hardy boys fan fiction
THE OUIJA BOARD
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
Phoenix
Chapter
11
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
“Are you freakin’ nuts?!” Frank yelled, ignoring the looks from the other people in the waiting room. He grabbed Callie by one arm and Vanessa by the other and dragged them outside into the cool autumn afternoon air. He faced the two girls. “Nuts – the both of you! You want to go back to the place you almost died last night? Based on what? A nightmare and Googling?” He glared from one face to the other. “Well gee whiz, girls, I dunno – you’ve got me convinced!!”
“Frank—” Callie started, but he cut her off.
“And don’t you dare try and use Joe as an excuse! My brother is lying in a hospital bed right now getting a transfusion of blood because he’s somehow hemorrhaging, and you girls want to go traipsing back to that hell house to probably get yourselves killed this time…for him?!” Frank actually squeaked, he was so angry. He slapped his forehead. “I see. Yes. Makes perfect sense! Go right ahead – what does it matter anyway – you never listened to Joe, you certainly aren’t about to listen to me, are you?”
Vanessa shrank at his tone but Callie just glared. “Your problem, Mister Frank Hardy, is that you refuse to believe in anything you can’t reach out and slap logic on! You keep telling me there’s something wrong with that house – that it’s dangerous – yet you then turn around and profess not to believe in any of this! Well then, explain how a house, a building, for God’s sake, can be dangerous if there isn’t something else, something unexplainable going on?! Ooooh!! You are so…so…so infuriating—” The girl actually stamped her foot for emphasis. “Can’t you just trust us this once – have a little faith? Some belief? We have to go back to the house! I don’t know why, so I can’t explain it, but I just know that what’s wrong with Joe is somehow related to all this! You said he’s mysteriously losing blood, you – well, Mr. Non-believer, we were talking to Dracula—”
“Don’t even say it!” Frank growled, forcing himself not to reach out and throttle the girls. He could not believe they were trying to use his brother’s illness as an excuse to go back! “I do not believe in ghosts or vampires!” Through the glass of the sliding door, he saw the nurse come out and motion for his parents to follow her. “Stay away from Deathe House!” he warned them as he moved back towards the door. “I’m going up to see my brother.” And then he stalked away.
“He doesn’t get it,” Vanessa said, her eyes large with fear.
Callie shook her head sadly. “No, he doesn’t.”
“But I do.” A voice from behind them made the girls jump; they turned around to see a very grave looking Wilson Fitzpatrick standing behind them. “And you are very right, young lady. You need to go back.”
* * *
As Joe slowly came to awareness he was shocked by how weak he was feeling. His whole body felt incredibly heavy and it took a tremendous effort just to slit his eyes open. ‘This isn’t my room,’ he thought, registering the faint beeping of the heart monitor and gentle tug on his hand from the IV. He forced his eyes open a bit more and registered the worried looks of his parents as they hovered over him. He could see their lips moving and was sure they were saying something – probably encouraging him to wake up – but he couldn’t make out the words very well.
A gentle squeeze on his hand made him shift his gaze to the side and he saw his brother smiling at him in unabashed relief. Slowly, the haziness in his head started to clear and he offered them a brief smile.
His mother’s voice was the first one he heard with any clarity as she leaned over and kissed his forehead softly. “Oh baby,” she smiled, her blue eyes suspiciously bright, “some flu.”
For a moment Joe didn’t get the reference but then remembered he had thought he was coming down with a bug. Looking at the IV in his hand, he followed the tubing up to the two bags hung on either side of the IV pole; his eyes widened in alarm when he saw the blood!
Frank immediately squeezed his hand tighter, forcing Joe to refocus on him. “It’s okay, kiddo,” he said, his voice surprisingly rough, “you’ve lost a lot of blood and it’s just to help you build some up.”
“Wha—?” Joe managed; his voice barely a whisper, unnerved by how weak he was. “H-how?”
“Well young man, that is the very question I was going to ask you!” The teen started slightly at the loudness of the man’s voice as Dr. Bates came into the room in time to hear his question.
The physician quickly moved to the side of his patient’s bed and checked his vitals. When done, he crossed his arms and looked down at the blond boy. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood, Joe – any idea how that might have happened?”
