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theladyspooks · 5 years ago

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In Morte, Aerternitatis Ch. 4: What’s In A Name?

(special notes for this chapter: for extra emphasis, play “Pan’s Labyrinth Lullaby” during Anya’s dream sequence as linked in the song title)

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“Now remember, moya lyubov’, never ever and I mean NEVER say that name five times.”

“But Mama, all the other kids said I’d be the coolest kid in school!”

“Net, if I ever hear talk of this nonsense again I’ll homeschool you myself.”

A 10 year old Vadim sat dejectedly at the table with his mother, her expression stern yet concerned.

“Mama? Rodnoy brat?” A seven year old Anastasia rubbed her eyes in confusion at being woken up by her brother’s complaining. Vadim never knew how to master his inside voice.

“Anya, moy rebenok” Elena cooed at her youngest, “What are you doing up, moye ditya?” She scooped her daughter into her lap.

“I heard Vadim talking about The Candyma-” Elena put a firm hand over her daughter’s mouth.

“Anastasia Ilyena Fyodorov, if I ever hear you say that name again you will spend a week in your room” Anya’s eyes widened, “That goes for you as well, Vadim. Have I taught the both of you nothing?” Vadim stood up.

“But Mama, why can’t we say it?” Her hand dropped from Anya’s mouth as she placed her next to Vadim, squatting down to place her hands on their shoulders.

“There is power in a name, moi deti. To say it out loud is to acknowledge. Once you do this there is no going back, you forfeit any and all say in what happens. Words are powerful and a name is a word. Remember this and promise me you will not say that one, no matter who tells you to do it.” Elena smiled as her children nodded in understanding.

Anya had been too young to fully understand what her mother had meant. At that age, her brain understood that Candyman was a bad word that would result in punishment if she said it. Bad words were a no-no in her house growing up and Elena Fyodorov always made good on her punishments if need be.

Now though, standing in front of her best friend of six years in a hospital bathroom, she finally understood what her mother had meant.

Annie had performed the silent dare so to speak, she had stared a mirror down and uttered a forbidden name five times for all to see. Normally she’d find the whole idea insane, wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t see it.

The problem was she had.

She’d seen the hook in Paul’s back, watched the tall stranger stalk towards; smelled the distinct scent of honey and blood emanating from his very pores. Most importantly though, she’d felt his touch as clear as day. The metal of his hook was terrifying enough, but the skin of his other? That was bone and muscle and blood all wrapped in flesh that put the night sky to shame.

He was real. He was real because Annie had made him so.

“Oh god, Annie…” She rubbed a hand down her face. Paul had paid the price, but only barely as a result of Annie’s need to reassure her kids.

“I know! God Anya, I know! I’ve been tearing my hair out over it all night” She turned the faucet on and splashed her face with cold water, “He could’ve killed you, hell he almost killed Paul! If you hadn’t come along…” A shudder ran through her spine as she watched Annie dry her face.

“He could’ve killed you too, Ann. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t try if you’re the one that called him.” That had been a big thought in her head. The way the legend went, whoever spoke the name five times in a mirror would be split from groin to gullet; yet he’d seemingly spared Annie.

“He spoke to me in my bathroom when he first appeared” Now that caught her attention, “He said that I had a journey to make with him and then when you passed out-” She looked at Anya and shook her head, “He caught you and just stared at you for what felt like hours before putting you down. When he did he told me that I- we were his.” She felt her throat close.

“We? As in you and Paul?” She knew the answer before the question left her mouth.

“No. We as in you and I, Anya.”

“That makes no sense!” She yelled as a nurse wandered into the bathroom, promptly turning back the way she came at the sight of the irritated Russian before her, “I didn’t say his name into a mirror, not once! How is it that he wants me? Why would he leave me the fl-” Annie’s head perked up.

“Anya? What were you going to say?” Annie attempted to make eye contact with Anya, watching her eyes widen.

“It really was him” She whispered in shock before looking up at Annie, “The day we went to the shrine, I left a flower as an offering; a gardenia. After hearing about Purcell’s story I just- I don’t know, I felt sentimental about the man behind the legend.” She scoffed and looked at Annie’s bewildered face.

