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“Wake up!”
Bleary eyed and disoriented Parker blinked, squinting to try and make out where he was. A small stream of light revealed him not to be blind, thankfully. He winced, muscles sore as he tried pushing against the wall in an attempt to get a feel for where he was. He sucked in a breath and weakly asked, “H-Hello?”
Only silence and his own heavy breathing answered him. It was hardly a whisper, so he cleared his throat and tried again, “Is- Arthur? Arthur!”
His head was foggy, a carnival cloud of hazy thoughts, colours, emotions… But he remembered Arthur. He and Arthur… There was someone at the door, a package- a book!
He was in the closet? The light he saw was coming from the gap in the door. His arm was pinned beneath him, tingly with lack of circulation. He wiggled it out from behind him, his other pinned against the wall opposite the door and promised to be no help.
Something moved past the light of the door, and without input from his brain his body froze.
Was whoever put him in here out there? Where was Arthur? He held his breath without quite meaning to.
The way it moved… The thing blocking the light wasn’t outside the closet, it was in the darkened space with him.
Claustrophobia gripped his lungs and squeezed his throat. A trickle of panicked sweat rolled down his hairline and into his eyes. He began to thrash, scraping his trapped arm on the wall of the tight utility closet.
“Chill! Relax! Relax…” A voice thick with annoyance rang out. Clear but something about it was… off.
The dark shape moved itself past the light again, and Parker swallowed loudly. “Wh-”
“Hush!” The voice snapped, “I’m thinking…” Parker’s head was fuzzy with panic, unable to orient where the voice was coming from.
He took in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself a bit more.
Parker closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.
Parker exhaled. The air crisp with a scent like citrus, cut through with a heavy ozone. The sharp stink of static in the air, something seemingly carried by the wind that ruffled through his hair. Not a storm though… Almost a rhythmic humming he’d felt deep in his bones long before he’d heard it.
Parker looked down the steps, stretched for miles and miles below them despite walking for barely half an hour. His nostrils flared as he pulled in a steadying breath.
“You hear that, powderpuff?” Kayne asked. Breaking what Parker now recognized as an unusually stretched out silence. Kayne must be feeling it as well…
Still with the nicknames though. Powderpuff was a new one. For a being who couldn’t remember his own name, Kayne sure had a tendency to come up with the most ridiculous shit for Parker.
“No,” Parker replied, honestly. “I can feel something though, a pressure almost. What do you think it is?”
Kayne took a moment to flood Parker’s head with a hysterical laugh, wheezing out with unneeded breath, “Something exciting, I hope!”
Parker rolled his eyes, a dizzying task he regretted almost immediately. Something about the perceived height playing with his balance.
Static prickled across his skin again, raising the hair on his arms. He said, deadpan, “I hope not.”
A headache laugh filled his mind.
Parker wondered why he couldn’t pinpoint when it had become a comfort.
A final note hung heavy in the cool night air, followed by a cloying stillness.
“Arthur,” John said, “I think someone’s coming.” His voice echoed darkly in Arthur’s mind.
Arthur hummed, “Yes… I think you’re right.” Adjusting minutely on their bench, he and John stretched their fingers, and began to play. From their instrument came a reverberation of each chord as if through a vast cavern. Notes rang out as dark and as inevitable as the stars which spun above.
Darkly lit by an unusually gloomy Carcosan sunset, Arthur and John played for corpses who had long since ceased dancing.
The amphitheater and the stars above thrummed in anticipation.
Anticipation for whom it would be that came to greet them.
A huff from deep in his mind as his shadow gestured for him to keep going.
“One moment,” Parker said, “I’m trying to remember.”
Parker hadn’t been able to remember much. None too surprising, really.
Neither had Kayne.
Kayne’s, “Oh, of course, your highness, my apologies!” Was wisely ignored.
It had come back to him slowly, no thanks to Kayne. Impatient little shit.
What a way to start his day. An unknown entity frantically yelling at him to wake up… Then snap at him for talking.
He’d breathed out slowly, a count of five between shaky exhales. He’d needed to compartmentalize and focus. Panicking in a fucking closet hadn’t been helping anyone.
