Fic: Mr. & Mrs. John Moore (aka Miss Sara Howard Moore) VIII: Beaded Pearls (8/10)
Title: Mr. & Mrs. John Moore (aka Sara Howard Moore) VIII: Beaded Pearls (8/10)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): John/Sara, Julia Ogden, Miranda Minton, Greta Bremer
Fandoms: The Alienist/Murdoch Mysteries
Genres: Angst, Drama, Historical, Holiday, Horror, Mystery, Suspense
Rating (this chapter): G
Warnings (this chapter): None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Halloween still clings to Pine Grove like cobwebs.
Chapter Summary: The House delivers its Horrors.
Date Of Completion: April 16, 2021
Date Of Posting: December 5, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, TNT, Shaftesbury Films and The Canadian Broadcasting Company do, more’s the pity.
Word Count (this chapter): 1295
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The entire series can be found here.
VIII
THE COLD, COLD FOG
The cold, cold fog
Mists like beaded pearls,
Wispy and delicate,
As it twists and swirls.
Sarah Anne Meadows
"Jeweled Seasons"
1896 C.E.
There was a glow spewing out from the dining room. It crept down the hall like sinister sunshine, touching the tips of John's shoes. He stepped away and the sounds of chanting drifted their way.
"Ready, ladies?"
"Yes," Sara said steadily, but John could hear the slight tremor in her voice.
"Lead on," said Julia.
John hunched his shoulders. Time to see what was what.
They slowly approached the dining room. John felt as if he was in a dream, just like the last time. Was he dreaming now?
The trio stopped in the entryway of the dining room. Inside, the candles' glow was bright. Candles on the table. Women holding hands around the table. Sonorous chanting.
A dark-haired woman led the chanting. Madame Minton? Intensity charged the room.
"Come back, Emily!" the woman said.
"Come back, come back, come back!" followed the other women.
"Emileee!"
"What is all this?" Julia asked.
The fog swirled around the dining room, obscuring the women, then wisping away to expose the participants. For some moments, they looked solid, and in the next moment they appeared insubstantial. The candles blazed with the passion of their passion.
"Madame Minton," Sara said. "Is this 1876?"
Madame Minton turned around and looked directly at Sara. "It's always 1876."
The fog rolled in and obscured the women. Cold tendrils touched the watchers' skin and they shivered. The chants faded as the fog grew thicker.
"Don't go!" Sara cried, but the fog was relentless.
& & & & & &
Neither woman in Greta Bremer's kitchen had noticed the snow coming down. By the time they realized the situation, Greta insisted that Miranda stay the night.
"I've got plenty of room. It'd be crazy to go out in the storm now."
"I walked over so no horse to take care of."
"Good, all animals should be snug in barns and stables."
Miranda smiled. "You're so tender-hearted, Greta."
"Well, anyone cruel to an animal is a waste of space on this earth as far as I'm concerned."
"You see? Tender-hearted but fierce."
Greta laughed. "How would you like some hot stew for supper?"
"Very much on this cold night."
The women set to work, slicing carrots, turnips and onions and tossing them into the crockpot filled with a thick, savory stock. Greta brought a robust piece of beef and cut it up, adding the pieces to the pot.
During the preparation, Greta could sense Miranda's worry.
"Let's warm up some bread," Greta suggested. "My homemade bread is world-famous."
Miranda smiled. "I remember."
& & & & & &
The hot meal was 'a boon to the soul', Miranda declared. Greta was pleased.
When they were finished, Miranda dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clatter. "That night was disturbing. Unfriendly spirits found us, and it was chaos. It was freezing in the dining room. Fog swirled everywhere. We were in danger, and we all knew it."
"But things must have turned out all right. You're here and all right."
Miranda's eyes flicked away. She drank her tea.
"Miranda?" Greta frowned. "What is it?"
Miranda put her cup down. "Not everyone."
"What?"
"Not everyone turned out all right."
"Who was victim?"
"Abigail Biggsby."
