nico, are you – Fuck! What happened?”

I looked up in surprise to find Connor walking down my front steps to meet me. He reached for my face and I, with no thought for what a weird place we were in with our relationship, leaned into his touch.

My voice scratchy, I said, “I don't even care why you're here. I'm just so glad you are.”

“You sound terrible,” he said gently. “Come on, let's get you inside.”

I mounted the steps slowly, and then we were inside and through the small entryway and then finally in my home. Flipping on the light, Connor looked at me critically.

“I won, if it helps,” I said and tried out smiling.

He shook his head and looked at me with such compassion. “Okay. What happened can wait. Let's get you cleaned up and – do you have a first aid kit?”

“Under the bathroom sink,” I mumbled and started dropping things that were suddenly too heavy, like my bag and coat. I heard water start in the tub as I somehow got my shoes off without falling, and Connor walked out of the bathroom with the kit, laying it on my bed. Leaving it, he gingerly helped me get my clothes off and helped me into the tub.

“You've got some serious bruising, Nico,” he said softly. “Let me get you some aspirin.” For the next little while he sat by the tub on the floor and listened to me tell him what had happened. Then he helped me out of the tub, which made me feel silly and grateful, and cleaned up my scrapes.

“This one...I saw a bandage the last time I was over, before...before we went on our date,” he said, fingers touching the wound on my side. “What did this?”

“Grazed by a bullet,” I said. “Chased down a Babaroga. Saved a little girl.” I winced as he put some ointment on it. “Dad shot me for my trouble.”

After he treated me and got some sweatpants and a tee shirt on me, I got stretched out in bed, and even though I wanted to ask why he'd been waiting for me, I just couldn't stay awake.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I woke feeling sore everywhere. I gingerly made my way to the bathroom and relieved myself before heading into the kitchen for more water, wondering where the aspirin was. I really should think about knocking over a pharmacy. I glanced around and spotted my first aid kit on the little table, and then I wondered where Connor was. I glanced around but didn't see anything, not even something that told me he'd been there. I glanced at the clock beside my bed and wondered if he'd had to work or something.

Or...maybe I'd just conjured him up. Maybe seeing him was a stolen memory from me touching that stone. Maybe he'd patched me up sometime before? I thought for a moment, but came up empty.

Hugo slowly materialized in front of me

“Hugo? I didn't know you could manifest so slowly.”

“I decided that in your condition it would be needlessly cruel to startle you.”

I tilted my head slightly. “So, the rest of the time you're doing it on purpose.”

“One has to have one's amusements.”

“Well played,” I said, shuffling over to the table. “And I appreciate it. I am so sore.”

“I heard you telling Connor what happened.”

I popped the pill container open and shook three out, then paused. I glanced at Hugo. “Wait. I didn't imagine it? Connor was here?”

“He watched over you through the night,” Hugo confirmed. “He left less than an hour ago.”

I grunted, then tossed the tablets into my mouth and followed them with water. “Well. We have another stone to deal with. We're going to have to figure out how to drain the memories – or their power – from the stones.” I sat down on the little couch gingerly. “Not today, though. I am so damn sore.”

Hugo flickered and moved closer to me. “I've been thinking about that.”

“Yeah?” I asked, closing my eyes.

“I...yes, I have.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Hugo. I don't know how things work on the ghost side of things. He didn't look like he had when he'd died – like, you know, dead-looking. The only time I'd seen that from him was when I'd looked at him on the magical spectrum. I almost wondered if he were in pain, considering. My point, though, was that he always presented as an average-looking young man, somewhat gray, like an old photo, with simple clothes from the time he'd lived in. Nothing fancy, nothing special. Just dependable, somewhat dour, Hugo. Someone I was fond of, I suppose.

“Okay. Where have your thoughts...taken you?”

Hugo shifted, which was odd. Usually he just flickers. “I think that...the safest thing to do is to have me absorb the memories.”

I squinted at him. “Wait. I thought you were pretty set on not doing that?”

Hugo, as per his expected nature, flickered. “I had thought that, at first. But...I've had some time to reflect on it. While the memory of Mary is painful...it is mine. And thinking about walking by the river with her makes me...well it made me feel alive, for a moment.” Hugo flickered again. “But there is also the practical side. The stones are leaking, and we have no way to contain them. I may be the answer to that.”

