Chapter Text
Chapter 24: The House of Medusa
Under the cover of night, two figures made their way towards a run down mansion just outside the Berk city lines.
Eret risked aiming his flashlight at the house, revealing the crumbling stone facade, and the collapsed steps at the front. Judging by the size and structure, the house had been quite grand once. But time has worn away any luxury, leaving it dirty and falling apart.
"This isn't exactly what I pictured when Johann said mansion," Heather said, upper lip curling in distaste as she looked it over.
Eret glanced over at his companion. "Did you ever meet Medusa?"
"No."
"If you had, you wouldn't be surprised."
Eret had only met the woman once, and seen her in passing a couple times. But she had made his skin crawl every time.
"Come on," he said, starting to walk again. "With the size of this place, we better get started."
They cut across the dead grass lawn, moving quickly in the dim moonlight that managed to filter through the clouds.
When they reached the broken steps, Eret tested the wood beams of the porch before cautiously putting his weight on it. Offering Heather a hand to help lift her up after him.
The door refused to move when he tried the knob. He couldn't tell if it was locked, or just stuck due to the hinges being crooked.
"One of the windows is boarded," Heather pointed out, aiming her flashlight at the sheet of plywood, greyed from exposure to the elements.
"No need."
Eret kicked the door, driving his heel near the knob. It took a couple tries, but soon enough the door cracked and groaned. He shoved it open the rest of the way, leather jacket and gloves protecting him from the jagged wood splinters.
Inside, the house reeked of mold and decay.
"Not exactly what I expected," Heather muttered, as both of them pulled up the black masks they wore.
"Again: if you had met her," he said.
They moved through the living room, where they saw used paper plates scattered across the furniture, which explained some of the smell.
"If I were a giant ass diamond, hiding in this pit, where would I be?" Heather asked, her voice sing-song.
Eret couldn't help snickering.
They made their way through the first floor, searching every drawer and cupboard they could find.
As they searched, they did find stashes of jewels throughout the house. A handful of emeralds in the silverware drawer. Rubies in the spice rack.
He saw Heather brace herself before opening the fridge. And even with their masks, they both gagged.
Fortunately, there wasn't much in there. Heather pushed aside moldy bread, dirty to go boxes, and even shook the half empty carton of milk to make sure there was nothing in it.
"Wait, grab that carton of eggs," Eret said, before she could close the door.
"What? You think there's diamonds hiding in the egg carton?" But she pulled it out. Then balked as she opened the lid, and their flashlights glistened off the diamonds nestled inside. "How did you know?"
"Because I didn't smell rotten eggs," Eret said simply.
He could see her staring at the diamonds longingly.
"Just a few of these would be enough that I wouldn't have to worry about scholarships," she said.
"Make your case to Hiccup when we get back," Eret said, adding the diamonds to the growing collection of gems in his pocket. "If they're stolen, he'll want to return them to their owners. But not all of them will be traceable."
He saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, though she quickly suppressed it.
They continued to find handfuls of small gems throughout the house, in random corners and hiding spots.
"I feel like I'm in the Great Hall of Thráin," Heather muttered, as they made their way up the creaking steps.
Eret arched an eyebrow at the reference. "You've read Tolkien?"
"Yeah," she said. "Don't sound so surprised."
"I am," Eret admitted. "I wouldn't have thought that was your thing."
At the top of the stairs she paused to open the drawers of a small table, pulling out another velvet jewelry bag and tossing it to Eret, who slid it into his pocket. Neither of them bothered to check the contents. That could be done later
"I didn't think you would be much of a reader, honestly," she admitted. As they walked down the hallway, pausing to check over the shelves and alcoves they passed.
Eret remembered rainy days during his childhood, reading The Hobbit in his room to drown out the sounds of his parents arguing.
"We all need a hobby," he said.
He had reread the Lord of the Rings books a couple years earlier, when he needed a distraction from figuring out his life.
And of course…
"Merida loves the movies," he said, unable to stop himself. His stomach twisted as he said her name, trying not to think about afternoons on his couch, or in bed, watching them with her. Talking her down from attempting one of Legolas' stunts.
There was a moment of silence as they both stopped without realizing.
After a moment, Heather said:
"Hammond loves everything Tolkien. He's practically an encyclopedia for the books."
Eret recognized the pain in her voice, because it mirrored his own.
"Is Hammond the one you're looking for?"
Heather nodded, taking a shaky breath. "He's my boyfriend."
Before Eret could respond, she pushed open a door, and they stepped inside to search the room.
They were quiet for a minute as they looked around what seemed to have been a guest room.
But eventually Heather spoke again, as if she couldn't keep the words inside.
