“We really shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Who’s gonna say anything?”
“Um my Mom for one. If she finds out we’re both gonna be dead.”
“Summers you worry way too much. Your Mom’s too busy chasing that new guy to even notice…”
“Hey.”
“What? It’s not a big secret that your mom’s moving on with her life.” The tiny scratch of metal against metal seemed loud within the shadows of late night. “I mean look at your dad, he’s been remarried for years.”
“Shut up Drake.” The mutter was filled with steel even as the dust encrusted door of the boat house swung open with a creak.
Slipping into the darkness, the pair closed the door and flipped on their flashlights. The pale beams of light skirted across the wall to the light switch. Walking quickly across the floor, Emily Summers flipped it on. The ticking clock on the wall revealed the time, and she grinned at her boyfriend. “At two in the morning nobody and I do mean nobody, not even Dad is awake.”
“Smart-ass.” Logan Drake muttered and scanned the room. White sheets covered the furniture entirely. A film of dust covered every surface that it could, from the ceiling, thick, corded ropes of cobwebs stretched to the pale walls. The air seemed heavy and stale, a sure indication of exactly how long the house had been closed up.
“What is that stench?” Emily muttered waving her hand in front of her face. “And when was this place last cleaned up?”
Logan turned to her with a stunned look before he shrugged, “You’re forgetting where we are, my love.”
Emily rolled her eyes and turned around, her eyes searching the room carefully. Indeed she’d forgotten where she was, forgotten what they were doing for a moment. Leaving Logan to poke around in the kitchen she headed for the staircase. Climbing the stairs slowly, a feeling of dread and uncertainty in her gut she moved toward the second story. At the top of the stairs she paused and cast her flashlight around, spotting the switch she hit it, flooding the second floor with light. Two doors lined a short hallway and she moved through the dust bunnies and cobwebs to the first.
Hinges unused to movement creaked as she opened the door to reveal a simple bathroom. The room looked frozen in time, towels folded neatly hung from the towel racks, a dust covered bottle of something, shampoo probably sat on the edge of the tub. A half used bar of soap rested on the edge of the sink, and the garbage pail sat with several tissues within it.
Heaving a sigh, Emily closed the door and turned to the other room. Swearing softly at the tremble in her hand she reached for the knob, turning it slowly, fearfully. Pushing the door open she stepped into the room.
Her jaw dropped at the freshness of the room compared to the rest of the house. The air wasn’t so heavy in here, wasn’t so stale and she cast her light around. A hint of a smile crossed her face as she saw the crack in the window. Someone had obviously left it open. Stepping further into the room she explored slowly, carefully. Books rested on a table, along with a jewelry box, a brush and comb set, a lamp, and a tall, thin bottle of perfume.
Emily lifted it up, wiping the grime from the glass to read vanilla, setting it down she turned on the lamp. The pale golden glow spread across the desk, highlighting the grimy, cracked mirror. Sitting on the small stool, she stared into the mirror, her blue eyes taking in the twisted features before her and she sighed as her fingers trailed over the items atop the night table. She lifted the lid of the jewelry box and stared into the dark red velvet.
Several pairs of earrings lay on the bottom, along with a simple gold chain, two rings, a small silk swan, and a heavy chain. Taking care Emily lifted the heavy chain and stared at the familiar silver links. “Military chain?” She muttered and tugged, pulling out a set of tags. Swallowing against the rising emotions she pulled the chain through her fingers until she got to the tags.
“What are you doing?” Logan demanded crossly moving into the room to stand behind her and stare at her reflection in the mirror.
“Looking.” Emily replied, wiping at the layers of grime. She wrinkled her nose as she realized that it wasn’t all dirt on the tags, some of it was dried, caked on blood. Using her nail she scraped it off, unmindful of where the tiny flakes landed. “Look.”
Logan stepped closer to her, his hands resting upon her shoulders as he stared at the impersonal number she’d revealed. “I don’t know who’s that would be. No one’s been at the mansion with a military tag like that.”
“Maybe Grandpa Hank would know?” Emily looked up at him. “458 25 24 I can’t make out what this last number is. What do you think? An 8 or a 3?”
“Looks like a three to me.”
“But who would have that number? There hasn’t been a soldier at the mansion…”
“I’m not sure.” Logan replied looking around, his eyes searching the room for any signs of who may have lived there at one time. From a hook on the wall, an age stained gown hung, the lace turned yellow, and the satin seemed more grey than beige. From the coat rack in the corner he could see the dry cracked sleeves of a battered leather jacket, as well as the ragged remains of what appeared to be a woolen cloak. He moved over to finger them, wincing at the cracking of the leather even as he caught the distinct smell of tobacco. Lifting the coat he searched the pockets, pulling out a half smoked Cuban cigar, and a wadded up bill. Unfolding it he stared at the bright red currency. “Hey, Em do you know which country has red bills?”
“No one used bills anymore,” Emily replied setting the tags down and turning to him. “Haven’t for nearly sixty years. Grandpa Scott remembers when they switched to the barcodes.”
“Well there’s a red fifty in this jacket pocket. You think we should….”
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?”
Both of them jerked around to stare at the imposing figure in the doorway. Tall, muscular, his entire frame seemed to vibrate with pure rage.
“Uh…” Emily stammered rising to her feet. “We didn’t mean any harm James. Honest, we were just…”
“There is a reason that this place is off limits.” He snarled advancing toward the cowering girl, long, deadly claws sliding free of his knuckles. “Get out.” He snatched the tags from her hand and put them back into the jewelry box lovingly.
“James, we didn’t mean any harm. Honest, I mean we were only looking.” Emily tried to sooth the furious man in front of her. “This place is such a mystery to everyone…”
“It is a sacred place.” James ground out, getting in her face. “A place of worship, and you have no right to be here!”
“Why? What’s so important about a bunch of junk?” Logan snapped angrily. “No one’s been in this place for years. When was the last time anyone lived here?”
The furious mutant turned his head and stared at his younger teammate. No one knew, the truth had been buried so deeply that no one was willing to speak of the couple that had lived here. Closing his eyes he could see their faces so clearly, remember the love, the caring that they offered him so endlessly, and he felt a bolt of sorrow go through him.
Shaking his head he pushed the pair toward the door and turned off the lamp. Looking around the room, he caught the briefest hint of movement from the shadows and smiled sadly.
“It’s been a long time,” James drawled forcing the rage back. “Go back to the mansion.”
Logan nodded and started for the staircase. Emily paused at the top of the stairs and turned to her instructor, “We didn’t mean any harm, James.”
“No? You’re just like your grandmother, can’t stand to leave things lay.” James brushed past her and hurried down the stairs. “I catch either of you here again and I’ll whip your asses. Not get out, and stay out.”
James locked the door, and paused on the porch, aware of the fading steps of the pair of young lovers. “Sorry ‘bout that Mom, Dad. Should have known that they’d get curious sooner or later.” He whispered to the wind and turned to hurry back toward the mansion. He paused at the edge of the overgrown path and turned to look behind him, a small smile crossed his face as he caught the faint but distinct glow of a cigar in the upstairs window.
Even now, he watched over them. Even now, when there was no threat to anyone his father watched over him, watched over the only family he ever had. From the glow of a moon, James watched as a slim, dark haired woman joined the shadow in the window, her streaked hair standing out against the darkness.
Turning, James blended into the foliage, he would not allow anyone to destroy what he’d kept secret for so many years. Even an immortal soul deserved a place to call home.
End.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I have no idea where this came from. I was reading a bunch of fics, including some of my older ones and this popped into my head. Hope y'all like it, feedback is as always welcome.