Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Twenty-Two: Discoveries
Nobody ever went to the ironically misnamed “Good Eatin’” for the food. They went for the high-walled booths that guaranteed privacy and relative solitude from the world outside.
Regulars knew not to go near the ribs.
Earl had seen just about everything happen in those booths. Wierd, pale writer types who came to nurse a plate of chips and a drink over a bothersome manuscript. Covert, spy-like meetings between two parties plotting against a third for reasons that covered everything from birthday parties to revenge and everything in between.
Hell, he’d even had real spies, who had the sense not to be obvious about it.
He’d even found a couple who *definitely* didn’t come for the food, if you caught his drift. He had to charge them for staining the upholstry. They came back a year later with a baby, and Earl could do the necessary math.
This lot, Earl would brag later, was the strangest party that ever came by.
“I was there,” he’d say. “I was there when it started.”
*
Claire had to note how they sat, opposite her in the booth. The pony-tailed valley girl - Kitty - on the inside corner. The little masked stranger - Bluebelle - in the middle. And the blue-haired German boy - Kurt - on the outside.
A defensive group.
Claire could understand. She huddled into a corner and let Lucien guard her. She felt so unstable, right now. She needed to feel protected.
“Stay away from the ribs,” Kurt advised. “I made the mistake of ordering them once.”
“And I thought you’d eat like, *anything*,” said Kitty.
Bluebelle tried to hide herself behind Kurt whilst sitting down.
Claire felt like crying. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I just miss my daughter.”
“Do I not know you?” Lucien’s French accent still radiated puzzlement. "I have seen you before, non?“
"Probably on the Bayville Expressway.”
“Ah! The Highway Boy. Oui. That was some nasty business.”
Kurt nodded.
Hi-my-name-is-Trish turned up at that exact moment to take their orders and chew gum. Everyone stayed away from the ribs. They waited until Hi-my-name-is-Trish was gone before they spoke again.
“I’ve had more than my fair share of nasty business, Herr–?”
“Chagny.”
“Herr Chagny. There is - a predator - living in Bayville. She may have lived elsewhere when your daughter was taken.”
“*She*?” Claire echoed. “This person’s a *woman*?”
Kurt more hung his head than nodded. “She started on me when I was four. I don’t think I was her first, either.” He took a few steadying breaths. “I was her work of art.”
“Oh my God…” Claire breathed.
“Bluebelle is my daughter. I only found her a few days ago. She'd never had clothes before that day.”
Lucien hugged her. Claire leaned her head on his shoulder as a ‘thank you’.
He fell silent as Hi-my-name-is-Trish returned with their orders, made sure everything was okay, and then went back to hang on the short-order window and murmur things to Earl.
“I dressed her from the predator’s trophy collection. I just grabbed something that looked like it would fit.”
“Is my daughter–?” Claire couldn’t finish, yet she had to know.
“I don’t know. If you have a photo - maybe Bluebelle could recognise her.”
Lucien had his wallet open and the photo out in a finger-snap. “Here, petite; do you know this girl?”
“That’s my dress,” said Bluebelle. Then she nodded. “Mistress had her. Five houses ago. Mistress - played - with her for… a long time. Four months. And then she was gone.”
“Did she die?”
Bluebelle shook her head. “She was crying when Mistress took her away. We were friends.” She put the photo down and slid it back towards them across the table. “Mistress doesn’t like me liking things.”
“There’s still hope,” Kurt said. His voice was low and quiet. “She liked to dump me miles from anywhere and see if I could find my way home. It was a game of hers.”
“Merde…”
Kurt helped Bluebelle with her mask, and included a large number of cautions about breathing through her still-covered nose.
Of course. She’d been locked in a basement for seven and a half years… She was probably still being innoculated.
For Sixteen, Kurt was an amazingly responsible father.
“We have to press charges. Report her. Do *something*.”
Kurt was shaking his head. “Nein. Nein. Please… You have no idea what she can do…”
Kitty put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Somebody has to stop her, Kurt. Someone has to do something.”
