Chapter 1

It was a mild day. The scorching heat of summer lay long behind them. Shadows grew longer and the night fell sooner, but so far autumn had been kind. Refreshing head wind streamed through the open window, its sough mingling with the music and the nervous tapping of Matt’s fingers against his own knee.

Foggy smiled. Matt, cane between his lightly spread legs, chewed on his bottom lip, probably monitoring Foggy’s heartbeat and the sounds of the motor. His distress was obvious. And Foggy understood. Not every day someone stumbled across your dead grandfather's lost fortune, including a house in the middle of nowhere - and hands it to you because the rest of your family is dead or unaccounted for.

However, Matt was not afraid of paperwork or legal issues. Foggy was sure of that. After all, Matt was an awesome lawyer and his best friend was one, too.

Matt was wary of talking about his past. Never did Foggy pry, but sometimes, after a few beers, Matt shared something about his paternal family. Personally, Matt had never met his grandfather and his memories of his grandmother weren’t exactly fond. 

“She always said ‘be careful of the Murdock boys. They have the devil in them.’.” 

Foggy still remembered Matt’s expression when he’d shared that. Haunted, sad, but somehow… accepting. Which Foggy found astonishing. Who said that about their son and grandson? And actually all male family members? It was an especially fucked up thing to tell a kid. But apparently, Matt’s father had never objected so Matt had just… taken it. 

Matt’s memories of family were often painful. So having a whole house full of it dumped on him probably was an ambiguous feeling at best.

However, Foggy was happy to come along. Whatever support, emotional or legal, he could give, he would. He was especially glad that Matt had asked Foggy to accompany him before Foggy could even offer it. 

Matt asking for help. Not a given at all.

Foggy’s eyes fell on two street signs. One announced Pleagrove in 58 miles, the other a nearby gas station.

“Fuel should be enough,” Foggy told Matt. “But I wouldn’t mind a bathroom break and a snack. Is that alright with you?”

No reaction.

“Matt?”

“Hmm?”

Foggy smiled fondly. “Daydreaming?”

“Maybe…” Matt laughed and blushed adorably.

“Pee break and snacks at a gas station?” Foggy asked.

“Fine by me.”

Behind the exit, the street took a slight curve, after the station directly leading back to the main road. Foggy steered the car towards the gas pump and halted. Looking out of the window, he said, “Behind the station seems to be a little picnic area. Or… well, the idea of it. Do you want to wait there?”

“Yes, I think I will.” Matt smiled gratefully and made his way to the wooden tables and benches on the semi-maintained meadow near the road. “Thanks, Foggy.”

“Sure, buddy.”

Of course, Matt had learned to deal with smells of all kinds. But Foggy knew that - if given the chance - he avoided places with sharp scents like, for example, petrol.

Foggy filled the tank. Whistling, he made his way inside the station. He grabbed two lemonade bottles and found pre-made sandwiches. The one with tuna was calling to him, but they’d be in the car for about another hour. Not wanting to subject Matt to tuna breath in a confined space for so long, Foggy picked two cheese sandwiches.

Behind the counter stood a woman with strawberry blond hair and freckles on her tanned cheeks. She smiled at him when he put down his choices and pulled out his purse.

“Hey, hon! Romantic lunch for your boyfriend?” she joked and, when he cast her a surprised look, explained, “I saw him from the backroom window at the meadow.”

“Oh… no, that’s not… we’re just friends-friends,” Foggy said while the temperature in his cheeks rose.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “My brother always says I gotta stop making assumptions.”

“It’s fine,” Foggy answered. “You’re not the first to make that assumption.”

“Well, neither of you has a reason to be offended by that.” She winked and turned to the register to cash up. “It’s 31.50. You need anything else?”

“Not for now. But after lunch I might be back for the bathroom key if that’s alright.”

“Sure thing, hon. Wouldn’t want you to have to hold out until Pleagrove.”

“How do you…”

“Pretty much the only thing in that direction,” she pointed northwards, “and you came from the other so…”

“Makes sense, Miss Holmes,” Foggy laughed.

A light pink painted her cheeks. “Well, not much to do here. Why not play detective?”

*

“Finally, my romantic lunch,” Matt greeted when Foggy joined him on the meadow.

“Heard that, huh?”

“Of course. Just as I heard how she started flirting as soon as you cleared it up.” Matt’s tone was light and teasing. Foggy shoved away the thought of how nice it would be to hear at least a tinge of jealousy.

“Well, she is cute,” Foggy said. “Why not manage a gas station in the middle of nowhere with a lovely wife?”

Matt smiled. But he appeared subdued. Without much enthusiasm, he took a first bite of his sandwich.

“Nervous?” Foggy asked.

“A bit,” Matt admitted after a few seconds. “I catch myself thinking, ‘hey, they had lost these documents for decades. Why not keep that up forever?’”

Foggy chuckled. “It could be worse though. Money is never a bad thing to get. Any idea how much yet?”

“Why? You want me to invest in your wife’s gas station?”

Snorting, Foggy almost choked on a piece of sandwich. “No. No ulterior motive, just making conversation.”

“Of course.” Matt grinned, but soon looked thoughtful again. “No, I don’t know yet how much. For all we know it could have cost us more to book the hotel.”

“There is still the house though.”

“That’s another thing. A house of unknown condition in a town I know nothing about,” Matt said.

“Well, I can help with that last part,” Foggy said and spoke in his favorite lecturing voice, “Pleagrove has - as of last December - 1003 inhabitants, one school, three supermarkets, two churches, one of which is catholic, just saying, an old mine that fails as a tourist attraction due to its danger of collapsing. Pleagrove is among the 5% of American towns with the least criminal offenses, is of no historical significance but semi-famous for its apricot liqueur.”

