Diabolical - Chapter 6 (Patreon)

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It was a sound, somewhere on the edge of his hearing, that roused him. Arthur came to blearily, unaware of his situation. When he opened his eyes, he was disoriented. His surroundings were pitch black --- the only thing he could see was a thin, glimmering film, reflecting a hint of light. ‘I’m drifting on the surface of a lake...?’ He thought. His brain was sluggishly trying to process this state of affairs --- the thing that struck him immediately was the intense cold. But it was uncanny --- he had fallen asleep in this icy water, yet he felt fine. No, better than fine --- he felt, well… it was difficult to describe, but he felt as if all the fluid inside him had been replaced by a cool, flowing current --- like the liquid had been transfused directly into his veins. It was invigorating, yet soothing. As a matter of fact, he wanted nothing more than to become one with the substance, to return to that blissful, black void, free of all worry and concern. There was a tickling feeling at the back of his mind, keeping him awake, like he’d forgotten something, but he didn’t want to think about-….

*Knock, knock!*

This time, he heard it clearly --- there was someone at the door! His memory returned to him, like a wave crashing down onto the shoreline. He could feel goosebumps breaking out all over his skin, and the tiny hairs all over his body stiffening. Even so, at that moment, the bottomless abyss he’d found himself in was the least of his worries --- his thoughts immediately returned to that crystal mirror he’d seen, sitting on the vanity; when it’d pointed towards him, he’d experienced an extremely uncomfortable sensation, like he was being watched. ‘Since I’ve remained in the bathroom, they must’ve decided to come grab me directly!’ He thought. He straightaway resolved not to put one foot outside the pool. If it came to it, he could drown himself in here --- all he had to do was submerge his head and start breathing. Once his lungs were filled, he’d suffocate in short order. It was a preferable outcome to whatever the thing outside the door had in store for him, of that he had no doubt.

Arthur’s prone form was like a serpent in hiding --- only his nose, eyes and forehead were above the surface. When the knocking repeated, he remained still as a statue --- if a leaf had been perched on the tip of his nose, it wouldn’t even have trembled. Silence reigned inside the prison of black glass, and he was sure he would’ve remained concealed if it wasn’t for the emergence of a soft, tinkling noise; one he’d not produced, nor had any control over --- it was the auditory sensation of a water droplet hitting a metallic surface. Perhaps, having been prompted by it, or having had enough of this cat-and-mouse game, the thing outside the door spoke. When Arthur heard its voice, his emotions were exceedingly complicated.

“Are you in there, young master? It is dinnertime, so I came to fetch you.” The familiar voice said. Its tone was dry, and without emotion.

Arthur felt like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He didn’t know what to do --- on one hand, he didn’t trust the damn butler any further than he could throw him; which was not far, given how short and weak his arms were. On the other hand, if this was an opportunity for salvation, then he wanted to take it. Committing suicide was fine and well in theory, but he expected the execution of it to be an awful lot more unpleasant.

He decided to speak up. “Mr. Fetcher…? I’m sorry, but I fell asleep in the bath, and now I don’t have a towel with me, or a change of clothes.” He said, not having to fake the embarrassment in his voice.

The butler was quick to reply. “It is fortunate, then, that I have arrived with both your towelettes and your apparel.” He said, sounding slightly bored. “I will hang them from the door handle, and wait outside the room. Although, it’s gotten a bit dark --- will you be all right?” He queried.

Arthur wasn’t sure if he would be, but what was he supposed to do; invite the butler inside, to help him change? There was no way he’d do that. “I’ll manage, thank you.” He said, lifting himself up and out of the bath. When he’d put one foot onto the slippery, smooth floor, he abruptly experienced a sense of lightheadedness, like he was falling inside a dream. He closed his eyes on reflex, and he proverbially jerked awake, as if he’d rebounded on top of a trampoline. It almost made him open his eyes again, but he hurriedly put his free hand over his face. ‘I really almost just fell through the floor!!’ He thought, having momentarily forgotten about the feeling of danger the room had given him earlier. He hesitated, unsure of whether he should take his other foot out of the pool. ‘My one hand is still on the rim, so I can just jump back in if something happens…’ He considered. Carefully, he lifted his other leg over the edge before straightening it.

Arthur uneasily let go of the border, one finger at a time. When he’d removed his whole hand, he waited for a second, tensed and worried. Nothing happened, and he quietly sighed in relief. He started walking slowly towards the exit --- he could remember where it was; to the northwest. As long as he kept going, he’d hit a wall eventually, and he’d just have to hug it until he found the passage.

Regrettably, it seemed an uneventful journey wasn’t in the cards. As he continued, he found himself becoming more disoriented and unsteady on his feet. The darkness was exuding an invisible pressure, coming at him from all sides. He was deep beneath the earth’s crust, crawling in a tunnel somewhere --- it was so tight he could barely move; he was being squeezed, and his arm was stuck, and he couldn’t move forward without exhaling until his lungs were empty.

