The Samhain Chronicles

When Danny finished unraveling his tale, Dr. Horace sat back, removed his small, round spectacles and began polishing them with a deep sigh. "It would seem your tolerance for your medication has increased," he observed, tutting softly under his breath, "Full-blown hallucinations and blackout spells in the middle of the day... my, my, my..."

Danny looked up at his therapist and trusted friend apprehensively, "Wait... hallucinations? Are ye positive that's all they were, Doctor?"

The aging doctor stared at Danny flatly, "Of course. What else could they have been?"

Danny paced the room slowly, still a little sore and stiff all over, "I haven't the bloody foggiest... but they seemed so real, Dr. Horace!" He stopped pacing and turned sharply, his eyes widening as a sudden thought struck him, "What about Penelope? She witnessed what happened in the Medical Ward. She said I had wings, and-"

"Daniel, please," Dr. Horace frowned, his eyes hard but filled with concern, "The very idea that you could believe such a thing for a moment is both disappointing and highly unsettling! Wings, indeed! What utter poppycock!" Danny shrank back, his face heating with a shameful blush,and turned his back to face the balcony doors. He heard Dr. Horace sigh heavily again, then felt a warm hand grip his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dear Boy," Dr. Horace muttered softly, "You must understand, Lad; your mental state - although vastly improved since we met - has always been fragile...succeptable to suggestion."

Danny stiffened a little, but still refused to meet Dr. Horace's gaze, "I am not a fool, Doctor. I'm a man of science, like yourself; facts and evidence are my bread and butter."

Dr. Horace gave a soft chuckle, "That it is, and you're quite right. I'm very proud of the man you've become, Daniel. What I meant was you have a highly active imagination. There are times when it's difficult for you to glean reality from the imagined."

Danny nodded defeatedly, his features hardening with frustration, "Aye, but that was in the past, Doctor. I thought we'd fixed that issue!"

"It's not as simple as plugging a leaky pipe," Dr. Horace retorted, "The brain is a very complex and mysterious organ, Daniel. Repairing it takes considerable time and skill, and there is always a chance that the repairs can be undone in a heartbeat when one is exposed to certain triggers." He took Danny by the shoulders and turned him back around, making the younger man look him in the eye, "What we must do now is try and figure out what that trigger is and avoid it at all costs. Now: tell me again, how did the day start?"

Danny sighed exhasperatedly and looked at the ceiling to search his fragmented memory, "I went to class... Penelope asked to have lunch with me, and then... I started feeling ill, so I dismissed my class early and-"

"Stop there," Dr. Horace demanded, his emerald eyes boring holes into Danny, "Has Penelope ever asked to dine with you before?"

Danny felt his face glow with warmth and his stomach gave a little flutter as he thought of Penelope, "No... she brings me food occasionally though. She really is a wonderful cook. Ye should sample some of her wares if ye have the chance. Last night, she brought me some spaghetti for dinner." He looked toward the fridge as the flutter in his stomach changed to a growl, "I wonder if she put any away for me?"

Dr. Horace nodded conclusively, "Just as I suspected: Daniel, has it ever ocurred to you that she may be adding something to the food she gives you? Something that triggers your psychosis, such as psychadelic mushrooms?"

Danny laughed out loud, "Penelope, drugging my food? Don't be ridiculous, Dr. Horace! I believe the strongest chemical she has e'er handled or consumed is caffeine."

"Daniel, this is serious," Dr. Horace barked, giving Danny a firm shake that ceased his giggles with a shocked grunt. "How much do you know about her, really?"

Danny swallowed nervously and fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, "I... well, I honestly don't know much. I know we both started here the same year. We were in the same orientation program together, and she was kind to me. She's always been kind... and warm and caring...clever...beautiful..."

Dr. Horace let got of Danny and scratched his beard agitatedly, "Daniel, use your head, please! You're far too intelligent to be taken off guard by a pretty face. It can't be a coincidence that you both transferred here exactly at the same time!"

Danny's blood ran cold as he mused over the thought. "We didn't," he murmured, "Penelope arrived here a few weeks before me...but it was a last-minute substitution. The teacher that was originally hired for her position had to cancel her contract. A family health emergency, I believe was the cause."

Dr. Horace stroked his beard thoughtfully, "Hm... that is rather suspect. It's possible - although remotely - that the people who held you hostage as a boy might have had something to do with that 'emergency'."

Danny felt his throat tighten, "D-Dr. Horace... surely, ye don't think Penelope has ties to that hideous organization?!"