"He's the reason I read the books," she said, her gaze down as she continued to search. "He was so shocked when I said I had never even seen the movies. You would have thought I said I didn't know who Santa Clause was. So we spent a weekend ignoring homework to binge the trilogy."
"Theatrical, or extended?"
"Extended, of course." There was a hint of a smile in her voice. "He wouldn't let us do anything else. And he kept pausing to tell me all these things from the books, and all these details. I barely remember any of it… but I think I fell in love with him that day. I was watching him go on about what 'the choice of Luthien' was, and I realized I had never been happier than that moment."
"And he got you to read the books?" Eret asked, as they moved to the next room.
Now she did smile. "He insisted. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, at least. He hasn't been able to convince me to read the Silma-wha'chya-call-it yet. He's read me some of the poetry, though."
Eret had been able to guess that the person she was looking for was someone important to her. Now he realized they were in the same position - separated from the person they loved more than anything else.
"Did you tell him about this?" he asked, gesturing vaguely.
"Everything," she said. "He took it better than I thought he would."
He found he was glad that she hadn't been completely alone. Like they had talked about earlier, he knew better than anyone else just how hard it was to rebuild his life after leaving behind a life of crime.
"What about you?" she asked, as they went through the next bedroom.
This one had been used, judging by the dirty clothes scattered around, and the various personal items.
"Ew," Heather muttered, kicking a pair of boxers she had accidentally stepped on.
"What about me?" he asked.
"You and Merida," she said. "I doubt that happened just because she saved your life."
Eret snorted. "Hardly. She was more suspicious of me than any of them."
"She didn't seem to like me very much when she met," Heather admitted. "Hang on. This drawer has a false bottom!"
He came over, holding his flashlight up as she worked up the false bottom.
Inside was a tattered envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills.
Heather sighed. "I never thought I would be disappointed by an envelope of cash." She paused. "Do we take this, too?"
"It's not doing any good here," Eret shrugged.
He caught a glimpse of the smirk he remembered as he took the envelope and slipped it into his pocket.
They didn't find anything else in that room, so they moved onto the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
Heather gagged as they stepped inside. "Oh, God. Did she use enough cheap perfume?"
"She wasn't exactly known for good taste," Eret said, eyes watering from the smell of the cheap perfume, and cheaper wine. It was almost worse than the smell of rotting food downstairs.
The room was just as messy as the rest of the house, the only difference being that it was strewn with clothes, cosmetics, and knock-off designer purses.
"I take it back," Heather said. "Smaug wouldn't be caught dead in this place."
It got a snort from Eret.
They both braced themselves before diving into the mess, looking under the strewn clothing, in the drawers of the dresser, and among the vanity.
"Is this it?" Heather asked, holding up a diamond she had found on the vanity.
It was the largest one they had found by far, but Eret shook his head. "The Devil's Eye is almost twice that size."
Heather's eyes bugged out, but she recovered quickly. Pocketing the diamond and going back to searching.
There were a few more bigger jewels around the room. Even a ruby amongst the twisted blankets on the bed. Suggesting Medusa had kept the most valuable gems close.
"Do you think Tolkien ever saw a dragon?" she asked suddenly.
Eret paused as he considered. "It's possible. Most of the dragons had gone north by the thirties. But there were a few left. And there probably were some in Wales when he visited. So maybe he did."
"Maybe he saw a Monstrous Nightmare," Heather suggested.
Eret went into the walk in closet, where one of the hanging bars had fallen, along with everything that had been on it. The pile of clothes on the floor looked as if it might come to life and try to drown him in cheap polyester.
He tried to shake off the image, not sure where it had come from. And stumbled a little.
His foot tangled in one of the dresses, and he cursed as he fell. Throwing out a hand to catch himself, he hit the wall hard.
"Are you–"
Before Heather could finish her question, the shelf above him fell off the wall.
"Ow!"
"What happened??" Heather asked, running into the closet.
"I tripped on these stupid dresses, and the shelf fell," he muttered, rubbing his head, where something had hit when it fell.
He looked down to see what it was that had hit him, and noticed a teddy bear on the ground, laying at an odd angle.
Crouching down, he went to pick up the toy, but it was heavier than expected.
"Is it…" Heather started to ask.
Eret picked the teddy bear up and straightened. When he squeezed the lower part of its body, he felt something hard and angular.
"I think it is," he said. Flipping it over, he found that the back seam had been hastily stitched up.
He pulled out his pocket knife to cut open the stitches. Even before he was done, he saw the glint of the diamond in the beam of Heather's flashlight.
Heather gasped as Eret plucked out the gem, which was larger than his palm.
"Good," she said. "Let's get out of here."
#
Perched on the roof of the ranch house, Jack watched the driveway.
He had hardly been able to sleep for the past few days. But at least waiting for Eret and Heather gave him a reason to be awake.