Joe’s brow furrowed as he thought hard about that question, but other than the fall at that old house, he could think of nothing. Looking at the doctor, he sighed and managed a brief shrug. “No. J-just head.” With great effort, he reached up and touched the bandage that the ER staff had placed over the wound.
Dr. Bates frowned, obviously not liking the answer. “Are you sure, Joe? Think hard – no vomiting blood, no bloody stools or urine? A bloody nose – ears – anything? Any pain at all?”
“Nothing,” the teen told him, “ be’n fine.” His eyelids were drooping again, as the brief conversation was wearing him out. He could not believe how tired he was – tired and thirsty. He forced his eyes open again. He looked at his brother, knowing the older boy would know what he was asking. “Water?”
Squeezing his hand in understanding, Frank looked at the physician. “Can Joe have a drink?”
Dr. Bates nodded his okay. “That’s a body’s response to losing blood – it wants to replenish the precious fluid.” He frowned as he continued to look at Joe. He checked the almost empty bag of blood and then the boy’s pulse again. “I’m going to have them give you a couple more units of blood and hopefully your body will start to help us along.” He turned back to the family and shrugged, a perplexed look on his face. “We will continue monitoring Joe – I don’t want to release him until his blood pressure is back up, but as to what’s happened, I really have no idea. All I can say for sure is that blood just doesn’t disappear!” The doctor gazed at the youth again as Frank helped his brother sit up enough to drink some water through a straw. “Very odd,” he muttered and then offered them a small smile. “Visiting hours end at ten. Try not to tire him out.”
“Can one of us stay with him?” Frank immediately asked, not liking the idea of his brother staying alone – and still a bit more chilled by what Vanessa and Callie were telling him than he’d care to admit. “He’s in a private room.”
Dr. Bates considered the request and then nodded. “But only one person.” He gave Joe a grin. “Might be wise, given this one’s penchant for not listening to what his doctor says.”
Joe didn’t even have the energy to retort, so he just closed his eyes and sighed. He heard the doctor leave and then his mother’s quiet voice as she arranged the blankets over him a bit more snugly. He would have thanked her for that, but didn’t because he was already asleep again.
* * *
The next couple of hours passed slowly as Wilson waited to talk to Frank. Across from him the two girls fidgeted. He knew he had unnerved them, by agreeing with them but then refusing to elaborate until he could talk to Frank as well. And Joe, if at all possible.
The old man rubbed his face a bit tiredly – he really was getting too old for this kind of stuff anymore. However, he was very fond of the Hardys and could not turn a blind eye to what was going on. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if he could convince Frank – and time was something they did not have. Wilson knew the strength of this leech, and even in the hospital, Joe was not safe. The boy would be bled to death by morning, transfusions or not. And, unfortunately, Frank did not have enough blood for them both….Strength though – that was another thing…
“Frank!” Callie cried out finally, seeing the tall, dark-haired youth step off the elevator.
Frank saw them and his gaze turned surprised when he saw Wilson standing with the girls.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick?” the boy said, greeting his neighbor, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how Joe was doing and to talk to you – well, to the both of you, if at all possible,” the man admitted.
“Well, Joe’s sleeping, so I’m not sure—”
“It’s very important, Frank, and unfortunately we don’t have time to wait. Not really.” Something in the old man’s tone must have told Frank that this was very important, because the teen ran a hand through his hair and sighed wearily.
Frank looked down at his watch, a bit surprised to see how late in the day it had gotten – it was now past suppertime. He frowned. “Joe can only have three visitors at a time – but if Mom and Dad step out for something to eat—” he shrugged, “let me see. I’ll be right back.” With long strides, the teen hurried back to the elevator and disappeared inside.
True to his words, a few minutes later he was back, and nodded his head. “Mom and Dad have gone upstairs to get some sandwiches.” He frowned at the girls, obviously still displeased with the two of them. “You both can’t go.”
“Vanessa, you go,” Callie immediately said; Vanessa gave her a quick appreciative hug before hurrying to follow Frank and Wilson as they moved back towards the elevator. “I’ll wait here!” the petite blond called after them, and then sat down in one of the chairs.