Dr. Horace shook his head, "I can't say for sure... but until I do know for certain, it is imperative that you avoid her at all costs."

Danny felt his knees weaken, rendering him unable to stand any longer. He sat on his bed heavily, massaging his temples at the memories he could feel trying to break through, "Sh-She can't... She can't be!"

Dr. Horace wrapped his arms gently around Danny's trembling shoulders and began petting his hair, "It's alright, Daniel... you've had a very trying and exhausting day. Fret not, My Lad, all is well."

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the cedar and sage cologne clinging to the doctor's clothes. "All is well," he murmured, then slowly returned the hug. "It seems so silly now," Danny mused quietly, "believing that I actually had wings. Penelope told me they were magnificent to behold as well."

Dr. Horace knelt down so that he was eye level with the Scot and cupped his thin, bronze face in a fatherly manner, "Daniel, you are a remarkable young man in your own right, whether or not you have wings. Never forget that."

He gave Danny a gentle peck on the forehead, then prepared him a few salmon paste sandwiches to settle his stomach. Dr. Horace was nowhere near as skilled as Penelope in the kitchen, but salmon paste had always been Danny's favorite and the flavor was very comforting indeed. While Danny nibbled on one of the sandwiches, Dr. Horace shrugged on his overcoat and slung his satchel strap across his chest. "I'll call in the morning bright and early to check on you," he promised, then nodded toward the bathroom, "I've left a sedative on the sink for you; be sure to take it before you turn in. Alright? Goodnight, Daniel, and remember what I said."

Danny waved goodbye to his guardian, unable to talk around his mouthful of bread and salmon paste. He managed to eat one of the sandwiches, but quite honestly he didn't have much of an appetite; he was too busy thinking about Penelope to be hungry. As he turned it over and over in his mind, he just couldn't fathom that Penelope's affections for him could be all of a farce. He cared for her genuinely, and she seemed to genuinely care for him...and yet, Dr. Horace's words still weighed heavily on his mind. Eventually he sighed and put the remaining sandwiches in the fridge for later, then wandered into the bathroom to take his sedative for the night.

As he pressed the end of the prepared syringe pen to his left bicep, however, something made him pause. He stood there a long while with his thumb hovering over the release button, primed to inject the drug into his bloodstream, and yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to press it. Some deep instinct - different from the Phantom Voice - was telling him that he needed to keep his wits sharp that night. Hesitantly, he obeyed the instinct and placed the syringe pen back into the medicine chest before going back to bed. He lay there awake for a handful of hours, unable to sleep from the thoughts buzzing in his head. He pulled his St. Daniel medallion out of the nightstand where he kept it and let it dangle in front of his nose, watching it swing hypnotically back and forth for a while.

Dr. Horace had always had his best interests at heart; he was Danny's oldest and most trusted friend, but their relationship was more than that. The old therapist was the closest thing Danny ever had to a father. Dr. Horace brought him into his own home, fed him and clothed him. He'd taught Danny to read and write, and later on put him through school and University. Dr. Horace's kindness and mentoring was what made him decide he wanted to be a teacher, to help other children the way Dr. Horace had helped him. That being said, Danny couldn't help but feel very deeply that Dr. Horace was wrong about Penelope in every regard. On the other hand, Dr. Horace's theories seemed to make some degree of sense. Penelope was definitely his weakness, although he'd never admit that openly. Also, supposing she wasn't affiliated with that mysterious organization he barely remembered, there was still the chance that she was mentally unstable. After all, who in their right mind would suggest that he actually did have wings and cause him to believe it so deeply as well?

Thinking about the two people he cared about most only served to make his head ache, and when the clock by his bed ticked over past two o'clock in the morning he realized it was painfully obvious he wouldn't be getting to sleep that night. With a heavy sigh he popped his medallian over his head and rolled out of bed. He then threw on a pair of old jeans and a longsleeve tee, and headed across campus to the sanctuary of his classroom. Due to the lateness of the hour there were thankfully few people still wandering the grounds. The night was still and quiet save for a rumble of distant thunder overhead. Danny shivered at a bit of wind, able to smell the coming storm on the breeze. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked a little faster, making it inside the Science building just as the first plump raindrops began hitting the ground. The corridor was dark and stone silent, which most people would find eerie or unsettling. Danny didn't mind the dark and silence however, and made his way unfazed to his classroom.

