Fic: Dresden Hollows 3/7
Three.
By the time Blaine arrives at breakfast, the others are mostly finished and just sitting around in the dim room. The power has not returned and the rain is still falling steadily outside the windows. Blaine pours himself a bowl of cereal with fresh fruit and waits for Kurt to come down and join him. He'd promised the day before to show Kurt some of his photographs, so he's brought his camera along.
Kurt is very late- something about having to manage without a hair dryer, at which Blaine gave a hearty laugh and received a glare in return- so they don't meet until everyone has gathered once again in the ballroom.
Santana, surprisingly, is helping Artie search for anything untoward- spot lights, trap doors, sound boxes- when Blaine arrives. Artie is still bound and determined to prove it's all a hoax. Brittany hangs back with a sad look, watching Santana scale the bar. She kicks off her heels once she's reached the top and they clunk loudly onto the floor below. There are mirrors behind the bar and Blaine can see her broken reflection repeated several times as she shuffles the bottles around and shakes her head down at Artie.
“You're going to make him sad,” Brittany says, and plants herself in a seat facing the door.
Blaine sits down against the opposite wall and flicks on his camera and begins scrolling through the images he's got on the memory card. When he gets to the few he had taken outside the day before, before the rain had begun, he notices a smudge in the lower right hand corner of the first image, near the barn. It's there again in the same part of the frame in his shot of the raven, and repeated in the shots inside of the same barn. When he gets to the quick, shaky photos of the graffiti on the barn's inside wall, the smudge is even more clear. He turns his camera around and removes the lens, checking for scratches or dust or fingerprints, but it is perfectly clean.
“Blaine,” Brittany says. “Your special mermaid is here with that girl who kicked me when I was sleeping last night.”
Blaine looks up from fiddling with his camera and smiles at Kurt. He seems irritated and is walking quickly as though trying to get away from Rachel, who is forced to run to keep up with his long strides. She looks like something out of a cartoon. Blaine glances over at Kurt as he plops down on the settee next to him and Kurt heaves a sigh. “She's driving me batty,” he says. “Oh my God, I wish it wasn't raining so we could get out of here.”
And thus begins the hair conversation, which ends up with Kurt in an even more ornery mood.
“What the hell is Santana doing climbing the walls?” Kurt asks after he seems over his little snit.
“Looking for proof that the owners are scamming us with a fake haunting.”
Kurt turns to Blaine with his eyebrows raised. “Somehow, I don't think they're going to find it,” he says quietly. “This morning I, ah-”
But he doesn't get the chance to finish his thought, for Constance hurries into the room, followed by a meek looking Toby.
“Woofer is gone!” she exclaims. “My Woofer, I don't know where he is! Toby took him outside and his collar broke in two and he ran off!”
# # #
“Noah Puckerman, nephew of the current owners of Dresden Hollows. Has worked on the property since the age of fifteen, six years ago,” Artie tells the camera. “Anything to add to that, Puck?”
“No, man. Ask me whatever questions you got.”
“Do you honestly believe that this property is haunted?”
Puck smirks at the camera and then turns to face Artie. “When I first moved here to live with my aunts when I was a kid, I figured it was all a giant load, you know? Ghosts and spooks and murders and crazy shit, but once I started spending time here, I seen things, dude. Stuff appears and disappears and sometimes I hear people whispering when there ain't nobody else around. And me, I'm a total badass, and I gotta admit that I was damn scared the first few times it happened. I thought maybe they was gonna try and hurt me, but they leave me alone.”
“You say 'they'. Who do you think 'they' are?”
“I dunno, man. The old, dead Dresdens? Evelyn Parker, trying to get revenge? Her death was eventually classified as a suicide, but who screams so loud when they jump off a four story roof that they wake the house? It's not far to fall, and if you know it's coming, why the scream? Seems fishy to me. I think someone pushed that broad, but I don't think it was Jack Dresden. He went into a coma after he seen her dead. I don't think he's the guilty one. But maybe, maybe she's trying to find out who is. Or maybe it was just an accident, chick was drunk and tumbled off the roof. All I'm sayin' is- that railing is pretty high for falling.
“But the Dresdens are all dead now. The two daughters- one drowned and the other didn't have no kids. And of course Jack didn't, he lived in the nuthouse 'til he was forty, and he died after being back here a year. Maybe of fright. Maybe of guilt. Who knows?”
# # #
“You must have really wanted to avoid Rachel to subject yourself to this.” Blaine has to speak loudly to be heard over the roar of the wind and the rain pouring down around them.
Kurt grins over at him, blinking water from his eyelashes. “And what's your excuse?”
