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Living Stone
By : AceMaxwell
Category: G through L > Hellboy
Views: 4868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy and I make no money off this fiction.
Chapter List
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OMG, an update the next day. What's the likelihood? Seriously though, don't get used to it. I have work the next two days so I don't get to do much with this.
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Hellboy paced the bishop's office, tethered by a phone cord. He had the phone's base clutched in his right hand and the actual receiver in his left. Kate was on the other end of the line.
"You're certain he said 'court of shades'?" the folklore expert's voice was thin and plagued by static, but Hellboy could still understand her.
Hellboy glanced over at his psychic when she mentioned him. The boy was sprawled in the same position he'd left him in, still unconscious. When Hellboy carried him out of the crypt, John had been shaking and sweating, but he seemed to have settled down. Small though he was, he barely fit on the bench in the bishop's office. It was made to seat two side by side.
"I know what I heard, Kate. It was court."
"Not council?"
"Court."
Kate was quiet for a moment, her silence filled up by the static of the long distance connection. "Well, shit."
"Do you think 'bones' could be literal? Am I looking for actual bones, or am I looking for something else? I've gotten nothing over here, Kate, I need your help."
"What can you tell me about the man that was in the coffin?"
Hellboy shook his head and dropped the phone base on the desk, falling into one of the chairs. He flipped the phone to his other ear and raised his shoulder to pin it in place before he admitted, "Nothing. The bishop is in the archives right now trying to figure out his name, but he didn't know the man's identity off the top of his head. They've only got about a quarter of that crypt catalogued. Oh, and there's something else."
"I don't like the way you said that."
"There were runic markings all over the sarcophagus, the kind for keeping power contained. Whatever was in that iron box, somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it stay there."
There was rustling in the background on Kate's end. Hellboy thought it might be her flipping through papers, but he wasn't sure. "I'm going to have to look into this a little more. Take some pictures of the sarcophagus and call me when you know this guy's name. I think you might be dealing with something Fay, probably Unseelie."
"That was my thought," Hellboy groaned, sliding his hand across his face. Fay were all difficult to deal with, but the Unseelie were the worst. He wished he had a better idea of what horrible thing had been unleashed. "I'll send those pictures to you as soon as I can get to a computer."
"What about John?"
Hellboy dropped his hand into his lap and looked at the boy, his eyes trailing over the soft lines of his features. After he thought about it a moment, he said, "I'll send him to the airport when he wakes up. He's not ready for this."
A soft knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Hellboy said a quick 'talk to you later' and hung up the phone before he called out, "Come on in."
The woman that entered was wearing the robes of a priest, her thick, flame-colored hair pulled back into a braid that fell to her waist. Holding out a bowl with water in it, she motioned at John, "Bishop Dunn said your friend might need looking after." Her voice was almost musical, the strong Irish accent tinting each word.
Hellboy nodded and she swept inside silently. He had a hard time not noticing how beautiful she was. There was sharpness to her features that few people possessed. He watched her delicate hands dip a washcloth into the basin she'd brought with her. She wrung it out and gently dabbed at John's forehead.
"You're very big in person," she said as she wiped the dried sweat from the psychic's face.
Hellboy snorted and smiled, "That's because they never put anybody else in the pictures for the magazines. It's hard to tell how tall I am without references."
"I suppose that's true… Will you help me take off his jacket?"
Hellboy got out of the chair and hooked his arm around the boy's body to hoist him up. The boy's head rolled to one side and Hellboy carefully slid his stone hand beneath it for support. He'd noticed downstairs how light the kid was, but he marveled again at how easy it was to lift him. If he had to, he could carry the boy all day without getting tired. The woman maneuvered the jacket off John's shoulders so Hellboy could set him back on the bench. He tried not to notice how John's shirt clung to his chest. Despite the weather, he was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt beneath his sheepskin jacket.
The redheaded woman shook out John's coat and laid it across the back of the bench, mentioning, "I'm Chloe, by the way."
"Hellboy," he answered distractedly, sliding his flesh hand down John's arm.
She laughed and said, "I think I might have deduced that," but Hellboy really wasn't listening.
He knelt by the couch and turned the boy's arm over. The edge of the scar he'd seen earlier was just the tip of the iceberg. Half a dozen horizontal scars ran down the length of John's wrist. Some of them were thin and white, just scratches, but the one next to his hand had been a deep cut.