Upon unlocking the door and snapping on the lights, Danny felt a lump rise to his throat. His room was still in shambles from before, although it seemed someone had swept up the glass and stacked the books that were still salvageable in the corner. He shivered again, this time at the memory of faint, malicious laughter, then put the memory far from his mind. "It didn't happen," he murmured to himself, "It was all in my head." Still, he couldn't help but feel unsettled by the sight. Even if he had gone into some kind of fit, like Dr. Horace theorized, he didn't possess the strength to bend solid steel. Unwilling to think any more on it than necessary, he busied himself with righting the desks that were still usable and arranging them back into their neat rows. A few of his favorite posters he managed to save with several layers of cellotape, although the majority of them he unfortunately had to discard. It took him over an hour to get his books organized and shelved again, which only left his own oak desk. It was rather large and heavier than he thought, but after quite a bit of heaving and grunting he managed to right it again at last and slide it back into place where it belonged.

When Danny finished, he was exhausted. He flopped down to the floor, panting and sweating after moving his desk, and allowed his back to rest against the right hand set of drawers. While still trying to catch his breath, he tilted his head when he heard two sets of footsteps in the corridor outside. He checked his watch with a frown, puzzled as to who would be wandering the halls at half-past three in the morning, but before he could stand to investigate he heard the footsteps stop at the threshold to his room.

"Not here either," a deep, gravelly voice snarled, and he heard a set of heavy boots enter the room, "Caelin willnae be happy."

The boots were joined a few seconds later by a pair of stiletto heels clicking across the polished wooden boards. "No..." a rich, vaguely familiar feminine voice purred, "He was just here, Kane. I can still smell him."

Danny subconsciously dipped his nose toward his underarm for a moment, then froze when he heard the boots advance until they stopped just in front of his desk. Operating purely on instinct, he crawled on all fours into the knee hole and held his breath. The harsh, masculine voice growled and a fist slammed down onto the desk, making Danny jump and clamp both his hands over his mouth to silence a panicked yelp. "That doesnae do us any good, Shannon! He could be halfway to the Continent by now, for bloody sake!! I was promised a hunt tonight, Witch! Ye owe me!"

Danny heard the dull "thwack" of flesh hitting flesh and the masculine voice grunted, then there was a deep snarl that sounded like it came from a large, vicious dog. "Ye'll get your hunt, ye blithering idiot," the feminine voice snapped, "He cannae have gone far if his scent is this strong. You wait here; I'll try his flat again. If he runs, I'll steer him your way, Kane." After that, the heels clicked away back into the corridor, and the masculine voice grumbled unintelligibly in a mocking tone.

The wood over Danny's head then creaked and groaned, and the odor of wet dog and fetid meat stung his nostrils. He theorized the man must have sat down on his desk, and mustering up his courage he peeked out of his hiding place to have a look at the intruder. All he saw was a huge swath of black leather, requiring him to back up further and tilt his head up to get a better view of the exceptionally large man seated on his desk.

A greasy, matted red mane of hair streaked with white cascaded down to the man's massive, hulking shoulders. The black leather overcoat he wore was very old and dirty, showing in several places where it had been ripped and subsequently repaired with mismatched leather patches and different-colored thread. Danny couldn't see his face from the angle the big man was sitting, but his blood chilled at the large hunting rifle resting across the giant's knees. The tinny chirping of a cell phone caused Danny to duck back into his hiding place, folding his long limbs in tightly to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He heard the man's weight shift over his head and more grumbling before the ringing stopped.

"Hullo?" The giant grumped, then paused to listen to the reply, "No, sir, not yet... Aye, I realize how important he is, but-... Look, there's only so many places we can search for the slippery bastard!" Danny heard muffled screaming over the speaker and the big man growled irritatedly, "Ye dinnae need to shout! I'm not stupid!... Aye, sir; ye've got my word we'll have him before dawn... Aye... Alright. Strength of the Boar be wit ye as well."

Danny's heart pounded and he found it difficult to breathe. This man worked for the people who robbed him of the first thirteen years of his life. The man's putrid odor seemed incredibly familiar as well, making him wonder if they hadn't crossed paths before. He thought then about the man's reference to "a hunt", and the implications of the phrase. He had a feeling the man was not after any sort of game, not with a firearm of that size and caliber...and honestly, he didn't want to know what the man planned on hunting at all. He tensed again at the noise of rounds being loaded into the rifle, and trembled at a hauntingly familiar evil chuckle. "Aye, Laddie," the man snarled, priming the pump-action firearm sharply once he was finished loading it, "We'll find ye and bring ye home... one way or another."