He’d opened his eyes, focusing in the dim closet, attempting to hear anything he could.
The shadow moved over the light again, almost… pacing.
Parker (focusing on the wrong things,) asked, “What are you?”
The pacing stopped. Parker could almost make out the shape of a human… No, he could absolutely make out the shape of a human.Whoever was in here with him… Whatever it was, was tilting its head at him.
“What am I?” A laugh rang out like a gunshot in Parker’s head, “Pretty rude, aren’t ya? You first, what are you?”
A squint of his eyes in the direction of the shadow went unanswered. “Well, pal, to me you look like you’re missin’ a body. So I apologize for not jumping to “who” first.” Silence answered him, so he continued, placatingly, “Either way, sorry for bein’ rude, whoare you? What’s your name?”
“My name?” A pause, as the entity seemed to think, “I… I don’t. Listen, it doesn’t matter! None of this matters! Your “partner” shoved us in here! No respect! Rude!”
Parker could agree that it was rude, it was also completely out of character.
He replied, “That is rude…” Without much conviction. He was thinking… Wished he could be pacing. Something that seemed to irritate Arthur but always helped him think.
As his eyes adjusted to the minimal lighting peeking through the slats in the closet he was better able to orient himself.
Locked in a closet by his own partner? His best friend?
No way to deny it, but Parker also wasn’t one to trust random shadows.
Despite it all, the longer he spent thinking things over the slower his heart pounded. Soon enough it was no longer the loudest thing in his ears and he was better able to tell that no one else was in the office.
He used his free arm to start tugging at his coat sleeve, eventually sliding it free from his shoulders and giving his pinned arm the extra space needed to slip out from under him.
Chuckling in relief at having both his hands free he spent a moment to relax. He saw the movement of the shadow again, the entity in the closet with him. Parker stared in disbelief as the shadow started to exaggeratedly slow clap at him. Sharp claps in his ears.
The shadow said, “As fascinating as this display of humanity is will you open the door already?”
Parker sighed, good mood pulled back to the issue at hand. With a half mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Instead of the frustrated, “Open it yourself!” He’d wanted to snap out. Parker used his now free arm to reach the handle and turn the knob, allowing him to push the door open.
Light spilled in, dim sunlight of a rainy afternoon filtering through the windows of the office.
Arthur was at the piano.
Such a silly thing to focus on at that moment.
But he couldn’t help it.
Arthur was at the piano.
Arthur was playing piano.
His mind skipped over the bodies, the blood, the gore, the stench of death permeating the air around them…
None of that mattered.
Arthur was at the piano.
Back when Parker had finally convinced Arthur to join him, helped dig him out of his self imposed bedrock and do something he had talent for. Something that he could focus on instead of his mysterious past.
Back then… Parker had convinced Arthur to get a piano. Something Arthur’d had experience with, the reason Parker had been able to nag him for help in the first place…
Arthur wouldn’t go near the damn thing.
Kept it tuned, kept it dusted, kept it like an oath. But never as something to play…
“So about your rude partner”
“You keep saying my partner,” Parker replied, “how do you know it was my partner”
The shadow made a non-committal noise, “Well, the door has two names on it, and unless you decided it would be hilarious to call out your own name as you were murdered - which, don’t get me wrong, would be hilarious - That makes you Peter and him Arthur.”
“Parker,” Parker replied without a beat.
“Parker, whatever.”
Parker looked out from the closet, squinting against the bright light of the lit office. A storm was beating against the window and Parker guessed it couldn’t have been that much later. But he couldn’t be positive.
“It doesn’t look like much of a struggle…” Parker noticed.
“Yeah, you went down like a wilted flower, extremely heroic.” The deadpanned voice answered.
“You were already here?”
“Yes.” The shadow replied, still from what sounded like within his own mind. “I’ve been with you since your rude partner tried to kill you and shoved us in the closet. You have extremely poor taste in friends.”
Parker sighed, “Yeah, it’s not like him, trust me on that one.” He was staring at the rain hitting against the window of the office. He began to step towards the window. An excuse to escape the voice as much as it was to check for anything that may be outside.
