wildberryjams - Tumblr blog

wildberryjams · 2 years ago

Text

belly of the beast | bruno x mc | 7100+ words | read on ao3

warnings: mild gore, injury, demons, ghosts, general haunted house things (no one dies)

a/n: There's a longer note on AO3 so I'll just keep it brief: I love writing Bruno, I'm mad at myself for not seeing the light sooner, I miss the S4 crew & Happy Halloween! ♡

"Is this the place?" Thabi asks with a squeak.

Paloma glances up from the decaying map to the decaying house in the center of the decaying woods.

"Think so."

"You can't be serious," Bruno says, head hanging out of the window. "One look at this house and I know people have died here. The vibes are fucking rotten."

"I agree with Bruno," Najuma nods, eyes wide. "I'm not setting a foot inside that house."

"Look, guys, I know this isn't ideal, but the faster we get in, the faster we know if it's salvageable," Paloma sighs, leaning into the drivers' side window.

"The faster we get out," Will adds from the passenger seat. "Paloma's right."

The van erupts into groans, but Angie shouts before it can devolve into an argument.

"I don't like this either, but we agreed that we're here to support Paloma," Angie says in tandem with the door lock. "She's our friend, she needs help, and we're here to do that. End of."

That seemed to boost everyone's spirits, but the atmosphere outside of the van is eerily quiet. There've been no signs of human life for miles now.

Even the woods speak in a hushed tone, the sound of the wind barely rustling the leaves.

Yawning, Paloma takes a moment to stretch her legs as her friends slide out of the van.

"Mask? Mask?" Thabi asks, handing out crisp surgical masks fresh from the pack.

"What if I wanted to die of asbestos poisoning?" Bruno jokes with a fake pout.

"Let's not," Will shakes their head. "And say we didn't."

"Party pooper."

"With the look of this place, you'll probably have plenty of opportunities to die here," Najuma says, securing her bun with a brightly colored scarf.

"I personally think a Looney Tunes death is the only way Bruno's going out," Paloma laughs, sliding boot covers onto her sneakers.

"You know... you're right. I hope it's a banana peel," Bruno grins. "Classic."

"Or Final Destination," Angie adds, pinching her mask down to show her playful smile.

"No way," Thabi shakes her head. "I've never been able to look at planes the same."

"Or cars. Or roller coasters. Or bridges. Or tanning beds," Najuma murmurs, earning a shoulder nudge from Angie.

As they finish up grabbing their cleaning supplies and protective gear, Paloma notices that Will's stopped speaking.

It wouldn't be uncharacteristic for them to be quiet... if they weren't staring up at the house, eyes wide, chest heaving.

Paloma inches up next to him, calling his name softly.

"Will? Hey, Will? Willem –"

He jolts, nearly losing his footing. "Uh, I – uh. Did you... see that?"

"See what?"

"In the window." They point a shaky finger towards the top floor.

There's nothing there.

"Can you see her?"

"Will... You're scaring me," Paloma chuckles weakly, trying to keep her voice down.

She doesn't want to spook the others – they're on edge as is.

Will turns his head towards her, his eyes lingering on the window till the last minute, deep brown irises meeting her own.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," they say with a smile that doesn't meet their eyes. "Don't mention this to the others?"

"Of course," Paloma nods, pulling them into a hug. "Babes, if you need to wait in the car, don't hesitate."

He nods, takes a shaky breath. "Yeah. Thanks. I'm gonna splash some water on my face. Maybe I'm just sleepy."

"You're always sleepy," Bruno says from right behind them, hooking his arm around Will's neck. "Whoa, geezer, you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright. No worries," Will mumbles unconvincingly, wandering off to the car.

Angie, Thabi, and Najuma join Paloma and Bruno at the foot of the stairs, staring upwards at the looming mansion, arms intertwined like they're moments from skipping down the yellow brick road.

"So, what's the game plan?" Bruno asks with a yawn.

Paloma glances over the bleeding ink of the map once more, before handing it off to her friends to inspect. She pulls out the letter she'd received that was paired with this map.

She'd only known of this house's existence for a couple of days, and her distant relative not much longer.

Great-aunt Ana Losada spent most of her life alone, from what Paloma gathered. Never married, never had children, never kept in contact long enough for family members to connect with her.

She's both a blindspot for the Losada family and a huge mystery.

So when a lawyer called her with information about a family member's will and testament, Great-aunt Ana was the last person on her mind.

––––

"A mansion? With everything in it?" Najuma asks, eyes big as plates.

"Yeah, it sounds too good to be true," Paloma shrugs, gulping down her pint. "I definitely annoyed them with how many times I asked if it was a prank."