“That’s… not helping,” Matt said fondly. “But thanks anyway.”

“Look, we’ll only have to get along with those people for a few weeks,” Foggy said. “We sort things out and are on our merry way. Unless you like Pleagrove so much by then that you keep the house and settle down.”

“Join the liquor business?”

“You wouldn’t be as cool as me with the gas station, but we can still be friends.”

Matt smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

*

Foggy had expected worse. The hotel had been surprisingly affordable so Foggy was prepared to spend an hour disinfecting their room. But if the lobby was anything to go by, the place was simple but clean.

A young brunette man stood behind the reception desk. His name tag identified him as Derek Corter and he smiled politely as they approached him. Behind him, in a wheelchair, sat an old lady with thin gray hair, but she did not look up, nor did she react to Foggy’s greeting.

“Hello,” Foggy said, letting his eyes flick between the two. But only Derek nodded politely and wished him a good day.

“Matt Murdock and Franklin Nelson,” Foggy said. “We booked a room for two.”

“Of course, sir. A moment, please.” Derek turned to the computer on the reception desk and typed. “Ah yes. Nelson and Murdock, one room, two beds.”

“That’s us, yes.” Foggy felt the familiar joy of a booking gone right.

“You booked the room for three nights, but here is a note that it might be longer?”

“Erm, yes,” Foggy said. “My friend here inherited a house in Pleagrove. We need to sort things out but have no idea idea how… um… stable the place is. We’re meeting with a surveyor tomorrow. So I asked the young lady who was on the phone to block the room if your capacities allow it.”

Derek smiled friendly. “I understand. It’s no problem.”

“Thank you!” Foggy sighed in relief. He hoped for their budget’s sake that they could stay in the house after some tidying up, but it was good to have a plan B.

“Is the house on Maple Drive, by any chance?” Derek asked. “Excuse my curiosity, but it’s the only unoccupied house I know.” 

Foggy turned to Matt. After all, it was his house so he had to decide if he wished to share the address.

“It’s fine,” Matt said. “Maple Drive 17. That’s the one, yes.”

“May I ask why…”

“Apparently, it belonged to my paternal grandfather, but my grandmother never claimed it and - so it seems - it got lost in the Hell of paperwork,” Matt explained with audibly strained patience.

Derek shook his head. “Bureaucracy, huh?” he said. “Supposed to keep things in order, but then they go and lose a house.”

Foggy laughed politely. He was a lawyer, so this was hardly the first joke like that he heard. But Derek was nice and understanding. So Foggy did not hold worn out jokes against him. 

Derek grabbed two keys from the key board. Then, he stepped from behind the desk and gestured towards the stairs. 

“Let me show you to your room, gents,” he said.

Matt and Foggy grabbed their suitcases. To signal him to go first, Foggy put an arm on Matt’s shoulder. Foggy really looked forward to lying down for a bid after the long journey, but when he’d taken only a few steps, Matt stopped so abruptly that Foggy almost bumped into him. At first, he wanted to laugh and ask Matt to stop goofing around. 

However, when he saw why Matt had halted, he did not feel like jesting. Looking down, Foggy saw a thin freckled hand circling around Matt’s wrist.

The old woman who until now had sat in her wheelchair, unmoving and silent, had turned and grabbed Matt’s arm. Her eyes, having worn an eerie distant expression before, were staring intensely at Matt.

“Never in the moonlight,” she said, her voice hoarse but insistent.

“Pardon me?” Matt said, way calmer than Foggy would be in his place.

“The silver thread,” the woman said. “Never cross the silver thread in the moonlight.”

“I don’t understand.” Matt tried to free himself, but the woman’s grip was unrelenting.

“Never,” she repeated.

“Yeah, alright,” Foggy said. “We’ll keep that in mind, but could you release my friend now?”

He really wanted to help Matt out, but also didn’t want to hurt an old lady. Derek, however, had no such qualms. Harshly, he took hold of the woman’s hands and all but ripped her off of Matt.

“Gran! Are you mad?” he hissed. “These are our guests.” Turning around, he shouted, “Marnie!”

A few seconds later, a young woman appeared from a corridor behind the reception. Her sharp features as well as the dark hair and pale skin betrayed her as a close relative of Derek, maybe a cousin or a sister. As she realized the situation, she cursed underneath her breath and hurried closer.

Meanwhile, the old woman still tried gripping Matt’s arm again. She repeated the words “moonlight” and “silver thread” over and over again. But it made no more sense than the first time - at least to Foggy.

The younger woman, Marnie apparently, joined Derek in his attempts to calm down their grandmother. She, however, was gentler and spoke softly. In the end, she managed to get the old woman to look at her instead of Matt. The grandmother fell silent.

“Come on, gran,” Marnie said. “Let’s make dinner.”

“Is it time already?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” the old woman said. “Time flies, time flies.”

Marnie grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and maneuvered it towards the corridor she had come from. On her way, she said, “I’m so sorry, sir,” to Matt.

“It’s alright,” Matt said though Foggy saw he was shaken.

As soon as Marnie and her grandmother had disappeared around the corner, Derek turned to Matt.

“I can’t apologize enough”, he said. “I have no idea what has gotten into her. Most of the time, she’s just…”

“As I said,” Matt assured, “it’s fine. Something must have startled her and it’s neither her nor your fault.”

“Still, you must accept dinner on the house,” Derek said. “Let me show you your room now.”

*

“They aren’t being mean to her, are they?” Foggy asked while eating his free Spaghetti. “Can you hear?”

