Worse Than Death

A Quick Jaunt

            “So, Arthur, what did we learn about booking hotels in other countries?” Mystery asked, peeved as he sat back on the rather lumpy bed.

            “Read ALL the reviews first, I got it.” Arthur muttered, slumping into a rickety chair and disconnecting his robotic arm. “Can you be on research? I have to fix this.”

            Mystery shook his head, reaching for the knapsack and pulling out the laptop. The wifi loaded at grindingly slow speeds, but the fact that there was a connection there at all impressed him. The carpet had burn marks, and the walls smelt strongly of smoke. The blankets were dubious to say the least, and the toilet threatened to clog at the least disturbance.

            “What am I researching? And how is Lewis holding up?” Mystery smirked slightly, knowing it was now the ghost’s turn to try and tune out his senses, due to the state of their living quarters.

            “He says ‘shut up stupid mutt’ and if that l-locket has one scratch on it when he gets back he’ll fry one of your tails off.” Arthur began working carefully at the fingers on his arm. “He’s just w-worried about her.”

            Mystery rolled his eyes, but his hand slipped into the inner pocket of his vest, fingertips brushing the heart. He’d questioned the frequent habit Arthur had of touching the anchors, but he understood now. He had to be sure it was still there, that it hadn’t vanished, taking Vivi with it forever.

            He could tell Arthur was worried too. The way his eyes would dart over to the part of the vest that held the locket. The way he would ask, as casually as possible, if the bleed had lessened. He couldn’t give the human any reassurances. Every time Mystery closed his eyes, he saw a small blue child run past, screaming for her mother, or a young lady in blue, frantically trying to change a fate written in stone. A line of women weeping for the lives they would be denied, and the daughters they were forced to curse.

            As if he didn’t have enough to regret, he thought bitterly. He couldn’t help a creeping resentment toward the ancient mage who bound him, and not for the binding itself.

            If you were so powerful, if you could see into the future, why could you not forsee I would need more than my own strength?

            “So, off the top of your h-head, you know anybody?” Arthur asked over his shoulder.

            “Nobody that is willing to help, or willing to speak with me. Recall, Arthur, I was not what you would call a benevolent spirit.” Mystery pulled up a word document, typing out a few names to consider. “So those that were wanted nothing to do with me. And the circles I moved in would never help you.”

            “Okay, wh-what about the circles that won’t t-talk to you? They might talk to me. Oh, is M-Merlin still around?” Arthur lifted his head hopefully.

            Mystery’s teeth ground together. “Hardly. He was powerful beyond what any mortal should have been, but he was still mortal, curse him.”

            Arthur ducked his head back down quickly, and Mystery regretted his snappishness. “I just don’t see what being here will do for her, or you.”

            “Maybe w-we’ll run into someone who knows something. Castle r-ruins probably have a lot of ghosts h-hanging around. Lot of regrets and r-reasons to stay?” Arthur tested the fingers, bending them carefully, then shaking his head and applying the tools again. “Ghosts m-maybe that were there. Know wh-what’s going on. We can start getting clues. D-do you know where Arthur’s castle was?”