"Maybe she thought you were the only person capable of taking on the responsibility?" Thabi asks, swirling her straw around her cocktail.

"Well if you ask me –" Bruno starts, but is immediately cut off by Angie.

"No one did."

"Rude. Anyway, my theory is that she taped your names onto a dartboard and called the first person she hit – wait," Bruno stops, cocks his head to the side. "She was ancient, right? Maybe she wrote your initials on bingo balls and cranked the handle till it spelled a name!"

"Paloma doesn't exactly fit on a board," Will shrugs.

"Angie, Thabi, and Bruno fit," Thabi pipes up with a buzzed giggle, counting on her fingers.

"Will does," Bruno grins. "Kinda. W-I-Free space-L-L. Wi...ll."

"Well, we're shit outta luck, babes," Najuma laughs, leaning over to hug Paloma.

"So much for the bingo theory," Bruno sighs.

"Have you seen the house yet?" Angie asks, lapping up the beer foam off her lip.

Paloma shakes her head. "No photos or anything. It's deep in the woods so I couldn't even find a street view of it online."

"That's really fucking bizarre, honestly," Angie quirks up a brow. "Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I'm not comfortable with you going there alone."

The table murmurs in drunken agreement. It's hard to hold back a smile at her friends' love for her.

"Well, feel free to take anything in the house, really. I don't know what's in there, but mi casa es su casa." Paloma tips back the rest of her beer.

"You're thinking of selling it?" Will asks, seemingly a bit upset at the information.

"Well... yeah, I'm thinking about it. I wasn't going to move in or anything," Paloma draws circles in the condensation of her glass mug. "I... don't know anything about Aunt Ana. She's a stranger to me, you know what I mean?"

"Maybe she won't be after we visit," Will shrugs.

––––

"Let's do a sweep of the house and figure out the floor plan," Paloma starts once Will has joined them. "Then we can reconvene in the foyer – I'm assuming they have one – and go from there."

Bruno raises his hand.

"Yes, Bruno?"

"Am I allowed to, like, swat and/or smush and/or stomp bugs to death?"

"Well... yeah. Do you plan on, I dunno, breaking through the floorboards when you kill one?"

Bruno lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. "I wouldn't put it past me."

"Here." Thabi digs through her cleaning bucket, tossing him a pair of gloves and a can of bug spray.

"Thabi, if a spider tries to harm you, I'll literally lay down my life for you."

"What about me?" Najuma asks, hand on her hip.

"I can't die twice."

"Unfortunately," Najuma laughs with a roll of her eyes. "I'll remember that."

"Okay, okay, any other questions?" Paloma asks, reeling it back in.

"Yeah, who's that?" Bruno asks nonchalantly, pointing to the window.

Paloma's stomach drops. She chills over, goosebumps rising across her exposed skin.

It can't be what Will saw... right?

They all crane their necks back, back, back until the window is in sight –

"AERRRRGHHH OOGA BOOGA BOOGA –"

Bruno can barely get the last "booga" out before Angie has him in a headlock, and the entire group is booing him for his prank.

"Uncle! Tio! Onkel! Fuck – wujek!" He coughs when she releases him, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, I admit that wasn't my best joke."

"If you don't want to get curb stomped, I'd suggest shutting up from here on," Angie frowns, crossing her arms.

Bruno smiles apologetically. "I, uh, yeah. Sorry guys. I'll wait till we're safely in the car to be a nuisance."

"Can't wait for that," Paloma grins, and shoots him a thumbs up.

His smile stretches naturally this time, eyes crinkling at the corners. He seems relieved that at least she's forgiven him.

Digging the master key from her pocket, she takes the first step up the stairs, daring to keep going despite the wood creaking under her weight.

It takes her a few tries to get the key in the rusty lock, but when she does, it clicks and... pulls away from her, like the door has a mind of its own.

It folds inward, cre-e-e-aking till the thick wood thuds against the wall. It's dark despite how bright and early it is outside. Thick dark curtains block out any sun, blending into the nearly black walls, tinted with a subtle blue-green.

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, coated with cobwebs and an inch of dust.

Is it – swinging?

"You were right – there's a foyer!" Thabi says excitedly, dissolving the initial tension.

"Oh my days... with the right amount of TLC, this could be my dream home," Najuma muses, taking the first few steps into the house.

"Sounds like an offer to me," Bruno jokes almost timidly.

"In the middle of a creepy forest? I'm goth, yeah, but I'm not stupid," she hums, tugging at a tall lamp's string, grinning when it turns on.

The group begins venturing out into the foyer, small timid steps graduating into confident ones as they explore the first room.