“She’s fine,” Matt said, his head tilted in this typical, adorable manner of his. “Derek is mad, but he didn’t talk to her, just to Marnie. Marnie is very kind, more worried than angry. Usually, Marnie takes care of her while Derek is at the reception. Not sure why they switched up today. Apparently, Derek and Marnie’s mother, who normally works here too, is in the hospital so they’re stretched thin.”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Foggy said. “The old lady is fine. No need to violate their privacy any more.”

“Sorry.” Matt blushed and guiltily scratched his head.

“It’s fine. You get carried away while collecting info,” Foggy said, as soft as he could. “But these aren’t criminals. You can relax.”

“I know.”

“Cheer up, Murdock,” Foggy laughed, “this wasn’t your fault. At all. Eat your gratis meal and then get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll visit your new residence.”

“Don’t remind me!”

“Hey, it won’t be that bad.”

*

It was that bad. 

The house was beautiful - as far as Foggy could see over the wild proliferating flora. Foggy was reluctant to call it all weed since there were some quite pretty flowers among it. Unfortunately, it blocked not only the path to the building, but also the gate. 

With an apologetic face, the middle aged man who waited for them, pointed at the entrance.

“I’m Gregory Myers, the court tasked me with the estate management,” he greeted. “I would have gone in, but as you see…”

“I don’t,” Matt said. “Foggy?”

“Um, the local flora has formed a bond with the metal of the gate,” Foggy explained.

“Ah.”

“We’ll get through,” Foggy said. “I’m sure the surveyor will have some protective gloves with him so we can remove the stuff.”

“Good thinking,” Myers said. “Shall we look at some paperwork while we wait?”

“Why not?” Matt sighed.

Paperwork unfortunately meant no answers. Matt confirmed that he got three keys to the house, the estate manager guaranteed that to his knowledge there were no more. Foggy signed this as a witness. 

“You should see me tomorrow for the rest,” Myers said. “I’ll try to provide some answers as to how this whole inheritance vanished, but most of it…”

“...happened a long time ago,” Matt finished the sentence, grumbling.

Foggy suppressed a grin. Of course, Myers couldn’t know but “this happened a long time ago” was a sentence Matt and Foggy had heard uncountable times after learning of the inheritance while trying to find out how that was even possible.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by a loud motor. Way too fast and in a way too old car, two men came driving down the road. They halted in front of the house. The sidecar passenger stuck his head out of the window and waved.

“Murdock?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Matt said. “You’re here to check if my house will collapse?”

Laughing, the man pointed at the driver. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Unfortunately, said house is held hostage by plants.” Foggy pointed at the overgrown gate. “We hoped you could help us out.”

“No problem.” The man nodded. “We got some tools in the back.”

Together with the surveyor, Mallory his name, and his assistant Cauley, they freed the gate’s hinges from the clingy weeds. After a while, the gate opened. Cauley brought the tools they had used back to the car. Moments later, he returned with new ones.

“Well, let’s have a look then,” Mallory announced.

They left the cars at the front. Carefully, they walked towards the entrance. Matt’s nostrils flared, probably his super-smelling sense reacting to the different flowers and trees. It would be a lot of work to get the garden presentable, but it should be possible to clear the path with an hour or two of work. The inside would be a different matter.

Turned out, the keys were superfluous. There was no lock at the door which was ironically sturdy and would be hard to force open. But as it were, it stood ajar. Upon seeing this, Foggy fully expected to find the house vandalized and the walls full of graffiti. He was also fully prepared to fight off a drunken teenager. But only the odor of old dust and mold greeted them when they stepped in. Nobody had been in here for a very long time.

The house was nice. Well, it must have been in its better days. The once homely ochre wallpaper peeled off the walls, exposing the naked plaster. A staircase with steps of dark wood spiraled upwards and next to it the basement door stood open, pitchblack darkness behind it. A doorless frame opposite the entrance led into a kitchen and through the dirty window, Foggy could see a wide green landscape of a meadow in front of a hill with large trees on its top. From somewhere, the murmur of running water reached his ears.

Mallory and Cauley took off immediately to do their work and Foggy and Matt were left to their own devices. Going into encouraging mode, Foggy turned to Matt.

“It’s old,” he said. “So far I see nothing that couldn’t be explained by that fact alone.”

“But how much will it cost to make it presentable enough for anyone to seriously consider taking it off my hands?”

Foggy opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Myers did.

“If I may,” he offered, “I can’t tell you yet how much money your grandfather left you. But it should be enough to fix up this house and sell it without loss, maybe even with profit.”

“Oh, a wealthy granddad, Matty? You never told me what a catch you were.” Foggy grinned and watched Matt blush.

“I only knew he was a realtor and not a bad one. But I also have no idea how much fixing a house like this costs.”

“I’m far from an expert either,” Myers admitted. “However, I don’t think you need to worry about going into debt.” He checked his watch and smacked his lips. “Oh, is that the time? Gentlemen, if there aren’t any questions so pressing they can’t wait until tomorrow…”
“I don’t want to keep you, Mr. Myers,” Matt said quickly. “I’ll have to sort my thoughts anyway.”

“Of course.” Myers stretched out his hand and shook first Matt’s, then Foggy’s. “See you tomorrow. Does…” he pulled out an old fashioned appointment calendar, “...14:30 work for you?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have anywhere else to be here,” Matt deadpanned.

Foggy began to feel a bit bad for Myers. After all, the poor guy just did his job. Even though Foggy understood Matt’s confusion and frustration, Myers was the wrong target. So he gave the man a friendly smile.

“Matt will be there,” he said. “Thanks for your time.”

“It’s my pleasure. Until tomorrow then.”

