Get a Fucking Clue | Harper + Tod |
Ghost. Huh. Well, it made about as much sense as alien abduction, and that would have been Todâs next guess. Besides, dream, ghosts could so exist in dreams. Heck, they probably existed in the real world, too! That would explain a lot of weird crap. The real question was⌠Was the girl just pulling his leg or did she actually mean that? Because dude, she seemed to have at least a vague idea of what was going on. Sure, a wicked vague idea, and truth be told she didnât look like the brightest crayon in the box just standing there sucking her thumb, but at that point Tod would have even accepted her help if it meant understanding this whole Twilight Zone business a little better.
Just as he was about to offer her another friendly smile she went off again. âR-rookie? Dude, who d-do you think I am?â Tod blinked. âY-yeah, yeah, I know, a f-freaking idiot, d-donât answer that. Still, I know w-what could happen, alright?â Well, âknowâ was a strong word. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally summon a Balrog into existence, so ever since heâd discovered his powers âwhat was it now, a few months?- heâd read a lot about the topic, but even Tod had to admit at least half the crap heâd found sounded like complete bullshit. Still, he was fairly sure that some of those sources could be trusted. Heâd show this weird girl! âI know Lovecraft, I am n-not gonna read out from the N-Necronomicon, give me some c-credit.â
Alright, alright, maybe he hadnât exactly checked the cover of the book, but hey. What evil could he bring by reading âPropriety of Mr. Boddyâ? As inconspicuously as possible âwhich is to say, not at allÂâ he glanced at the title on the bookâs spine. Huh, looked like a detective story. Probably useless now, better focus back on that whole ghost thing andâ
A scream.
The book fell from Todâs hands, and the girl was gone, leaving behind her a hoodie and, if this had been a cartoon, a dust cloud vaguely shaped like a short human being. Tod didnât particularly trust her, especially not after he saw what had looked like a blade flashing in her hands, but if he was going to be stuck inside a weird mansion hearing random screams he wanted to keep the potential psycho in his view, possibly even remain in her good graces. With that plan in mind he picked up the dropped hoodie âeven possible murderers had to like it when people returned to them something theyâd lost, right?- and followed the girl outside the library.
The rest of the house looked just as fancy as the room he had left: paintings adorned the walls, probably telling the story of some ancient dynasty or something. There were even armor suits, and if he hadnât been in such a rush Tod would have killed to put one on. The girlâs steps echoed through the hallway, muffled by the elegant carpet covering the floor, but years spent running away from jerks had granted Tod a decent sprint at least, so he managed to somehow keep up with her.
Finally, she stopped near what looked like the entrance. Tod almost tripped over himself in his attempt to avoid knocking the girl over. Why the heck had she stopped suddenly? The answer came in the form of a tall, pale woman throwing her arms around him.
âOh, bless my stars and garters, youâre here!â
A woman. Was hugging him. Enthusiastically, even. Again, there was something eerily familiar in her, but Tod was sure heâd never seen her before. Red evening dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and risquĂŠ, an overly elaborate old-fashioned hairdo and a nice, albeit a little high-pitched voice. No way Tod would forget someone like her, she looked like a character straight out from some movie. And she was still hugging him. He awkwardly patted her back.
âUm⌠Y-yes, hello ma'am, Iâm⌠Uh⌠Here. I guess. W-whatâs⌠Whatâs going on?â With ears that could match her dress, Tod gently pushed her away, and finally looked past her. The girlâs hoodie dropped to the floor once again. There was a man on the floor. A very much dead man on the floor, Tod was sure.
This is just a dream, this is just a dream, this is just a dream⌠Repeating that mantra over and over helped him a little. The blood on the manâs chest âless than Tod expected to see, to be honest- was already dry, yet the color was still incredibly bright, the contrast with the white shirt making it seem less real.
âYou can find out who did this, canât you, Mr. Bowen?â
The womanâs musical voice brought him back to reality, and Tod stared at her with a confused expression, mouth slightly hanging. âI⌠Uh⌠Can? I m-mean, sure.â Well, if this was a dream, it made sense that heâd be some sort of big shot. A renowned detective, maybe. The positively adoring smile on the womanâs tear-stained face seemed to confirm that. Tod squared his shoulders and stood a little straighter.
âDonât worry, b-bro, Iâve g-got this!â He patted his chest with a smirk, before deflating like a balloon. Who was he kidding? No way he could solve anything, he had no idea where they even were. But Weird Girl seemed to know! Tod turned to her with a bright smile, all hope and silent plea.