“Well, your extremely poor taste in friends aside, I seem to be stuck here with you.” The voice was annoyed. Sounding no farther from him than before. As if following him.
He could admit to himself he was avoiding the voice… Avoiding looking toward whatever was standing in the closet. The dark shadow who - for now - seemed to be on his side.
“Listen,” The voice said, “You and your friend didn’t just happen to have a fight to death the same time I coincidentally got bound to you.”
That brought Parker pause, “Bound to me?”
“Have you not been listening? I don’t like to repeat myself, Petey.”
Parker turned, finally daring a glance.
And saw nothing.
“Parker…” He corrected automatically. Voice a whisper as he flicked his eyes back and forth around the nearly spotless room. Not even a hint of the shadow he’d seen in the closet.
“Whatever.” The voice replied. “You need to remember what happened.”
“W-Where are you, anyway?”
“You have such ridiculous priorities.”
A crack of lightning from the window behind him lit up the office, lengthening his shadow in a way that nothing else in the room seemed to match.
His shadow turned in a way that suggested it was looking at him.
“What are you doing? Let’s figure this out! Chop-chop!”
Parker paced back and forth. His shadow stood stubbornly in contrast.
“How is this helping.”
Parker didn’t answer, instead he’d continued to wear a hole in the floor of the office.
The shadow huffed an exaggerated sigh, “I hate this and I hate you, by the way.”
If Arthur had been with him, and attacked him - something that had been slowly coming back to him - the real question was why. It didn’t make any sense.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his pacing.
Well, a knock was putting it nicely, whoever was there was nearly beating down the door.
Parker startled, staring towards it.
“I love staring at doors.”
“Oh shut up, pal.” Snapped out of his staring he reached for his gun in the top drawer of his desk as he made his way to the door. He reached for the knob, and turned the safety off on his gun.
Can’t be too careful, after all.
A slow crack of the door revealed the building maintenance man, Eddie, Parker thought. “Uh - Eddie?” Parker asked, opening the door fully and putting his gun back in his holster. “What’s the matter? You startled me!” A friendly chuckle as he took in the shock on Eddie’s face.
“Oh, uh… Gotta admit Mr. Yang, I weren’t expecting to see ya.”
“Oh?” Parker replied.
“Yeah,” Eddie started, “Heard a lotta commotion and such earlier - talked to ya partner. Was actin awful strange.”
“Oh!” Parker replied, “Yeah, that was us, we -uh- we were just—“
“Moving furniture,” Kayne said.
Good enough an excuse as any.
“Moving furniture!” Parker parroted, “We got into a bit of a fight over who would get their desk next to the window!” Parker watched the twitch of Eddie’s eye, his left one, he was buying it. Heard something that fell into place for him. “I stormed out on him, he was gone when I came back though… You haven’t - uh - happened to see where he went off to?”
Eddie’s posture relaxed, and to Parker’s surprise he actually let out a chuckle. “Gotta admit, Mr. Yang, I thought your partner finally cracked!”
“O-Oh?”
“Yeeeeah,” Eddie drawled, “I feel bad saying it to ya, but he’s got that look about him.”
Parker knew what he meant. Eye’s flicking briefly to a scrap of paper on the ground at Eddie’s feet before flicking back up.
“Something funny for us to laugh about later, no doubt!” Parker joked.
“Haha!” Eddie laughed, actually laughing by saying “haha” - what the hell. “Anyway, I’ll be off, glad you ain’t dead Mr. Yang-”
“Parker is fine, Eddie,” Parker interrupted.
“Parker then… I’ll be off. Can’t say I saw where he went though - hope the two a ya’s work out the window view.”
Parker smiled, momentarily gripping the doorframe harder than necessary.
He watched as Eddie walked off, feet stomping as he went, before reaching down and snatching up the brown shipping paper that had been discarded on the floor.
Parker closed the door, and turned around, holding the paper in his hands.
“What’s that?” The shadow asked.
“A clue…” Parker replied.
His shadow seemed unimpressed. “Kayne.” Was all he said.
“Kayne?” Parker asked, clue forgotten.