Blaine hums and takes Kurt's arm, turning him in the direction of a building to the right of the garden. “Good company is good company,” he says. “Even in the middle of a monsoon.”
The small building, what Blaine assumes to be the gardener's cottage, is locked, so they keep on past it, calling out fruitlessly for the dog. Blaine doubts it could hear them anyway, but Kurt keeps calling its name, so Blaine joins in.
“Woofer!”
“Woofer!” Kurt accidentally steps into a puddle and pulls back, a disgusted look on his face. Under his hood, his bangs are plastered to his forehead and he looks years younger. “I'm gonna skin that ratty little dog if we do find it,” he grumbles and shakes off his boot.
“Heartless.” Blaine grins and slides his hand down to clasp Kurt's and steer him away from another puddle.
He feels Kurt squeeze his hand and smiles into the distance, yelling for the dog one more time.
“You can't very well say that to me when I know you kicked it under the table last night when the power went out.”
Blaine laughs. “It bit my anklebone! I was shocked; you would have kicked it, too.”
“I would have kicked it even without that incentive.”
“Kurt Hummel, abuser of dogs.”
“That thing is not a dog. It's mutated into a miniature version of a dog. A teacup dog. Whose genius idea was that? And why?”
“Portability, I suppose,” Blaine muses, and Kurt snorts next to him and then lets out a tremendous sneeze.
“Well the next time you're dining with a portable little rodent dog lurking under the table, you might want to wear long pants and socks.”
“Are you mocking my fashion choices, Mr. Vogue.com?”
“Oh no. I quite like your little anklebones.”
Blaine smiles over at Kurt, but he is no longer paying attention. In the distance there is a wrought iron gate with a large cross at the top of the arch. Kurt tilts his head to one side and pulls Blaine in that direction.
“We're supposed to be looking for the dog,” Blaine tells him with a laugh.
“It's a cemetery full of bones; dogs love bones. Apparently anklebones in particular. Maybe that's where it's hiding.”
Inside the gates there are three neat rows of tombstones on either side of a large stone angel. She is staring blankly up at the sky, her arms raised and wings outstretched as though ready to ascend. The raindrops are bouncing off of her open palms and running in rivulets from her face, down her neck and chest.
The grave markers have all been kept clear of debris- the weeds and tall grass and dead flowers- but the angel is all but enshrouded. Blaine muses that she looks as though she is trying to escape her grassy prison. He's been standing so long and watching her, that he hadn't noticed Kurt drop his hand and move away, and startles when he sees someone weaving their way between the graves.
“I found Jack Dresden!” Kurt hollers above the storm's racket.
The mucky ground squishes under Blaine's shoes as he walks over to join Kurt, wiping a hand across his eyes and peering up at the stone angel as he passes her.
“God, Blaine,” Kurt says as he approaches. “Look at what it says.”
He's bending down, tracing the words carved into the granite with one long, pale finger.
In Death I shall find you.
“Isn't it sad?”
Blaine nods. The dates on the marker read March 13, 1904-April 1, 1945. Jack Dresden had only been forty-one years old when he died.
He helps Kurt to stand. He has to smile, because Kurt looks so utterly drenched and he's sure he must look the same. Kurt's bangs are even more plastered to his face than before, and a trail of water runs from his hair, dripping down to bead on his eyelashes. Blaine reaches up and takes the fringe of hair between his fingertips and gently squeezes the water out, wiping away the resulting trail with his thumb. “To help you see our way back,” he says.
Kurt laughs. “But we haven't found the dog.”
“Screw the dog. We've been out in this long enough. We're going to get sick.”
“Blaine Anderson, abandoner of tiny dogs in rain storms. It's only six inches tall, you know. It could drown in a puddle.”
Blaine laughs and grabs Kurt's arm, pulling him in the direction of the house. “Well hopefully Britt and Santana found it before it met its grisly demise.”
The wide grin slips off his face when he turns and catches another glimpse of the angel. Her once solemn face appears to be smiling now, as if she's enjoyed their joke.
“Come on,” he says. “Let's get out of here.”
“Blaine, what's wrong?” Kurt asks as Blaine hurries him away from the Dresden family cemetery.
“It's nothing.”
“It's not nothing. You look as though you've seen a ghost.” Kurt laughs a little at himself. “You haven't, have you? Because this morning, I swear I saw a reflection in a mirror in the hallway that was not mine.”
“It was just, well, the angel. It's stupid.” Kurt wraps his fingers more tightly around Blaine's arm and sticks out his bottom lip, shaking his head. Blaine sighs and looks away. “I could have sworn the expression on its face changed. She looked sad, and then before we left, I think she was smiling.”
