A Cardinal Affair - Chapter 3: Like The Wind Sweeps The Earth (1/2)
All things considered, living with Sam and Jess really isn’t so bad. The quad is pretty spacious, and the couple does little more than cuddle, at least where he can see them. Misha can handle that just fine. The people in the co-op are great, too - they hold fundraisers and volunteer events every month, with weekly fun activities in between, they actively recycle, and most of them are decent cooks, which is fortunate, since they take turns preparing house meals. Sam and Misha share the same kitchen shift, so Misha cooks while Sam cleans or helps with preparation, and together they mostly overcome Sam’s inability to properly cook even tomato rice soup unaided. Misha loves the fresh produce, and cleaning the house with the others makes it feel a lot like home.
They also make new friends among their housemates - Misha hooks up with Tom, who reminds him a bit of Sam, for a pleasant, albeit unsatisfying night and Vicki hits it off with Maya from the room next door. Maya’s roommate, Nancy, went to high school with Jess, and Sam studies with Luis, a junior with whom he shares a few classes. Jess, of course, already knows everyone; she visited her friends here often, and they love her and her cookies. Like the other houses, Columbae has a Halloween tradition, but this year, instead of partying or participating in the yearly Halloween games, Tom, Jeff, Shawna and Alex want to camp in a nearby haunted house for the night. Misha doesn’t really believe it’s haunted, but it does sound way more fun than the parties, games, and trick-or-treating.
Sam, on the other hand, is objecting vehemently. “Why would you ever want to do that? First off,” he says, lifting a finger, “that house is ancient, and there are probably worse hazards in there than a ghost. Secondly, that’s trespassing, which is illegal, and we could get caught and arrested. Thirdly, what if it really is haunted, and the spirit is violent? Why take that risk? This isn’t a game, guys; people could actually get hurt.”
Jeff leans back in his chair. “Wow, man, you’ve got some strong feelings about this. Why so serious? There’s no proof the place is even really haunted. All we’ve heard is that a bunch of people moved in and then out again because it felt spooky.”
Sam frowns. “And if it’s not haunted, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of your trip?”
“You’re missing the point,” Alex chimes in patiently, crossing her legs. “It’s about the atmosphere, the tantalizing possibility that it might really be haunted, and,” she bares her teeth in a feral grin, “we’ll get to see who freaks out first.”
“Tantalizing?” Sam repeats with his best ‘seriously?’ bitchface. “You think being attacked and thrown around by a ghost trying to kill you is tantalizing?”
“Look, man, you don’t have to go,” Tom cuts in finally, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you even in this discussion if you’re not interested? Jess is going to Synergy’s house party. Why don’t you go with her?”
Shawna raises an eyebrow, looking from one to the other. “Wassup with you today, anyway? Look how excited Misha is. Ain’t you two like twins or somethin’?”
Next to Sam, Misha is rocking in his seat, knees hugged to his chest and a wide grin on his face. It’s adorable. Sam smothers his small smile to turn his sternest bitchface on Tom. “I don’t even like Halloween. Why would I want to celebrate it with a party? And I’m trying to keep you guys from doing something stupid and dangerous here.”
“For a big guy, you are no fun at all!” Alex complains, standing. “Well, we’re going, and whoever wants to join can join. Be back in five. I’m going for a smoke.” She heads out the door.
Shawna shrugs. “Watchu worried about anyway? Your homeboy here’s been telling everyone you’re like Blade.”
Sam resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. Dammit, Misha…
Misha rests his head on Sam’s shoulder and beams up at him. “C'mon, Sam. I doubt it’s really haunted, and this does sound way more interesting than the usual Halloween stuff. I mean, think about it. We could tell each other horror stories in a haunted house, by flashlight, maybe see who can come up with the best backstory for the house! We could play hide and seek, and see who freaks out and gives up first. We could prank each other while we sleep, or-”
Sam sighs resignedly. There’s no stopping Misha once he gets like this, and Tom knows it too. He smirks and pointedly says, “I guess that means Misha’s coming along.”
Misha frowns at Tom. “Look, Sam.” He turns, so they’re facing each other. “I’m not asking you to come just because I’m going. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
This is a bad idea. Sam can feel it in his bones. He shakes his head. “There is no way you’re going without me.”