“Yeah,” Kayne replied.
“Is that-”
“My name. At least, it’ll do.”
Fair enough, Parker thought. But he just nodded, “Glad your memory is coming back, pal, because I think mine is as well.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s great.”
Parker was impressed, Kayne somehow managed to sound even more uninterested by this than anything else they’d managed today.
“Yes,” Parker was undeterred, this was great! “Yeah, before everything went bellyup - me and Arthur got a delivery!”
His shadow moved to stand beside him, a fluid movement as though a trick of the light. “What was it?”
“A book…”
“A book?” The voice asked, “What book?” The annoyance was still clear in his voice, but with his heart no longer stuck in his throat Parker was able to think a little more clearly.
“Yeah! That’s right, someone came to the door and knocked… Arthur’s the one who answered it.”
“But it was a book?” Boredom laced the voice, “Listen. I know this is stressful for you and yadda yadda whatever, but I don’t enjoy being trapped.” A dark note laced the words that rang through Parkers head.
“Well, let’s find Arthur then.” Parker sighed… He had no fucking idea where to even start.
“Well…” Kayne hummed out, “I’ve got a little idea for you.” He sounded downright malicious.
”And what’s that?”
“What if, and stay with me here, I wasn’t the only entity in that book.”
Parker nodded. It made more sense than Arthur purposefully trying to kill him. He looked over to his shadow, Kayne, tap dancing in place against the bright wallpapering of the office. “Maybe we should find him then, yeah?”
There were some things Kayne couldn’t help.
Even to his own detriment.
These things included, but were in no way limited to:
Japes, jokes, shenanigans, tom-foolery, chicanery, gags, and nonsense.
Parker begged, begged, for Kayne to pull himself together as they made their way to their next lead.
Kayne stood, miming picking his ear with exaggerated movements as he hummed out a, “Yeah, yeah, relax, I’m a right professional!”
It had come to Parker’s absolute horror and Kayne uproarious delight that Kayne’s movements as Parker’s shadow were not, in fact, a hallucination! Oh no, they were instead perfectly visible to every single person that saw them.
This led to Kayne projecting rude and -to Kayne alone- hilarious gestures to anyone with the misfortune of turning their backs on them.
It had turned their investigation into an absolute train wreck and actually got them kicked out of more than one place.
The only reason Parker didn’t get too upset about it was that Kayne seemed to also not want to be doing it.
Humour was a shitty way to cope, but Parker knew of worse.
“What’s the big plan anyway? Walk in and ask if anyone knows who The King In Yellow is? Sounds like a right ponce if you ask me!” Parker’s ears rang from the sheer volume Kayne could manage with a cackle. With exaggerated grandeur, Kayne continued, “Hark! Comes the yellow King! Regaled in a gown of yellow. He stands twice as tall as any man! Majestic, he glides over the ground to take his throne in lost Carcosa, for he is the king that was and shall be!”
Parker stopped in his tracks, hand outstretched to the library door, “Carcosa?”
“I-” Kayne started, a loud buzzing began to fill Parkers ears, “I don’t know… I don’t remember.” Parker hated hearing Kayne so confused. They’d been at this for a month now. Kayne only got like this when confronted with his forgotten past.
“All good pal, maybe they’ve got a book on shadow memories in there too.”
“Maybe they’ve got a book on how to shut up.”
Parker laughed, good humour breaking him out of the haze Kayne’s static always left him in.
The door opened easily, revealing the large building in full. Kayne let out a low whistle heard only by Parker.
The librarian they met at the front desk had a kindly, weathered face. He was someone Arthur normally talked to. But the old man recognized Parker nonetheless.
“Oh, hello there - Mr. Yang was it?”
“Why is he whispering.”
“Hello Mr. Armitage, how’s the day?”
“Oh, I see, we all just whisper. It’s the whisper building. That makes sense.” Kayne sounded like he did not think it made sense even a little bit.
“Fine, just fine!”
“Got a bit of a question for you, sir.”
Armitage nodded, and replied, “I’ll help the best I can, of course.”
Parker nodded, “Wondering about a bit of a weird one…”
“Few come to me who aren’t!” The old man replied with a chuckle.
