Chapter Eight: Arlo

This will never be my idea of a date.

Glumly, Arlo followed Z'Hana, and they stopped at a much more overgrown area. He watched as she brushed away some leaves from an overhanging tree to reveal a plaque written in Latin. Peregrinantis Sepulchrum. The Pilgrim's Sepulcher – another word for grave.

"This is where some of the students used to hang out," Z'Hana said. "Since it's been some time, the entrance is obscured." She brushed away dirt and grass, heaving up a metal door that led down into the gloom. "How morbid of them…"

Arlo silently agreed. Who the hell would think it a fun idea to hang out in a crypt? Already, a tingling sensation affected his body, letting him know that there was something here, brushing against his magic.

"Great," Holly said. "Really great."

"This probably looked less… cobwebby than it is now." Z'Hana sighed before clasping her hands together and letting loose her shadowy messenger. They waited patiently for it to return, and when it did, merging back with her skin, the older woman straightened up.

"There isn't exactly a curse, but there is something of interest down there. We need to proceed with caution. Both of you take careful steps and use your senses. Don't go rushing into the situation. I'll be right behind. I would lead, but as I don't have the sense – I won't be able to avoid danger if it is there."

"Even better," Holly said. "I've always wanted to be bait." No one missed the sarcasm there.

"I'll go first," Arlo said, sounding braver than he actually felt. Someone had to… and at least he could physically defend himself if something leaped out.

He climbed down into the stale, cobweb-draped sepulcher and through a short tunnel that had candles scattered about. People had come here regularly once upon a time. He walked into an oddly spacious room, also lined with candles and grates on the sides that vented air. He imagined students piling into this chamber, which had a symbolic open tomb and no body.

His senses sharpened, leading him to the open tomb. A cloth had been spread on the bottom of it – perhaps it was where students piled their snacks or maybe a place some wayward, drunken soul attempted to sleep in.

"The psychic echoes are getting stronger," Holly confirmed. "Something happened down here."

Arlo inspected the tomb. Scratches on the floor indicated that a large, heavy object had been moved. After some trial and error, he forced his weight against the open tomb, and it spun following the exact scratch marks, revealing a trapdoor.

The three of them stared.

"If some asshole put the tomb back on top, I doubt anyone who was below it could get out."

"Okay. If Charles died here, why would they need to move the body to the well?"

"We don't know if he died here."

"Move." Z'Hana released her shadow messenger into the trapdoor. "No curse. There is something, however. And a dead end. It's a long, narrow, dark place.

Arlo reached out, and his powers rested on something bulky in the tunnel. He tied the threads of that bulk together, recognizing that he'd brushed against someone's corpse. "I'm trying something."

He closed his eyes, pushing that corpse and attempting to find a spirit to anchor to it. One stirred and entered the corpse with malign resistance, and he commanded it to return through the trapdoor.

"I'm bringing… someone's body up. Once it arrives, I'll maintain control… and… Holly, spirits don't usually respond to anyone other than the one currently in control of the body, but you're a medium, so maybe we can try to combine our powers. I can last longer if I don't have to force answers out of it, and it can't try to possess you if it's stuck in the body."

"Huh. That's… not a bad idea, actually," Holly acknowledged. "Why hadn't I thought of something like that?"

"I guess we're not used to using our talents together, are we?"

She chuckled at that. "No. And hopefully, no one's going to be squeezing themselves into… that hole."

"Good thinking." Z'Hana waited, ready to intervene if something went wrong.

Slowly, the corpse shuffled through the darkness before a skeleton clambered up, heaving itself out of the trapdoor. The skeleton glared at the three living, but its main attention was on the one who had summoned it.

"Your turn, Holly."

Holly gulped before reaching out to touch the skeleton's glowing form. She winced, her head snapping back as if slapped by a phantom wind before getting a firmer grip on the corpse. "I'm so going to be washing my hands for the next thirty years," she muttered before her tone grew more serious. Arlo kept the spirit firmly under control, not taxing his magic by dragging answers out of it.

"This is Emilia Gold," Holly said while Z'Hana leaned closer, not wanting to miss anything in the dark, dingy crypt. "She… she's feeling many things right now. There was a group. Students, laughter. Candles. Drinks. Many groups, lots of laughter…" Holly clenched her teeth, trying to focus better. "They were daring people to enter the trapdoor. Then, when Emilia and Charles entered, they shut it on them. But…"

Holly cried out, and Arlo almost lost concentration.

"Oh, God!" Holly said, eyes opening. "He – Charles. He, he, he didn't take… he's a werewolf. He didn't take medicine – it was a full moon. And they were in the tunnel, and he was frantic, begging them to let them out, then screaming at Emilia… she was scared. It was Emilia's fault… and he…"

"He transformed?" Arlo whispered, horror slithering through him.

"He transformed and… killed her."

