PG-13 for violence/gore/disturbing themes
A/N: My gratitude (and those triangle-shaped orange Halloween treats) to Sue for all her help. Though tempted to let part 1 lie a bit, this wouldn’t be quite as fun if it wasn’t all posted on Halloween and I have no excuses for not doing so.
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Blue
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II.
Lois’ phone rang just as she exited the jail. She looked at her watch as she put the phone to her ear and saw it was four o’clock.
“Hello?”
“Did you get anything out of him?” Clark asked from the other line.
“Nothing concrete.”
“He did it, Lois, just let it go.”
“No, something’s off. I can feel it. There’s something strange about Teresa.”
“Lois, nothing Teresa has done is strange. Maybe Luthor paid someone. It’s only a matter of time before it comes to light. You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking about this.”
“No, that’s too easy—“
“Fine, then you’ll drive me crazy thinking about this,” he snapped. “I’ve been looking at those files all day, looking at those—those photos all day. I don’t want to think about this any more, could we just let it go?”
Lois stayed silent.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.
She heard him sigh.
“You mentioned dinner?”
“I did.”
“What did you have in mind?” He asked tiredly.
“Something simple. I have to do something, but I should be done around six or so.”
Clark mentioned a restaurant close to his apartment.
“Fine. I’ll see you there at six.”
~~
A while later, Lois was outside the Clare’s mansion. It was quite far from the city, a fact obvious from its rather secluded location and the amount of vegetation surrounding it. She rang the bell, not really sure herself what she was doing there.
Her gut instincts had never let her down before.
The sky was overcast and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Stupid, she didn’t know if Teresa would be home and she hadn’t brought her umbrella, if it started raining…
There was a flash of pale lightning followed closely by thunder and Lois groaned.
Just her luck.
She pressed the bell again and looked at her watch. Five-twenty. Teresa was probably still at her office, why on earth had she decided to come here?
Then she heard footsteps and the door swung open.
Teresa looked at her quizzically.
“Ms. Lane, I wasn’t expecting you,” she looked up at the sky. “You better come in. It looks like it’ll start raining at any minute. Let me take your coat.”
Lois followed her in to the living room and gave her the coat. Teresa opened the closet beside the door and hung it with the others.
“I’m sorry I took so long, I have a studio in the back of the house where I work at sometimes and it’s difficult to hear the bell there. What brings you here?”
“I’m surprised I found you here, I was thinking maybe it would have been better to go to your office,” Lois told her, purposely avoiding the question.
“I work only until noon on Fridays,” Teresa said conversationally. “What can I do for you, Ms. Lane?”
Lois found herself stupidly groping for a reason, when the phone rang. Teresa excused herself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was she here? Somehow blurting out, “I’m here to hear you tell me that you killed your sister and the two other women Luthor dated seriously,” didn’t seem at all appropriate.
Think, Lois, think.
Teresa came back into the room with an apologetic expression.
“I’m afraid I might have to take this call in my room,” she gestured upstairs. “It might take a while. It’s a client.”
“Oh, I can wait however long it takes,” Lois said lightly.
Teresa looked at her oddly and she added, “I mean I’m already forty minutes from the city. I wouldn’t want to waste the trip.”
Teresa nodded in understanding. “Would you like a drink while you wait?”
“No that’s all right. I have some…reading material,” Lois gestured to her purse, praying Teresa wouldn’t ask what.
“All right then,” the taller woman said and gave her a small smile before exciting the room.
It had started raining, she could see it through the sliding doors that led to the backyard, but looking past that she could see a small shack maybe fifteen feet from the house. Teresa had mentioned a studio…Lois wondered if the sliding doors were locked.
She briefly looked around before darting to the opposite side of the room and trying the sliding doors.
They opened and she walked out to the backyard ignoring the cold fall rain.
Lois ran to the shack and took a deep breath. God only knew what was inside. Her stomach curled up into a tight knot and she jerked the unlocked doors open and gasped.
Canvases. Paint.
A real studio.
Lois tentatively wandered in, feeling a mix of both relief and disappointment. She looked around.
Was this it?
Without thinking about it she ran out of the studio and back into the house. She took off her soaked jacket and went to the coat closet. She hung it up, pushing the other hangers aside. The coat in front of her jacket made a jingling sound when she moved it and Lois looked through its pocket curiously.
Keys. Nothing strange about that.
She accidentally dropped them and leaned down to pick them up. As she stood up a certain unevenness in the wall caught her attention and her hands darted out to traces the edges of
A…door.
A door. In the wall of the coat closet.
Lois didn’t even attempt to suppress the chill that ran down her spine as her fingers traced the edges and came to a keyhole.