"So, how are we doing this?" Angie asks, scanning the double staircase.

"Let's split up and look for clues!" Bruno says triumphantly, putting on his best Fred voice.

"You're literally Shaggy," Najuma stares at him with wide eyes. "You are so not Fred."

"I could be Fred – don't put me into a box, Najuma, I'm not a mime –"

While they bicker, Paloma reads over a part of the letter again.

"The house, and anything in it, is yours. However, I would implore you to treat the house with respect. Even though you are now the owner, you are still a guest: to me, and to the house. Be careful when moving things around as to avoid damaging the house and said possessions. All of the belongings in this house were precious to me and to whoever came before me. Sometimes the doors jam, and the pipes don't quite work, and the roof leaks when it rains. Either way, it's home. Maybe someday, you'll come to respect this house the way I've revered it for decades. Enjoy it while you can, because it's old and withered and might not withstand the weather for much longer. No one can take this house from you – remember that. Take care."

Paloma sighs and pockets the letter.

"This note tells me absolutely nothing except Aunt Ana wants me to keep the house from leechy landlords," she murmurs to Thabi, crossing her arms. "I guess we should go in pairs."

"Daphne, Velma –" Paloma points to Najuma and Thabi, respectively. "You take this floor."

"Shaggy, Velma's lesbian awakening –" She points to Bruno and Angie. "You take the second floor."

Angie is giggling still, and wraps a friendly arm around Bruno's waist. "Yeah, yeah, let's get this over with."

"And I guess that means that Fred –" Paloma gestures to Will, then herself, "– and Scooby are taking the top floor."

"It's not very Scooby-like to break up the Shagster and the... Scoobster," Bruno raises his hands with a dramatic lift of his shoulders. "We're supposed to be a team, you know."

"It's just one sweep. You're a big boy. You can handle it," Paloma winks. "Let's meet back here innnn..."

She checks her watch, and pouts. "Shit. I dunno. Just make a sweep and come back to this spot when you feel like you've got a good idea of the floor plan."

Shaking her wrist and slapping the face, Paloma frowns. She'd just gotten this watch as a self-indulgent treat, and it was already dead.

"Cheap piece of rubbish," she mutters.

"Race ya to the top?" Bruno grins at Angie, and swivels around to dart up the left staircase before she can react.

"Oh, you little cheating asshole –" Angie hisses, sprinting to the right staircase.

"You wish you could get a piece of this sweet tight ass –"

"I guess that just leaves us, huh?" Paloma says, finally turning to face Will.

She freezes, chest tightening. "Uh, Will?"

He's staring at the high ceiling, eyes slowly raking from left to right. His breath is labored, his hands trembling as he fists the fabric at his sides.

"Paloma, I..." They tear their gaze from the ceiling back to her. "Something's wrong here."

"Like the window?"

"Yeah," they say, taking a shaky inhale through their nose, exhaling through pursed lips.

Paloma runs a hand over her short buzzed hair. "Are you seeing anything now?"

"No... But –" he stops himself, and clamps his mouth shut, shaking his head like he's clearing it.

"I can *hear* something."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She feels something close to her – too close – almost like it's... breathing down her neck. Right – behind – her.

She whips around just in time to feel the cool patch of air behind her shift away. There's nothing.

When she turns back to Will, he's still visibly scared, so she grabs one of his hands and squeezes comfortingly.

"Remember what you said a few minutes ago? The faster we get in –"

"– the faster we get out," they sigh, squeezing her hand back. "Yeah. Let's make it quick."

They climb the stairs Bruno and Angie raced up, discovering a small set of stairs to the top floor. It's creaky and quiet, and it's hard to see much of anything.

She hasn't let go of Will's hand yet, and they've made no move to loosen their grip either.

The small hallway has a few spare rooms and another door that's tucked away that presumably leads to the attic.

"Okay, can we, uh, head back now?" Will asks from behind her.

"Not yet, sorry. I'll just do a quick sweep, I promise," Paloma cranes her head back and gives him a gentle smile. "I'll open the door, scan the room, and move to the next one."

He nods, seemingly reassured.

The first door opens without a key – definitely a spare room with lots of knick knacks and whatever-the-hell else Aunt Ana wanted to lock away.

The second room was similar to the first, and so was the third. Half-filled spaces with things that weren't necessarily sentimental – just possessions.

"I guess she had a lot more rooms than she knew what to do with," Paloma sighs, throwing a look Will's way. "This is gonna be a lot to sort through, huh –"

Will slides a hand over her mouth and shushes her gently. Wordlessly, he points to the second room with a trembling hand.

The chair that once faced the window wobbles, newly flipped in their direction.

"It's her."