“When I was done at work I heard a knock, but by the time I came to the door there was no one there except-” She reached into her purse and pulled out the first amaryllis, “-except this.” Annie took the flower from her and studied it as if she’d find the answers she was looking for. “It’s an amaryllis, it means something along the lines of beauty and worth. Then just last night I woke up with another in my hand” She pulled out the second bloom, “The hand he held before I fainted.” Annie relinquished the flower back to her confused companion.

“As creepy as that is, it still doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t say his- wait, you didn’t say his name right?” Anya nearly barked out laughter at that.

“Jesus Annie, of course not! My mother instilled the fear of god into me as a child about even saying Candyman in conversation!”

“So what, you give him a flower and suddenly he wants to be your best friend?”

“I know how it sounds without you repeating it, Annie Tarrant! He may have left me flowers, but he never appeared to me; not like he did with you” She strained to keep her voice leveled, “Have you seen him since last night in any way?”

Annie’s eyes widened slightly, her breathing becoming deeper as she nodded.

“When Paul was still in surgery I was in his intended room waiting. I looked up at the windows and he was there, in the reflection just looking at me. He told me that I’d brought him here, that I needed to come with him and there was this...this painting? I don’t know, but then-” She closed her eyes as if to block out the memory, “-then there was a vision of him slitting Mom’s throat.” She could no longer hold her tears back at the reminder of what she’d seen.

Any irritation Anya had felt before evaporated at the sight of Annie’s vulnerability, her maternal instincts took over as she embraced the shaking blonde. Annie would never do something she knew would bring harm to the people she cared for, it just wasn’t in her nature. As much as Elena had always warned them of names and the power they held, it was ludicrous to think that actually performing a childhood dare would make him flesh. Vadim had performed the Bloody Mary dare on more than one occasion unbeknownst to their mother and he had always come out laughing, no vengeful ghost to speak of.

Yet while Annie had uttered the infamous name, Anya had not and yet- and yet she could still sense him; sense his now unmistakable presence. As long as she didn’t say his name she’d be safe, hopefully, long enough to help Annie. Now that she knew Candyman was indeed real, it made more sense as to why Ethan had been acting so odd. While he’d still been an arrogant fool in the face of help he clearly had been trying to protect them, tried to keep the idea of Candyman a dead man’s tale.

That had backfired spectacularly.

“Anya, I don’t know what to do. What if he tries to hurt Paul again?” Annie clutched Anya’s back as if a lifeline.

“The only thing we can do is figure out what he wants and how to stop him. The sooner we do that the longer we can stay alive.” She pulled back from the hug as Annie calmed herself, but one question remained.

“You still didn’t fully answer my question” Anya cocked her head in confusion, “What does he want with you if you haven’t said his name?” While it wasn’t something she wanted to think about, Annie had a point.

“That’s something I intend to find out.”

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She was insane, nutty, absolutely bonkers for wanting to go back to that shrine. It wasn’t a good idea in any way, shape or form and really how could it be? Going there in the first place was purely academic if not a tad sentimental, but wanting to go again after everything? No sane human being in their right mind would dare.

Alas, here she was, standing before the screaming mural alone.

Something about being alone in here this time around felt more dangerous. Perhaps because only the night before her friends had nearly died at the hands of the man she’d paid her respects to; the man she thought to be a myth long buried. The only comfort she had was that she had not used his name in front of the mirror, rendering him unable to physically manifest in her presence. Even with that thought she could still feel him there with her, as if he was waiting in the shadows hoping she’d call to him properly.

“I suppose we’re past the point of formalities at this rate” She crossed her arms and kept her gaze on the lit candles before her, “You did try to kill my friend, after all.” No response greeted her as she bit her lip.

“I don’t think Annie knew what she was doing when she called you, it was purely selfless. That’s Annie for you though, putting her life at risk in order to calm down a few rowdy boys- boys that were up in arms over you I might add!” If someone were to come in at this moment, they’d most assuredly be calling the psych ward at the sight of a crazed redhead talking to a wall.