He started panicking. ‘Good God, what is happening to me…?!’ He screamed inwardly. He felt his heart thumping in his chest --- it’s tempo didn’t increase (the pressure was too much for that), but he felt every beat increasing in strength until his whole body was throbbing alongside it. Suddenly, he was falling again --- the floor was gone; vanished into nothingness! An involuntary scream slipped from his throat.

“Are you all right, young master?”

Unexpectedly, the butler’s words caused Arthur’s illusion to vanish, like a pricked soap bubble. He found himself laying prone on the floor, with one cheek pressed tightly against the featureless surface. “Ouch!” He said, reaching reflexively for his sore head.

“Shall I come in?” Fetcher asked, in a voice as placid as ever.

Arthur seriously considered it, but, in the end, he refused. When things were at their worst, a man would cling even more desperately to his pride --- he was no different. “No, it’s… I just slipped and fell, that’s all. I’ll be there in a moment.” He said, getting to his feet and briskly walking in the direction of the butler’s voice. He almost ran headfirst into the door --- he’d crossed the distance in such a hurry that he’d already reached it, before any nasty thoughts could creep up on him. There was a thin beam of light shining from underneath it, but it was so dim he didn’t notice it until the last moment.

Mr. Fetcher had evidently heard him thumping on the other side of the door. “I’ll be waiting for you in the hallway outside.” he said.

Arthur kept his ear close to the door, trying to hear him leaving, but it was futile. ‘Damn ghost bastard…!’ He cursed inwardly. While fumbling with the latch in the darkness, he had a sudden revelation. ‘Wait… how was he going to come in when the door was locked?’ He wondered. However, he didn’t dare linger on the question for too long --- it made him feel lightheaded and bloodless, and he didn’t want to pass out in here.

When he’d managed to unlatch the blasted thing, he slowly opened the door; he didn’t see Fetcher through the gap. Edging carefully forwards, he kept an eye out for the vanity --- he’d not let whatever was on the other side of that mirror catch a glimpse of his twig-and-berries!

The top of that forsakened piece of furniture entered his field-of-view; the light source had been placed on top of it --- a candle, enclosed within a lantern. He immediately looked for the crystal mirror; fortunately, it was facing away from him. Not only that, but an embroidered square of cloth had been draped over it. ‘Was it the butler?’ He wondered. It seemed the most likely explanation.

After he’d stuck his head out the door and looked both ways (taking care not to look ‘too’ hard, lest he see something unsettling), he cautiously stepped into the bedchamber while closing the door behind him. He’d rather ‘not’ dress in the disturbing bathroom, thank you very much --- partially because he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, and partially because it was just too scary in there. ‘I wish it was possible to lock the door from the outside.’ He thought. He didn’t like the idea that there was nothing stopping it from being opened.

The whole ensemble (towel included) hung from a wooden, many-ringed hanger --- it had a hook at the top, like a normal one, but it had many sections (almost like a scrubbing board), enough for a whole wardrobe. He took the towel first and wiped himself dry --- it felt very soft and comfortable against his skin. After that, he looked at the clothing --- it was, well… ‘old fashioned’, like something out of a play. He wasn’t even sure if he knew how to wear it.

After much struggling, he managed to get it on. However, he was left with something that seemed a lot like a doublet with a tie --- it had a lot of buttons, off to one side, and the neck part was very… puffy. ‘How the hell do I put this on?’ He wondered. In the end, he decided to call for reinforcements.

He looked towards the bedroom door --- he could hardly see it; the single lantern didn’t provide much light. And, while the darkness did frighten him, it also aided him in an unforeseen way --- he couldn’t make out the symbols on the furnishings, and on the furniture. ‘That’s one cognitohazard neutralized --- for the time being, at least.’ He said to himself.

“Uhm… Mr. Fetcher…? I’m not sure how to wear this… ‘coat’?” He asked towards the door, raising his voice a bit. The noise was unpleasant to his ears --- it sounded like it was coming through many layers of cotton.

He was relieved when the butler replied immediately. “I could assist you. Let me know when you’re decent, young master.” He said, speaking through the slightly-opened bedroom door. When Arthur had said that he was, Fetcher stepped into the room.

With some discomfort, the youth noted his appearance: he wore a cloak over his shoulders --- it came down to his feet as a solid, black shape, making him look like a reaper. His eyes reflected the thin candlelight in an unpleasant way --- they flickered like two will-o-the-wisps, hungry to ensnare their prey within the realm of the dead.

While he was standing there, feeling frightened, the butler drifted over to him and took the piece of clothing out of his hands. He loosened it in a brisk, familiar manner before fastening it to Arthur’s torso. The boy didn’t even know when his arms had been shoved into the sleeves --- suddenly he was standing there, feeling like he was on his way to have dinner with the king.

The butler took a wooden comb from somewhere and fixed his messy, damp hair --- Arthur stood like a statue during the entire process. He felt like there was some kind of poisonous creature on top of his head --- if he so much as twitched a muscle, he’d find himself bitten and on his deathbed within moments.

