#why did peter drury go so hard

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Lovelace House -- We’ve Done Something Really Bad

inspired by the amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​        

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbaby​

You know who you are.

Sixteen:        The Lovelace House

                                We’ve Done Something Really Bad

“Tony, you have to come out and talk to me as soon as you can.  I really, seriously, for serious, just-say-nojoke, really really mean it.  I mean it, Tony, it’s heavy.  You have to come out.  We’ve done something really bad.”

But it was too early, of course.  Even covering up the window with a blanket wouldn’t help.  It was two hours until sundown and even at his strongest, Tony couldn’t come out from under the bed if there was more than an hour of daylight left.  Peter knew that.

But Peter also knew what Tony had told him many times, that when he was fed better there was a great deal of daylight he could tolerate.  “If I am unseen and unheard,” he would say cryptically, but Peter hadn’t asked too many questions.  He simply didn’t have any pigs or sheep to feed Tony whether he wanted to or not. 

Going outside was difficult, Aunt May was beside herself with fear and flitting helplessly about the kitchen or else sitting bold upright on the sofa, looking out the window with wide eyes.  Peter talked her down with gentle, steady words, assuring her he was just going to check on the animals.  It wasn’t difficult, convincing her to do the same, to go and try to lure the cats-that-come-to-the-house and lock them in the garage for the night.  Making it all the easier for Peter to catch one of the barncats and sneak it into his bedroom.

The half-grown kitten snuggled peacefully into Peter’s arms.  They all snuggled peacefully if you rubbed the scruff of their neck long enough.  It didn’t move, or protest at all, when Peter took it firmly by the scruff of the neck and held it down under the bed.  As he felt it’s heartbeat slow underneath his hand his own heartbeat quickened.  Feeling it’s tiny body melt in his hands until it was nothing 

but a pile of fur on the floor, well, that was a sensation Peter could have gone his whole life without. 

Still, it didn’t produce Tony.  

So he went and got another one.

After the second cat died peacefully under his bed Peter began to get really nervous.  The second time he had gone to the barn the barncats had run from him, as if they knew.  Besides, that was the last cat with any black on it – Tony especially liked black cats.  According to him, the Post Daughters never offered him anything but black cats.  Peter was sitting cross legged on his floor, vaguely wondering where a man could get a black cat an hour at 4 o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday when Tony began to emerge from under the bed.

Peter didn’t close his eyes.  He forced himself to watch his friend transform from the thick, pitchblack smoke into a human form.  It flitted through his mind that Tony didn’t smell of earth and old incense anymore.  Now he smelled of books and Aunt May’s dryer sheets.  He smelled like Peter’s bedroom.

Soon Tony was sitting cross legged in front of Peter, knee to knee.  Peter was concerned to see that he didn’t look strong at all.  He was back to that lean, gaunt look he wore after he had done a great deal of work and needed to rest.  He had silver hair at his temples again.  Peter had sent him all the way to the library in Ithica to check to see if some book titles were there, and Tony always had to rest after trips like that.  Peter cursed himself now.  He hadn’t really needed to check on books in Ithica.  He had just said that to keep Tony busy.

Tony didn’t speak, but his face was full of concern.  He took both Peter’s hands in his and waited patiently.

“Tony, we did something really bad,” Peter said, his voice breaking.  He had been brave in front of Aunt May.  He had been brave in front of Uncle Ben.  He had been brave with Mrs. Drury on the telephone.  He took a deep breath and tried to be brave now.

“Do you remember when I sent you to the Lovelace house to feed on Missy’s fear, and I told you I wanted you to make her not afraid of her father?  But you saw things, you saw other things going on in that house, didn’t you…”

Tony nodded.  “But you told me not to tell you.  You bade me not spy upon them…”

Peter nodded, his breath catching.  “I know, I know.  And I bade you convince Missy to stop monopolizing the new teacher all the time…” 

Peter’s voice broke.  He didn’t try to go on.  He couldn’t believe how selfish he had been.  Every kid had wanted Miss Drury’s undivided attention, but that’s why he had been so irritated at Missy.  Because she was getting it.  Talking to Miss Drury every day after school when Peter had wanted to pick the new science teacher’s brain about Charles Darwin.  The Devil’s Holler school curriculum wasn’t supposed to dwell too much on evolution (Origin of Species wasn’t even in the school library) but Miss Drury had actually been to the Galapagos Islands, and the Darwin Museum in London to boot.  Peter wasn’t the only one who was irritated that Missy seemed to be talking to Miss Drury privately every day.  Yes, Miss Drury had told them “If you have any questions you can call me, day or night,” and given them her private number, but that had been to all of them.  Not just the girls.  Not just Missy Lovelace.

When Peter had told Uncle Ben about how different Miss Drury was, about how she was strict enough to keep the boys Personal Health class completely in line (something Peter considered miraculous) and yet personable enough to get those same boys to ask questions they’d never thought they’d be voicing out loud, Ben had told him “don’t get attached.” 

“Teacher’s like that don’t stay long in schools like Devil’s Holler,” he had said, and Aunt May had told him to shush.  But Peter understood.  First-year teachers, fresh out of college, never stayed more than a year at his backwater school.  Miss Drury had arrived in December after Mr. Huntly accidentally shot his thumb off during a hunting trip and had to retire early.  Arrived just in time for the boys and girls to be split up for health class.  Rumor had it she was the best split-class teacher Devil’s Holler ever had.   It was March now, and rumor had it Miss Drury would be moving back to New York City at the end of May.  Rumor had it she never even unpacked her bags.