"It seems that when the students realized this, they panicked and ran, not wanting to open the trapdoor to a werewolf. She… she remembers one called Adam Ford, but the other names aren't familiar. I can't – I can't make sense of them from her mind." Holly sighed. "Wow. Usually, I'm being possessed at this point, but this is so much easier."

"Told you," Arlo said, though he hadn't known how effective this might be either. "I can keep it up for a bit longer."

"I know Adam Ford's parents," Z'Hana said with a growl. "He's a respectable businessman now."

"He's not very respectable here. But I don't know; he seems like a stupid kid." Holly frowned. "The echoes are getting a little more scattered, but from what I understand, the tunnel actually leads to the well. There's something your shadow messenger didn't spot last time. And… there's…"

Holly let go of the corpse. "Z'Hana, are there any dangerous creatures that might inhabit water areas or wells?"

It turned out there were quite a few – and none of them were easy to handle, so it would be best not to go down the tunnel or approach the well physically.

Arlo felt a little of the soul's energy – angry, sad, anguished before he released it, and the bones arranged themselves into a respectable pile. It was something he did by instinct, as a last way to honor the person they once belonged to.

Z'Hana said, "Nobody killed, no evil spirits lunging at us from the darkness, and enough evidence to please the Archon lot. Although… Emilia Gold's parents will not be happy to hear about this… version of events."

Then Arlo said, "Someone with her phone must have texted the parents to keep up the deception." He noticed Holly staring into the trapdoor, frowning, and placed a hand around hers, pulling her away.

She blinked. "I guess prophecies really are unreliable, aren't they?" She smiled. "Chloe said she saw something she thought was related to my future. A long, dark tunnel. But she didn't know if it was dangerous or…"

"At least she's not having visions about tomatoes; I suppose," Z'Hana snorted while Arlo led Holly away.

Arlo exhaled in relief, happy that nothing had indeed attempted to murder them. He didn't think he wanted to do something like this regularly, however. Much better to just stick to sterile rooms with a necromancer supervisor and not crawl through ancient crypts and risk the wrath of the unquiet dead.

Z'Hana arranged once more for Professor Umber's air courier services, and they all flew back together, with Emilia Gold's bones, to the balcony and were released into the Sunday afternoon to shower and present all their information to the principal.

At the end of it all, Arlo felt… dissatisfied. He examined his weekly text from his mother. Despite his father's warnings – he saw nothing of ill intent in his mother's words. Just inquiring after her son, as usual, and not hinting at the bitter family turmoil driving everyone apart. He still had many years to go at Dreadmor – the fallout would be happening without him there for most of it.

I hope they can remember they loved each other, he thought, tucking his phone away. They did, once.

How could such a wonderful love just… end? How did these things happen? A lump formed in his throat as the worried thoughts swirled in his brain. Then he thought of Charles and Emilia. Charles secretly visiting Emilia for months and months.

Surely, he loved her, too. Yet, with what Holly gleaned, he'd believed Emilia had betrayed him, somehow – and then he'd slain her. Sure, he was an out-of-control werewolf when he did so…

On impulse, Arlo inspected the drawer with his pills. The notion of his inner werewolf killing someone felt unbearable. Safer if the other party was a werewolf; otherwise, he needed to be vigilant for one week out of every month, taking the pills a few days before.

Love… it failed, or it existed, but it just wasn't enough. He badly wanted to believe in it, even as people told him otherwise. Then… the little medium had come along, challenging him in the class with her aggressive eye contact, even when everyone else looked away, not afraid of his form. Well – he did sense some nerves, but not enough for her to recoil from him. Then the glances, the smiles. The kiss. The night.

He didn't react as Holly quietly let herself into the room. He'd left the door ajar specifically for her. She sidled in with a shy smile and two mugs of coffee. Good – he mustn't be left alone with his thoughts for too long. The coffee tasted like heaven but was even better because she made it.

"Drink up. You look like you've seen a ghost," Holly said, which caused him to snicker.

"Funny you should mention that…" When she sat next to him, he leaned his head against her, trying to settle his thoughts. "I've been… thinking a lot. But the thinking doesn't bring any clear answers."

"I know what you mean. I expect to know exactly what to do, as if some thunderbolt was slamming into me, making everything clear. I've been thinking, too. It really didn't end well for Charles and Emilia, did it?"

"No." He took a sip. "And they would've stayed hidden if we hadn't stumbled upon them. It seems so odd to me that Emilia's parents didn't press for more answers."

"Maybe they weren't that close, to begin with."

"And Emilia's friends?"

"Didn't seem she had many. She'd moved from Archon."

"She didn't transform to save herself, either…" Arlo thought of the pills. "She was likely taking the pills. Probably the ones that kept her human."

"God." Holly nuzzled his cheek. The intimacy relaxed Arlo, and he felt just a little less troubled. "It wasn't fun to be trapped in Emilia's head. I think that was what Chloe's vision was actually hinting at. The tunnel Emilia was trapped in. Charles managed to crawl through to some hidden compartment that opened up to the well, only to find he wasn't exactly alone down there. Their stupid frat-boy friends running off and leaving them there because it was a full moon. Can a werewolf transform out of stress?"