She started to pace and rake her nails through mussed red tresses, eyes wandering from mural to mural in agitation. She finally settled on the one that showed Candym- Daniel being restrained by jeering dandies in preparation to saw off his hand; his mouth agape and eyes wide in fear.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you went through, be hard pressed to find anyone that could I think” She once again found herself reaching out to touch his restrained hand, “To die for love- die for loving someone that society deems against the norm isn’t quite as romantic as philosophers make it out to be. My uncle learned that the hard way…” She trailed off, letting her fingers slip down the wall and back to her side.

No, she wouldn’t share more of herself with this man after what he’d done.

“Look” She turned with a new found ferocity back to the shrine, “I don’t know what you want with Annie, you would have killed her already if you had no use for her. Say the name and end them groin to gullet, right? Well whatever you’re planning, I won’t let you have her so easily; she’s had enough taken from her” Her eyes bore into the mismatched painted ones as if daring him to come uncalled, “And so have I.” With one last long look at the mural Anya turned to leave with the setting sun, long lit candles extinguishing behind her only seconds after with a strong gust of wind.

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That night found her in her bed with Philip Purcell’s book, trying to absorb as much information as she could.

Daniel Robitaille...

Born to slaves…

Educated…

Artist by trade…

Fell in love…

Died for love…

The pages turned rapidly as she attempted to learn more about this man, eyes not moving fast enough for her liking. If it wasn’t for the manner in which his story ended, his life almost could have been the perfect romance. Two people from different worlds falling into each other's arms thanks to a commissioned painting, a child as a result of their passions.

Unfortunately tragedy and hatred presented at the forefront of this story. Never would their love have been allowed to continue due to their statuses in life; the different color of their skin.

Yet Daniel was the one who was punished- was the one who paid with his life and, evidently, his soul.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely fair of her to think. The thought of having to watch the man you love die as his child grew within you, knowing he’d never get to love them the way they deserved to be loved; the way he deserved to be loved.

Maybe a good night’s rest would clear her mind enough to do more research in the morning. She placed the book in the top drawer of her nightstand, her eye catching on the two red flowers that still lay on the surface next to her lamp.

“Worth beyond beauty…” Her fingertips grazed the petals of one as if in a trance before shaking herself out of it and switching the lamp off.

She felt her body begin to relax as the darkness pulled her under and dreams filled her mind.

The field in front of her was blanketed in the purest snow and lit ethereal by the full moon above. Her feet bore no shoes yet she could not feel the cold, it was her dream after all. The distinct sound of a melody flowed around her, a violin’s beautiful yet melancholy cry and the keys of a gentle piano following in its wake enticing her into a dance.

Her movements were slow to start, gradually evolving into a sure yet slow routine to match the song all around her. Moon beams danced off her fiery hair as the tender breeze blew snowflakes to kiss the flowing tresses, her simple pale pink dress touching just to the middle of her knees over and over again as she moved.

The footprints she made filled in almost as quickly as they were created as gleaming crystals replaced them in the wake of the moon. Every night she wondered why it was always snow, why did her mind immediately take her here? The mind could imagine many splendored images, fireflies over a lush meadow where Puck lay hidden and uttering at the foolishness of mortals; Rapunzel’s sunlit tower surrounded by stained glass and old books.

Yet deep in her soul, she knew why here; why snow.

The last and only memory she had of her time in Russia was a happy one, something she kept close to her heart and always would. She and Vadim had made snow angels as both of her parents stood within a few feet of their children.

Both of her parents…

Not only was this the last and only memory she had of Russia, but also that of her father. Ivan Fyodorov was a name that had not been uttered in what felt like decades yet he haunted her just as much as the thought of Candyman did. His salt and pepper beard riddled with snowflakes and his body wrapped in a dark brown fur, arm laced with Elena’s much more delicate one.

She remembered how his whiskey brown eyes never strayed from his two children and his mouth in what appeared to be a permanent straight line. Her younger self had caught his gaze and smiled so wide that a flicker of something akin to warmth passed through his eyes before her memory went blank.

Maybe that was it. The snow held that memory, froze it in an eternal loop for her only.