The attic door thumps behind them, like loud heavy fists rapping against the worn wood.

Paloma yelps, backing away with Will pressed up against her back. Thankfully, Will's legs are working and they tug her back towards the stairs.

Within minutes, they're all back in the foyer – Bruno and Angie banter and elbow each other, while Najuma and Thabi speak quietly with uneasy expressions.

"Should we tell them?" Paloma whispers to Will.

"Absolutely. I know I'd want someone to tell me," he says resolutely, confidence returning to his voice and gaze.

"Guys?" Thabi asks, voice low. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, 'bout what, love?" Bruno asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Something's off about this place," Najuma blurts. "I'm sorry, Paloma, but it's true. Thabi and I have felt off since we started snooping around."

"Najuma's right. It's like we're being watched or something," Thabi adds timidly.

"Huh? Are you both serious?" Angie asks, brows furrowed.

"One-hundred percent," Najuma says, holding Angie's gaze.

"I... saw something," Will says, clasping his hands in front of him, wringing them out like he's trying to physically push the fear from his body.

"When we turned off onto the unmarked road, I was already feeling a bit off, but I thought it was because I'm dead tired –" they suck in a sharp breath and shake their head vigorously. "When we pulled in, my stomach was churning... like I was frightened before I knew why."

They scan the room, making a point to make eye contact with each person, to prove they're not lying.

"I saw a lady in the window."

"You don't think it could've been a squatter?" Bruno asks sincerely.

"Out here?" Thabi asks, shakes her head, her curls swishing around her. "There's no way."

"We went upstairs and I saw her again. Same room, this time sitting down."

Will glances back down, this time at his hand, still firmly in Paloma's own.

"She was just sitting there – staring. I didn't get the vibe like I'd gotten before. This time it was like... she was warning us. Like she's giving us a chance to get out."

"I don't know about you all, but I'm not gonna die in here the day before Halloween," Najuma says, tearing her surgical gloves off and pocketing them.

"No one's dying," Angie rolls her eyes. "Look, I know this place is unsettling, but we drove all this way. We should at least take a thorough look before we run out screaming."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Will shrugs. "I'm spiritual, not religious, so I don't know if I can do anything about... whatever that is."

"Will's right. None of us are equipped for something like this," Paloma agrees, chewing her lip.

"Maybe we could stay right here and figure out what to do next," Bruno suggests. "We're not hurting any spirits if we don't leave the foyer, right?"

But will they hurt us? The question hangs in the thick air between them, an uneasy feeling spreading like wildfire.

They analyze the map again, and Thabi's limited knowledge she's gathered from giving tours helps them immensely – this is definitely a map that Aunt Ana has had for who knows how long.

And she decided to pass it and the house down to her great niece she's never met instead of trusting any other living relative to settle her affairs.

But that begged the question... who gave it to her? And why did she care so much about respecting the house and its contents?

The house creaks and moans around them, the walls breathing a quiet "Get out" with each new sound.

If the house is this lively in the morning, Paloma wants to stay far away from the nighttime.

"Should we split into groups of three this time? Maybe take the first two floors?" Angie asks, gesturing vaguely.

"Yeah, sounds good. Uh, let's just split it right down the middle to make it easy," Paloma murmurs, rereading the note for the tenth time.

"Okay Angie and Will, you're with me. We'll take this floor," Najuma beams, curling her arms around their necks, toothy grin in full bloom.

"Looks like Velma, Shaggy, and the Scoobster are reunited," Bruno pats both of them on the back gently.

Paloma waves to the other group, taking a moment to observe them before they go.

Angie is relaxed, a determined expression pulling her brows till they're furrowed in concentration. Najuma is somewhat relaxed, leaning against Will, seemingly trying to comfort him with touch.

And Will is... off. It's like some kind of darkness lingers, threatening to spill over at any moment. It's so wrong on them.

"What I'm still confused about is why the hell your Aunt left a note if it doesn't say much," Bruno says, scanning the note over Paloma's shoulders. "She didn't tell you anything about herself. Just kinda throws obvious info at you."

"Yeah, you're right," Paloma sighs. "I don't get it. Why me?"

"I dunno. Maybe she's on bad terms with everybody else in the family," Bruno shrugs. "From the looks of this place, she wasn't the social type."

"Maybe for good reason."

"Paloma... do you know how she died?"

She glances over at Thabi, who's wringing her hands at her waist.

"I mean... not really."

Bruno's eyes widened. "Wait, you have no idea how she died? Not even a newspaper clipping?"

"No, there's not an obituary on her cos we're in the middle of fucking nowhere," Paloma says and throws an arm up wildly. "I didn't know she existed until she died. Her cause of death isn't a priority to me."