"Oh my," Chloe breathed. "Poor soul."
Something in Hellboy sank. There was no way John could work for them. If he was suicidal, the stress of the job would bring him back to this within months. He turned over John's other arm and saw similar markings, though they weren't as even and none of them were deep enough to cut a vein. Hellboy rubbed his thumb across the ragged, red scar, feeling the raised flesh.
John twitched and then tensed under his hand, his dark eyes flashing open to catch on Hellboy's. As he realized what was going on, the tension spread. John scrambled off the couch, making Chloe move back to avoid getting bowled over. The boy's hand went to the arm Hellboy had been touching and he squeezed his wrist subconsciously.
His gaze hardened and narrowed on Hellboy as he ground out, "You had no right."
Hellboy didn't try to argue, since he knew what the kid said was true. He sat back on his heels as John grabbed his coat and fled from the room. When the sound of John's footsteps had faded, Hellboy sighed.
Tentatively, Chloe asked, "Should you go after him?"
"No. He needs to cool off," Hellboy answered with conviction. Even if he did go after John, he didn't know how to fix it, didn't know what he'd say. Feeling more upset by his discovery than he could've anticipated, Hellboy decided that the best course to take was to get back to work. "Tell the bishop I'm in the crypt if he asks."
He got to his feet and slipped out into the hall. As he walked through the sanctuary, he looked around for John, but didn't see him. The kid was probably outside, or on his way back to the hotel. Hellboy mentally kicked himself for not getting his room key from John earlier. Hopefully the landlord would be gracious enough to give him another.
Cutting past the altar, Hellboy moved the rope from the stairwell and trotted down into the sublevels. He found the round room with the lone sarcophagus easily enough. It wasn't that deep in the catacombs. If it had been deeper, Hellboy never would have heard the loud bang of the slab hitting the floor and John would still be lost in the crypt.
It was very unusual for a stone coffin to be kept on its own inside a medieval crypt, especially if the occupant wasn't important enough for his name to be recorded. Being buried with family was the tradition during the age when the Wells Cathedral was built. Knights were taken home for burial if it could be managed and royal families had large, elaborate crypts built so that they could all rest in the same place after death.
Hellboy swept the round room with an examining eye, trying to pick out things he didn't notice before. There was a wide, shallow crevice that ran around the circumference of the room. Hellboy crouched down to inspect it, his tail swishing across the floor. There was black residue in the bottom of the trough and the hand-carved stones that lined it were as smooth as river rocks. It wasn't as deep at the entrance to the room as it was at the back and there was a hole bored through to another level where the trough was deepest. Moldering wood and rusted fittings were piled near the shallow end. As Hellboy pawed through the mess, he finally realized what he was looking at: Fay deterrent at its best.
At one point in time, the decomposed pile of wood had probably been a series of buckets and funnels that allowed water to run into the trough. It moved down the slope to the drain on the other side, keep the sarcophagus surrounded by running water as long as someone remembered to fill the buckets. Fay couldn't cross running water, which was partially why they weren't a problem in modern cities. There were too many underground pipes for them to move around effectively. Not to mention that it neutralized almost all of their power.
Hellboy considered the pile of rotted wood. The fact that there was still any wood left meant that someone had maintained this room long after the unknown man had gone into the coffin. It had only been forgotten in the last hundred years or so. Once the running water was gone, the Fay would've been able to sense the crypt again and whatever was hidden here.
The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, making the hair on the back of Hellboy's neck stand up. He knew instantly that the ghost had returned. The apparition flickered at the edge of his vision, but when he looked directly at it, he couldn't see anything. Hellboy resorted to watching it in his peripherals.
"What the hell were you guarding, buddy?" Hellboy asked, though he wouldn't get much of an answer without John.
He went back to the sarcophagus to find the skeleton's eyes alight with blue flames. Its jaw clacked uselessly. Hellboy took the iron box, shaking the dead man's hands off when they clung to it. Once, the box was heavy and solid, but time had made it brittle. Hellboy could crush it easily in his human hand. Despite that, it was still iron. No Fay, Unseelie or otherwise, could survive the touch of iron. It burned their skin, and in high enough doses, made their magic unravel until there was nothing left of them.