Kurt glances back over his shoulder and shrugs. “I don't think a ghost can make a statue smile. It must have just been a trick of the light. And we can hardly see in this rain.”
“I'm sure that's all it was. I've never been a big fan of statues anyway. They creep me out a little.”
Kurt makes a cooing sound and pulls Blaine against his side just as they round the corner of the stables. There is a crash of thunder in the distance and after it quiets, Blaine hears a low moan coming from inside.
“Should we check?” Kurt looks frightened, but straightens his spine regardless and the two of them inch towards the stable doors.
They hear another moan and a sigh and a scraping sound, like furniture being dragged across the floor.
What they find inside is not a ghost or even a missing dog, but Brittany and Santana, half naked and locked in an embrace, Santana leaning back on a window ledge, Brittany's face pressed into her bared breasts. She moans again and Kurt pulls Blaine by the hand, covering his eyes with his free one.
As they're about to sneak away, Kurt's foot catches on something and he stumbles, dragging Blaine down with him against the door. It slams shut, making a hollow bang that echoes throughout the building.
“This ain't no damn peep show,” Santana growls from behind them.
Blaine rights himself and helps Kurt to do the same. Kurt's face is red when he catches Blaine's eye and whispers, “That is something I did not ever, ever want to witness.”
“Whatever, Ladyface, we're hot as hell and you know it.”
“Sorry for, ah, the interruption, ladies,” Blaine says. “We were just looking for the dog.”
“Yeah, we were too but then we got bored,” Brittany answers. Blaine is still averting his eyes, but he sees her enter his eyeline, so he assumes they must have put themselves back together.
“That chihuahua is fucked in this rain anyway. Probably drowned in a puddle.”
“That's what I said,” Kurt answers. He still won't turn in the girls' direction.
“Of course you did, Dandy, you and me share the same bitch chromosome. When we figured out that the puddles in his hellhole were deeper than the dog was tall, we decided that there were better things we could be doing with our time than discovering a dog corpse-”
“Or dog zombie,” Brittany adds.
“-so we found us this cozy little place and started gettin' our lady kisses on.”
“Among other things,” Kurt says, pulling a face.
“You two can totally have the other side of the room. I make no promises because I love me some blackmail material, but I'm pretty sure we'll be too distracted to sneak a peek at either of your junk.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt mutters. “Let's get out of here please.”
“And I've already seen Lady Hummel's anyway,” she adds with a smirk in Kurt's direction. “It's pretty impressive. Make sure you use lots of lube, Peewee, because your ass is in for Olympic athlete levels of stretching.”
“Santana! God, I'm so sorry,” Kurt says, and nudges Blaine's shoulder, nodding towards the door.
Puck's entrance to the stables is drowned out by Santana's cackling and a particularly loud rumble of thunder from overheard.
Blaine gives Kurt a smile and shrugs his shoulders, but Kurt still looks mortified, his eyes wide and an angry flush high on his sharp cheekbones.
Puck enters the building, the tiny body of Woofer shivering in his arms, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt.
“What are you idiots doin' out in the rain?” he asks, looking around the room. “The lightning's close. Are you all morons?”
“We were searching for what you've got in your arms,” Kurt tells him.
“Yeah. That old broad was flipping her shit,” Santana adds. “Didn't want her to have a damn heart attack.”
“That would suck. Especially right now,” Puck says. “'Cause the road is washed out. We're stuck here 'til they get in to fix it. Probably a couple days.”
“A couple of days? I'm supposed to be back in the city by Monday. I can't take much more of this country shit. I needs my florescent lights and concrete.”
Brittany sticks out her lip and gives Santana a hug, and Blaine smiles as Kurt rolls his eyes, opening the door and leading the way out into the rain and back towards the main house.
“My Woofer!” Constance cries as soon as they set foot inside the lounge. She reaches out to take the dog from Puck's arms, but draws back when she sees the state of him, her lip curled in disgust. “Toby, bathe him,” she demands instead, pointing at her grandson.
The dog snarls as Toby approaches with arms outstretched and he recoils.
“Feisty little guy,” Puck says. “Found him out in one of the barns trying to hump a stray who turned up here a few months back. Thing looks part wolf. Don't know how he thought he was gonna reach.” Puck laughs as Constance lets out a disgusted huff.
“Well I never,” she retorts. “Take that filthy thing out of my sight! I never want to set eyes on it again!” She glares at Puck from over her shoulder as she stomps away, as though it's somehow his fault, muttering about consorting with common mongrels under her breath.