After Myers had left, silence fell. Matt stood in the entrance corridor of his new house like a lost kitten. One could basically see old wounds breaking open inside him. Sighing, Foggy put his arms around his best friend and squeezed his shoulder.

“No matter what happens, Matty,” Foggy said. “I’ll be here, okay? Be it scratching mold of the walls or processing a house sale, I can do it, if it’s too much for you.”

Audibly, Matt swallowed. His hand found Foggy’s on his shoulder and patted it. With a light smile, he nodded.

“I know,” he said. “I think that’s the only reason I can handle it. Knowing that you’ll help me.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Foggy answered. “How about we ask Mallory and Cauley how long they’ll need? Maybe we can grab a bite and find someone who can install a lock at the door.”

“Good idea,” Matt agreed.

“That’s me. Full of good ideas.” 

*

Mallory announced that he’d need the rest of the day. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but to Foggy he appeared optimistic. Money was one thing when staying at the hotel. However they’d also have way more time each day to fix the house if they wouldn’t have to drive from and back to the hotel everyday.

Foggy informed the surveyor that he and Matt would be out for a while. They drove to Pleagrove’s center and were lucky enough to find a parking spot near a plaza surrounded by different stores. As they got out of the car some people scrutinized them.

Understandably so. This was a small town so they were easily identified as outsiders, but their car, despite being a rented one, was too packed for the usual tourists who stayed for a weekend.

“We are interesting,” Foggy told Matt. “Picking up any hostile heartbeats or are they just curious?”

Chuckling, Matt took the arm Foggy offered. “I don’t think I could tell apart people hating us and people being excited about us,” he explained. “But nobody is about to attack if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You sure?” Foggy said. “Because I think I could handle the granny with the dog, but you’d have to take care of the old gents in the cafe. And one of them wears a hat.”

“Not a hat,” Matt gasped dramatically.

“Yup, indoors no less. Guy’s a maniac, obviously.”

Foggy couldn’t find a locksmith. But there was sign for “Old Gus’ Tools and Repair Shop”. He told Matt about it and suggested to try it.

“Sounds good. The door is definitely in need of repair.”

A little bell announced their arrival in the shop. It was small but the space was well used with shelves lining the walls and ware tables in the center. A subtle hint of vinegar based cleaner reached Foggy’s nose and when he turned to Matt he was not surprised to see him make a displeased face. Through a door behind the counter clattering of tools and low music rang and a male voice called, “One moment, please.”

About a minute later, an elderly man, probably Gus, with gray hair and a long beard entered the shop. He had a kind face and red cheeks and Foggy wanted a price for not calling “Santa!” upon seeing him. Gus raised his bushy eyebrows and gaped for a moment. Then, he shook his head and smiled.

“Excuse me,” he said. “How can I help?”

“Hello,” Matt said. “I inherited a house and there is no lock. Could you install one?”

“Oh, that’s you!” Gus exclaimed instead of answering. “I knew you looked like someone I know! So finally someone is coming for the house.”

“Ah well, I’m just here to sort things and…”

“Of course,” Gus laughed, “a young man like you hardly has use for a home in such a small town. But if you two retire one day… maybe?”

Neither Matt nor Foggy felt the need to clarify this time. Instead Matt gave a friendly smile and said, “Who knows? For now, I only need a lock. Oh, and maybe you could have a look at the basics? Wiring, water, heater?”

“Yes, yes, sure, sorry,” Gus said. “I never answered your question. I can install a lock and bring someone for the rest. Is tomorrow around 10 alright?”

“That’s fine,” Matt said. “The house has probably been without a lock for decades. One more day won’t make a difference.”

“That’s true,” Gus said on laugh. “Tomorrow then.” He fell silent for a moment, hesitated. But then he said, “I know I’m very very late. But for what it's worth, I’m sorry about your grandfather. He was a really nice guy.”

“You know more than I then,” Matt said. “I never met him. Just my grandma.”

“I see. But they were so in love,” Gus said fondly. “She must have talked about him a lot.”

Matt’s features hardened within seconds. “Not one word,” he said and turned towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”

He was out of the shop within seconds. All that was left for Foggy was to wish Gus a nice day and hurry after Matt.

“You okay?” he asked breathlessly when he finally caught up with Matt.

“Yeah, no, I… I don’t know,” Matt stammered. “Just… I never minded that I didn’t know my grandfather. For the longest time, I didn’t even know my mother. Some people grow up without any family around. But meeting a complete stranger who knew my grandfather… and imagine, this complete stranger is the first to tell me I look like my grandfather. Nobody else told me.”

“Well, to be fair, the only people who could have told you only knew you as a kid…,” Foggy said and immediately bit his lip. Not a good thing to say. “Sorry…”

“No, no, you’re right,” Matt said. “But still… this random old guy knows all this, knows how my grandparents’ marriage was while I know nothing… that stung.” Matt groaned. “God, I was a total jerk, running out like that.”

“You’re stressed,” Foggy said. “Gus doesn’t seem the type to hold a grudge. Come on, let’s find you something to eat.”

While they were eating waffles at a cafe, Matt sighed.

“They’re all staring, aren’t they?” Matt whispered.

“Nope, just the senior citizens.”

It was true. Foggy saw and felt eyes on them. However, as he looked around, it was mostly older people staring. Young adults, teenagers and kids hardly paid them any mind.

It made sense. Judging by Gus’ reaction, Matt looked very much like Thomas Murdock who lived and died in Pleagrove decades ago. To those who knew Thomas this must at least be a little weird. In addition, if they knew who Matt was, it was no secret to them why he was here. They were probably curious what he planned to do with the house. If he would stay or if someone else, even more foreign to this place, would move in eventually.

