Halloween I.F. – “Going Dark” – Day 22

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This one didn’t take that much thinking, not with what Fern had just heard. Not when Bannick, too, had seemingly never asked for any of this, had been forced into the actions he’d taken, trapped as Aris and Miranda had.

“No, you don’t have to go to the basement,” they said with a slow, deep sigh. “I don’t want you to feel you have to go somewhere you’ve been trapped all this time. That sounds miserable. I’d like… I just want you, everyone, to feel more free.”

“That’s a kindness,” Bannick said, after a too-long hesitation. “I’ll take that, thank you, though it’s hard not to wonder what the cost is.” He sounded cautious, waiting for a strike. Fern decided they didn’t want one to come; maybe some grace, some respect, would be what Bannick needed.

Bannick wasn’t powerless—had power, had been using that power over Fern already, and Fern couldn’t forget it. But even if not powerless, he’d been subservient, which was almost the same thing. Fern themself was powerless, but not subservient.

Either way, none of these spirits deserved indefinite imprisonment, or the desperation that came with it.

“No cost,” Fern said, “for not locking you away. But I’m going to be in here a little longer, okay?”

The room was choked with steam. They managed to get up again, legs weak, exhaustion making them tremble, and turn the shower off. Good. Next step, trying to pull themself back together for this conversation: ice cold water from the sink, splashed over their face, a miserable jolt they hated and enjoyed in equal, shocky amounts.

“Okay,” they said finally, and slid down on the other side of the door. They imagined themself back to back with that uncanny form, only the wood of the door between them, and closed their eyes, sliding fingers into their hair and tugging it to ground themself. “Let’s talk a little more like this? I’m just… worn out.”

“Sure. I imagine you are. Being hunted is exhausting,” Bannick said.

See, then he said worrying things like that. Fern snorted softly. “It’s more… mm. Dealing with Miranda is so important to me, but it brings back unpleasant memories. As I guess you’ve already picked up.”

“Hard not to.”

“I’m going to release her,” Fern said. “But I want to give her as much information about herself as possible. I’ve got her name, and her face, and an idea of how she died, and I know she was a mother…”

A shocked laugh at that. “I don’t know that she got much of a chance to be that.”

“It was your child too, right?” Delicate, delicate. Fern didn’t want to accuse Bannick of rape, especially if he hadn’t done it; that might push Bannick back into hostility. At the same time, they needed to know, know what they were dealing with here. A delicate touch was vital, a tightrope of possible abuses spinning out beneath them. “So Aris said.”

“That one has the gift of gab,” Bannick said, voice distant. “I don’t know that I’d call her my child either. Ahh, yes, we made a child together, Miranda and I. We were never in love or anything even close to it, but it was so isolating out here, so lonely, and she and I are both by nature interested in those activities, you know? We were bored and some things happened. You know, I know I’m hideous in quite a few ways, but with the veil on, and looking below the neck, I’m not so bad.”

It was hard to tell if the edge to that was a teasing invitation or some sort of bitter, self-aimed back biting. Fern made an ambiguous noise in response, unsure how to react.

After a pause, Bannick continued with a sigh. “Yes, I hit on her first, but a good girl should keep an unrelated gentleman at arm’s length until winning papa’s approval. She wasn’t a good girl, and I’m no gentleman. You know, I’ve thought a lot about this, and I really wonder if this is what got her killed. Madoc absolutely didn’t approve of his daughter’s disobedience, and her choice to do something he didn’t approve of, rather than remaining his loyal little household servant… I do think if she’d kept her head down and quiet and remained demure, he might have found someone else to kill. But his bloodline was secured by then, and she’d already proven she was willing to go behind his back to do what she wanted. You can’t command a human the way you can a spirit, you can just coerce them or kill them, and he kept her locked up after until he killed her.”

Bannick’s voice was almost clinical, remote, the voice of someone watching it all play out again in the past and simply not getting their feelings tangled up in it.

“Did that… it must have hurt,” Fern prompted.

“Oh, yes, she hurt quite a bit,” Bannick said. “Me, though? I don’t know I’d say that. I was told to have nothing more to do with it, so I didn’t.”