Bruno winces, runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just thought that it might help us piece the puzzle together, you know what I mean?"

Sighing, she pulls Bruno into a hug. "I'm sorry, babe. This whole thing is getting to me."

"It's okay. I should be apologizing, honestly. I've been a proper nuisance today," Bruno laughs.

"And every other day," she grins, pressing a friendly kiss on his cheek (and pretending she didn't notice him blush afterwards).

"Guys..." Thabi says, squeezing her eyes shut. "I have an idea but I'm too frightened to see it through."

"What is it?"

"Well, what if Aunt Ana wanted you to come here for a reason, but... she couldn't tell you why?"

"Couldn't tell me? Why do you think that, Thabs?" Paloma asks, confused.

"Maybe she was too scared or... maybe she really needed you to come and you wouldn't believe her if she outright told you," Thabi says, hands trembling as she points to the note.

"I'm no Sherlock, so you're gonna have to spell this out for me," Bruno says, picking the note up.

"Acrostics."

"Is that... like lacrosse? With good acoustics –"

"It's a hidden message of sorts," she explains. "There's lots of types, but I'm referring to the type where the first letter of each sentence spells it out."

"Got it," Bruno says, skimming the paper.

"Here –" Paloma hands him a pen and he grabs it from her outstretched hand, getting to work.

In no time, Bruno's circled all the letters.

His face falls as his eyes dart back and forth, rereading it over and over like he doesn't want to believe it.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" Paloma asks.

Bruno lays the note down and starts scribbling out each capital letter while Paloma watches – Thabi is hiding behind her hands.

When he's done, he throws down the pen and folds his hands behind his head. "No, no, no –"

Paloma's heart sinks like a rock in water, settling in the form of a knot in the pit of her stomach.

DON'T GO IN THE BASEMENT

She stumbles back, nearly tripping over the uneven floorboards as she does so.

"Will, Thabi, Angie –"

Paloma barely gets the words out of her mouth when she catches Angie twisting a knob under the stairs.

"Hey Paloma you should come check this out – I think it's the basement –"

The door slams open with Angie's hand still wrapped around the knob, pinning her to the wall as she screams.

Najuma and Will are frantically yelling, tugging at the door, trying desperately to free her.

They're silenced by the snap of a bone, somehow loud enough to ricochet off the high ceiling like a gunshot splitting through a raucous crowd.

Angie groans in pain, slinking down with her crooked arm cradled in the other.

"What the fuck –" Najuma says with a shaky sob, crumbling till she's next to Angie.

Will locks eyes with Paloma from across the room, unblinking, unflinching.

Their whole body is straining, like they're flexing every muscle underneath a deadlift – teeth gritted, fists clenched.

The doorway to the basement is pitch black, framing Will's pale, rigid silhouette with midnight lines. But for a moment... before she blinks, she thinks she can see a pair of eyes above their head.

Will strains even harder, but it's like he's slinking back into the darkness – his eyes are losing their light with each passing moment. Only a few seconds have passed since Angie broke her arm, but it feels like a lifetime to Paloma and Will.

And as she opens her mouth to call out to Will, to warn him – he does, too.

In one quick sweep, he crumbles under the invisible force and surges forward, curling the crook of his arm around both Najuma and Angie's neck –

"RUN."

Will shouts the syllable with the rest of his effort, before giving Paloma one last apologetic smile, exactly like the one he wore after witnessing the woman in the window for the first time.

And with that – Will, Najuma, and Angie are dragged backwards into the darkness of the basement, screaming in terror as the door slams shut behind them.

"What the fuck?" Bruno screams, stumbling towards the space where their friends once stood. He rattles the knob to no avail, opting to kick and shoulder and kick again –

"Stop – Bruno –" Paloma whispers, throat burning with unshed tears.

"We can't just stand here like fucking dickheads," he argues, crossing the room back towards them. His eyes are wild, glistening with fear and adrenaline.

"We can't run in there without a plan, either," Paloma shakes her head, sinking her teeth into her lip to keep it from quaking.

"I – Thabi," he says, trying to reason with her. "We can't just... Those are our friends... They're –"

He folds into a heap on the ground, shoulders shaking with quiet sniffles.

Tears stream down Thabi's cheeks as she whispers: "What can we do?"

"Not much –" Paloma dries her tears with a quick swipe of the back of her hand.

She bends down to comfort Bruno and glances back at the basement.

"– but we can give it our all."

––––

The shed behind the house is full of razor sharp gardening equipment, a kitchen drawer full of rusty knives. Flashlights in the study, emergency candles under the bathroom sink – some burned down to the wick, some misshapen like they're homemade.