"It can happen." Arlo sipped more coffee. "If you're placed in a highly stressful situation, you can transform automatically – it's meant to be the survival instinct kicking in." He frowned. "But I doubt he would risk something like that for someone he loved. I'm betting someone tampered with his medication."

"Oh…" Holly sounded pissed. "God, how shitty would that be? Your ‘friends' tampering with your meds, then locking you in with your girlfriend. Then you kill your girlfriend and then die down there. No wonder his spirit was pissed off."

"And they got away with it for so long, too… it's not fair. You'd think finding the culprits would be easier in a magic school. I…" He sighed again. "It bothers me a lot. To think you could hurt someone you love. This happens over and over. Charles and Emilia. My mom and dad. Everyone around me, just…"

"Are you worried about dating? About relationships?" Holly now sat up straighter, and Arlo found himself facing her, both of them gripping their mugs. "Talk to me, Arlo."

At first, he shook his head, unable to really explain the odd feeling within. With more prompting from Holly, a soft hand to his cheek, the reluctance opened up into words. "If we continue this – I'm worried if we do fall more in love… that it just won't be enough."

"It's not," Holly said, which took him completely by surprise.

"What?"

"Love is not enough." She gave him a peculiar smile. "It's wonderful and big and exciting, I'm sure – but a relationship needs far more than just love. It just depends on how willing you are to put the effort in. There's no sense worrying about the things you can't change. The only thing we can do now is to focus on what is in our control." She then grinned. "Besides, I don't think we'll end up being locked in a crypt and being forced to eat each other or something."

"You never know. Our magic isn't exactly the fluffy bunny kind of magic," he replied, but already, he was brightening. "They're going to be sending us to a lot of weird places in the future. And if we decide we want to pick careers doing this sort of work."

"Might be better if we can do it side by side then." Her eyes sparkled, and the grin turned into a beam. "Since we already established that our magic can actually work surprisingly well together. It will be an honor to work with you."

"And an honor to date, as well," he added, prepared to turn it into jest, but Holly flushed and nodded.

"I'd like that. I think we already took things pretty far. Maybe we can slide it back a bit and try dating. Though I want us to go to that little cinema soon, thanks."

"You… you're really not worried? About dating a werewolf? About our families, our magic?"

"I am," Holly said. "I just don't see the point in worrying about it all the time when I have a good thing going with you."

Hard to argue against that. The words alleviated another worry within him. They didn't need to take things fast. They could use the time to think things through, process events, continue to learn more about each other, and figure out the ways they worked together physically, emotionally, and magically.

"We do have a good thing. I'm… I'm happy to hear that. I like you."

"You like me?" She blinked at him, and he stared back blankly.

"Was that not obvious?"

"Ah. Sorry. Don't mind me. For the record, I like you as well," she replied, blushing like a tomato. "I'm still pretty new to all this, though."

"Then let's take it slow."

He leaned forward, and their lips met, soft and warm with promise. The warmth dug deep into his body, his soul, and for the first time in a long time, he let go of his fears of the future, of relationships and just let himself be.

The kissing grew a little too distracting, though, since Holly spilled a little of her lukewarm coffee on the bed, and they both yelped and pulled apart, splashing even more. "Okay, that was stupid! Uh, tissue, towel, something…"

He laughed, helping her locate a cloth and placing the drinks aside. She tried hard to clean, but somehow, that little cleaning attempt ended up with them both on the bed, actively wrestling with one another, with him snatching the cloth away and her trying to reach it with little to no luck in doing so.

He couldn't resist whispering one more thing, though – something weighing heavily on his thoughts, but something he tried to push away. "I… I don't regret coming to Dreadmor."

"That's… good," she said, now resting on top of him, one eyebrow arched. She gathered her thoughts together. "It was… a difficult choice for you?"

"Yes and no." He held her gently, gazing into those beautiful eyes. Seeing a future in them. "My family… I think my choice to come here will lead to a divorce between my mother and father. Going to Archon meant tradition, and our name won. Coming here meant our magic, our desire to branch out won. They love each other… but I don't think their love can survive this. And… I felt so awful for being responsible for it."

"Hey, no. Don't talk like that." Her hand rested like velvet on his left cheek. "You are not responsible. You are picking where to go and what to develop – that's not why your parents would divorce – if that's the way it's to be. You chose what was best for you. Their dreams – they have them. But you are not responsible for them." Her eyes went steely, certain in her words. "Do you understand?"

"I…"

"Do you?"

He swallowed. "Logically, yes. I agree. I really agree. But emotionally…"

"It takes time. But remind yourself that you are not responsible for their happiness. It's up to them whether they will save their marriage or not. Free yourself of that burden."

Sighing deeply, he pushed his cheek into her palm, then gently rolled her to the side for a simple, comforting embrace. "I'll… try."

Every day, he'd try.