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment before looking at him again. “What about memories that aren't yours?”

He flickered and was a few feet farther away from me. “Well. I don't know how I'd be affected. I'd like to say nothing would happen, but...it may be difficult to discern my memories from those of others. Or it may be that...I would just absorb the energy.” He looked at me with a penetrating gaze. “But my memories should be returned to me.”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, agreed. We just need to figure out a safe way to do that.”

I was startled to hear my front door opening. I glanced back and was pleasantly surprised to see Connor with his backpack and a reusable grocery bag.

“You're up? You should be resting,” he chided me.

“I am. I had to get some water and more aspirin.”

“I should have left those by the bed for you,” he said, sounding quite sorry.

“No big deal. I'm not dead,” I said, smiling at him.

“I went to get some food, and I stopped at the pharmacy,” he said, putting his pack on the bed and then taking the other bag to the counter and pulling things out. “I'll get us some food started, and I got you some better pain relievers.” He turned to face me. “I got some ointment to help your bruises, too.” He leaned forward a bit and squinted, scrunching his nose. “Jesus, those bruises look terrible. You must be so sore.”

“I am,” I said softly. “Uh. Look, I'm actually thrilled you're here, but I have to ask...are we good? Is there...some more talking that has to get done or....”

“One minute,” he said and put a few things from his bag into the freezer and then filled a glass of water. He shook two large pills out of a container and brought me the water and pills. “When was the last time you had something for pain?”

“I was going to, but I got sidetracked.” Better to say that for now and leave Hugo out of things until I knew where we stood.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked, tone full of concern.

“I don't think so?”

“You may not remember. Okay, take these – should help a bit. I'll run you a bath; I got some Epsom salts, and they should ease your aches,” he said. I accepted the pills and water. “Drink all the water, Nico.”

I downed the pills and drained the glass, but before I was finished he took a bag, presumably of the salt, from the bag on the counter into the bathroom. I listened to the water run and tried to think. This could really go either way. If he'd been going to break up with me but then put things to one side because I was injured...I'd kind of rather he just go. Much as I wanted him with me, I didn't want it to be from pity. It might sound cruel to hold off talking about these things, but he probably saw it as prioritizing what he thinks I need right now.

On the other hand, maybe he was coming to tell me he wanted a relationship, and this was just how that would go. Of course, he never bargained on the magic, but maybe seeing me like this would make him reconsider. I mean the idea of magic isn't really strange – probably most people have wished they could do some form of magic at some point. Save a pet or loved one with some healing, go invisible and sneak into a locker room or, I don't know, any number of things. When it's a daydream, it's safe; when someone can actually do dangerous things that most others can't, it's something else.

Then again, maybe he'd just been showing up to find out why I'd been at his shop. Maybe to remind me that he said he'd be back, so that meant he would – one way or another. Or maybe-

“Okay. Let's get you soaking; the salts are all dissolved into the water,” he said, walking toward me.

“One thing first,” I said, not moving but just looking at him.

He tilted his head. “What?”

I cleared my throat. “I have to ask...I mean I'm really happy you're here, but...I....”

The skin beside his eyes crinkled a bit and he approached me, kneeling down and looking up a bit at me. “When we hooked up the first time, I figured it was just two guys blowing off steam, but...you were nice. Nice like...some people are very pointed about the hook up being over and it's time for you to leave. I liked that you were much more...humane about it, I guess. I wondered if I'd see you again. But then I realized I was being silly and I shouldn't read too much into a hook up.”

I opened my mouth, and he put his hand on my leg.

“Let me finish answering first, okay?”

I nodded, but covered his hand with mine in case he was thinking of taking it back.

“So, after we hooked up a few more times I was thinking...I better go before I say something that sounds like a relationship, and you seemed okay with going along with this being just us getting off.” He took a deep breath. “People, older people, like to talk about how sex is this sacred thing and how you should only be with people you love and...you know, it's not that I wouldn't want that, you know? But they also seem to forget that before you get that stable...loving relationship where you get the affection you need, there are desires and misfires and false starts. Sometimes...there is just horniness and a good time that you don't think about much later on.”