* * *
Joe was actually awake this time when Frank, Wilson and Vanessa went into his room. After having received a second bag of blood, the blond teen was beginning to feel much better – still weaker than he’d care to admit, but much more alert, as the heavy weight that tugged at him seemed momentarily held at bay.
“Hey little brother,” Frank said softly as he moved to stand by the side of the bed, “glad to see you awake.”
“Glad to be awake. I’m feeling much better,” Joe admitted and then grinned at Vanessa. “Hiya, baby. You are a sight for sore eyes.”
“Oh Joe!” the girl cried and moved towards him quickly; she grabbed his hand tightly in hers and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss. When she pulled back, she scrutinized him. “You’re cold – do you want another blanket?”
Joe was surprised – he didn’t feel cold. “No, I’m fine—” His eyes widened when he saw the old man standing next to the door. “Mr. Fitzpatrick?” he asked.
“Joey,” the old man’s keen eyes appraised the pale youth as he moved to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad,” he said, and then amended when Frank gave him a look, “Okay, maybe not good either, but definitely much better than I’ve felt all day!”
Wilson nodded and then his gaze shifted between the brothers. He frowned thoughtfully.
“Is something wrong?” Joe asked, trading a look with Frank, who just shrugged his shoulders, having no more clue about this than he did.
Finally the old man let out a heavy sigh and slowly nodded. “I am afraid so. Terribly wrong.”
“What?” Joe asked as Vanessa sat down in the chair next to him and continued to hold his hand, while Frank moved to his other side. The three teens looked at the old man expectantly.
Wilson exhaled slowly and then just said bluntly, “If we don’t go back to Deathe House and close the door, you’ll be dead by morning.” His dark brown eyes bored into Joe’s vibrant blue ones, now opened wide in shock.
“What—” Joe gasped, startled. Frank put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder and glared at their neighbor.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his tone protective and wary.
The old man held Joe’s gaze, knowing that the key to getting Frank to agree to this would be through the younger boy. “When Deathe House was built, every stone of it was brought over by ship from Europe, including two huge slabs from Romania – from the castle in Tirgoviste to be more exact…
“Slaves were used, and every stone in the foundation was bathed in their blood – literally; to feed the house and make it impregnable was the belief.” The old man paused, as an intense sadness washed over his face. His hand moved unconsciously towards the talisman and he gripped it as he continued, “Edward Deathe was mad – he believed himself to be a satanic messiah, and before the house was even finished sacrificed himself on the stones of Tirgoviste—”
“No one knows what happened to Edward!” Frank refuted, his dark eyes narrowed as he looked Wilson. “He just disappeared.”
Wilson ignored the interruption. “For years the evil heart of the house has lain dormant, its hunger insatiable…but not anymore. Now it has not only been reawakened but it has been ‘welcomed—’ ” he held Joe’s unwavering gaze, “and is being fed…by you.”
“Bull—” Frank started, but the old man cut him off curtly, his eyes holding the older boy’s.
“It’s no such thing! Why do you think Rufus reacted to Joe like he did? Animals can sense what we cannot and he sensed exactly what is going on here! Your brother is being attacked by a very powerful spiritual leech – the vileness welcomed as Vladimir Tepes. Dracul. Rufus knew it, and would have ripped Joe’s throat out to deny that house what it needs – to protect Joe…“
“What does it need?” Joe’s voice was quiet.
Wilson looked at him apologetically. His tone softened. “It needs the last drop of your blood….For in the last drop is your very essence, the sweetness of your life – the power of your soul. This leech is a soul-eater, binding you to this house; damning you to never rest in peace or reach beyond, but to become another coldness haunting its halls…an eternity of damnation.”
He looked at the brothers. Frank was glaring at him in a mixture of disbelief and anger, but Joe’s look held something else – an understanding, the old man hoped. He spoke softly: “There is no choice. You have to go back and shut the door…that is the only way to break its hold – to make it let go. It has no power without a welcome….”
* * *
Frank was furious. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! It was all too surreal. Yes, he could believe in the cruelty of a man to sacrifice others, but all this other stuff – spiritual leeches, doorways? It was just too fantastic!
He shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“Crazy or not, it’s true,” Wilson said easily.
