Chapter Text
It had been a year since his mother died, well, more like since she refused to stay dead. The winter air was cold, it had been snowing outside quite heavily for the past few days. Perfectly miserable weather, for a perfectly miserable day.
She had been pestering and belittling him for the past 6 weeks, making him run errands for her, making him look into several more of those stupid books, her obsession project, forced upon him. He hated it, more than once, he’d found himself wishing he knew how to get rid of her once and for all. Luckily, her time had run up about an hour ago, leaving the house quiet for once. If he was lucky, she’d stay away for over a week, and he could forget about how awful she’d been to him mere moments ago.
As usual, she’d called him all kinds of scum to his face, telling him how useless he was, how much he disappointed her, how he ruined her chance at a perfect immortal afterlife. Perfect his ass, he’d just have ended up being stuck with her forever, never catching a break from the torture that was his current life.
He was packing his bags, planning to make a trip to literally anywhere while he had the chance. He’d been wanting to leave the country for a while now, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Now would be a perfect opportunity, free of all the worst parts that came along with an overbearing mother who insisted on stalking him after death.
He had started setting aside all the money he could after the murder trials, just in case he needed it. He didn’t have a lot of course – only really some small earnings from side hustles he used to do, back when he didn’t need to worry about the spirit of his mother following him everywhere, as well as whatever he inherited after his mother’s passing – But it was enough to leave for just a single week.
He glanced back towards the book made of skin, he should take it with him. The thought of doing so made his skin crawl and his stomach turn, but he should. He’d rather know what his mother was up to once she found the strength to reform, than leaving her unattended. Not to mention, it would spare him some trouble. He remembered last time he hadn't been near her when she reformed, it wasn't something he was willing to repeat. If he wasn't home by the time she came back, she'd still be furious of course, but it couldn't be as bad as it would be if he wasn't near her at all.
Reluctantly, he reached out towards the book, and placed it into his shoulderbag. He took some other books as well, maybe he’d find some enjoyment in watching them burn. If he left now, he might still be able to find a flight. He didn’t have tickets yet so getting any flight at all might be difficult, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
Taking his long, dark winter coat off of the hook and quickly putting it on, he rushed out of the house, bags in hand, with the books slightly hanging out from them. He didn’t care if they got wet, he knew they were practically powerless as long as he didn’t try to read them, and he’d been around them long enough that he knew how to resist the urge to do so. Secretly he hoped the books could feel it, somehow. Him resisting them, the cold, the uncomfortable wetness, turning their pages into a sloppy mess. But that was all baseless wishful thinking, really. He didn't think they could feel or even think anything. The thought they could was comforting though, so he choose to believe it.
The first part of his journey went smoothly, the bus was surprisingly empty for this time of day, and the tube to Bank station had been on time for once. He was less lucky with the DLR though, he had seen one leave before his eyes as he had tripped over some trash someone had left on the ground. His shoulderbag had fallen open, and all the books had scattered across the ground.
Hastily, he started gathering them, ignoring the looks of bypassers. Had he been normal, people might have offered to help, but he knew what he looked like. Most people avoided him, and he was fine with that.
“That’s quite an impressive amount of books you have with you.” He almost jumped out of his skin as he heard the unfamiliar voice, looking up, an old woman was standing over him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, or what her deal was, even if he tried. Her expression was extremely blank, and the powers he had been developing recently didn't seem to work on her. She looked academic though, and was maybe in her 60's?
“Don’t touch them!” He said with a hint of urgency and annoyance in his voice. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with some old lady taking one of his books and getting influenced by it. He wasn’t even sure what half of them did, he hadn’t really looked into all of these, just picked up whatever he could.
The old woman shrugged, “I wasn’t going to, I still value my life.” She said, as she watched him pick up the rest of the books and put them back in his bag.
“You… you know what these are?” He asked, he hadn’t known that many people, besides his mother, who truly knew what these books were capable of.
The older woman gave him a smile, “Well of course, they’re books.” She said. He felt himself get disappointed, just some crazy old lady spouting nonesense at him.
The older woman leaned down as she continued in a softer voice, “Although, I would recommend you keep the one made of skin a bit better hidden.” She gestured towards the last book still laying on the ground, a bit further from where the others had fallen, the one containing his mother. In his hurry, he hadn't noticed he hadn't picked it up yet. He quickly grabbed it and put it back into his bag.
“Do you know what they do?” He asked her, as he closed up his bag properly this time.
The woman straightened herself again. “Not all of them, but I do have some idea of their capabilities. I assume you’re far more knowledgeable on them than I am.” She had a strange look in her eyes, as if she suddenly thought of something.