“They’re just curious, Matty,” Foggy assured. “And can you blame them? Usually, all they have is the apricot liqueur. Now there is this guy who looks like another guy they knew in a different lifetime.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’re better than the liqueur, buddy.”

That at last, got a laugh out of Matt. “I’m so flattered.”

“Speaking of, wanna pick up a bottle?”

“Trying to get me drunk and into your hotel room?” Matt asked with a raised brow. “Sounds suspicious, Mr. Nelson."

“Oh, cut me some slack, Murdock! I’d be wayyy smoother.”

They found a small supermarket where Foggy grabbed some cleaning supplies and snacks. At the hardware store next door, he got a spray bottle, plaster and a wall scraper. He felt a bit bad since he could have bought these things at Gus’ shop as well, but Matt’s quick exit had made him forget it. Returning though, would be awkward.

In the end, they decided against apricot liqueur. But the liqueur found them anyway as they returned to the house. An old lady stood in front of the gate and waved, bottle in her hand.

“Hello!” she called when Matt and Foggy were just around the corner.

Awkwardly, Foggy smiled at her as they approached her. When they finally were close enough, she stretched out her hand and shook theirs excitedly.

“Good afternoon! I’m Mrs. Miller from across the road,” she said, pointing at a house at the street corner. “It’s so good to see someone move in again! And such a nice handsome couple!”

“We’re not actually…”

“And you look exactly like Thomas!” she went on. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to see his grandson getting to enjoy his beautiful home.”
“Maybe, but…”

“Such a waste that it was abandoned for so long,” she sighed.

“Mrs. Miller…”
“Though I don’t blame Laura for not wanting to stay after Thomas passed,” Mrs. Miller said quickly. 

“Do you know what happened to Tho… my grandfather?” Matt asked.

Surprised, Foggy looked at him. He’d expected Matt to want to end the conversation as fast as possible.

“Oh, Laura never told you?” Mrs. Miller raised her brows in surprise. “Had a stroke while they were taking a walk on their property. A tragic chain of unfortunate circumstances. They had wandered pretty far out and the phone in their house was broken. So poor Laura had to run across the yard to get to the street and then to the phone booth at the corner.”

“That is unfortunate,” Foggy said. “Valuable time.”

“Indeed,” Mrs Miller agreed and sighed. “I think Laura blamed herself. Silly of course, what could she have done? But I guess, women always feel guilty when something happens to family. If only she had opened up to me or others. She could have trusted us! We never believed… ah, doesn’t matter anymore”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh just… She wasn’t as outgoing as Thomas, didn’t have as many contacts. Though we as a community would have supported her after he died. But she never approached us and nobody wanted to impose.” She sniffled and blinked, giving Foggy the impression she didn’t tell everything that was on her mind. Finally, she let out a long wistful breath. “Such a short time they were destined to have here. What was it? Two years? If even… So sad.” 

For a moment, Mrs. Miller was quiet. Then her eyes fell on the bottle in her hand. “Oh! Silly me! This is for you!”

She handed Matt the bottle.

“Thank you,” Matt said politely.

“It’s apricot liqueur, our local speciality!”
“So I heard.” Matt smiled.

“Anyway, if you need any help, ask,” she said and smiled, “My husband and I aren't as young as we used to be, but we can fill a wheelbarrow with rubble and trash and steer it away from your house.”

“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Miller,” Foggy said, sensing that Matt did not like the thought of her participating in fixing the house. “Though we may want to borrow that wheelbarrow.”

“No problem,” she said on a laugh. “I’ll have to go now and prepare dinner.”
“Of course,” Foggy answered. “Thanks for the liqueur.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Miller,” Matt added. “Good bye.”

They waited as the old woman hurried across the street. Only when she had disappeared into the house, Foggy let out a sigh of relief.

“Phew, making a good first impression is hard and awkward work.”

“We did it though,” Matt said, his head tilted. “She is telling someone named ‘Irving’ that ‘the nicest homosexual couple is moving into number 17’.”

Foggy felt a blush rising. Damn, he really needed to stop enjoying Matt and him being taken for a couple so much. As always, he used humor to steer the cliffs. 

“Ah well, poor Irving will be disappointed on two fronts then,” he said. “No gays, no new neighbors.”

“We can try selling the house to ‘nice homosexuals’ though,” Matt suggested.

“I can see this going over well in the advertisement.”

*

The surveyors had good news for them.

“You got a house like the truth here,” Mallory said. “Not always pretty but sturdy.”

“So it won’t bury us alive,” Foggy asked.

“Unless you have explosives on you - nope.” Mallory grinned and patted the walls.

“Also,” Convey chimed in. “It’s not my field of expertise, but the mold isn’t that bad either. Flying mold if you ask me. Not nice, but relatively easy to get rid of.”

“Sounds good.”

“Indeed.” Mallory nodded. “There are some damages to the wall in the attic. Nothing a carpenter can’t solve. One may not think this at first sight, but with regard to how long nobody looked after it, it’s in a very good condition.”

“You’re right,” Foggy said. “Nobody would think this at first sight.”

“Or on first smell,” Matt grumbled.

The surveyor and his assistant laughed.

“Don’t be too pessimistic, Mr. Murdock,” Mallory said. “It’s a good house.”

Mallory promised to send the report in the next few days. Afterwards, he and Convey bid their goodbyes and left Matt and Foggy with the old, dirty - but certificatedly not in danger of collapsing - house.

Carefully, Foggy studied Matt’s face. Distress and nostalgia met in a weird dance on his features. Foggy could not blame him. There he stood in the shadows of his father’s childhood without having had a clue about them before. In addition, the dust, the mold, the overall decay must be a hundred times worse on Matt’s senses than on Foggy’s. 