~*~
The house is only two hours’ drive away. Sam has three bags of rock salt in his bag and an iron rod, and he's probably going to regret not bringing his gun when he left for Stanford. They go in two cars - Misha's and Jeff's. Alex rides with them because she likes Misha's music, but Misha won't let her smoke in his car, so they take a long break at the gas station, and the others get there before them. They park around the corner behind Jeff's plum-colored Honda, so it's less obvious that they're trespassing, and crawl through a hole in the wire fence.
The grass is overgrown, and the paint on the house's wooden boards is so peeled and faded that he can’t discern what color it used to be. In some places, the wood is warped; in others, it is broken, so there are sporadic holes in the wall. It doesn't look eerie so much as terribly run down, and already Sam is more worried about snakes and accidents than vengeful spirits. The steps creak dangerously as they climb and let themselves in the door. It smells dank and musty, and there are cobwebs in every corner. There's mold growing in some places, moss in others, and he's really glad Jeff thought to bring the tarp.
He's about to call out to the first group to ask where they've set up when they hear a scream. They stop.
“That's Tom,” Misha pipes up, anxiously clutching his things.
Tom screams again, “Heeelp!! Somebody pleeease!!” from somewhere below, and Sam drops his bag, unzipping it to get the iron bar and a flashlight.
“-t the fuck did you bring that for?” Alex looks incredulously at the rod.
“Snakes,” Sam lies, turning to Misha. “You stay by the door, and if it looks bad or I don't come back, or if you hear me yelling at you to run, you get out of here, okay?”
Misha just nods numbly as Tom screams again, stopping abruptly, and Sam heads into the dim hallway. Shawna and Jeff come down the stairs, looking worried and scared, and he tells them to wait by the door with Misha. He finds the door to the cellar and heads down more creaking steps. It's pitch dark, so he turns on his flashlight as he reaches the bottom of the steps. There's nothing but a bookcase up against the wall, a ceramic jar and some other odds and ends on its shelves, and a wooden chair with a small box on it - all covered in a thick layer of dust. There's a key in the side of the box, so it's probably a music box.
Sam looks around. “Tom?”
Suddenly, something grabs him roughly from behind. Sam instinctively whirls to take a swing at it.
“OW!! FUCK!!!”
“Tom?!”
“What the fuck are you, crazy?!”
Sam shines the flashlight on Tom, eyes red as he clutches his arm. Sam might have given him a fracture.
“Jesus Christ, Sam!! Why do you even have that metal stick with you?!”
“How about you tell me what the fuck you're doing down here?!” Sam retorts, climbing the stairs back up.
“I went looking for the john, and then I thought I'd get the fun started!” Tom yells back, following close behind.
“Well, it ain't funny,” Shawna cuts in with a sharp glare, standing at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips. She lets Sam pass, but smacks Tom on the shoulder as he comes within reach.
“OW!!!”
It jars his hurt arm, but she walks after Sam unapologetically, and Tom kicks the cellar door shut hard enough to rattle the entire house. Something breaks downstairs - the jar, from the sound of it.
“You tryin' to get the cops on us, man?” Jeff asks as soon as he comes in sight.
“Jesus, guys! It was just a prank! You're the ones who thought up pranking each other here. I just wanted to see how you guys would react!”
“No, that's totally legitimate,” Misha replies, rolling his eyes and handing Sam his bag. “I wouldn't question that. It's science!” Not for the first time, he wonders what about Tom ever reminded him of Sam.
“Yeah, if stupidity were a science,” Alex drawls, stalking past. “C'mon, Jeff, show me where we're spending the night.”
They head up the stairs to a room where Jeff has already laid out the tarpaulin and set up for the night. They make ham and cheese sandwiches (cheese and egg salad for Shawna and Tom, who are vegetarian) and grab a beer each from Jeff's mini cooler. The sun is setting, Shawna and Alex are sitting close together, Jeff is already lying down inside his sleeping bag, Tom is still sullenly nursing his extremely bruised arm, and Misha is leaning into Sam’s side when they start guessing at the house’s backstory.
Alex starts with “I heard this house was once home to a Satanist cult, and they kidnapped people, usually the homeless because they’re less noticeable.”