“The King in Yellow, ever heard of it?”
The old librarian paused, assessing Parker with a squint. “Yes… But things like this - Same as I told your partner, things like this are sometimes better not known.”
Parker felt a jolt.
“Arthur was here…” Kayne noted.
“Arthur was here then?” Parker asked. He didn’t miss how Armitage seemed surprised by this.
“Yes… Yes, about a month past now. I thought that’s why you’d come.” Parker waited a moment, then the man spoke again, “I thought he told you something about it.”
Parker took in the posture of the old librarian, the kindly eyes, the sharp light behind them. Honesty would get him farther here.
“That’s actually interesting, Mr. Armitage… And I’m extremely happy to hear it…” He started, not breaking eye contact, “Arthur went missin about a month back now - Trying to retrace his steps and find out where he went.”
“Bold move, but will he buy it?” Kayne had taken on the persona of a sports announcer, now.
The gambit seemed to pay off, and Parker found himself relaxing. A direct opposition to the way Armitage seemed to steel himself.
“I see…”
“So I just wanna know what he learned, you see? I just wanna find him… Bring him back home. Him gettin into all this weird stuff… I just wanna save him if I can.”
“Laying it on super thick.” Kayne noted.
“Alright, follow me.” The old man said, “It’s in my private collection.”
Parker pushed off the front desk to quickly follow behind the old man.
Soon, Parker and Kayne were alone in a cramped office, seated in front of an ancient looking tome.
‘The King in Yellow’ In all its glory.
The King in Yellow was apparently something called a Great Old One, something extremely powerful - able to rewrite reality to its whims.
Kayne didn’t seem worried.
Parker was starting to think it would take something apocalyptic to get Kayne to worry.
Parker heard music everywhere they went for the next three days.
“Oh, fancy - Does it play a cute little song?”
Parker ignored his shadow admiring the music box. Holding it loosely in his cupped hands. “What is this?” He asked.
Arthur blinked at him, strange yellow eyes not quite meeting his own. “It’s a gift.” He said.
“A gift?” Parker repeated. He heard himself echo back to him, an effect of the amphitheatre amplifying his question on repeat.
“A gift!” Kayne chimed in, never one to be left out of a joke.
And that’s exactly what this felt like. A joke.
Parker said, “That-That’s great. Just great - consolation prize from working this hard to find you?”
Arthur didn’t react, reaching a fumbling hand towards the young girl seated at his piano bench. Her yellow dress seemed spotless, and Parker turned away with a grimace.
Parker gripped the silver music box tightly, “Because I didn’t come all this way just to be told to leave again, that ain’t like me - and if you really were Arthur, you would know that.”
This seemed to give Arthur pause, as if he hadn’t thought he could be mistaken.
Arthur hummed, and tilted his head as if listening to some distant music. “What did you hope to gather, friend? You helped me, you taught me life had meaning again, and now I’m where I need to be. Good job, Parker, you and your friend can go. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”
Parker felt his mouth fall open. He couldn’t be serious.
“Rejected… Ouch.” An exaggerated hissing noise from Kayne.
He snapped his teeth shut and clutched the music box closer.
The little girl didn’t seem to mind it had been taken from her.
It was a shit month, cultists and gunfire, ghosts and - worst of all - dead ends.
But they had a lead. A real, honest to god lead.
And not just any lead, but it was a very good lead! A car crash with a John Doe in a hospital only several miles away? It was almost too good to be true…
“Don’t get your hopes up, Sugarplum.” This was a new thing Kayne was trying, stupid fucking nicknames. “So far nothing’s panned out.”
“Yes, I know, I know… But what if it’s him?”
Kayne flipped off an old woman, “What if it’s him and he doesn’t know a damn thing? What then?”
Parker hummed, “You’re gettin’ awful crabby.”
“Uh yeah! We’ve been following this stupid Brit for like a month Parky-pal. I’m over it.”
To be totally fair to Kayne’s complaints Parker did agree. “Either way, I can’t let him suffer whatever’s happening.” After all, it was Parker’s fault he was in this mess. “This King in Yellow sounds… Serious.”