He was shivering, looking bleak. “I can’t. I’d have to face her in court. I can’t. She’ll hunt me down. She’s done it before. She’ll do it again. She’ll destroy everything I hold dear. Everything. Everyone. Ashes… my fault… my fault…”
Bluebelle hugged him, and he clung to her as if he were drowning.
His shuddering slowed, but he took his sweet time about it.
“Sir,” said Lucien. “You have your daughter. You know where she is. You still worry about her, even though you *know* she is alive and well… We do not know where our Sherrie is. We do not know if she is alive. We have not known for three years.”
“She’s evil,” said Kurt.
“That’s why we have to stop her,” said Claire. “As long as she’s free to do whatever she wants - *more* children are going to be hurt.”
Kurt sniffed. A tear spilled. “You’re right. Nie wieder. Never again.”
Kitty blinked, her eyes jerking open at the phrase. Her movement revealed the little pendant that had been hiding under her shirt. A star of David.
Some phrases just got around.
Kurt siezed a napkin and filched a pen from Kitty. He had the awkwardest grip on a writing implement that she’d ever seen. “Here’s my address. And the 'phone number. Ring before you come. I need to speak to mein guardian about this. How to handle - things. There’s a lot that my daughter and I - saw. You might not want to hear about it.”
“It’s also like, difficult to talk about,” said Kitty.
“If you don’t mind; I’d like to take my daughter home, now.”
“So would we,” said Claire.
*
“Shones hubches…” Bluebelle did little pirouettes in the dark. Even though her ensemble was bright, she was still difficult to see in the dark. The only light was from the television, which played something innocuous and ignorable.
Kitty sat with them in the dark. After so much that happened in broad daylight.
Kurt sat sewing up holes in various pants, and looking very domestic and pleased with himself. At least, the bits that the light fell on. The bits of him eclipsed by his own shadow were completely invisible. Kitty could see the couch through his head.
“Could you like, not *do* that?” she asked.
“Do what?” asked Kurt. “You’ve not been bothered by mein sewing before…” He bit a thread off and added another pair of pants to the 'done’ pile.
“You’re going invisible,” said Kitty. “I can like, see through half of your head and it’s like, creeping me *out*.”
“What do you mean 'again’? I’ve never gone invisible. Es ist impossible.”
“Like, just look at yourself, okay? Everywhere it’s like, dark? You're like, not *there*.”
Kurt half-turned and put his arm into a pool of shadow. It instantly vanished. “*COOL*!”
Obviously, he was unaware of that power.
“Why didn’t this happen in Winzeldorf, when I *really* needed it?”
“Uh. Dare I like, *ask* what happened in like, Winzeldorf?”
“Nothing Hessy. I was just nearly burned at the stake.”
“That does it,” said Kitty. “I’m like, *so* not asking you any questions like that any more. Now can you like, *stop* that?”
Kurt stopped playing now-you-see-it with his hand. “Stop vanishing? I don’t know if I can, geliebt. I don’t feel any different when I do it… I’ll try, though. Let me know if anything happens, okay?”
Kitty watched him close his eyes and concentrate. Absolutely nothing happened. It continued to not happen for minutes on end.
Kurt gave up with a sigh. “I guess I’m stuck like this,” he shrugged. "Sorry, Katzchen.“
"Great. That’s like, one more thing we have to like, worry about.”
Kurt turned his hologram on. “Does this still work?”
“Yeah, but like, I like you as you.”
“But you *don’t* like me vanishing.”
“I can like, work on getting used to it.”
Kurt turned his hologram off with a grin. “I want you to tell me something…” he turned the TV off and the room was almost completely dark. “How much do you see of me, now?”
“Like, your eyes and your teeth,” said Kitty. “It’s like having a big blue Cheshire cat in the room.”
“Coo-ool…” His grin went even wider. “I can’t wait to show the guys *this*…” he laughed an evil laugh.
Kitty reminded herself to try and sell tickets.