& & & & & & &
The fog enveloped Sara, Julia and John. It was cold and heavy, almost suffocating in its weight. Sara called out for John as she groped blindly for him. She bumped into Julia and they locked hands. They coughed as they stumbled through the dining room, knocking into chairs.
"John!" Sara called again.
Coughing from close by alerted her to his presence.
"I found him!" Julia said.
Still linked, Sara hoped she was leading her companions out of the dining room. The sound of glass shattering froze everyone in their tracks. An unearthly howl sent a shiver down Sara's spine. What in the name of all that was holy was that?
Or unholy.
The temperature dropped even more. Screams came from the direction of the table. The next scream froze the blood in her veins.
"John!"
& & & & & &
"What happened to Abigail Biggsby?" asked Greta.
"Poor girl was... traumatized."
"By the unfriendly spirits?"
Miranda took another sip of tea. "I suppose so."
Greta grew impatient. "C'mon, Miranda, you're dancing around the edges."
The other woman sighed. "It's difficult to speak of such things, even for me with my extensive experience in the occult."
Greta stayed silent. Her old friend was struggling with something. She was willing to give her time to work it out. She quietly stirred her tea.
The banjo clock on the kitchen wall ticked loudly in the silence. Wind rattled the windowpanes as the storm raged on. The fire popped in the parlor fireplace in the next room. Greta waited, regaining her patience.
Finally, Miranda spoke. "We were all affected by the spirits that night. They came at us with the strength of howling spirits. It was... indescribable. I have felt spirits before, as I am a medium, but this felt different." Miranda shivered. "We all felt the weight, the pressure, as if the spirits were pressing down on us. It was painful, and I came close to blacking out."
"It sounds terrible."
Miranda nodded. "It was. There were all manners of strange visions pouring in from all sides. Even an experienced medium like myself was overwhelmed. My companions were at a loss."
"I could see why." Greta could not even imagine such an experience.
"It shook me to my very core."
"So what happened to Abigail?"
"She seemed normal after the seance finished. Fortunately, the spirits left us. Or so we thought."
Greta's eyes widened at this ominous pronouncement. "So you thought?"
Miranda nodded. "Abigail even wrote about the seance finished in her journal. She seemed content about Emily after that girl's explanation of her suicide."
Greta knew something disturbing was coming next. She held on tightly to her teacup.
"She was affected by that night in ways we could not even guess "
Greta kept a grip on her cup to still the tremor in her hands.
Miranda took a sip of tea. "She was possessed."
& & & & & &
John's scream spiraled Sara down into despair. She let go of Julia's hand and felt herself falling as if down a steep well. She tried to grasp something to break her fall but clawed empty air, wisps of fog escaping through her fingers. The fog wrapped around her.
"Sara!" Julia called, jolting her out of her mystical state.
"Julia, help me!"
"I'm coming. Hold out your hand "
Julia's calm voice settled Sara's beating heart. She held out her hand and breathed slowly. She felt Julia's chilled hand grasp hers and pull her up.
"Where's John?" Sara coughed.
"We'll find him."
Heartened by Julia's confidence, Sara called out to her husband again. She cursed the thick fog. An idea popped into her head
"Abigail! Alice! Celia! Anne! Help us!" Sara let her desperation come through in her voice.
Sara's grip tightened on Julia's hand as spectral images began to coalesce.from the fog. She felt her hair stand on end.
This is no dream.
Her chest tightened as the apparitions swayed and moaned, long faces with the suggestion of diaphanous gowns. Their mouths were open in tortured O's as their empty socket eyes chilled Sara.
"Julia?*
"I see it, them, whatever they are!"
"Miranda! Can you help us?"
"Run, Sara Howard. Run, Julia Ogden." Miranda Minton's voice.
"Not without John," Sara said firmly.
"It is too late for John Moore."
& & & & & &
Greta looked at her friend in alarm. "What is it, Miranda?*
Miranda set her mouth grimly. "We have to get to Pine Grove."
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