Misha grimaces, and Sam squeezes his hand.
“And every month, on the full moon, they sacrificed them in the basement. They later moved out because the authorities were getting suspicious, but the spirits of the sacrifices they made are still trapped here.”
“Well, I haven’t heard of any Satanist activity around here, but they probably keep it on the DL,” Jeff muses. “I heard the original owner committed suicide in the basement after her second miscarriage, so she’d steal the children from every family who lived here after that, because she couldn’t have any of her own, and kill them so they’d have to stay with her forever.”
Beside him, Misha winces almost imperceptibly. It’s still too soon to be talking about mothers not resting in peace.
“So now she and all the kids she killed haunt this house together. Some of the kids will try to warn others about her, but others will try to get more playmates to stay with them, and every now and then, another child gets taken.”
“I heard that one of the families who lived here had a pet cat, and it was the prettiest thing,” Misha says then. “But one day, the father disappeared. They searched around, but they could never find him, not even a body. Next, the mother went missing. Again, everyone searched, but they couldn’t even find a body. So the two children were left, and their aunt came to live with them and help them pack. One night, the children couldn’t sleep, and they heard the cat mewing.”
Alex gives him a dirty look. “You did not just go there.”
Misha grins, but continues the story. “They thought to ignore it, but it just kept going. So they went down the stairs to check, and it was mewing from the basement, but they got scared, so they ran back upstairs and hid in bed. The next day, their cat began acting strangely.”
Shawna and Tom snort simultaneously.
“It was violent and unsociable, instead of its usual sweet and friendly self. Its eyes were red, and it looked disheveled. That night, it mewed from the basement again. Their aunt went down to check, and she never came back. That’s when they learned!” Misha’s voice only grows more dramatic. “The next day, the cat was its usual lovely self, but now the children knew. So they poisoned the cat’s food and buried it in the park around the block when it died. But that night, they still heard the mewing in the basement!”
“Damn you, Misha,” Jeff mumbles with a scowl, hugging his knees.
“They huddled together and burrowed under the blankets and shut their ears, but it wouldn’t stop. Then they heard the scratching of claws on wood, first from below, then on the doors, then on the floor, then on the ceiling…”
“MEOW!”
Everyone jumps as a cat yowls outside, and Sam has to applaud its impeccable timing. This is probably Misha’s idea of being vindictive - Alex has three cats back home, Jeff has two.
“Well, it strangled the children in their sleep. There were paw and claw marks on their necks when they were found,” Misha continues with a grin. “So if you hear a cat mewing from the basement, don’t go down there. Don’t even wait. Just run. Leave town. Just run.”
"Well, I ain't heard 'bout no cats, but I knew the last family that lived here. That was a while back. I was -like- ten?" Shawna shrugs. "Anyway, they always said there was something in the basement, kept the door locked and never let anyone, including themselves, in. Like weird noises and shit. You should never have gone down there, Tom. At the time, I thought they were just trying to scare me, but then they moved out after that, because the girl, Leah -we went to the same school- she told me her bed would move half a foot during the night. Then soon, they started finding scratches on their doors; you see those? Next were the ceilings, and sometimes, when they looked in the mirrors, they would catch a glimpse of someone walking past, but there wasn’t anyone there. And there were often shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows. Like you know, there’s nothing here, but you can see a shadow behind it?”
“Was it a specific shape?” Sam asks, now worried that they might be dealing with something worse than a ghost.
Shawn shakes her head. “Not as far as Leah could tell. She said the shadows were different every time.”
“Wasn’t there some kind of vigilante going around town at the time, mysteriously finding criminals and bu- Do you guys hear that?” Sam cocks his head and strains to listen. It sounds like… a music box.
Misha shivers beside him and snuggles closer as the slow, tinkling melody of Für Elise grows louder, nearer. “Sam, is it just me, or has it gotten colder?”
Tom holds out the jacket he brought along that he isn’t wearing. “Here,” he offers, smiling slightly. “Put this on.”
Misha takes it and pulls it on. Ah, yes, he thinks. Tom is always helpful, and he has pretty dimples, too.
Alex shivers as well. “Now that you mention it, it’s fucking freezing in here.”