When Hellboy tilted the box, something rattled across the bottom. He peered inside. At first, he thought it was just a pebble. He picked it up and furrowed his brow. It was too light to be a rock. He tapped it to his tongue and the porous surface stuck slightly. Only bone stuck. The tiny bone was squat and narrow at one end, possibly at the tip of a finger or toe. Hellboy pushed it in the pocket of his pants.
After laying the box back inside the sarcophagus, Hellboy pulled a digital camera out of his coat and started taking pictures. He made sure to get the coffin from every side, moving the lid out of way as he came to it. Snapping a few photos of the lid as well, Hellboy flipped it over to look at the back. There was an inscription carved into the marble. Though he was no expert, Hellboy read enough Latin to be able to discern a rough translation. He wasn't at all pleased with what it said.
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John sat on the bed in his room, his knees drawn to his chest. The TV was on, tuned to some kind of strange sci-fi show that he wasn't really watching. He had his arms on the bed beside him; his palms face up so he could see his scars. Emotions battled inside him and his stomach twisted unpleasantly with the conflict. He wanted to be furious at Hellboy for discovering something John wanted to bury in the farthest reaches of his subconscious, but there'd been something in Hellboy's eyes that made him hesitate. There was no pity in his gaze, just sadness.
John couldn't stand pity. He hated it when people felt sorry for him, especially for something that they couldn't comprehend. How could they understand, how could Hellboy understand? Hellboy looked as though he could take on a train and win, so John doubted that he'd ever really lost control of a situation.
People looked at John's scars and thought he wasn't strong enough to face his problems and they pitied him because of his weakness, but Hellboy hadn't. Though John couldn't read his exact thoughts, Hellboy's sorrow for him was more genuine. His sadness wasn't tainted with misplaced sympathy.
John heard a heavy tread coming down the hall and wrapped his arms around his knees. The door in the adjoining room slammed open and shut before someone started rustling around. The two rooms the bureau had booked for them were connected by an interior door that John had left ajar.
The person moving in the other room got quiet and then Hellboy's bulky frame filled the doorway, "Hey, do you have a laptop?"
John blinked at him, surprised that Hellboy didn't feel awkward approaching him after what happened in the church. "Uh," he started and nearly slapped himself for being ineloquent. He never had trouble with words and he didn't want to start infusing his vocabulary with things like 'uh'. John shook his head and closed his eyes for a second so he could gather his thoughts, saying, "Yes, it's in my suitcase."
"Can I-"
"Of course," John answered before he could finish.
He uncurled from the bed and went to his suitcase, digging the protective case out from between his clothes. As John set it up on the table by the window, Hellboy placed a digital camera and cord beside the computer. John hooked it up, asking, "Does the inn have free wireless?"
"Doubt it. Did you see how old our coffee maker was?"
"Right." John went back to his suitcase, coming back with a small green bag that had the image of a motherboard printed on it.
He fished out a card that had an antenna attached to it and stuck it into a slot on the computer. The machine chirped to confirm the connection. John pulled one of the chairs over so he could sit down and Hellboy leaned over his shoulder, one hand propped on the back of the chair. John could feel the heat radiating off of Hellboy and his skin warmed in response. A blush spread on his face as he realized that the closeness was arousing.
Grateful that Hellboy couldn't read his thoughts, John double-clicked on the file to open up the photos Hellboy had taken. "Which ones do you want to send?"
"All of 'em."
John leaned back so Hellboy could log into the secure BPRD server, amazed by how quickly the man could type with just one hand. While they waited for the files to upload, Hellboy cleared his throat. John could feel it coming, the counseling. Now the pity would start. He'd heard it dozens of times, people trying to tell him why life was worthwhile. Every spiel he'd heard ran along the same lines, 'You just haven't found the right reason for living.'
"Look, I did it when I was seventeen. I'm not suicidal anymore," John snapped before Hellboy could start. "So save it."
Hellboy was quiet for a long moment. John couldn't force himself to look at him, but he could feel Hellboy trying to decide what to say. Most people broadcast everything loud and clear, wearing every little thought and whim in the forefront of their mind where John could get to it easily. Not much came from Hellboy but emotion. It disturbed John a little not to know.
"Look, I'll be the first to tell you that I suck at this kind of stuff, but I wanted to apologize. Like you said, I had no right to do that."
John finally looked up from the computer screen, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. He settled on a simple, "Thank you."