She had keys and now a keyhole, how many keys were there? She looked down at her hands which had started shaking. Three.
It seemed to take an eternity with her trembling fingers, but she tried one. It wouldn’t go in. Taking a deep breath she tried the next, it went in. Lois turned it and heard the snap as the lock gave way and the door popped slightly open.
Lois took the key out wrapping her hands around it.
She opened the door wider and the smell made her turn her face and close her eyes. It was like the smell at Luthor’s room.
Except stronger.
She didn’t have to go in. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.
Although it was dark through the door, she could make ou three steps directly in front of her through the door. Her hands were shaking so hard the keys fell, the sharp sound making her jump. Spying a hanging bulb overhead, she reached to pull on its cord. The bright light illuminated the steps, but Lois didn’t have time to look carefully.
There were footsteps coming down the stairs
She darted out to grab the keys on the last step, not registering their slickness. Once she had done so, she moved back and closed the door, pulling the coats back to hide it from view.
“Ms. Lane?” Teresa called from the other side of the room.
“I was just putting my jacket away,” Lois said tightly, whirling from the coat closet.
“You’re wet,” Teresa looked at her oddly.
“Your garden,” Lois lied. “It’s so beautiful I had to have a closer look.”
“What’s that in your hand?”
Lois looked down and her eyes widened in terror.
In her fear of being discovered she hadn’t noticed that the keys had gotten wet when they fell. She dropped them in horrified revulsion and stared at her bloodstained hands, her breaths coming in faster and faster.
Teresa shook her head.
“Ms. Lane,” she said tersely, “I think you might have violated my privacy.”
~~
Clark looked at his watch. Six-twenty. Lois was officially twenty minutes late. That wasn’t like her.
He sighed. He should have known she would keep pursuing this.
Clark looked at the file on Teresa he had brought against his better judgment. There was nothing about her that seemed at all suspicious. Teresa had nothing to gain from her sister’s death, on the contrary, Margaret being her only family member she had everything to lose.
That didn’t mean that Mad Dog Lane wasn’t over at the Clare household right at this very minute questioning poor Teresa to death.
Clark walked to the curb and hailed a cab
~~
Lois took a step back, unable to speak.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Lane? Didn’t like what you saw?”
“I-I-I-I-“ Lois couldn’t form the sentence.
“What? I can’t understand you.”
“I-I-I didn’t see—I didn’t see—anything,” Lois pushed the words out by sheer force of will backing up against the front door.
“I think you’re lying.”
Lois shook her head mutely.
“I beg to differ. And that is very bad news for you.” Teresa moved suddenly seizing Lois’ hair and pulling her forward
Lois dug her nails into the taller woman’s skin, and struggled wildly.
Teresa gave a gasp of pain and relaxed her hold. Lois took the opportunity to dart past her to the opposite side of the room. When she turned, she could no longer see the red head and only felt the jackhammer of her heart.
Teresa emerged from the doorway with a carving knife in her hands.
Lois looked around for anything resembling a weapon and felt at a loss.
She attempted vainly to calm her breathing.
Teresa came to stand directly in front of her and slashed down, Lois moved away, feeling the burn as the blade grazed the side of her shoulder.
“Don’t do this!” Lois screamed as she ran.
“Give me one good reason,” she felt Teresa close behind her.
“My partne--” she broke off with a cry as she felt the knife slash across her back.
The pain, made her lose her focus and she fell, Teresa tripped over her, falling as well. Lois attempted to stand, but Teresa grabbed her by her left foot and Lois fell heavily once more. Both women struggled, but Lois’ wounds put her at a disadvantage. Knowing this instinctively, she grabbed the leg of a nearby end table and pulled it towards them.
It wobbled and fell landing heavily on Teresa. The lamp on top of it crashed against the floor a couple of feet away.
Lois moved from underneath, Teresa, and towards the front door. Her assailant reached for the half broken lamp and ran behind her.
Lois’ trembling hands could not open the front door fast enough and in concentrating in her efforts she didn’t see Teresa behind her. She also barely felt as she brought down the half broken lamp was over her head.
Lois collapsed and lay motionlessly.
Teresa sighed tiredly, she went to the living room and grabbed the now-sticky keys from where Lois had dropped them. Then she opened the coat closet door and moved the coats aside to open the door behind them. Teresa pulled on the cord to turn on the light and went down the stairs. She came back up several minutes later with a shovel.
Holding the shovel with one hand, she took Lois’ left foot with her other and proceeded to slowly drag her out, leaving thick crimson streaks behind her on the living room floor tile.
~~
Clark rang the doorbell and looked at his watch. It was seven o’clock now. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. This was about respect--or lack thereof. Lois didn’t respect his hunches, didn’t respect his stories, she didn’t respect him. And that was why, even when he agreed with her, she insisted on something else.