In exploring the safer parts of the house, Paloma's stumbled across a few not-so-creepy, almost endearing signs that Aunt Ana lived a full life in the secluded mansion.

Knitting needles and a half completed scarf in the sitting room. A half empty bottle of wine on top of the fridge. Dusty framed photos of her and her half sister (Paloma's abuela) litter the mantelpiece above the old brick fireplace.

An old newspaper and a full cup of coffee at the table.

Bruno commented on it first, while fastening various makeshift weapons to his toolbelt.

"Damn, did they really just pick up her body and leave everything intact?" He asked, peering over the mug.

He gags, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "There's clumps of mold on top of this – I'm gonna be sick –"

Paloma stops mid match-strike and grabs the newspaper.

"This is dated from months ago."

Thabi sidles up next to her, scanning the date to confirm. "Paloma... did they tell you when Aunt Ana died?"

"I mean, I assumed that it had to be right before the lawyers contacted me... right?"

Goosebumps prickle her skin again, a cool patch of air settling behind both her and Thabi.

She glances at Thabi just in time to see a few curls lifting, pinched like a fist is wrapped around it –

It slams her to the ground, dragging her across the ground as her high pitched scream tears through the space.

"HELP –"

She's reaching out to grab Paloma and Bruno as she's being dragged away at breakneck speed; Bruno trips over his own feet trying to grab her, and manages to clasp a hand around her ankle.

The force pulls harder, harder, harder –

"Paloma, check the letter's date –" Thabi chokes out, before Bruno's grip loosens, and her head cracks against the kitchen's door frame, blood streaking across the off-white paint.

Her eyes roll shut, and she's dragged away. Paloma sprints after her, but stops dead in her tracks when she sees the open basement door –

And the skinny arm attached to the long rotting talons that wrap around the knob.

The same pair of eyes glow in the dark, wide and red and... amused.

And then she sees the crooked teeth, curling into a bone-chilling grin, taunting her one last time before it cre-e-e-eaks shut after Thabi passes through.

She sprints back to the kitchen and fishes the marked up letter out of her pocket and slams it on the table next to the newspaper.

Paloma's blood turns cold, shaky labored breaths passing through her parted lips.

Bruno scrambles to the table alongside her, spitting expletives when he realizes, too.

The dates match.

"They probably had no idea until they came out here themselves to figure out why she wasn't paying her bills on time," Paloma mutters.

"So she must've known she was going to die," Bruno says, white knuckling the edge of the table.

"If she left us this note, then there has to be more to it, right?" Paloma asks, flipping it over, turning it, inspecting every inch.

"Yeah," Bruno agrees, and flips through the newspaper. "There's nothing special in here, but... Paloma, I think she left this here as a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"That this wasn't just natural causes. Maybe..." he trails off, shaking his head incredulously.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think Aunt Ana was fighting something off and gave in –"

"– like Will," Paloma whispers.

Bruno nods. "You noticed that, too?"

Paloma mirrors his motion, throat burning as she speaks.

"This is all my fault."

He drops the papers and wraps her in a tight hug, shushing her, kissing the top of her head as he does it.

"Babe, no. Stop blaming yourself –"

"How can I not? My best friends are probably fucking dead or gravely injured because I brought them here," she says into his chest, fisting the fabric of his tee.

"No matter what you say, it doesn't change the fact that this isn't your fault. If you would've come here alone, it would've been so much worse," Bruno says, pulling back to look in her eyes.

"I –" he blushes. "– we couldn't fathom losing you."

Paloma blinks the tears away; Bruno swipes one away with his thumb.

"It'd be better if I'd just sacrificed myself, but I didn't even get the fucking chance."

"Don't say that, Lolo," he whispers, cupping her face in his hands like she's fragile and so precious to him.

Her heart swells at the nickname she hasn't heard since they were kids.

"Shaggy would be nothing without Scooby, I hope you know that," he murmurs, eyes full of nothing but pure sincerity.

He pulls back and moves on, leaving Paloma conflicted, heart fluttering like this isn't the worst time in the world to kickstart an old crush.

"What would Mystery Inc do?" He asks, inspecting the letter.

"Wait – you're a fucking *genius* –" Paloma snatches the letter and grabs her flashlight.

She flicks it on and holds it under the letter – and words start to appear.

"Mystery ink."

Bruno's jaw drops, and he grabs his own flashlight to speed up the process.

The letter is handwritten on the back in the white space between the black ink on the flip side.

Paloma reads it out slowly as the words show.