Shit. Sam lunges for his bag, grabs a bag of rock salt and rips it open just as a draft blows the door open.
There’s a man standing there, a bluish tint to his pale skin, hair combed back for a severe look to match his three-piece suit. The music box Sam saw in the basement is in his hands, open, and the little doll is spinning on the mirror. “Look who’s here for dinner, Elise,” he says to the little doll, his heavily accented voice a whispery sound on the wind. He turns to look at them, and from some angles, Sam can see right through him. “Now what shall we have today?”
Shawna screams. Sam darts forward and pours a line of salt between them and the ghost just as he moves towards them.
He smiles, vicious. “The brains, perhaps. They’re very smart.”
Jeff and Misha yelp as he pulls the tarpaulin out from under them. Tom makes a sound of pain; he fell on his bad arm.
Sam rolls to his feet and restores the salt line. “Get back! Stay behind the salt line!”
The others pick themselves up off the floor and obey, backing up against the wall. The ghost licks his lips as a strong wind picks up. The door slams shut. Slowly, it erodes the salt line.
“Jeff, Mish, get your keys!” Sam shouts, grabbing the iron rod in his bag and the remaining bags of salt.
“A-always had them,” Misha replies, right behind him. “Sam, is that really-?”
“Yes!” Sam swipes at the ghost with the iron rod. He reappears to the side. Sam immediately pours a salt line between them as he runs towards the door and kicks it down. “Now run, guys, run!!!”
Jeff is the first to start running, followed closely by Shawna, but Misha quickly overtakes them.
The ghost chuckles. “Oh Elise, the gazelle only thinks it can outrun the cheetah.”
Sam takes another swipe at the ghost and runs out after Tom and Alex, just in time to see Misha slide down the banister instead of running down the stairs. He does the same, and has almost caught up to Misha when the ghost reappears between them and the front door. It grabs Misha by the throat. Misha manages a choked scream before Sam hits the ghost with the iron rod, and it vanishes. Sam catches Misha by the waist and half-carries him out the door. He pours a salt line at the threshold in hopes of slowing down the ghost, as the others run outside as well.
“C’mon! C’mon!” Jeff shouts, running for the hole in the fence and crawling out hurriedly towards his car.
“Go, go!” Sam pushes Misha towards the fence, and Misha quickly runs after Jeff with Alex close behind.
Sam waits to make sure the ghost isn’t following them, then runs out after the others. Jeff is already driving off. Misha starts driving before Sam’s even shut the door. Sam hurriedly slams the car door shut and leans back to catch his breath. They’re all silent, Misha, Sam and Alex, panting heavily from the mad dash, exhaustion setting in as the adrenaline burns away. Worriedly, Sam looks to the left. The tension beside him is palpable. Misha is driving with the intense concentration of someone determinedly shutting everything else out. There are dark bruises in the shape of fingers forming on Misha’s neck - they look deep and painful.
Hesitantly, he squeezes Misha’s shoulder. “Mish?”
Misha jumps a little and swerves abruptly into the gas station on their right. Fortunately, the road is empty. He stops and kills the engine, slumping slightly in his seat. Alex fumbles to open the car door in the back with shaking hands, muttering, “I need a cigarette.” She finally manages and slams it shut behind her to lean against it as she lights up.
“Hey,” Sam calls again. “Misha?”
Misha slumps forward to rest his forehead on the wheel, shaking, and Sam doesn’t wait any longer. He pulls his best friend into his arms. They left the pillows and blankets they brought in the house, and the rest are back in their rooms. He rubs Misha’s back and holds him tightly, hoping it’ll be enough, that it’ll soothe the shock.
“C’mon, Mish. Talk to me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Misha’s hairline briefly. The other’s skin is clammy with cold sweat. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. Shh… I’ve got you, Mish. It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”
Misha clings to him, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder, and struggles to calm his breathing. It takes some time, but eventually, Misha relaxes completely in his arms. “Sam?” His voice is soft, weary.
“Yeah?”
“Did that- was that-?”
“Really a ghost?” Sam sighs, resenting that he can’t get away from this, that he can’t keep Misha away from this. “Yeah.”
Misha nods, snuggling closer still. “How did you know?”
“Hm?”
“About the salt, the iron rod and stuff. How’d you know the haunting wasn’t a myth?”