He bit his lower lip for the briefest moment. “But I kind of thought this is what we'd have...until you flipped the script and suddenly said you wanted more. Me. All the time. Like...a relationship.” He shook his head. “This magic thing.” He looked away for a moment and then back to me. “I had to process it, you know?”

I nodded.

“I mean, I had to look at it from all over. I had to wonder if you were screwing with me somehow, like when you see things on TV you don't get too excited, because you have to wonder just how the magician did the trick – but you know it is a trick. You look for the smoke and mirrors, try to be ready for the misdirect.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “But that wasn't you. I could tell you didn't want to tell me, but you wanted more not to lie to me. I could see that. It's honest.”

He turned his hand over and took hold of my own.

“If I'm honest...part of me feels like the magic is some kind of trick, still. But that part doesn't matter...I realized that either way, you were still Nico Bosch...and I wanted to be there with you. To give this some time.”

I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. I wiped under my eyes with my thumb. “Thank you,” I whispered. I opened my eyes. “For giving me a chance.”

He gave me a gentle smile. “Now...into the tub.”

Getting my sweats and tee off was a slow process, and I needed some support to safely get in the tub. I wasn't thrilled with all that, but having Connor there made it...tolerable. I soaked in the hot water, and Connor went out to the main room to cook. Hugo flickered into being.

“So. What do you think about my idea?” he asked.

I glanced at him and closed my eyes. “I'm with you in principle. I think we should experiment with the stone we have that has your memories to get some clue.” I thought for a moment. “We should probably try to find out how to place some heavier wards – maybe containment stuff in case it goes sideways, though.”

He nodded.

“Nico?” Connor's voice floated out from the other room. “Are you talking to me?”

I opened my eyes and looked at Hugo. “Do you want to meet Connor?”

Hugo seemed to straighten up. “Why don't you explain the whole idea of me being a ghost first. Then we'll see.”

“Sure,” I agreed, then raised my voice. “Just thinking out loud.”

I soaked and thought about how to try bleeding off the energy from the stone, wondering what the effects would be. In the short term it seemed like Hugo would get memories back, but what if VanHouten was right about memories equaling life? What if this energy could...bring Hugo back? Or would it overload him and kill whatever he was now? If there was some kind of explosion, what would I need to have in place to contain it? More questions than I had answers.

After I was dry and in clothes again, Connor and I sat on my couch and had something to eat. It was really nice after all the insanity to just have a quiet, normal moment like sharing a meal with someone. Once we were done, Connor shifted on the couch so he could look at me.

“Okay. So. I feel the need to organize some things just because I've been thinking – can't stop thinking – about what you were telling me last night. You were talking about those stones, and I stopped by the shop to look up who bought the other one, because I assume you'll need to find that too?”

I blinked at him. “Yeah, I would. The stone's dangerous.”

“Okay, so-”

“Wait,” I said, shifting tenderly on the couch. “First, you want to help?”

His eyes got a bit wider. “Hey, if people are in trouble, then yeah! I mean...like I said, I'm still a little skeptical of the whole magic thing – it doesn't really make sense to me – but you didn't beat the shit out of yourself, so if there's something going on, then I want to help.”

I nodded. “Okay. Well. Come here and let me show you what I have organized so far.”

Thirty minutes later I was mildly irritated when he gave me the back handed compliment that I was more organized than he'd expected.

I can be organized.

“So,” he mused as he looked at the map that Hugo and I had assembled of the places where the creatures had struck around the city, “this...Draugen was way outside the other sightings. But you think that's because this girl actually -” He turned to look at me. “I didn't think something like grave robbing was a thing anymore. It just sounds weird.”

I shrugged. “The dead don't care. It's how early physicians learned about anatomy.”

He hummed in agreement or acknowledgment. “Okay, so,” he referred to his phone screen, “the woman who bought the stone, Britney Goldfarb, who bought the stone, is...” He traced his finger along his screen, tapping it a few times and then referring to my physical map on the wall. “She lives here. Pretty darned close to the middle of all this stuff.”

I put a pin into the map and studied it. “So that implies a range where these things can manifest. So, working back we had this one, then that and,” I touched each pin, noting the chronological period it had appeared in. “Then the Babaroga and the troll. We'll leave out the Draugen, and that means two things. One is that this thing is manifesting closer and closer to itself, so it's getting weaker, and it means we should be getting another one soon.” I referenced a sheet of paper with dates. “It looks like they have been appearing faster, so yeah – setting aside the Draugen that means...I don't have time to rest anymore.”