Tony was watching Peter’s face closely as he scrubbed away the tears.  Finally he spoke.

“You bade me convince the girl to stop speaking to the new teacher in private, unless it was of great importance.” 

Peter’s breath caught.  “Did I, did I say that?”  He asked, taking a deep gulping breath, his body flooding with relief.  He had said that.  It had been the day that Miss Drury had been fifteen minutes late for his science class because she had been talking down a crying Missy in the hallway.  When she had returned to the class, having sent the inconsolable Missy to the office, she herself was too discombobulated to teach, and declared it a free period.  The rest of the class seemed to think it was a good thing.  Peter was livid. 

“She’s afraid of so many things, there’s so much for you to eat there,” Peter had explained to Tony that night, after drawing the map showing Tony how to get to the Lovelace house.  It sat on the other side of the southern border, where Tony knew the Berthwald seals were weakest.  It was no great matter for him to visit the derelict mobile home where Missy lived with her mom and dad.  “She’s afraid of big dogs and spiders and this house and big cities and half the stuff on TV.  And she’s so afraid of her dad.  When she gets bad grades she gets so scared she shakes.  But when she gets an A?  She cries.  She says her dad hates people who “think they’re smart.”  That’s why he hates me.  Which is fine, but it’s the craziest thing, Tony.  If she gets lower than a C she’ll complain all the way home, but if she gets an A?  She’ll let the paper blow away so she doesn’t have to take it home.  There’s enough fear in that house to feed you the rest of your life.  And, can you make her forget that whole ‘Tom Dylan/Laura Foster’ story?  I’m sick to death of hearing how romantic that story is.  It’s not romantic.  That man cut off his girlfriend’s hands.  I’m tired of hearing about it.”

Peter shook his head hard, trying to rid himself of the memories.  He took a deep, steadying breath.  Tony was holding his hands firmly and looking closely at his face.  Peter squeezed those hands and nodded.

“Good.  That’s good.  I’m glad I said that.  That was one good thing we did, then.

“Because last night Missy called Miss Drury at her house and asked if it was okay that her dad was planning on burying her mom in the backyard.  She didn’t think it was right, but she was worried because she knew she couldn’t her mom in the bedroom forever.  Because the body was attracting flies.

“Miss Drury told her to leave out her window and walk to our house, and I don’t know how she even got up the nerve to do it because she’s afraid of the dark, AND my house, but she did it.  Miss Drury took her car and met her at the end of our road.  We never even knew she was there.  Miss Drury took her to the police and she’s at her Aunt’s house.  We wouldn’t have even known about it if Miss Drury hadn’t called us this morning.

“Tony, Mr. Lovelace killed his wife, and now nobody knows where he is.  The police told us not to worry about it but that’s because Mr. Lovelace is Sheriff Bentley’s cousin.  Uncle Ben asked for a policeman to park in our driveway and they just laughed at him.  Aunt May is really scared.  Mr. Lovelace threatened us over the phone more than once and he sent us that weird letter?  And I guess he and Uncle Ben had an argument out by his property when one of their dog went missing… and we all know what happened to John Wickam.  And the last time he saw Uncle Ben he said some things but I don’t know what.  No one will tell me anything.  But Missy and Mike both told me he once said he’d shoot me if he ever saw me…”

Tony nodded calmly.

“Is there…?  Do you know?  I know I told you I didn’t want to know what was going on in that house, but…”

“He has declared to his family that he shall shoot you with his army pistol if you cross onto his property.  He believes you mean to marry his daughter.  And he has explained the use of the same weapon upon your Uncle Ben.”

Peter’s shoulder’s sank.  “He called last night sounding drunk but Aunt May just hung up on him and took the phone off the hook.  Uncle Ben’s cleaned out the riffle and loaded it, and I haven’t even seen that thing since we first moved here.  It’s serious, Tony.”

He shook his head hard, straightened his shoulders, and held onto Tony’s hands tightly, and looked him square in the eye. 

“I really, seriously, for serious, just-say-nojoke, really really need you to find Mr. Lovelace.  I need you to find him and kill him.  Before he even gets on our property…”  His voice broke.  He took a deep breath and tried to continue.  “I know it doesn’t have to hurt.  Take the light out of his brain first, because I don’t want him to suffer…”  But Tony was shaking his head sadly.

Holding Peter’s hands,  Tony leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, and when he spoke, he spoke very gently.

“I cannot.  

“In your fifteenth year you forbade me from ‘killing people again.’”  He nuzzled along the side of Peter’s face, stroking along his lips with one thumb.  “The spell for unbinding me from your prohibition are in the books that were burned…”

Peter sobbed and sank into Tony’s arms.  Tony pulled him completely into his lap and rocked him back and forth, gentling him and caressing his hair while Peter wept with relief.  

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AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Yes, Peter has done something very bad with the power he had available to him.  However, I must point out, that had Peter stayed in New York City he would have also done something very bad with the power available to him, the results would have ended in Uncle Ben’s death.  This is a painful part of the hero’s journey, but it is a vital part.

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Master Post (Not THAT Master Post, I mean the Table of Contents)

Please direct all discussion/questions/constructive criticism to @witchwayisright​