“I didn’t,” Sam admits, ducking his head. “But they usually aren’t. Just myths, I mean.”
Misha pulls back to look at him. “Sounds like something you learned from experience.”
Sam thinks about the big family rule number one, thinks about two decades of secrecy, thinks about the essay he wrote about his most memorable family experience, about which his teacher commented “You know this assignment was non-fiction, right?” and realizes that he probably shouldn’t tell Misha the truth. But it’s Misha, Misha who believes in SHIELD and the Matrix anyway. And Sam is just so tired of lying. He doesn’t want to lie, not to Misha.
“That’s what we do,” he confesses at last. “The family business, the reason you think I’m Jason Bourne. We hunt supernatural entities - ghosts, demons, werewolves… the like.”
There’s a long pause before Misha blinks and slowly says, “You’re not joking.”
“No,” Sam agrees wearily. “I’m not.”
“So you guys are like… John Constantine in Hellblazer?”
Of course Misha would make a comic book reference, of course. Sam laughs. “Kinda, yeah.”
Misha huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “If I hadn’t just seen that thing back there, I would probably call bullshit.”
Sam snorts. “You? Mister Give-Me-The-Red-Pill-Too? C’mon, Mish, who are you kidding?”
Misha giggles, flopping against Sam. “Say,” he pipes up again after several moments of comfortable silence and hesitates before continuing. “Th- Momma. It… it wasn’t a dog, was it? I mean, no dog I’ve ever known…”
“No,” Sam confirms quietly. “It was a Skinwalker. It eats human hearts. Like werewolves, only in full canine form.”
“You knew?”
Sam stiffens. “When I saw the body, yes,” he answers evasively. “I killed it.”
This makes Misha sit up. “What?! When?!”
Sam ducks his head. “Erm… when I went to get you your coconut water. I lied about getting lost. I saw it in the park, and I was worried it’d come after you next, so I killed it.”
“And you’re sure...?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”
“So you uh… killed a monster, bought me drinks and then ate fish tacos with me on the way home?”
Sam chuckles wryly. “Pretty much. A day in the life of a hunter.”
Misha shakes his head, incredulous. “Wow. You’re one scary ninja, Sam.” He grins, squeezing broad shoulders. “Have I told you lately you’re the coolest person in the world? My hero~”
Sam snorts again. “Mish…”
“C’mon, Sam, now that you’ve admitted you’re in some secret society- aren’t hunters some sort of secret society?”
Giving it some thought, Sam shrugs and agrees, “I guess you could put it that way.”
“So you can induct me?” Misha asks excitedly.
“NO.” The horror.
“Saaammm~”
“NO.”
“You can train me!”
“After what just happened, you st-”
“Now that I know what’s really out there, how can I do nothing?!” Misha cries theatrically.
He sighs, suddenly exhausted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Mish, I ditched my family and came here to get away from all that, to be safe. That’s why I didn’t want you guys to come here. All my life, I’ve been running from or after monsters, and yeah, it saves lives, yeah, it makes the world maybe a fraction safer every time we kill a monster that’s been preying on people. But it’s dangerous, often fatal.”
He takes Misha’s hands. “I keep looking at all these people who didn’t make it, who didn’t know what we know or just didn’t run or react fast enough, and I wonder when it’ll be our turn, if maybe Dad and Dean won’t come back this time. It’s not cool, Mish, it really isn’t. And I don’t want that for me or you or Jess, don’t want anyone to have to wonder everyday if we’ll make it back alive. My heart nearly stopped when that ghost picked you up earlier, and I don’t want that to be our daily lives, Mish. I can’t imagine life without you.” He runs his fingertips lightly over the purpling bruises on Misha’s neck, and the other winces. “You okay?”
Misha nods, leaning into him. “Kinda bruised, but I’ll live. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… glamorize it, I guess.”
Sam shakes his head. “It’s okay. Want me to drive? Some tea?”
“I’ll manage, and my tea is better. C’mon, get Alex. Let’s head back.”
~ Navigation ~
Chapter 1: Part One | Part Two
Chapter 2: Part One | Part Two
Chapter 3: Part One | Part Two
Chapter 4: Part One | Part Two
Epilogue