âI m-mean, weâve got this. Weâre g-gonna fix this, no p-problemo. Right?â He stared at the girl with the best puppy face he could muster, big eyes, tentative smile and everything. He even bent down to pick up âagain- the hoodie he dropped and hand it to her. The nice gesture was completely ruined by the woman in red turning to face the girl.
âOh, is this your assistant?â
Todâs free hand met his face as he sighed in defeat. Well, so much for befriending the weird girl. âN-no, sheâs⌠UhâŚâ A long, long pause, before he finally asked what he should have asked from the start. âWho are you?â
The sound of heavy feet thundering behind her was all that alerted her that her new tagalong was, in fact, tagging along. A rearview mirror would have been greatly appreciated at that moment; one hanging down from a headband to see what exactly the kid was doing behind her. Coincidences were not steady fare in her profession- in fact, Harper had been trained intensely to mistrust all coincidences. A steady diet of hotel tv Law & Order and near death experiences (varying in shape, size, and distance how close she came) had broken her of the nastiest habit of them all- taking anything for granted. But for now, she had to trust her instincts, muffled as they were. God, it was like having cotton shoved in her ears. An itch she just wasnât allowed to scratch.Â
The voices drew nearer. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the dagger in her hand. The rug ended followed by finished wood. Skidding around the corner, she came to a sliding, less than graceful stop before a group of people milling in the hall. What she saw froze her in her tracks.
A...a body?!
There was no other way to spin it. A corpse lay on that floor, well dressed and pale. It was getting hard to breathe around the lump lodged in her throat, and Harper swallowed reflexively. A hand was outstretched, fingers still relaxed. It looked like rigor mortis hadnât set in yet then...A pool of blood had been seeping into the floors, dying the boards an even darker shade. For a moment, she couldnât breathe. It wasnât her job to deal with the dead, just the less gruesome remains. She didnât have a chance to look around as a cry from one of the more, well, alive others echoed through the walls.
A flash of red shot by her, and she turned trying to keep her front level with the rest of them, watching on in fancy dress from uniform to tweed. A woman threw herself at the gangly boy.
She knew him then...He must be connected.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the scene unfold. The wide eyed shock and wonder, the naivety. It was an act. A good act, but one nevertheless. Sheâd been right to be mistrustful. What else had he lied about? His name was probably an alias- if she could remember it, sheâd know exactly how fake it sounded thank you very much. Her scowl was wide and intense, her dagger useless in her hand. She couldnât exactly go around stabbing everyone in sight, now could she?
Note to self: if things get freaky, stab everyone in sight. One of them is probably the ghost.
Her gaze shot back to the kid with the woman still curled around him, looking up at him with idolatry in her gaze. Jesus fucking Christ.
We?
So, how was she a part of this conversation? And how was he part of the solution? The skeptical brow turned to a look of pure outrage.
Assistant?
She could have spat right on the beautiful womanâs heeled shoes. Assistant her ass. Didnât they know who she was?! But what was she in relation to this kid? Who was he, exactly?Â
A man approached her, clapping her on the shoulder. A larger man, older. He had the straight back bearing of either military or a rod straight up his ass. Glancing down at his hand, she slowly raised her murderous gaze to his face. Oh, she was not dealing with this today.
âDude, watch the paws.â
He backed off, thankfully, casting an apologetic glance her way. Why was everyone looking at her like that?! It was like she was at a duck pond and everyone duck and its mother thought she had bread. Well guess what bitches, she didnât have bread. Just a muffled headache, a knife, and some altoids and lint in her fucking pocket.Â
A glance over to the boy again. Before she could answer, the man spoke.
âWhy, this is Miss. Biancardi, of the Italian Biancardis if Iâm correct.â
That shut her up mighty fast. She turned blinking to him. Someone actually recognized her? Fucking sweet!
She couldnât help the self important, smug grin that stretched across her face.Â
âThatâs right.â
âSmashing!â He replied, clapping his hands together. âSmashing, indeed! Wonderful to meet you, I knew youâd be here to help. Although why you brought him is beyond me. What exactly is he?â
Another glance towards the boy. Wasnât that the million dollar fucking question?
The man in tweed stepped up, adjusting his glasses with a nervous cough.
âSome kind of student, it appears. Lucky you, young man.â He nodded approvingly towards the beanpole person.Â
Harper cleared her throat, trying to look more capable than embarrassed. Somehow, she was sure she was fucking it all up more than words could possible describe. A kid in her momâs high heels. Letâs fucking do this, you ghost motherfucker.
âWhat exactly happened here?â Harper asked, looking around at the group expectantly.Â
She wouldnât deal with the boy yet, not until she absolutely had to. And when she had more hints as to what exactly she was dealing with in this crazy fucked up house. Were they all trapped too?
