“How about you explore the garden a bit,” Foggy suggested. “I’ll look around and see which room appears the least worn so we can make it our center of operation.”

“That… sounds pretty good,” Matt answered on a deep sigh. Brushing his hand over Foggy’s arm, he said, “Thanks, buddy.”

“Of course.” Worried, Foggy watched Matt leave. As if this man needed any more concerns in his life. But Foggy would take as much weight off his shoulders as he could.

A quick tour around the first floor told him that the rooms here were not ideal starting points. The kitchen furniture was pretty much ruined but the walls and floor looked alright if pretty dirty. However, it was directly connected to the dining room which decidedly looked not alright. The living room was worst when it came to mold at the walls and even Foggy’s nose reacted offended. Matt couldn’t sleep here.

Upstairs, Foggy found an old bathroom, two bedrooms and what probably once had been a home office. In one of the bedrooms, the window stood open. Therefore it was colder and more populated by spiders. But it also smelled fresher and had significantly less mold on its walls. In addition, instead of a carpet, a once elegant wooden floor adorned the ground which would be much easier to clean. Only the frame was left of the bed and should be easy to take a part and get out. The large wardrobe would be a bigger problem, but not unsolvable. Maybe it was even usable still after a thorough cleansing. The bedroom was not perfect, but he could work with that. So Foggy closed the window and gave the spiders a heads up that they were on thin ice, should they leave the corners.

In the attic, Foggy found no light switch. The spare light that streamed in through the small window fell on crates and cartons. ‘Baby toys’, ‘coats’ and ‘blankets’ was scribbled on some of them, the rest Foggy could not see. He was about to head back, when he spotted, right next to the hatch, a little wooden box. 

There was a pattern carved into the lid. Still, it did not seem to be special for it, more like the kind one could buy at a gift shop or the market. Nevertheless, it piqued Foggy’s interest so he took it and put it on the window sill of the bedroom he had picked as their “lair.”

Going back down, his gaze landed on the basement door. He had not much hope to find it any less messy than the rest, but curiosity had him head for the stairs anyway.

To his surprise, pulling the chain actually switched on the lamp. It was a weak dark orange glow that did hardly more than illuminate the steps and the first half of the large room downstairs. Usually, the small windows to the garden might have provided some additional light, but they were grimy and the wild vegetation blocked any beam of sun that might find its way here.

However, Foggy could see the traces Mallory and Convey had left in the dirt on the floor and at least for his way down, he followed their path. 

The front half of the basement was lined with shelves. Some forgotten cans told Foggy they’d been used for storage and the thick layer of dust on every board spoke of the time that had passed. In the back, waited the remains of a workshop, the size suggesting a hobby level at best. Old rusty tools lay on the workbench and on the ground before it. It stung to spot some among them in the size for a child’s hand. Dust had covered them, but Foggy saw the initials J.M. and T.M. carved into the wood of the workstation.

A brush of fabric across the ground startled Foggy. Maybe one of the windows was broken or open, letting through a wind rush. Foggy turned to find the source.

He yelled. A tall dark figure peeked from behind a gray curtain, staring right at him. His heart thundered and his skin prickled.

It took him a while to realize that he knew the dark figure. Breathing heavily, he stared at himself in an old dusty mirror, half covered by a large piece of cloth draped across it.

“I’m such an idiot,” Foggy mumbled.

Above him, the entrance door was thrown open. Of course, Matt had heard him scream like a child.

“Foggy?!” his friend’s panicked voice called out to him.

“I’m okay!” he gave back. “Startled myself with my own reflection. Wait, I’m coming to you.” As soon as he stepped through the basement door, Matt’s hands were on his shoulders and his head. Awkwardly, Matt patted around as if looking for injuries.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Matty,” Foggy laughed. “As I said, just gave myself a scare. The wind must’ve moved a curtain that was covering a mirror before. And apparently, I look very scary in a dark dusty basement.”

A sharp rush of air escaped through Matt’s nostrils. “Good.”

Together, they stepped outside. Foggy took a relieved breath of fresh air. The greenery and the sunlight were a nice contrast to the basement.

“The good news is, I found a room that isn’t half bad. We can camp there.”

“I suppose that is good news,” Matt said and added on a laugh, “That and the radio.”

“Radio?”

“The one you found in the attic.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you… music was playing shortly while you were inside,” Matt said, confused now. “The stupid song about the idiot who gets himself killed in a car race because he wanted to buy a ring.”

“‘Tell Laura I love her’?”

“That one.”

Foggy took a deep breath.

“First of all, this is a very beautiful song,” he said. “Second of all, Tommy is not an idiot but a romantic who tragically loses his life. Third of all, if you heard it, you didn’t hear it from inside the house. There is no radio in the attic. Well, maybe in one of the gazillion boxes up there. But I didn’t find one, let alone turn it on.”

“I was so sure it came from there…”

“Maybe all the smells out here mess with your super senses.” Foggy turned his head to all sides. “Who knows how many different plants are growing here.”

“How would that mess with my sense of hearing?” Matt grinned.

“Dunno.” Foggy shrugged. “Maybe your nose was distracting your ears?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Matt said on a laugh. “Walk the garden with me? I think I have a pretty good idea of it, but just to make sure I missed nothing?”

He held out his arm. Foggy could not help thinking how unfairly pretty this man was. The late afternoon sun caught in Matt’s dark hair and fell on his face in a flattering manner. A cute smile played along his lips and he bent his head expectantly, waiting for Foggy’s answer.

“Sure buddy,” Foggy said. “Show me your prosperous lands, Mr. Murdock.”