Teresa Clare answered on the second ring of the bell, opening the door just a bit.
“Mr. Kent,” she said in a surprised tone. “What brings you here on a night like this?”
For the first time Clark registered it was raining, the evening was lit by the smallest scythe-shaped sliver of the moon. It reminded him that he was pretty far from the city and successively, of how far Lois would go to prove him wrong.
He tightened his jaw. “Is Lois Lane here?”
“No, actually. Why do you ask?”
The news took him by surprise, “She’s not here?”
Teresa shook her head. “No.”
Then it struck him, how Teresa had placed herself in a position that blocked his view inside the house. He turned his head and looked in. Once he saw the room in heightened state of disarray his heart sank.
“Do you think,” he ventured cautiously, “that I could come in for a second?”
“Oh, Mr. Kent, I’d actually prefer you didn’t. I’m in the process of remodeling. It’s a mess.”
“I don’t mind. I would just like to—to use your phone. You see, I forgot mine.”
Teresa looked at him suspiciously, but stepped away from the door and let him in.
“The phone is this way,” she led him to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
He shook his head and took the receiver, pretending to dial. He looked through the trash can beside him out of a strange curiosity.
Paper towels, stained a deep red.
His eyes widened and he hung up the phone so hard it broke and clattered to the floor.
“Where is Lois?” he gasped out.
Teresa turned to face him in surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then what is this!” He jerked the trashcan open revealing the stained paper towels.
“If you haven’t noticed, Mr. Kent,” Teresa said coldly, “this is a kitchen. I cook.”
“No, I don’t believe it and I don’t believe that bit about remodeling. Where is she?” he yelled.
Teresa crossed her arms over her chest.
“Do you want to search? Be my guest.”
Clark didn’t give her a thought as he ran upstairs frenziedly looking through her room, the other rooms and the various closets, he came back down stairs his face ashen with worry.
“You did something to her,” he said heavily.
Teresa hadn’t moved from her spot. “You’ll hear from my lawyer, Mr. Kent.”
He didn’t pay attention to her, going back to the living room and pausing in front of the sliding doors for a half a second before opening them, mildly surprised they weren’t locked.
He walked out, but not before seeing Teresa emerge from the kitchen through her reflection in the glass.
It was still raining, but he paid it no attention.
He could spy a small shack in the dim moonlight and his heart was immediately at his throat.
Clark heard Teresa’s footsteps on the moist earth behind him, the sounds easily lost in the soft patter of the evening rain. He came to the shack and pulled its doors open. Behind him Teresa turned on the light.
An art studio, complete with blank canvases and paint and rags for clean up.
He used his x-ray vision to scan for anything hidden, but everything seemed to be as it seemed.
Except…
One of the rags was from a familiar fabric.
“Mr. Kent, are you done?”
He ignored her and went to it, picking it up, noticing it was wet. He twisted it and droplets of water dripped down onto the wooden floor. Clark spread it out. A woman’s blouse.
Lois’ blouse.
Clark closed his eyes, the dread forming a whirlpool at his feet.
“This is her shirt,” he said in a choked voice, turning to face her.
“I thin—“
“THIS IS HER SHIRT!”
She shuddered at his scream. Fear came to radiate from her eyes.
“I-I-I-I—“
“Where is she?” Clark whispered, taking a step towards her.
Teresa turned to run out to the backyard, but Clark was there before she could take a step with a steely grip on her arm.
“Show me,” he said quietly and Teresa whimpered. He walked out, half dragging her with him.
The rain clouds had briefly obscured the small sliver of moon. The lights from the house were the only illumination in the yard.
“Behind the studio,” Teresa whispered.
In five steps they were there and Clark could see nothing, except a shovel in the middle of a clearing. Distraught, he let go of her arm and crouched by the soft ground near the shovel.
No, it was too horrible, no.
But he needed the certainty, every fiber of his being called for it and he dove a hand shallowly into the loose earth.
His fingers felt a different texture from that of the soft dirt.
Skin.
Cold skin.
Too cold.
He pulled away as if burned, losing his balance and landing heavily in a sprawled position. He shifted to kneel and buried his face in his hands. The agony rendered him mute and dumb. There were no thoughts, just an empty visceral horror.
“I wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t been so nosy.”
And beneath him, the ground shook.
Instinctively, he crawled away.
Dirt was launched up in the air. Clark clumsily crawled back another step.
The rain clouds moved away and the moon’s crescent shone its delicate light down…
…illuminating pale fingers curling out from among the black of the earth, followed by pale hands and slender naked arms, unmistakably familiar to Clark as they emerged from the moist ground.