Hellboy grunted and nodded. Absently scratching the back of his head, Hellboy mumbled, "Yeah, sure," while he reached around John to check his email. There wasn't much there, never was. Everyone knew Hellboy preferred the phone. "So, how long do you think it'll be before she gets it?"
John shrugged, "A few minutes maybe. It's a big file."
The moment the words left his mouth, the phone in Hellboy's room started ringing. Hellboy rushed to answer it, his pockets jingling as he moved. John went to the doorway and stopped, not sure if he should give the demon some privacy.
"Kate? You got it?" Hellboy started. He listened to the person on the other end, saying, "Yeah, did you see the inscription?"
John went back to the computer and brought up the images. He couldn't remember an inscription aside from the runes. Paging through them quickly, he got to the lid and stopped. He could hear Hellboy in the other room talking about the writing. The demon's voice had an edge of concern to it. Curious and not willing to wait for Hellboy to finish his conversation, John opened a translator program and plugged the image into it. The computer whirred as it thought, the little green light indicating the processor was working flashed rapidly. After a few seconds, it spit something out.
A thousand men to bind him thus
This, the King of Shadows and Dust
May this cage of iron and bone
Forever keep the shade court throne
John frowned at the results, not sure what to make of them. He did some searching on 'shade court', but hadn't found anything before Hellboy came back.
"Pack your stuff."
"You figured it out? Where are we going next?" John asked as he closed his laptop and shoved it back in the case. When it wouldn't zip, John cussed and pulled the satellite receiver out of the side.
Hellboy leaned down to pick John's suitcase off the ground, dropping it on the bed for him. "Kate and I figured it out, but we're not going anywhere. You're going back to Connecticut and the bureau will make sure you get a ride wherever you need to go."
John froze, his chest constricting, "Wait, what?"
"You're going home. I'll finish this alone," Hellboy said with a hint of regret in his voice.
John reached out to touch Hellboy's thoughts, trying to find a reason there. His mind was more carefully guarded than it had been all morning.
Hellboy growled at his prying, "Quit that. You want to know something, you fucking ask me."
Heat rushed to John's face, but his embarrassment quickly faded into anger, "Why are you shipping me off?"
Hellboy took the laptop case from John's hands and shoved it into the bag, saying, "Because you're not trained and you're nowhere near ready for something like this."
"I can help."
"If I let you stay, I'm going to end up scraping what's left of you off some wall. You're going home," the demon's voice rose to combat with John's anger.
John wasn't deterred, raising his volume to match, "This isn't about that and you know it."
"Stay out of my head," Hellboy snarled.
"I don't have to be in your head, I'm smart enough to sort things out on my own. If this was just about my lack of experience, you would've just said you were sending me back to the bureau. You don't think I can do this!"
Their shouting was probably audible in every room of the inn, but neither of them cared. It was the off-season anyway, and the woman who ran the desk had told them that they were some of the only guests. The staff running the place was a different story.
Hellboy waved his human hand at John, dismissing him easily, "You're making it more than it is."
"Am I?" John yelled. He was almost certain he knew why the investigator was getting rid of him. Since he'd found out about John's attempted suicide, he'd been diligent to not let a single thought slip through his blockade. That was more telling than anything else was. "You haven't given me a sporting chance here! I can do this."
"You can't handle it. It's okay, not everybody can."
John hit him. He had no idea where it came from, but his rage just boiled over. It was like hitting a boulder. Hellboy's head snapped slightly to the side, but white-hot pain exploded through John's knuckles. John shook his hand and glared at the demon. As far as he could see, he hadn't caused any damage to the other man. He hadn't even busted his lip. Hellboy rubbed his jaw while he scrutinized John.
When the silence had stretched to the point that John could practically taste it, he finally spoke. Dropping his voice to a calm, civil tone, he said, "I can do this."
Hellboy ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded, "I guess you can."
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Chloe walked briskly through the corridors of the cathedral, the long tail of her braid bumping rhythmically from one side of her hips to the other. No one bothered her because her fierce green eyes warned against it. People she passed lowered their eyes without even realizing why. She lifted her head, her posture radiating power that had been absent in front of Hellboy.