“What are you planning to do with those? It’s quite dangerous to have this many on you at once.” Suspicion seeped through her voice.
Gerard didn’t want to tell her, it was none of her business. Yet when he was about to tell her off, a strange feeling fell over him. “I- I’m going to destroy them.” It seemed to change the woman’s demeanour a bit.
“Are you now? Do you want some help with that?” She asked, in what might have been a joking manner, or might have been very serious, he really couldn't tell. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He wanted to just leave the country for a while, to be on his own for once. But the thought of someone who knew about these books as well as maybe being willing to help him get rid of them did sound intriguing.
“Who are you?” he asked, stepping slightly closer to the platform. The old woman seemed to consider the question for a moment, as if deciding if she should tell him or not.
“I’m Gertrude Robinson, yourself?” He perked up at hearing that name, he vaguely remembered hearing it before. Where? Had his mother mentioned her before? Had she come up in one of her weird teachings? Was she associated with one of the powers?
He realised he hadn’t answered her question, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Gerard Keay.” he said. The woman's eyes seemed to light up in recognition.
“Keay?” She asked. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Mary Keay, would you?” Gerard looked at her in surprise.
“You… You’ve heard of my mother?” he asked dumbfounded, his mother was quite the infamous person within certain groups of people, he really shouldn’t be surprised. Though finding one of them out on the street suddenly made him a lot less comfortable. If this woman knew his mother, and was familiar with the Leitners, she must be associated with one of the powers. He did not want to get any deeper into this than he already was, he just wanted to leave. But something within him was curious as to what she had to offer, she didn't seem to be like his mother, maybe she was one of those that had wished to stop her?
Gertrude waved her hand dismissively “We’ve met, yes. Is she in there?” she pointed towards the bag he was holding. He instinctively pushed it behind him, forming a protective barrier between the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and the old woman.
“Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicion tainting his voice.
“No reason in particular.” Gerard looked at her in confusion, what did she want? “So, are you with the End? Desolation? Or have you decided to follow in your Mother’s footsteps?” The questions surprised him. His mother had decided to not devote her life to one specific power, and she had insisted he shouldn't as well. Over the years though, he had found himself being drawn towards one specific force anyways. Had he not been covered up as much as he was now, which one that was would have been obvious.
“I… I’m not. I’m with the one who watches.” he said quietly. Gertrude's expression shifted, maybe interest? He couldn't tell.
“Do you have anywhere to be? I’d like to discuss that one book of yours, if you don’t mind. But this hardly seems like an appropriate place.” she asked him. Gerard felt himself get uncomfortable.
“I was on my way to the airport,” he simply said, pointing towards the railway.
Gertrude nodded, she seemed slightly annoyed at something as she gave him a small card. “In case you change your mind.” she said. He took a look at it, it had her name and phone number on it, as well as an address, with noted next to it ‘Magnus institute’.
As he looked back up, Gertrude was already leaving towards another platform. Gerard shrugged as he put the card into his jacket, turning towards his own platform, part of him glad the confrontation was over.
He did end up taking a flight, somehow finding himself in Genoa in the end. It had been nice enough, having a small break from everything. He did end up burning some of the books as well, not all of them though. Despite the fact that it felt good to be away, his encounter with Gertrude had stuck with him. He hadn’t been able to shrug it off of him at all.
He’d done some research while on his trip, anything he could find on the institute really, though he didn’t find as much useful information as he had hoped, everywhere he looked, he could only find back vague information. He figured out it was an academic research facility, looking into the esoteric and supernatural, so he had a solid guess as to what power it was aligned with, if it was with any in particular. But other than that? Not a lot had stood out to him.
He’d ended up coming home earlier than he had planned to, his mother hadn't reformed yet, and might not for a few more days, but he couldn't stay away. Not with his mind still being stuck on that station.
Now he was standing in front of a big, old looking building on a corner of Harleyford Road. He’d dropped some of his stuff off at home before coming here, having on him only the Skinbook, as well as some other Leitners he might be able to use to his advantage if he needed to. He shivered, both from his nerves, as from the cold. He had decided to leave his wintercoat at home.
Taking a deep breath of air, he tried to calm his nerves down. He grabbed the doorknob of the heavy looking and pushed it openwith some effort. A waft of air met him, the place smelled of old papers and dust. The entrance opened into a small reception area. Gerard slowly approached the reception desk, which was occupied by a sharp looking woman. As he got closer, she looked up at him. She gave him a startled look, before trying to gather herself. It was a reaction he often got when allowing his skin to be more visible, the shirt he was wearing not covering any of the eyes tattood onto his body.