"Paloma, my dear great niece, I'm sorry. I have to start this out with an apology, because all I've wanted to do is know you. I feel as if I do, but I know you don't know me. I've watched you from afar as you've grown, and it's been the highlight of my secluded life. There's a reason I'm here. When I inherited this house, it was from the other side of my family that I knew nearly nothing about. I could tell from the moment I stepped on the property that there was something evil in here. I believe that my devotion to my religion is the reason I'm here today. I managed to trap the demonic entity in the basement, and it's been there for decades. But I fear that my time is coming to an end. And it's going to break out. I know this sounds crazy, but please, have faith. I'm too weak to fend off this demon anymore, but I know you can. Just believe. All you need is a prayer that YOU believe in, and my rosary that hangs above the fireplace. I hope that you can read this lemon juice ink. I love you, and I'm rooting for you. Take care."

The house creaks and shakes when she says the last line, and loud wails and moans ring out from beneath the floorboards.

"Demon?" Bruno asks, his voice small.

––––

It could've been ten minutes since their friends were dragged into the basement, or ten hours – none of the clocks in the house seem to work, both digital and traditional.

It's still morning, but the entire house has a witching hour vibe.

Bruno and Paloma are equipped with their traditional weapons, and Aunt Ana's religious ones.

Paloma heads towards the door, but Bruno stops her before she can slide the key in.

"Can I... say something? Before we go in?"

"A pep talk? It's a little late for that," she chuckles weakly.

Bruno inhales deeply to settle himself before nodding resolutely.

"Look, if we die in here, I need you to know that I've loved you since we were kids. Remember that one summer we met, when we got 'married' on the swing sets? Well... since then my heart's been yours," Bruno admits sheepishly, blush creeping up his neck.

"I'm in love with you, and I think if I died without a kiss, it'd be a banana peel death of sorts. Comically bad and so embarrassing –"

Paloma's lips meet his in a tender kiss, and the years of longing and pining pour out of Bruno and straight into her – he tastes sweet like the best candy she's ever had, satisfies her sweet tooth and the hole in her heart that's been empty for as long as she can remember.

"I love you, Bruno. I think I always have," Paloma says, forehead pressed against his own.

"Imagine if you'd just rejected me before we went into the belly of the beast," he laughs breathily, still reeling from the kiss. "I think I would've just sacrificed myself to try to PEMDAS the embarrassment from my system."

"I don't know much about math, but I'm sure that's not what the 'E' stands for," she giggles, pressing another kiss to his lips.

She pulls back, determination pulling her brows inward. "Let's do this."

––––

The stairs creep underneath their weight, the pitch black atmosphere swallowing their streams of light like it's nothing.

The flashlights slice little paths through the dark, but there's no signs of life. Belongings are covered in dusty white sheets, and that's all they can make out.

As they get to the bottom, Paloma's light catches something – an arm.

"Bruno?" She whispers, gripping his arm as he freezes on the steps in front of her.

"Do you see that?"

"What is it?"

Her hands shake as she points the light in the same spot, but... the arm is gone.

In one quick motion, she feels a hand wrap around her ankle and yank her down, crumbling on top of Bruno.

They scream as they tumble down. Bruno manages to catch himself, but Paloma's head smashes against the concrete.

She's disoriented and her vision is hazy – is she bleeding?

Clutching the rosary closer, she tries to focus on Bruno.

"Lolo – are you okay?" Bruno asks, but before she can answer, he chokes.

Chokes like someone's squeezing his neck until he can't breathe anymore.

Her flashlight flickers on and off and she tries to tap it against the concrete floor with all the strength left in her.

She gets glimpses of Bruno, as he's getting dragged upwards until he's hovering above the ground, feet dangling helplessly.

Paloma fades out of consciousness, still holding the rosary against her chest – she's so out of it, she can't tell if Bruno's still fighting to breathe.

––––

When Paloma wakes, she's engulfed in darkness.

Her eyes have adjusted enough so that she can see the outlines of the sheets above her that look like humans of all shapes and sizes. It's freezing, it's dead silent, it's pitch black.

It's like a sensory deprivation tank of fear – she has no idea what time it is, no idea if her friends are alive or not, no idea if she herself is alive.

She drags herself up to a sitting position, trying desperately to slap the flashlight back to life.

The flashlight isn't working, so she retrieves her special weapon. A candlestick and match from her tool belt.

She lights it and tries to deduce her surroundings, hands shaking so hard that the flame wiggles.

There's five mounds covered in sheets on either side of her.

"Oh my God," she whispers, frozen in place.

Right in front of her, the eyes appear again, with the same sickening smile. This time... there's blood on its teeth.

"Jesus fucking Christ –" she curses, scooting back as far as she can get till her back bumps against something.