“So neither of you got to see the child?”

There was a little sound, Bannick shifting on the other side of the door, perhaps uncomfortable. “I was never allowed to spend any time with my little cambion, no. Not once did I hold her. And to my understanding, Miranda was little more than a wet nurse, though I can’t confirm that. Aris might be able to, they were permitted to see her, and I wasn’t. I still probably can’t look upon her. No, I donated the ingredients, as it were, but I was never the father.”

Fern grimaced. “That sounds… terribly lonely.”

“Eh,” Bannick said dismissively. “Everything is, so one more thing doesn’t matter so much.”

It was odd how he always seemed to run hot and cold on everything, clearly full of opinions with a long history of resentment and longing to back that up, then almost absent when it came to answering questions about his own feelings. “Will freeing her cause issues for you?” Fern asked carefully.

“I can avert my gaze,” Bannick said roughly. “I do worry it’s dangerous to all of us, though, yeah. Human spirits are dangerous in a different way than things like Aris or myself. Not that we’re not dangerous, but… human spirits are all fury and obsession and grief. They’re strong feelings with no limiter, no body to hold them back or reason to hesitate. What makes her Miranda was a spark that existed when she was alive. What makes her human… that remains, but without the part that is Miranda. Maybe trying to teach her about herself will help, but… that’s why a ghost loses those things over time. It’s hard to make the memory of something be enough when the actual thing isn’t there.” A ragged breath in. “But I know you’re going to free her either way, and that’s probably for the best. And if she’s more inclined to be dangerous to Madoc than anyone else, great.”

Fern couldn’t think of anything else to ask. They nodded, realized Bannick couldn’t see it, and said, “Okay. So um. I don’t want you to have to return to the basement. This was your home once. I’m not the owner, but for the time being, legally, I’m residing here, which … there’s a contract and everything I signed for my use and all that. So, under the… the sacred laws of AirBnB, you’re welcome to use this place as your own.” On the other side of the door, Bannick made a sound like a ragged gasp, as if something had just impacted him. “But, kindly, I ask you to stay off my bed unless invited onto it??”

“Oh,” Bannick said, almost breathlessly. “Am I likely to be?”

Despite themself, Fern let out a little laugh. It was half exhaustion, half bitterness, half something else altogether they couldn’t quite name. All the tears had left them drained. “Not right now, at any rate.”

Bannick laughed in return; it was back to that soft, low sound, casual and easy. “I’ll do my best to stay to the main floor or basement unless I need to come up,” he said. “It’ll keep me out of Miranda’s warpath once she’s freed, and give you some manoeuvrability around your own space without having to always look over your shoulder. Anyway, doesn’t that sound fun? Aris outside, me main floor, Madoc below, Miranda up here.”

“Sounds like there’s no space for me, when you put it like that,” Fern muttered.

“You said it, not me.” Fern could hear the sound of Bannick getting up. He tapped twice on the door by Fern’s head. “I’m heading to the living room. I suggest leaving your phone and radio off if you don’t want me to possibly listen in on you. Just a polite tip, from me to you.”

“…Noted,” Fern said. “Listen, you said none of my other clothes fit? I don’t know if you looked under the pillow. I have sleep shorts there that are pretty loose. Give them a try.”

A few moments of silence. Then, “I like the teddy bears.”

“I didn’t ask for critique,” Fern shot back.

Bannick laughed. “Okay. All dealt with. Your robe is on your bed. I’m going downstairs. Good luck with the girl, Guy.”

Fern almost corrected their name, then hesitated. Not sure if it was safe, still. “Okay.”

They waited a few moments, then cracked the door. Sure enough, their room was empty now, though a faint smell lingered, like burned cinnamon. They felt a little too warm breathing it in and shook their head.

God, they were tired. They’d need food soon, and maybe sleep. No helping that.

But first, they had to free Miranda. There was no question in their mind they were going to do it, but… they had a lot of information about her now.

What information should they provide to her? How should they do it? Were there any other preparations they needed to take… or anything else they should do before releasing her?

[Comment below with a suggestion for Fern]

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