Her body went into a few quick pirouettes before halting with one hand stretched before her and the other gently grasped in a warm hand from behind. Hear senses heightened and raised at the hackles, never before had anyone else ever joined her dream; not this one.

Red hair flew as she whipped her head around, her lips parting in an attempt to take in more air that her lungs couldn’t seem to find.

There he stood in all his broad glory just the same as she had seen him at Annie’s. His hand once again grasping hers gently as she stood in her final pose, wide blue eyes intertwining with intense brown that seemed to keep her in place.

“It’s you…” Her voice was but a mere whisper, “How?” His lips parted ever so slightly as his fingers tightened around her hand gently.

“This place that you’ve created does not exist on a physical plane” His voice only seemed to have gotten deeper since last she saw him, “Therefore, I am able to come to you without a proper calling.” His arm began to tug softly as if he was keeping hold of a frightened doe, her own body slowly twisting fully towards him and willingly following his pull.

Once their chests were within inches, the hand holding hers raised slightly as the other came to rest at the small of her back in a waltz position. She had expected to feel the sting of cold metal at her spine, but was instead surprised at the warmth of a large palm. He smirked as if reading her mind.

“In dreams, we can be whomever we so choose” The music still played on a never ending loop around them as he began to sway with her gingerly, “We can perform tasks that one only yearns for in the mortal world.” His voice almost seemed to mesh with the music perfectly, as if the song existed only to be in sync with him.

He spun her delicately, her hair caressing his coat in a stark contrast of flame dancing in the night sky. They moved effortlessly around and with each other in a way that frightened her. He was attuned to her movements and she to his more so than any dance partner she’d ever encountered. Yes this was a dream and things were obviously different in this reality, but she had a feeling that his grace and agility was something that carried over into the real world just as hers did.

His hand remained a constant reassurance at the small of her back through every dip and twirl while the other engulfed her fingers entirely. They were larger than any she could remember yet long and elegant in the fingers with no calluses to speak of, an artist's hand through and through.

“In the world of the living this hand remains a grizzled reminder of my death, a cruel tease that numbs touch. But here?” He dropped the hand holding hers and slid the other around her waist so that it squeezed her securely into a one armed lift, their bodies chest to chest with her one arm wound around his neck as he spun her a mere two times; stopping gradually to slide her back down to their starting position, “I can feel you with both as if I still lived.” His voice gentled to a whisper and tempting her body into the desire for another dance.

Her breath was labored in a way it shouldn’t have been, years of physical fitness and training allowing her a high stamina and control of oxygen. He had an unnatural effect over her and perhaps that was the dream blending with his own supernatural aura, she couldn’t be sure, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“The flowers” She suddenly remembered, her hand sliding down from his shoulder, “Why the flowers? Why me?” His hand left her waist and caught hers as it lay just above his heart, keeping it pressed there.

“You bestowed unto me the same, did you not? More than that, you’ve done something no one has managed to do in a very long time” His other hand once again dropped her hand in favor of cupping her cheek, his hand so big and fingers so long that he almost cradled her entire head, “You’ve intrigued me- enraptured my attention.” He dipped his face closer to hers as her eyes fluttered at his proximity.

“You, Anastasia, are an enigma that I long to discover. A lone woman who leaves the first shred of kindness I’ve felt in centuries as an offering and calls me by my name” Her eyes fluttered back open, “My true name.” His own eyes drifted down to her lips and lingered there as she finally felt able to conjure words to her tongue.

“Wh- what do you want with A- Annie?” Vadim would laugh at how pathetic she sounded right now.

“Quite the question, one for another time. For now?” He leaned in as if to kiss her, thumb tracing her bottom lip, “I think it best if you...wake up.” She felt the music around her stop as the dream melted away into a mixture of snow and honey, the bright morning of light greeting her in a warm caress.

She opened her eyes at the ever persistent sun beams, a gasp leaving her throat as she felt around; sighing in relief when she touched the blankets of her bedding. A dream, a very realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless. Truly it had felt as if she never fell asleep at all. The feel of his hands, the brush of snowflakes on her face, his breath on her cheek; it truly was the most realistic dream she’d ever had.