After Mr. Fetcher had finished, he pointedly put the wooden comb down onto the surface of the vanity. He took the lantern and gave it to Arthur. “We are already late. Take this --- I will guide you, but you must remember to pay attention. In the future, you will be expected to navigate the manor by yourself.” He said coolly.

The very thought alone was enough to send a chill down the lad’s spine. “…yes, sir.” He replied dumbly. He watched as the butler extended an arm, motioning for him to take the lead. When he’d taken a few steps forward (clutching the lantern in one hand), he felt a glove settling on his shoulder.

After they made it out into the hallway, Arthur was immediately filled with dread. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the place seemed different from what he remembered! For starters, the hallway was wider --- his paltry light barely reached the other side. He could hardly see a single one of the pillars, embedded into the wall; never mind the ceiling --- his candle wasn’t able to illuminate it at all!

When he stilled, the glove on his shoulder exerted an irresistible pressure --- he had to move. His eyes involuntarily swept the surroundings --- he preferred ‘not’ to look, but, if he was going to be able to find his way back to his room, he had no choice. A deathly aura hung in the air, like a mausoleum, and the darkness was impregnable --- Arthur felt as if it was actively resisting the thin light, cast by his lantern.

They weren’t covering distance very quickly --- the hallway seemed to never end, and Arthur’s legs were short, in the first place. To make matters worse, everything seemed the same to him --- they had passed twelve rooms already, but most of them looked identical; the only ‘saving grace’ was that he’d be able to recognize his room’s door at first glance. They didn’t pass the staircase --- they had taken a left upon exiting, and the staircase (as well as the front portal) would’ve been to the right. Eventually, they found a passage --- it was much narrower than their current one. What did surprise him was that it seemed to have the same long, curtained windows, despite the fact that it seemed to be leading into the mansion’s interior.

He really did try to keep track, but eventually he became lost --- the place was simply too large! And, to make matters worse, the layout was absolutely incomprehensible. Multiple times now, they’d detoured through rooms, most of which he couldn’t guess the purpose of. The darkness certainly didn’t help, but it wasn’t just that --- he’d seen things that he simply couldn’t understand! One time, they went through a short door, only to arrive in a small, cramped space with nothing but a poor little fireplace and a few stacks of books laying around. Fetcher had commanded him to pull on a sconce, and suddenly a section of the low, wooden ceiling detached itself, transforming into a staircase! They’d then made their way up, only to arrive inside a closet. Opening the door, he was greeted with the sight of an enormous, multi-storied library! He barely had time to catch a glimpse before they were behind a tremendous bookshelf, which completely blocked his sight.

‘Bloody hell! Not even Indiana Jones would be able to find his way, in here!’ He exclaimed inwardly. He wasn’t angry --- his fear and uncertainty was so strong that it supressed every other emotion.

It was behind the enormous shelf that they found another door --- it looked like it was made out of stone, and it was completely flush with the wall. There was a strange metal bar, made out of a dark, unknown material running across its surface --- in the feeble, orange light, he managed to notice a large keyhole, drilled into it.

Mr. Fetcher spoke from behind him. “Go ahead and open it --- the key is in your pocket.” He said. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away, but Arthur didn’t dare think too hard about it.

The boy numbly patted his doublet, and immediately he felt something heavy and large underneath his hand.

‘….!’

Like a zombie, he withdrew it and placed it in the keyhole. He expected to struggle, but it turned easily, and the door swung open. The sound of it wasn’t very loud --- the only thing he could hear was a soft, grating noise, like an oiled whetstone being slid across the surface of a blade. He carefully peered through the opening --- there was another hallway on the other side, but this one was different; it was completely made out of stone, and mostly bare. The only decoration he noticed was a sloping cornice where the walls met with the floor.

The gloved hand steered him into it, and he heard the same soft grating as the door closed behind him. After they’d walked a dozen-or-so yards (naturally, only Arthur’s footsteps sounded against the solid floor, but he was somewhat used to it by now), the boy both heard and saw something that struck him dumb --- it was a large pair of mahogany doors at the end of the passage. What made it so extraordinary was the light shining from underneath it, and the muted sound of voices, coming from the other side. To be clear, he’d not seen so much as a single other light source on his way here, never mind people speaking! The place was as dead as it got --- Arthur would’ve been willing to bet good money that the fucking pyramids of Giza were more lively than this godforsaken manor!

“The dining room is ahead --- there’s something I need to attend to, so I’ll be on my way now, young master. Enjoy your dinner.” Mr. Fetcher said, lifting his hand from Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur thanked him reflexively. “Thank you, and I apologize for troubling you.” He croaked, feeling like he hadn’t spoken in years.

“It’s quite all-right.” The butler said. To Arthur, the words sounded like a whisper, carried on the wind.

He couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder --- the emptiness behind him was unsurprising, but no less terrifying because of it.

He didn’t dare loiter --- he hurriedly walked towards the dining-room-doors and, after setting the lantern on the floor, he gripped the handles. When he’d taken a breath to steady himself, he opened them.

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