She hurried outside, her gaze flicking around to ensure no one was in the courtyards. Not that it would stop her if there was. Crossing the parking lot, she made her way down a gentle slope of grass to the moat that separated the church from the bishop's palace. It always made her laugh that the clergy made such a point about living in poverty, but the bishops had lived in the palace since the thirteen hundreds.
Numerous swans floated in the water feature, but they scattered as she approached, most of them taking refuge on the thin strip of land in front of the palace wall. Chloe hissed at them, smirking as they flew to another part of the moat. They made no noise, but only because people had trained the animals to be silent and ring a bell for food. Chloe hated everything that the white birds stood for. The swans were the taming of the wilds, they were the human hand that hovered over what was once untamed and untouchable.
Chloe walked beside the water until a thick stand of trees blocked her from view, continuing to the point where the trees from opposite side of the moat nearly met above it. The sunlight broke and scattered as it came through the leaves, barely touching the pale green water.
Once she was certain she was out of sight, Chloe untied the ornamental belt from around her waist and slipped the priest robes over her head. Except for a leather dagger sheath strapped to her left thigh, she was bare. The woman's body was completely flawless, not even a freckle or mole to mar the smooth expanse of her flesh. She dipped one foot into the water, feeling its chill before she stepped down into the mossy shallows. Her movements didn't disturb the stagnant water.
Slowly, she undid her hair, letting the red curls spread over the surface of the water. It spilled down her front, covering her ample breasts and hanging nearly to her navel. She waded into the water until it came to her chest, and then reached down to draw the blade from its sheath. Chloe pressed one finger to the tip, watching as blood bloomed and slid down her hand.
The blood rolled across her wrist and dripped into the moat, disturbing the stillness. A single ripple spread out from her and then the water became as smooth as glass. Chloe smiled at her reflection, then at the pair of eyes that emerged from the shadowy depths. The kelpie regarded her for several seconds before it rose to the surface.
Though it looked like a horse, the kelpie was anything but. Its mane hung across its face in thick, heavy strings that were wrapped in moss and weed from the bottom of the moat. Water sloughed from its dark flanks as it stood to its full height. Chloe had to tilt her head back to look the beast in the eye.
"My lady," the animal hissed.
Chloe regarded the kelpie with a scowl, her vivid eyes half-lidded with distaste, "What have I told you about this form?"
The kelpie tossed its head, throwing its mane back from its face and bearing its mouthful of sharply pointed teeth. It reared and then started to shrink. The animal's long snout rounded out and flattened, retreating towards its neck. Its shoulders crawled up the ribcage as the hooves spread into fingers and the knees reversed direction with a crunch. The fur vanished, leaving beneath pale pink flesh. Much of the muscled stayed, just reforming into new shapes. Once the kelpie was done, he was a man with a dark tangle of hair that hung to his elbows.
Chloe's scowl disappeared and she wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders, "There now, much better." She licked his chest and the flesh there twitched the same way a horse's would if a fly had landed on it. "How are you fairing with my father's body?"
The kelpie regarded her with eyes the same color as a mountain lake, "He is nearly assembled. The court is already gathering. Many of his faithful await your order."
"Good," she murmured against the tightly corded lines of his neck.
Quietly, so as not to arouse her anger, the kelpie asked, "Why do you remain here, my lady? You have everything you came for."
Chloe pulled away from him and moved towards the bank, "Because the guardian must be dealt with. There have been… complications."
"Complications," the beast echoed without asking. He knew better than to question his mistress directly. Her rage was as sudden and terrible as her father's was.
Her grin was laced with wickedness. She spread out on the soft grass beside the moat and assured him, "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with."
Because her gaze commanded him, the kelpie crossed to her and climbed out of the water, lowering himself over her body. Chloe's hands wound tightly in the wavy strands of his hair. He kissed her body, worshiping her in the ways that she demanded whenever he came to her.
Chloe opened herself to the kelpie and relished how close she was to bringing her father back into the world. His retribution on the humans would come in the darkness like a plague on mankind, and not even the Seelie would be able to stop him. If they were smart, they wouldn't even try.
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TBC…
I've been writing all day… dear god, what's wrong with me? This chapter is a touch shorter than I intended, but it needed to end where it did. I hope you like John's attitude as much as I do. I had no idea he was going to punch HB until he did it. I guess it was a surprise for everybody.
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Living Stone	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 4868 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellboy and I make no money off this fiction.

Living Stone