“A little too prosperous right now,” Matt joked.

It was true. Even without enhanced senses, Foggy realized the diverse number of plants that spread here. He didn’t know them all by name, but recognized some of them as cooking ingredients. Some he had seen on etiquettes of air fresheners. Along the fence grew two man high bushes with thick red berries that did look inviting. Foggy was almost sure it was red currant, but he would google it before stuffing any of them into his mouth, or Matt’s.

They had half-rounded the house, when Foggy stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth fell open. For a good 30 seconds he could only stare in disbelief.

“This… all belongs to you?”

“I guess so,” Matt said and chuckled without humor, “It is as huge as my radar suggests?”

“It is huge,” Foggy said.

Behind the house a hill led downwards. At its foot, wild flowers grew among knee-high grass and a small wooden bridge bravely stood up to time. A narrow river ran underneath and cut its path through the lush meadow. On the other side, the grassland continued, flowers providing colorful spots there as well. After a few steps, the ground rose upward, a group of large evergreen trees growing on top of the elevation. 

“It’s beautiful,” Foggy told Matt. “The stones at the river’s ground are mostly silver white and the sunlight breaks in the water. Almost looks like light dots dancing on the surface. There is a very cute bridge - you can probably tell of course - formerly light wood I think, aged though and on the other side, is a little hill with trees.”

Matt didn’t answer. After a while, Foggy turned to him and saw him smiling.

“Thanks, Foggy,” he said softly and warmth blossomed in Foggy’s chest.

“No problem.” Foggy cleared his throat and quickly said, “Want to check the other side?”

“Can we trust the bridge?” Matt’s smile fell off his face, making room for concern.

“I’ll go first and you listen out for any signs of the thing collapsing, okay?” Foggy suggested. “If it carries me, it carries you easily.

Determined, Foggy walked towards the bridge.

“Foggy, please, come back.”

“Buddy, sooner or later we’ll have to check that part, too.”

“Maybe Gus can have a look at the bridge tomorrow.”

The construct appeared sturdy so Foggy took a first tentative step. In his book, the following creaking was normal for a bridge made of wood and he carried on.

“Foggy?”

“Your super senses picking up breaking noises?”

“Not yet,” Matt said, annoyed. 

Foggy smirked. Now and again, he liked showing Matt how it felt if one’ best friend was being reckless. And Foggy was only risking some bruises and wet clothes.

“Get back!” 

“Geez, alright, Murdock,” Foggy said and turned around.

“What do you mean?” Matt asked

“I mean that you don’t have to yell at me.”

“I didn’t say anyth…”

“Whoa!” Foggy said as he looked upwards the river.

“What?”

“It’s… It looks, great…,” Foggy stammered. “The river - it’s like a golden cut through the landscape.”

“How so?”

“The hill on which the house sits and the one with the trees, the grass with the flowers near the river bends,” Foggy described. “From here, both sides look pretty alike. Just… on the one side is the house on the hill, on the other the trees.”

“Funny,” Matt said and added quickly, “Now that we know that please come off.”

“Alright, alright.”

In companionable silence, they walked back towards the house. The sun was slowly setting, bathing the property in the golden and red light of dusk. Foggy couldn’t help but imagine a tamer version of this garden and a young boy playing hide and seek in it. How different would his life be, had Matt’s family not left? How different a man would Matt be, had he grown up here? Matt probably wouldn’t be blind. Wouldn’t be Daredevil. Maybe not even a lawyer. They most likely wouldn’t have met. Foggy didn’t like the thought, but he wondered if Matt would be happier.

“Yes?” Matt broke the silence.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say my name?”

“Uh, boy, the whole thing is really getting to you, buddy,” Foggy laughed and put his arms around Matt. “Come on, let’s get you dinner and then some sleep, huh?”

Sighing, Matt nodded. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

The two men crossed the garden and left through the rusty metal gate, leaving the old house to the falling night and the whispering wind.

Chapter 2

Gasping, Foggy sat up. He was not sure what had woken him up. But something definitely was not right here and soon he knew what. As his eyes adjusted to the dark room, illuminated only by the moon falling through the window, he saw that Matt was not with him. 

The right side of the large double bed was empty. There was still an imprint of a body visibly on the mattress, pressing the cream colored sheets down. So Matt couldn’t have left too long ago.

Foggy climbed out of the bed, concerned. He hurried to the door and stepped out into the corridor. Straining his ears, he listened for any noise that might tell him where Matt had gone. He heard nothing but the wind and the ticking of the grandfather clock near the stairs. 

Foggy opened his mouth to call out for Matt. But suddenly, it did not feel safe to do so. Swallowing, Foggy sneaked towards the stairs. The carpet on the steps muffled the sound of his feet yet they appeared so very loud to him in the silence of the house. Watched only by the portraits on the stairwell wall, he made his way to the ground floor.

In the downstairs corridor, he stood, somewhat helpless. Nothing he saw or heard gave him any hint where to go. 

Foggy froze. From below, sounded the hinges of a door squeaking. His bare feet padded on the cold ground as he approached the stairs to the basement. The noise continued: an ongoing metal screech that rang more and more like a tortured whimper the longer he listened. Gathering his courage, Foggy descended the steps. 

It was cold in the basement. The smell of paint and wood chips met the scent of herbs and flowers. Shadows of wind tossed trees and bushes fell through the windows and danced across the wooden boards on the ground.

Foggy followed the squealing and found his concerns justified. The door, leading from the basement to the garden, stood open. It moved in the wind, but never fell shut. 

With his fears growing, Foggy rushed outside. Quickly, he climbed the stone steps to the terrace and looked around. Nobody was in the garden, but there was a pained voice echoing from the distance.