“Good afternoon sir, do you have an appointment?” She asked, after she had managed to find her voice back. Gerard likely looked like an idiot, it had not even crossed his mind that usually, you have to make appointments for things like this.
“No, I haven’t.” He answered, a slight edge of awkwardness seeping through his voice.
“Not a problem sir, what is the purpose of your visit?” She picked up a pen and started writing something in a notebook next to her. As she shifted her seating position, Gerard was able to see her little nametag. ‘Rosie - receptionist and executive assistant’.
“I’m here to speak with Gertrude Robinson?” He didn’t mean to make it sound like a question, but his nerves were getting the better of him. Rosie nodded.
“Can I have your name please?” Gerard cleared his throat for a moment.
“Gerard Keay” he said, grabbing harsher onto the small bag he had with him. Rosie simply nodded.
“Take a seat, I’ll see if our Head Archivist can make time for you.” Gerard did as he was told, as the receptionist left her station. He looked around the room, there wasn’t a lot to look at really. There was an old looking painting of what he assumed was the founder of the institute, and above the entrance there was a little icon of an owl that he had seen outside as well. But other than that, it looked like any 19th century building that had had a handful of renovations over the years.
It didn’t take too long for Rosie to come back. She gestured towards him as she went to pick up something from her desk, a small pile of papers. “Gertrude will see you in a minute, could you please fill in this form and write down your time of entrance?” She asked him as he was given the documents.
He looked over them, one simply included a space to write down his name, the time he entered, the time he exited and his signature. He quickly filled in what he could, writing down 14:45 in the first space.
The second document was a bit more formal, asking him for the reason for his visit as well as his contact information. It then went over a pretty long list of in-house regulations for visitors and a form that dismissed the institute of any responsibility if something were to happen to him while he was on their property. Very reassuring sounding.
He briefly wondered if it would be too late to turn back now, begrudgingly, he put his signature on its designated place, and handed the document back to Rosie. She quickly looked over it and placed it back on her desk. “I’ll show you to the statement office, mister Keay. Watch your step on the way down.” She gave him a friendly looking smile, before turning back around and leading him further into the building.
Gerard followed her down a set of hallways that eventually led to a staircase leading to the basement floor. If the previous part of the building had seemed old, this was even older.
He was led into a pretty long hallway, on his right, there were several different rooms. One must have been an office, as he saw a middle aged lady sit behind a desk as he walked by, another might have been a break room or storage room. On the other side, there was just a single door with the word “archive” written on a metal plate on top of the door.
Then there was the end of the hallway, the door was closed, but the words “Head Archivist” were clearly visible on a plate similar to the Archive’s one. He was led into a small office next to it, which simply said “statement office”. Rosie left him there while he waited for Gertrude to come to him.
There was a window on one wall that appeared to look into the head archivist’s office, but no one seemed to be there. The room he was in was fairly empty, only containing a small desk and some filing cabinets, likely spares, given most of them weren’t labeled yet.
“Gerard?” He looked up as he heard his name, Gertrude was standing in the doorway. He lifted his hand in greeting.
“My apologies for making you wait, I’d rather talk in my office if you don’t mind.” She looked quite sternly at him.
“Sure.” Gerard shrugged, trying to go for nonchalant. He had always tried to avoid getting in contact with anyone who might be like his mother, even when he was searching for new books. So now that he was face to face with those he had been trying for nearly his whole life to avoid, he didn’t want to make his fear obvious.
He followed her into the other room, which was quite a mess. Documents were strewn around everywhere, some quite carelessly. He sat down on the chair opposite to Gertrude’s.
“Do you have it with you?” she asked. Gerard reached into his bag, and took out the book. He put it on the desk, right in front of him. As Gertrude started to reach for it, Gerard placed his hand on it and pulled it closer to him.
“First, I want you to answer some questions.” he said, Gertrude sat back, slightly narrowing her eyes.
“Ask away.” She crossed her arms.
“What do you know about this?” Gerard tapped with his hand on the book. Gertrude seemed to consider that question for a moment.
“A few months ago, your mother told me about a Leitner that can summon people who have died. Based on the page she gave me, and the description of the book, I was able to deduce that this is that very skinbook, is it not?” Her stare was quite intense.
“You have one of its pages? Who’s?” Gerard could feel his heart beat quicker, he hoped he was wrong about the assumption he was about to make, but it was the only page he knew existed, and was never able to find.