They both ignored the fact that they had no idea who Kayne actually was.
Didn’t matter in the end. The John Doe was long gone, and with him his trail.
The gunshot from downstairs seemed to shake the floorboards, a loud whine reverberated deep in Parker’s skull.
“What the fuck?”
“My thoughts exactly, darling, maybe we should skedoodle and skeddadle!”
Parker couldn’t agree more, but, “What if it’s Arthur?”
“Arthur! To the rescue of our dear damsel selves?” He’d put on a cutesy transatlantic accent that had Parker rolling his eyes. His shadow held his hands up to its face in an “oh so cute” gesture before dropping it. “With a gun? Get real, Romeo.”
Parker scoffed, but Kayne continued, shadow stood tapping its foot with arms on its hips, “The best we can hope for is to escape and live another day. Find a way to get the entity out of him which will hopefully get me outta you.”
Alright, yes, they must be so close though!
Parker looked down at the floorboards, the dusty attic of the old bookshop.
The music they played was nothing less than perfection. The King in Yellow was so enamoured with the skills… How could he not be? The god of madness and artists… He offered Arthur everything.
Arthur wanted John.
That had been… acceptable.
As entangled as they were there was no doubt in the King’s mind that Arthur would be his with time. But the piece wanted to stay, and to tear him away would damage them both. Why make it hurt, when he could make it real?
To truly seal the deal, he offered Arthur more.
Be my composer.
The King had said.
You can’t have John.
The composer shot back.
But… as a Great Old One of unfathomable power, The King in Yellow could do many things to get what he wanted.
His piece had already corrupted the composer. Getting what he wanted would be easy.
His piece and his composer looked to him without fear, blood coating their hands and face. None left standing in their way on their journey across the Dreamlands to find him.
I will give you Carcosa… I will give you Faroe.
Easy, for one such as he.
How was Arthur to resist? The one thing he desired above all others.
It was not simple belief in the King’s promises that convinced Arthur. It was hope.
So Arthur played.
He played in a theatre of the King’s design. An amphitheatre that echoed the notes back with increasing volume.
And dread.
It was with that dread that Carcosa was filled with music once again.
The Dancers danced, spinning circles of soft yellow gauze and silk around the bright piano. Faroe sat beside him, holding a sparkling silver music box on her lap. She sat with him, swaying to the song and plucking notes that only added to the wondrous, maddening music.
With every note Arthur broke further.
Coaxed on by the honeyed words of the King’s piece in his ears.
So entangled they were by the other.
People danced. They followed the Dancers, spinning and swaying and moving. They danced to the beat of blood. They danced to the blood Arthur left on the keys.
They danced until their shoes wore down to skin, then to muscle, then to bone. They danced and they cried - maddened exalted tears - until they had no more tears left to cry, until flesh split and bones ground themselves to nothing but pulpy meat and bloodstains on the ground.
The Dancers of the King in Yellow spun, twirled, and swayed. Orbiting the gravity Arthur commanded with his twisting, maddening music.
They played through all the sunsets and sunrises the Dreamlands deemed worthy.
And with Faroe by his side, and John in his mind - Arthur would play until even the Dreamlands was nothing but ash.
There was a town called Leerie…
And Leerie had an old rundown hotel.
And under that rundown old hotel was something much much worse.
Easier times… Parker thought. Pulling himself back to the present with a slow measured inhale filled with the scent of old books and gunpowder.
How pathetic was that? Reminiscing to hiding out like some kind of rat in an old bookstore.
He looked out at the vast staircase laid out behind them… Looking Forward to take in what remained ahead of them. His shadow dramatically laid on the stairs, panting as if from effort, but truly just for theatrics.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Parker asked.
His shadow froze, Kayne looking up at him, “What’s that?”
Parker grimaced, said, “The stairs, they look like so much… more, don’t they?”
“I have no idea what you mean!” The headache laugh had Parker sighing again, “Let’s just get up there…”
His shadow hopped to salute him before resting in a pose that mirrored his own.
Only… Not quite matching the sun.
Arthur… Was playing a piano.