“You can't do anything like you are,” Connor said uncertainly.

I nodded at him. “I know you're still...coming to terms with this. But believe me, whatever comes next will be nasty, and that girl has no idea what's coming.”

Connor looked worried.

I ran my hand over my mouth and chin. “Connor...how do you feel about ghosts?”

He tilted his head.

“I know. It was already a lot, but...what do you think?”

He crossed his arms. “I think there are things I don't understand, but that doesn't mean there is a supernatural explanation.”

“Okay. Um. When you take a bandage off, do you rip it off or slowly peel it?”

His lips shifted, maybe thinking about what to say – and what it might mean. “Rip it off.”

I nodded. “Okay. I'd like you to meet my...friend. Hugo.”

Connor glanced around and then back to me. “Was something supposed to happen?”

I glanced around. “Well, he said he wanted to wait and see what you thought of...all this, before you met him. But he's usually right here.” I sighed. “Let's give it a minute. He might be-”

“I'm here,” Hugo said, flickering into visibility by the door.

Connor jumped, letting his arms drop from his guarded stance to one of surprise. I hope he doesn't wet himself – bad first impression. “Um. Hello. Hugo.”

“So, Hugo has been all over the city tracking things down and listening everywhere,” I said, moving past the initial awkwardness and trying to get to the business at hand. “Even though he can't physically handle objects, which means he can't rifle through police reports or anything, he's been gathering intel and helping with the investigation.”

Hugo flickered and appeared closer to me. “I think you're correct that we need to make contact with the current possessor of this stone,” he said. He glanced at Connor and back to me. “I can scout ahead, however we need a plan for dealing with the stone as it continues to leak. If it manifests close to the owner – maybe in the apartment with her – it could be fatal. We have to drain it as soon as possible.”

“H-how do we do that?” Connor asked.

I explained about how the memory had manifested in the apartment, though nothing had happened since then that I knew of. I glanced at Hugo for confirmation, and if it were possible for him to blush, he'd be doing it. “Hugo?”

He shifted a bit, a nervous gesture. “It was personal.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay, then.” I cleared my throat. “Were you able to...reabsorb the memory?”

He flickered again. Eventually he said, “I was.”

I thought for a moment. “How did absorbing it affect you?”

Hugo cocked his head to one side, and his gaze shifted away from me for a moment. “It...felt. For a few moments....”

“Hugo?” I felt the urge to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, but of course I couldn't. “You felt what?”

He flickered for a moment and then turned his head toward me. “I felt alive. For one brief moment I was inside that memory, and I felt alive.” He looked away. “For so long I've been...it's like being thirsty, having always been thirsty, and then one glass of water makes you remember a time when you weren't thirsty.”

“Okay. Okay,” Connor said and took a gulp of air. “Keeping this organized... First, Nico, you can't go there tonight. You have diminished mobility and that makes...whatever happens...more dangerous. Secondly, you need to figure out how to...to handle these...” He closed his eyes. “Shit. I'm sorry.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I think I just got whacked in the jaw by the fact that this is real. Like...no doubt, real. I need to get a handle on this.”

Hugo flickered and appeared a few feet away, looking at me. “Connor is right. You need some time to heal. I propose that I keep watch on the stone and try to learn what I can while you try to prepare a space that would contain the stone we have should things go wrong. Then we can try to have me absorb the energy from this stone in the hopes that is the answer, and I can do the same with the other stone, even if its memories aren't my own.”

I nodded. “I can-” I glanced at Connor and then back to Hugo. “There's someone I can consult with.”

Hugo nodded. “I'll head there now. Rest if you can, but I suggest you have your kit at the ready, should there be an appearance tonight.”

“Right.” Hugo flickered away and was gone. “A ride share will love that. Do you think their insurance covers a car being totaled by a monster?”

Connor took a breath and let it out before looking to me. A small smile crept onto his face. “I just met a real ghost.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just got that, huh?”

“Shut up,” he said, no bite to his tone. “Come on, let me get some lotion into your muscles to help take some of the soreness out.”