The ground shook once more and Lois sat up, the white of her skin a stark contrast against the dark earth around her. She looked down at her hands, slowly opening and closing them as if for the first time.
From behind Clark, Teresa let out a blood-curling scream.
Lois looked up suddenly and Clark shuddered.
Her face was incredibly pale, her lips looking faintly blue in the moonlight. Rivulets of rain drops ran down from her temple. There was a long gash there where the water mixed with the coagulated blood and dripped down her neck.
Lois stood up jerkily and Clark noticed another cut below her collar bone, the wound black against the spectral white of her skin.
She walked slowly on shaky legs past Clark and he turned, following her with wide eyes.
Teresa just screamed, rooted to one spot by sheer terror. “No! I wouldn’t have if you weren’t so nosy!”
“Teresa, Teresa,” she called and his skin crawled at the sound.
Lois’ lips were moving…but that was not her voice.
She came to stand in front of Teresa.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“No! I—I gave everything to take care of you, you owed me. You owed me. You owed me,” Teresa started rocking back and forth.
Lois crouched down and smiled eerily as she reached towards Teresa’s face with dirt-stained fingers.
“I would never leave you.”
Epilogue “I brought you some doughnuts,” Clark offered Lois the bag.
“Oh good, I was starving,” she said taking it eagerly.
Clark looked at her pointedly.
“I said ‘starving’ not ‘dying’,” she protested, shoving one into her mouth.
“All the same, I’d like us to stay away from saying things like that for a while. How’s the forehead?”
Lois hand instinctively went to the bandage. “Its fine, three stitches, and before you ask none for the collar bone. How did things end up with Teresa?”
Clark sighed. “She’s under observation at Lance End. They found evidence of her having moved Margaret’s body to Luthor’s. They also found the room and it turns out, she had both Amy and Stacey’s bones in there, and some other…stuff.”
“Do I want to know?” Lois asked over a mouthful of doughnut.
“No. You don’t,” he said, which Lois knew was code for “I don’t want to tell.” Which was fine, all things considered. “What’d they piece together?”
“Teresa had always wanted to be with Luthor, she was upset that other women got the opportunity she felt she couldn’t have.”
“Because of Margaret.”
He nodded. “So eliminating them was more of routine. Margaret though, was pure rage on her part. She felt her sister betrayed her and dismissed all she had done for her and she had her own vendetta against Luthor—who by the way wants you to name your reward. Anyway, are you sure you’re okay with not being on the byline for this one?”
“Sure,” she said. “You did most of the work. And tell Luthor he can keep his money.”
He looked at her, then went to look out the window. Lois continued, “I’m so glad you brought these, I swear the food here is garbage. Do they purposely feed crap to patients? I mean you’re already sick you don’t ne—“
“That was a risky stunt you pulled going to see Teresa like that.”
“You didn’t believe me,” Lois said absentmindedly. “So I had to check it out on my own.”
“You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“I told you I had my suspicions and you completely disregarded them,” Lois said defensively.
“I just felt that you were trying to dismiss anything I agreed with.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He turned to look at her. She shifted and patted the side of the bed beside her.
He sighed and went to sit on the bed. “I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep again,” he said after a moment.
“Margaret? The room?”
He shook his head.
“You. What happened anyway?”
Lois looked away. “You tell me.”
“You really don’t know?”
Lois shook her head.
“To be completely honest,” Clark said after a few seconds. “I don’t remember much either. Just…being scared.” The words felt like completely inadequate substitutes of the overpowering horror of the night.
It was Lois’ turn to sigh. “A mix between Carrie and Dawn of the Dead, I gathered. I guess that makes it the second time I scare you half to death.”
Clark looked at her with an expression that was decidedly not amused.
“Sorry, sorry,” she reached looked up at him with a soft smile. “But it’s all over now. So what are you so afraid of?” He didn’t reply and for a moment she thought he’d stand up and leave, but instead the opposite happened as she found herself in a tight embrace. She blinked in surprise, but wrapped her arms around him.
“Out of curiosity,” Lois said after a while, her voice muffled over his shoulder, “what were the stakes of that bet we made? Anything you wanted”
Clark pulled away and smiled. It had been a while since she’d seen him smile and it somehow made her feel oddly warm.
He shook his head
“What?”
“I just wanted you to notice me.” He hurried to add, “As a reporter-- a good reporter.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing, just--,” she shrugged, “That’s kind of boring.”
“Well, I think we’ve both had all the excitement we can stand.”
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe.”
But then she narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into an eerie smile. Her voice somehow sounded off to Clark as she said:
“Or maybe not.”
The End
Happy Halloween