He’d been so brutal in his pursuit of Paul that she almost believed he had some sort of alter ego. Dream be damned, to be so savagely harsh yet delicately soft was a conundrum. Maybe something he had said would resonate with Annie, she’d need to tell her right away. She sighed and stretched her limbs, shaking the sleep from her bones and letting her eyes drift over to the nightstand where her red blooms now held new company.

There in plain view was a sprig of what looked like sweetpea.

She sat up and snatched the white flower as she threw the covers off; padding over to her book case in concentration. Her fingers skimmed the well used spines until they settled on a manual of botany and began to flip through the pages until she found the letter ‘S’.

Saffron

Sage

Snowdrop

Ah! There it was, sweetpea. Derived from the Geek word “lathyros” of which translates to ‘pulse’. In terms of its own language, the sweetpea can mean delicate pleasure, blissful pleasure, a declaration of thanks for a lovely time and adieu.

Oh.

She let the book slip to the floor as she brought the flower towards her face. That dream was, in a way she didn’t understand, seemingly- well, real. He had come to her without the call, but how was that possible? Was it true how he described it? The thought of dreams and the unconscious plane having different rules than that of reality didn’t seem that crazy; especially with how much she’d been thinking of him subconsciously. Now that she knew this it was imperative that she talked to Annie about it.

Well, maybe she would keep the part about dancing with him private for now.

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“Yeah, you’re gonna have to run that by me again.” An incredulous Annie crossed her arms at what she’d just been told.

Her reaction to Anya’s dream would have been humorous if it wasn’t for the fact that the blonde had summoned the very same hooked specter through a mirror and encountered him in her home.

“You heard me, he somehow found a way to communicate with me and...that just happens to be through my dreams” She rubbed her temples at Annie’s furrowing brow, “Look, I know it sounds weird-”

“That’s an understatement-”

“-but it’s real. He may not be able to come to me like he has you, but he sure as other ways. For what purpose...that’s what I’ll need to figure out.”

“Did he say anything of interest last night?” The question was innocent enough, but it also brought a light dusting of red to her cheeks at the thought of their dance.

She hadn’t been able to resist him, as outrageous as that sounded. This man- this ghost had nearly killed her friend the other night and was now stalking the other for reasons she couldn’t understand. Even with all of that in mind, she had not been able to fight him.

There was something so alluring and calming about the man even with the bloody hook embedded into his wrist; he had an aura that could pull you in and never let go.

She’d need to work on resisting that if she ever wanted to get straight answers.

“Not really, just a bunch of cryptic bullshit.” She didn’t like lying to Annie, but now wasn’t the time to tell her she waltzed with her husband’s almost killer.

“Dammit, I was hoping you’d have good news to balance out mine” Anya quirked her head, “It’s Matthew, some of the kids came by mom’s this morning. He’s gone missing.” Annie began to pace, anxiety practically dripping from her pores.

“Missing? What would-”

“I said his name in front of Matthew. I said Candyman five times in the mirror just to calm him down, show him there was nothing that could happen and-” She sighed deeply, “-and now he’s missing, that can’t be a coincidence.” Anya bit her lip thoughtfully.

“What about his father? He’s a Pastor just up the road, right? He may not know where Matthew is, but maybe he has some insight.” As long as they could get him to speak to them at all.

“That might work” Annie retrieved her keys from the counter, “Let me just make a quick trip to check on Paul and we can head over there.” She motioned Anya to follow, the red head already making strides to follow before something out of the corner of her eye stopped her.

There in the reflection of one of Annie’s windows was the silhouette of a very familiar man, hook raised in greeting. She turned to look where the reflection would be coming from with a gasp...only to see nothing.

“Anya? Yah comin’?” Annie called out.

“Yeah! Sorry-” She turned back to the window to see the reflection gone with only a small bee buzzing around in place from outside, “-I forgot my bag, coming!”

The little bee buzzed around after the red head, watching as she entered the car; its small body softly landing on a nearby bush of sweet pea as the car drove off.

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