Something wasn’t right… About the way Arthur looked.
And not just that he was at a piano.
He was way too relaxed. And what a shame that was; Arthur looking relaxed being a giveaway that something was wrong.
Each note Arthur played on the piano seemed to ring in Parker’s head. Even his passenger, Kayne, was struck silent.
Whatever destruction had gripped the dead city seemed to have been centred here. Piano a focal point to the carnage, and seemingly untouched.
Parker felt as though a spotlight was cast upon the scene; Arthur seemed to glow. He and the little girl seated on the bench beside him. She looked at Parker over her shoulder, and Parker felt his stomach drop.
Just as something seemed to be wrong with Arthur, something was also wrong with the little girl. Like it was simply a doll, moving on its own.
Parker looked at the gore covered stone steps laid out before him. A dead face, frozen in ecstasy seemed to gaze at him from a pile. It looked happy.
“All the world’s a stage…” Kayne quoted, seemingly happy to drag Parker’s shadow through the corpses around them. Getting a better look, presumably.
The music stopped.
One singular sour note ringing out, putting Parker’s teeth on edge.
From below, Parker watched as Arthur sat himself up straighter and turned so his profile was in view.
Arthur said, “‘And all the men and women merely players.’” With a grin playing at his lips.
Parker froze, as did Kayne. “Did he just—“
“Yes,” Arthur replied, cutting Kayne off. “Or, well… I know someone who can hear you.” It seemed to be funny to Arthur, whatever the fuck he was talking about.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Parker took one wet step down towards the strange display. There was no mistaking it, that was Arthur… But how? Why? What happened?
“I’ve never seen you struck so silent, Parker!” Arthur called out, raising from the bench and turning to him fully.
“A-Arthur, pal! I-I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.” He pushed as much humour into his words as he could muster. Admittedly it hadn’t felt like a lot.
Arthur tilted his head… Something was wrong with his eyes.
“Oh?” Was his simple reply.
“Yeah, you know you get into some strange scrapes?”
Arthur laughed, a noise Parker can’t admit to having heard often.
“I suppose I do, but I can say the same for you, friend.”
Parker paused, taking Arthur in. He was dressed well… A fine suit. Much finer than what the two of them had been able to afford. It was an average brown colour, but what made it unique was the golden thread making the fabric sparkle. It seemed to sparkle in Arthur’s eyes, turning them a bright yellow.
From this close (when had he gotten so close? When did he finish his descent down those blood soaked steps?) Parker was able to see that the piano hadn’t been untouched. The keys were smeared with the rust coloured staining of old blood. The little girl locked hollow eyes with him, peering past golden brown plastic curls. She looked even more doll like. A marionette with unseen strings. He had to fight to tear his eyes away when she gave him a pantomime of a smile.
Kayne was keeping quiet. His shadow content with observing and not being heard for once.
Parker couldn’t help but feel alone.
Arthur seemed to loom over him, Parker couldn’t find it in himself to back down. He gazed into Arthur’s yellow eyes - truly yellow, not some trick of this light - and tried to find his friend. Tried to find any singular spark of recognition.
Arthur’s hands were bloodstained. Parker didn’t flinch as they reached to cup his face.
“Oh Parker, my friend - It’s so nice to see you again.”
In Arthur’s eyes he saw no recognition.
“Aren’t you happy to see me, Parker?”
He felt those bloodstained hands trace his cheekbones, something that made him feel like a child.
“No…? Oh well!”
The worst part was how Parker knew without any doubts… That this was Arthur.
And Kayne just laughed.
Parker hated being pushed around.
John didn’t know what it was that hid in Parker’s shadow. But he repeated to Arthur everything it said. Even if it was mostly nonsense.
John theorized something else had been in the book.
Arthur wasn’t bothered, not much. John had become a great friend to him - and Parker would need a friend with him gone.
John didn’t even try pushing the issue, not much bothered the madness that swirled in Arthur’s mind.
John didn’t see a point in telling Arthur how afraid it made him.
“Arthur,” John started, “We can’t let him stay.” Honey gold words, hidden meanings. He didn’t want whatever followed Parker to interfere with them.