“Eric Delano’s.” She answered with a strained voice. Gerard almost shot up from his chair. He didn’t really remember his father, he was only 5 when he died, after all. He was about to ask something to Gertrude when she held out her hand to silence him. “Before you continue, you should be made aware that he wished his page to be destroyed. He’s no longer with us.”
Gerard fell back into his chair. His hand raised towards his temple, as he felt several complicated emotions rush through him. He had been too young to understand death when his mother killed his father. A part of him had always wanted to grieve properly, but grieving someone he had barely known had not been easy. He had hoped that somehow, someday, he’d be able to find him. They’d be able to talk, and he’d be able to mourn a loss the proper way. But as always, his mother had taken that away from him.
He didn’t speak for a while, neither of them did, letting the silence sit between them for a while. The only sound coming from some chair shuffling in a different office.
“You have his eyes.” Gertrude eventually said. Gerard stifled a scoff. He didn’t remember a lot about his father, but one thing he did remember, was the fact he had no eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, my dad was blind. His spirit wouldn’t have had eyes.” His own eyes hurt, he might have cried, if he still had that ability to. But he hadn’t cried in years.
“It didn’t, but that wasn’t when I met Eric. He was a fool, but a loving one. He cared deeply about you, you know. He spent years trying to find a way to quit the institute, so he could take care of you. It’s a shame he trusted Mary more than would have been sensible.” Gertrude’s tone wasn’t comforting, he wasn’t sure if she was even trying to sound comforting, but it helped him clear his mind. There was no use getting worked up over something he couldn’t change. He could worry about the implications of her words later.
“What do you want with it?” He asked instead, nodding towards the book.
“Is Mary in there?” She asked instead, Gerard reluctantly nodded. “In that case, I want her page. I want to destroy it, for all those she has hurt over the years.” Gerard let it those words sink in for a while.
He eventually sighed, pushing the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead in her direction. “Do what you want with it, I don’t need it anymore. Was that it?” He tried to pretend none of this had any effect on him, he should be happy, soon, Mary would be out of his way. So why wasn’t he feeling good?
Gertrude carefully took the book and set it to the side. “Actually, I want to ask for your assistance. From what I understand, I have a feeling you might be more familiar with hunting down Leitners than me or any of my assistants are. I am hoping to destroy as many of them as I can. I was hoping you were willing to help me get these books.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes.
“So what, you want me to start working here?” Gerard asked, harsher than he had intended to. Gertrude chuckled.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemy to work here. No, you would just be… used as an external source of sorts. I can, however, provide you with an income, if that’s what you want.”
Gerard let the words sink in for a moment. Am I seriously considering this? This was his chance to leave the supernatural behind him, for good. Yet, something within him didn’t want his life to turn normal. He had no friends, no family, not even a hobby. The supernatural was his life, and it would always be. Even in Genoa, he hadn’t been able to escape it, not completely, at least.
A knock sounded at the door, Gertrude heaved a sigh. “Yes?” She said, her tone of voice slightly shifted into something less cold.
The door swung open, and a blond, lanky man wearing an absolute eyesore of a colour palate walked in, looking down at some files he was holding. “Miss Robinson? I uh, think I found that statement you were looking for.” Gerard had a hard time not looking at the bright yellows, purples and pinks, interwoven with more eathy tones of green and orange. His bell-bottom trousers and over-all vibe made him almost look like he came striaght out of a woodstock-like festival.
Michael eventually looked up, his curls falling slightly in front of his face as he did so.
His kind looking eyes immediately fell upon Gerard. “Oh… I uh, I’m not interrupting, am I? I- I’m sorry,... should I–” He awkwardly pointed outside, as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
“Why don’t you give those documents to me, Michael?” Gerard was able to hear what he thought was a slight hint of annoyance in Gertrude's voice, though she hid it fairly well, she also sounded frail, for some reason.
“Ah, yes, uh of course.” The man, whose name was apparently Michael, walked upto the desk, leaving the file on it. He gave an awkward smile towards Gerard. “Hi, uh, c-c-cool tattoos.” Gerard gave him a small wave back, showing his hand, covered in even more eyes. Michael looked at them with curiousity in his eyes, as if he wanted to ask about them.
“Thank you, Michael.” Gertrude said with a slightly strained, but polite sounding voice, when Michael didn’t immediately leave.
“Oh, ye-yeah. I should– I should, uh, go.” He gave one more awkward wave before walking out of the office, closing the door back behind him. Gertrude let out another sigh. “Don’t mind Michael, he’s… like that.” Her voice had gone back to her previous tone. “So, Gerard, what do you say?”
Gerard stared absently at the office door which the man had left through. “I… Yeah, I’ll help you.” He said, forcing himself back into the present.