Toby heaves a long-suffering sigh when she is out of sight and looks forlornly at the dog. “That's the third one in two years,” he says. “She disowns them when they do something she doesn't like.”
“Toby, come!” she yells from the hallway.
“Wish she would disown me,” he grumbles and follows in her wake, his shoulders drooping. “I can come for the dog later. I'll find it a home.”
“I'll take him,” Brittany says, plucking the dog from Puck's arms and cuddling him to her body, kissing the top of his muddy head. “Won't I, baby?”
Toby looks relieved. “I'll bring you his food and dishes in a minute. Thank you.”
“Toby!”
“Gotta go!” And he disappears from the room in a flash.
“She must have a lot of money for him to put up with that,” Artie says.
“Does Brittany's building even allow pets?” Kurt asks Blaine.
“Oh yeah,” Artie answers for him. “She already has a humungous cat. She sweet talked the super.”
“Big cat, tiny dog,” Brittany sing-songs. “Let's go give you a bath.”
Santana leaves with her, and Kurt and Blaine follow to get changed out of their wet clothes.
Afterwards, Blaine heads back to the ballroom for his camera and finds it sitting up on the bar, Santana's heels standing neatly beside it. He grabs both the camera and the shoes and heads to the dining room to meet Kurt for a late lunch.
He hadn't gotten the chance to show Kurt his photos before they had been interrupted, so he turns the camera on and begins scrolling through after they've finished their sandwiches and salad.
He notices the smudge again as he shows Kurt the photos taken outside before they ran into each other in the garden on the previous day, and after flipping through a few images, mentions it to Kurt. He feels a bit silly, because it's likely something that was on his lens at the time, but Kurt takes the camera from his hands to get a closer look instead of scoffing as Blaine was expecting.
“I have no idea what it is, but it's probably nothing. Maybe a smeared raindrop. I probably touched the lens with my fingertip while I was adjusting the settings.”
“But it wasn't raining yet,” Kurt says. “And, well, you might not want to hear this, but it looks vaguely person-shaped to me. Can we zoom in?”
##
Blaine is embarrassed by the state of his luggage when Kurt comes with him into his room. He left his clothes in disarray that morning, rushing to get down to breakfast. He moves his extra camera lenses and razor in order to get at his laptop.
They go out to the sitting area to the left of the grand staircase to take a closer look at Blaine's photographs.
Kurt watches as he boots up the laptop and connects it to his camera, sitting so closely on the red velvet loveseat that Blaine can feel his body heat and smell the fresh, slightly sweet scent of his cologne.
“Why did you even bring your laptop anyway? It's not like there's any Wi-Fi at this place.”
Blaine shrugs and clicks on the trackpad, transferring the images from his camera to his harddrive. “I have a paper that I thought I'd get to work on, but, well,” he looks over at Kurt and can't help the wide smile that spreads over his face, “I've been a little... distracted.”
“Oh? And what is the source of this distraction, might I ask?” Kurt is watching the bar on Blaine's computer screen, the image thumbnails flying past as they transfer.
“Hmm... Must be all of this gorgeous scenery,” Blaine answers. One of Kurt's eyebrows is making a perfect arch above his eye, which is looking more blue than green or grey today, and his cheeks are flushed a lovely rosy colour. Blaine can't get over how smooth and soft his skin appears, even at such close range, with the occasional adorable freckle here and there breaking up the flawless ivory. He's more perfect with these imperfections. “Simply gorgeous,” Blaine hears himself add, slightly breathy.
“You've hardly been outside,” Kurt says with a little chuckle. Blaine clears his throat as Kurt turns his gaze away from the computer screen and looks Blaine in the eye. “Oh.”
Kurt tilts his head to one side and smiles a little, his fingers running over the supple fabric of the loveseat. “I have to admit that I am equally distracted,” he says, and Blaine's response is interrupted by his file transfer ending with a bonging sound that startles him out of his Kurt-induced stupor.
The smudge on the images is difficult to make out in the first few, but once they reach the ones in the barn, the dripping word BeDLaM in stark relief against the age-bleached barn boards, it's sharper, taking shape.
“See what I mean?” Kurt asks in a hushed voice, curling his closer to Blaine's body. “It looks like-”
“A man,” Blaine finishes, and he can feel rather than see Kurt nodding next to him.
The thought in the forefront of Blaine's mind is that Brittany was right. Not that there must be another explanation for the apparition burned into the image. Not that he should be frightened, and should want to flee the place. But Brittany was right. She said it was a he. She said he stood and stared at her from the foot of her bed. What else has she seen over the years that he has dismissed as a figment of her very unusual and colourful imagination?
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