Unable to sit still any longer, he stood up and started pacing along the peak of the roof.
It was something he had done so many times, without thinking.
His foot slipped as he took a step. And Jack cried out as he slipped, just managing to shift his center of balance and stay on his feet. Taking a moment to catch his breath, while his heart pounded in his eyes from the near miss.
Normally, the wind was there to help him keep his balance.
But the wind had been distant lately, its voice muffled for him. Just like the rest of his powers, which had been harder to access while his emotions had been in such turmoil.
Burying his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, he looked up at the sliver of a waning crescent moon overheard.
Jack's memories of his childhood were fractured and hazy. Before the accident, and before Pitch, there wasn't much.
But he did have a memory of his father taking him into the woods on a clear snowy night to show him the full moon on the snow. Crouching down to tell him the story of the Man In The Moon.
A prince from a distant world who had been chased by evil shadow monsters, until he reached Earth. His ship fell into the sun's orbit, becoming the moon. Where the prince swore to defend the children of the world.
Jack didn't know why that night was one of the few memories he held onto. But it was still there.
He remembered the night of the accident had been another full moon. As he lay in the snow bank, the moon had been so big and bright, it seemed to chase away the darkness and horror surrounding him.
"You know, if you're actually there… I could really use some help," Jack said, looking up at the crescent that hung low in the sky.
He stood there for a moment, waiting, even hoping, for some kind of response. But after a moment, he shook his head.
Jack had seen many things in his life, some more unbelievable than others. But, if the Man In the Moon was real, he didn't seem interested in proving his existence to Jack.
"I'm such an idiot."
There was a soft laugh behind him. So quiet he thought he imagined it.
He turned back, seeing something purple and black from the corner of his eye. But it disappeared before he could turn his head.
Scowling, Jack crouched back down, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
That laugh wasn't Pitch. But it was still familiar.
And he wasn't exactly happy to hear it again.
But there was no sign of anything amiss on the property. The dragons all seemed to be asleep in the barn. And there was no movement save for the breeze brushing over what remained of the grass.
Jack frowned.
Down the driveway, he heard tires on the asphalt, and looked over. Through the bare branches of the trees he first saw headlights, then was able to make out Eret's truck.
He cast one more glance at the spot where he thought he had seen the purple shimmer.
But then made his way down from the roof.
He met Heather and Eret at the front door, typing in the code to open it and let them in.
"How did it go?"
"We got it," Heather said, as they made their way into the kitchen. The light over the stove was enough for Jack to see that she was almost smiling.
Eret reached into his pocket and pulled out the diamond.
Jack let out a low whistle as he took the diamond, lifting it up towards the kitchen light. "It's even bigger than I expected."
Eret went into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and pulling out a couple mugs. "Do either of you want tea?"
"I'll take some," Heather said. "It might be the only way I'm able to sleep tonight."
"Sure," Jack said. Though he doubted chamomile tea would be enough to help him sleep. He turned back to Heather. "Have you called Johann yet?"
"On the way back," she said, unzipping her purple hoodie. "He said we can meet him at the Rat Trap after it closes tomorrow night."
Jack frowned. "Why after?"
He glanced over at Eret, and found the older man giving him a pointed look.
Footsteps in the hallway made him look over as Astrid appeared in the doorway.
"What are you guys doing? It's almost 4 in the morning."
"We just got back," Heather said. "Sorry to wake you up."
Astrid shook her head. "I wasn't sleeping very well anyway."
Jack looked to Eret again. "Do you want me to come with you tonight?"
Eret nodded as he poured hot water into three mugs. "I was going to ask if you would."
"I'll come too," Astrid said.
Jack started to argue, even she wasn't going to listen to him.
"Not this time," Eret said, before Jack could. "A dragon down by the docks would draw too much attention. Even Toothless wouldn't be able to hide. There's no way a Nadder can."
Astrid started to open her mouth to argue.
"He's right," Heather said, as she took her mug of tea. "Stealth is the most important thing here."
Astrid frowned, but seemed to realize she didn't really have a good argument.
Heather sighed. "I'm going to take a shower, and get some sleep. We'll figure out the details tomorrow."
Astrid sighed, giving Jack and Eret slightly annoyed looks, before going back to her room as well.
When both girls were gone, Jack looked over at Eret, who was rubbing his forehead.
"What are you thinking?" Jack asked.
"What are the odds that Heather's boyfriend going missing isn't connected to Viggo?"
"It's possible," Jack said slowly, rolling the question over in his head. "But those would be some pretty long odds."
"That's what I thought," Eret muttered. His accent was becoming stronger than usual, the way it did when he was genuinely worried about something.