This something is breathing – it lays its hands down onto her shoulders and digs its claws into her skin until it breaks, ripping a guttural scream from her throat.

She flails, trying to rip herself away from its clutches. It's drawn blood, streaks staining her tank top.

It's... Najuma.

Paloma could recognize those pretty manicured black coffin nails anywhere.

Her blood stains Najuma's hands, but that's all she can see – the rest of her body is hidden in a sheet.

"Najuma – please, it's me! Paloma! Your best friend!" She yells, trying to reason with her.

But nothing seems to get through to her.

She glances around as she shuffles back, realizing that the rest of the bodies have stood up and have circled her.

"Don't let it get you, please – let them go," Paloma cries, finally tearing the rosary from her chest, holding it outwards.

She trips over her feet and falls down, but the group makes no move to advance on her.

The candle reflects off the ground, and she notices the red lines crossing the floor beneath her.

A pentagram. Her best friends at its edges, her at the center.

"Prayer, a prayer, I need a fucking prayer –" she whispers to herself, glancing around.

She's so fucking terrified that she can't even recall the Lord's prayer she was forced to learn as a kid.

A laugh rings out, a distorted voice ringing out against the silence.

"She couldn't get rid of me. Why do you think you could?"

Aunt Ana's final words rattle around her head: "All you need is a prayer that YOU believe in."

Paloma pushes herself off the ground with weak arms and stands proud, determined.

"Because I've got the power of fucking friendship," Paloma growls, holding the rosary with a firm, resolute grip.

"Najuma, Thabi, Angie, Will, Bruno. Najuma, Thabi, Angie, Will, Bruno," she shouts with a steady cadence.

At first, the demon laughs, its head raising up higher and higher, lifting to its full height.

But after the fifth or sixth time of her shouting her friends' names with all the strength and love she can muster in the face of fear, the demon begins growling, a rumbling horrific sound.

It gnashes its teeth, and Paloma squeezes her eyes shut and keeps chanting, hoping desperately that her prayers will be answered.

*Please, bring my friends back. Take me instead. Please. Hear me. Please.*

And then, everything stills.

All five sheet-covered figures crumple to the ground in heaps. Her flashlight flicks back on, and the candle is blown out in a gust of wind.

Paloma sinks to the ground, rolls out of the pentagram into the figure she recognizes as Bruno.

She grabs his hand, and laces her fingers with his, squeezing with the last bit of her strength. He squeezes back.

"We did it."

Her vision fades to black.

––––

She wakes up in the backseat of the car, head cradled in Bruno's lap.

"Thank God you're awake," Bruno chokes out, eyes glistening with tears.

"Where are we?"

"On the way to the hospital. No –" he pushes her back down gently, stroking the side of her face. "Stay down. Rest. Please."

"Did we all make it?" She asks, voice raspy.

"Yeah, we all did. Thanks to you," Bruno smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss on her forehead.

"When did that happen?" Angie croaks from the passenger's seat.

"Sometime while we were blacked out in the basement, Anj," Najuma laughs from behind the wheel.

Will turns around from the middle seat, while holding an ice pack to Thabi's head.

"I... saw your Aunt Ana while we were down there. Something had overtaken me, and I choked Najuma and Angie out, and I was alone and terrified and –"

They're clearly choked up, rolling their lips together to keep them from quivering.

"She reassured me that you were coming to save us."

Will leans back, grabbing Paloma's hand. "She knew you could do it. She has so much faith in you. She loves you."

And with that, Paloma breaks down in tears out of pure euphoria. For a moment, she feels Aunt Ana in the car, like a warm summer warmth washing over her despite the cold fall temperature.

"Well, at least we have a ghost story to tell at tomorrow's Halloween party," Bruno jokes.

"Absolutely not," Thabi laughs.

"Can we at least dress up as Mystery Inc? It's only right," Bruno grins.

"I suppose," Will says with a soft smile of their own. "Tomorrow's Halloween, so I'm sure it'll be hard to piece together a group costume at the last minute."

"We might be spending Halloween in the E.R.," Angie groans. "And on my day off, too."

The group laughs at that.

Najuma turns out of the woods and back onto a properly paved road, flooring it the second she's able.

Paloma lifts herself from Bruno's lap, staring out the back window at the autumn-leaved trees.

For a second, she thinks she thinks she can see someone standing at the edge of the woods.

Paloma waves, and they wave back.

"Goodbye, Aunt Ana," she whispers, as the figure disappears into the trees.

––––

#litg fanfic #litg fanfiction #litg bruno #litg bruno x mc #litg season 4 #litg s4 #♡ wildberryjam writes ♡

9 notes · View notes