“Parker, take the music box.”
John simply watched as an urgency poured into Arthur’s voice.
“My friend, you need to leave.”
John simply watched as a spark of understanding lit Parker’s eyes.
John simply watched as Arthur cried into his illusionary daughter’s hair. As he cried at learning of his best friend still being alive. And having to lose him all over again.
The music box sat on Arthur’s desk, gathering dust yet maintaining its sparkle.
“I say we open it,” Parker said, “He gave it to us for a reason.”
“‘He gave it to us for a reason.’” Kayne mocked. “Yeah, maybe it’ll turn your skin inside out!” A cackle marked the end of his sentence.
“Hey!” Parker replied, “Aren’t you the one who said somethin like: ‘Does it play a cute song?’”
“Fine! Open it, I’ve been dying to know.”
Parker grinned, yet when he finally made it to the box he hesitated. His hand stretched out towards the glittering item.
“Open it already, come on Cupcake I’m dying of old age!”
He opened it.
A slow sad melody began to play, he recognized it as the one Arthur had been playing in the Dreamlands…
A crackle of electricity - loud and right behind him caused Parker to whirl in place. He felt the static in his bones.
Like the air itself was lit from within, the static coalesced, coming together in the form of a man - Black suit, far too fancy for daily wear.
He was covered in blood.
“W-Wait…” Kayne said.
Risking a glance towards him Parker saw his shadow standing stock still beside him.
“Now, now, now… This is a strange one, isn’t it?” A headache laugh - too loud and too real to be from Kayne… No… This stranger just sounded the same.
Kayne was silent and Parker felt his stomach fall to his knees.
The stranger grinned at him, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, “Things can’t always go as expected though!” The stranger threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.
“Wait!” Kayne sounded desperate - the apocalyptic event Parker had once thought would be needed to cause Kayne to panic… Was this it?
“Kayne? What- Do you recognize this guy?”
Ignoring Parker, the stranger continued, “Oh, come now Shadow Kayne! (You like that one? I just came up with it!) Don’t you know names are important? They mean something!” He sounded just like Kayne… All smiling and snarking… “And you took mine.” And threatening…
Parker backed up, a small step away from the man who appeared in his office. His empty office… Free of an Arthur who refused to return with him.
“Hey pal, I don’t know who—”
The man tutted at him, a condescending click of his tongue. “Oh Parker, don’t you know a mistake when you see one? None of this is right!”
Kayne spoke up, and nonsensically he said, “Kayne.”
The bloodstained man grinned again, “And more importantly… I don’t like sharing my name.”
Parker leaned back against his comfortable chair, a splurge the two of them really couldn’t afford - but damn it all if it wasn’t nice. He took a sip of his coffee, savouring the warmth if not the flavour. Looking over to Arthur, fussing over some notes he had taken the night before, Parker said, “Relax, English! It’s nothin to be stressed over - New day new client - nothin spooky.”
Arthur snapped his head up, ears going pink, “That’s easy enough for you to say, Parker, you’ve been doing this for years!”
“And so have you! Just because your name’s on the door now doesn’t change nothin!” He tossed Arthur an easy grin, “You’re a great detective!”
Arthur straightened, his usual grumpy demeanour masking his face, “I’m a damn good detective, thank you.” He straightened his sleeves and turned back to his fussing.
Parker laughed. This guy…
A knock at the door startled them both, it couldn’t be their client already, it was far too early…
Arthur straightened his tie, and walked to the door, a call of, “One moment please!” As he went.
Parker took another sip of his coffee, sitting up straighter in case it happened to actually be their client. He put his mug down and watched Arthur open the door to no one.
“No one there?” Parker asked.
Arthur didn’t answer, just bent down to retrieve something from the floor before holding it up to Parker. Sunlight cast a beam across Arthur’s eyes, causing him to squint before closing the door and heading to his desk.
“Just a package,” He said, “From… A bookstore it seems. It’s addressed to the old owner.”
Parker hummed, lifting himself out of his chair to stand beside Arthur as he opened it.
“Let’s take a look then, shall we?”
“‘That ends this strange eventful history.’”