“How do you know this? Any of this?” the dark-haired boy challenged.
“I know this because my family is bound to this house. My great grandfather was one of the slaves who helped build it. But he was no mere slave – he was a leader among them, and was there the night Edward Deathe slew himself. In fact, my great grandfather’s blood sealed the sacrifice and my great grandmother bore witness to it.” He paused and swallowed hard. “Later that same night, she fled with her children, not willing to have the unborn child she was carrying, fed to this beast. She escaped to Jamaica and my grandfather was born six months later.”
Wilson focused on Frank. “I know you don’t want to believe this. But I also know you care about your brother and will do anything that is required to keep him safe, right?” He waited until he received a slow nod in confirmation to his question. “Then you will do this, because if you don’t, it won’t matter how much blood is given to him, Joe will die.”
“I don’t understand that,” Vanessa spoke up for the first time since sitting down, “if Joe keeps getting blood how can it possibly kill him? I mean if the hospital keeps replacing what he is losing…it’s like a never-ending supply, isn’t it?”
“Because it’s not his blood,” Wilson said simply, “and once the leech has taken the last drop of his blood, it won’t matter how much foreign blood is in his body. He will die. His body can live but it will be soul-less and without a soul—”
“I’ll just linger,” Joe said quietly, “probably comatose but not alive.”
Wilson nodded – the younger boy understood.
Taking a deep breath, Joe sat up in the bed and slowly started to push the covers off.
“What do you think you are you doing?” Frank demanded, reaching out to stop him.
“I’m going back to Deathe House,” Joe told him calmly, “I want that damn door closed.”
Frank closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, cursing under his breath. When he reopened them, he muttered as he reached out to steady his brother when Joe stood up, “I can’t believe I’m going to go along with this. You can barely stand up!”
“I’ll be fine,” the younger boy assured him, “I just felt dizzy for a sec but it’s passed. Now…where are my clothes?”
Vanessa moved towards a locker and came back with a bag. Joe smiled at her, took the bag and slowly moved into the bathroom to get dressed.
“So how do we do this?” Frank asked, looking at Wilson. “I am assuming you have a plan.”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I do,” the older man said, relief evident in his voice that Frank was taking him seriously, for now, “but first things first; we have to make sure Joe is protected while we are there. And for that, you, my boy, are the key. Or rather,” he amended, “your blood is.”
“Is it just me?” Frank asked Vanessa, “or is he not making any sense?” He looked at Wilson. “What do you mean, my blood is the key?”
“Many people don’t know this but Vlad Tepes was an older brother…like you—”
“Nothing like me,” Frank refuted, and Wilson gave him a small smile.
“Okay, nothing like you,” he agreed amicably before growing serious again. “He had two brothers actually, an older one – Mircea, who had his eyes gouged out and was buried alive by the Boyars of Tirgoviste – and a younger one, Radu. He hated his younger brother, who turned against him and led a successful invasion in an attempt to dethrone Vlad, driving him into the mountains; forcing him to seek refuge in Transylvania. However, the young Dracul was denied the satisfaction of killing Radu himself, when the man died of syphilis.”
“Lovely,” Frank interrupted impatiently when Wilson stopped for a breath. The bathroom door opened and Joe came out, fully dressed. “but what has that got to do with anything?”
“That, Frankie,” Wilson assured him, “has everything to do with this. It is this hatred between the brothers that is your strength. You – dear boy – are what Vlad and the vileness of that house shrinks from. You love your brother, and that is something it can’t overcome.”
“How come that didn’t help me?” Joe asked, sitting down on the bed and looking from Frank to Wilson, “I love Frank,” he admitted freely, causing the older to blush and smile at him warmly.
“Yes, you do,” the older man agreed, “However,” he indicated the bandage on Joe’s head, “you’ve been compromised – weakened, if you prefer, and it had an in. And,” he shrugged, “you were alone. If Frank had been with you last night, none of this would have happened.”
“Okay,” Frank said after a moment, “What do I need to do?”
Wilson pulled out a small knife and then looked at the older boy, “Do you trust me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” the man admitted; he smiled and then beckoned to Frank, “Give me your hand…”
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.