"And if Viggo is active in the current climate, he's probably allied with Pitch," Jack added, the pieces coming together in his head to paint a worrying picture.
Eret hesitated a moment, looking into his mug. As if debating whether or not he should say what he was thinking.
"Say it," Jack said.
"What's an interest Viggo and Pitch have in common?"
"Harnessing superpowers." Jack felt his stomach sink. The thought had crossed his mind, but it was different to have it said out loud.
Pitch had wanted powers. Enough so that he had experimented on himself. Causing the death of his morally bankrupt medical team when he did.
Jack didn't know much about Viggo, but he did know that the man wouldn't risk himself in an experiment.
The two together would be a dangerous combination.
"How many crime lords have been found electrocuted?" Eret asked.
"Four? Five?" Jack rubbed his eyes, already seeing where Eret was going with this.
"Do we know of anyone with that type of power set?"
Jack buried his face in his hands, raking his brain to try and think of anyone whose powers could even vaguely be defined as electrical. Because he didn't like what he knew Eret was implying.
Unfortunately, he came up blank.
"You don't think…"
Eret nodded grimly.
Viggo Grimborn had managed to recreate the experiment that turned Kozmotis Pitchiner the Nightmare King.
"Well, this just keeps getting worse." Jack muttered. He sighed again, and glanced towards the hallway Heather had disappeared down a few minutes earlier. "Have you told her?"
Eret shook his head. "Right now it's speculation. There's no point making her worry until we have some kind of confirmation."
"Fair," Jack sighed. "We'll tell Hiccup tomorrow, though. Just in case."
#
Hammond found himself thinking about how medieval doctors had believed that drilling a small hole into a person's skull was the way to cure a headache.
Which seemed ridiculous on the surface, until you considered that skulls had been found with multiple holes drilled into them. Which suggested they had gone back for the procedure multiple times. So it must have worked, at least to some extent.
At that moment, Hammond would have been willing to try it.
He stood in the antechamber of an old stone church, the pain in his head causing his vision to blur, so he couldn't focus on the carved wooden door in front of him. Or the muffled conversation happening in the next room.
He was still adjusting to the new suppression collar Viggo had put on him the day before, which created so much noise in his head that he could hardly think.
Now, the noise was mixed with the cocktail of drugs Viggo shot him with each time he was taken out of his cell. Rendering him completely under Viggo's control.
Hammond wanted to scream from the pain, and the rage at having his autonomy stripped from him.
But what good would it do? Fighting just made it worse.
In the other room, the voices raised. Whoever Viggo was talking to sounded like an older man, his voice rough but authoritative.
"Sounds like it's not going well," Ryker said from beside him, sounding darkly amused.
Even if he weren't muzzled by the mask over the lower half of his face, Hammond didn't know if he would have been able to respond to that.
They heard: "Get out!"
Hammond winced at the stabbing pain in his head from the shout, even through the door.
"That's your cue," Ryker muttered.
The door opened, and Hammond squinted at the brighter light in the sanctuary of the church. But at his eyes adjusted, he saw the older man in a tailored black suit.
"What is this?" The man asked, gaze darting between Hammond and Viggo.
Hammond didn't hear Viggo's response. He was too distracted by the fact his collar was turned off.
He grunted at the sudden quiet inside his head. The drugs still kept him under control, unable to move of his own accord. But the lack of noise was still a relief.
And as much as he hated what he was about to do, it was a relief to feel the lightning surge up inside him. The pressure of having his powers suppressed disappeared, and left him feeling more alive than he ever had.
"You know what to do," Viggo said, the words resounding in the quiet of Hammond's mind.
Frollo, according to Viggo, was a crooked judge who had gained and maintained his position thanks to his family name and fortune. While also getting kickbacks from local crime lords when he helped them get off with a slap on the wrist. While at the same time using religion as a shield, and an excuse to justify his positions. Covering up his own sexual scandals, while dismissing victims who wound up in his courtroom.
"I'm sure you know the type," Viggo had said. "The rich, self-righteous bigot who thinks his faith makes him superior."
He was right. Hammond knew the type.
And because of that, there was a part of him that thought maybe Viggo was right when he said Hammond was doing something good. Something just.
It wasn't true. The practical, rational side of him knew this wasn't justice. When he managed to think clearly enough, through the noise and the drugs.
It certainly wasn't justice when it was orchestrated by a man like Viggo Grimborn.
But, as his body was forced to comply with Viggo's command, it was easier to let that shadow take over. To let himself believe this was justice.
Frollo turned to run, but stumbled and fell.
Hammond grabbed the lapels of Frollo's suit jacket, hauling him up.
If half of what Viggo had told him was true, then God have mercy on the man.
God have mercy on me, Hammond thought, as lightning surged through him, dealing the fatal blow.