Foggy hurried to the low stone wall that surrounded the back garden. He gasped. Down by the river, he saw two figures. A woman stood in front of a kneeling man. He was bending forward, sunken into himself, apparently in pain. 

Wide-eyed, Foggy realized that this was not just any man. Matt! 

“Matt!” cried Foggy and raced to the gate. 

Running down the hill, he kept calling Matt’s name. But neither Matt nor the woman reacted to him at all. Matt kept writhing in agony, the woman just stared at him. 

Out of breath, Foggy arrived at the foot of the hill. He ran to Matt and knelt beside him. Carefully Foggy put his arms around Matt, soothing whispers and concerned questions on his lips.  But Matt did not even look up.

In his desperation, Foggy finally turned to the woman. She was beautiful. Her porcelain skin and golden hair shone in the pale moonlight and the dark green nightgown flattered her figure. But her pretty face was without expression as her eyes lay on Matt, unblinking, unwavering.

“Move,” Foggy told her. “Get help! Can’t you see he is in pain?”

After a few seconds, her gaze wandered towards Foggy. A sad smile formed on her face. Something like grief as well as pity shone in her aquamarine eyes as she very slowly shook her head.

“Please?” Foggy said, still holding on to Matt. “Why not?”

Like in a trance, the woman moved her arm upwards. The index finger of her small hand rose and pointed at Matt. Confused, Foggy followed the gesture and turned to Matt as well.

With relief, Foggy realized that Matt had stopped shaking. His breathing evened out. Foggy smiled as Matt began to lift his head.

But his smile died soon. Screaming, he pushed himself off of Matt, landing on the grass. In panic, he scrambled away from the figure that was decidedly not Matt.

Where a face should be was a smooth surface. It reflected the silver white light of the moon and an image of the grassland around and Foggy’s own scared face.

Frantically, Foggy tried getting to his feet. Over the thundering of his own heart, he barely heard the water splashing. When he finally let his eyes flick to the river, he saw movement.

On several spots of the surface, the water rose upwards. But not erupting as a geysir or fountain would but slowly building, appearing not unlike a stalagmite. In horror, Foggy watched as the forms began swaying from side to side like snakes dancing to a hypnotizing tune. 

Slowly, the shapes changed. Digits formed at the tops, a curve appeared in the middle - they wriggled and writhed and transformed. Foggy could do nothing but stare in fascinated terror as bit by bit, the vague structures became arms. They appeared to be made from viscous liquid, wobbling and wiggling, the moonlight breaking on their shiny skin.

At first, they just stretched skywards. But after a few seconds, they, in wave like motions, shifted towards the riverbend. The hands slammed down flat on the ground and dragged themselves out of the water. Accompanied by a squelching noise, transparent shoulders and faceless heads peeled from the surface, followed by torsos and legs.  

Finally, it occurred to Foggy that he should run. He needed to find the real Matt and get far far away from the river and the water figures who now plodded across the grass covered ground, not fast but steadily. With the approaching slogging and splashing ringing in his ears, he turned to run back to the house.

Hard, he collided with something. The man from before had somehow changed position and Foggy had run right into him. Watching the eerie spectacle on the river, Foggy had almost forgotten about him. Now, he grabbed Foggy’s arm and brought his faceless head close to Foggy’s. On the reflective exterior Foggy could see himself, panicked and pale. 

His eyes widened when the man’s face, that was none, contorted. As if etched into it with a glass shard, an unnatural smile appeared on it.

“Foggy,” he said. No, someone said it, the mouth of the man wasn’t moving. It was frozen into that horrifying smile. “Foggy?”

Coldness gripped Foggy. Several wet hands landed on him, his shoulders, waist and chest, water seeping through the fabric of his robe. They pulled on him as did the man. It began to hurt. Foggy tried to scream, but one cold hand made of water covered his mouth and nose so all he could produce was a gurgling sound.

“Foggy?”

Foggy couldn’t breathe. The nightly scenery became blurry and the uncomfortable cold grew into a numbing iciness. 

“Foggy!”

With a shout, Foggy startled awake. His eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was a worried Matt. It took Foggy a moment to realize that there was nothing blocking his nose and mouth and he could, in fact, breathe. Greedily, he took several large gulps of air.

“Buddy?” Matt had a hand on Foggy’s shoulder and gently shook it.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Foggy gasped out. “Sorry. Nightmare.”

“Don’t apologize,” Matt said softly. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t really remember it,” Foggy lied, knowing it was futile.

“You do,” Matt said with a smug grin. “No need to lie if you don’t want to share.”

“It’s just… it was about your new house,” Foggy admitted. “Old creepy house with unclear backstory - guess it got to me.” Chuckling, he added, “We can’t all be as brave as you.”

“You’re very brave, Foggy,” Matt said earnestly.

“Same back at you, partner,” Foggy replied.

Silence fell. They both smiled and Matt still had a hand on Foggy’s shoulder. Damn. This was one of those situations in which it did not seem so crazy to just surge forward and plant a kiss on Matt’s pretty mouth.

But, of course, Foggy didn’t. As always, he let the moment pass, wisdom defeating instinct once more. After a while, he cleared his throat.

“Since we’re both awake, we might as well get up, have early breakfast and maybe explore the town a bit more before we meet with Gus,” he suggested.

“Sounds good.” Matt nodded and pointed at Foggy with a smirk “You shower first.”

It was then that Foggy noticed his sweat drenched shirt and boxers clinging to him.

“Eww. Shit! Sorry, Matty.”

Matt laughed. “Stop apologizing for having nightmares, Nelson. We all have them.”

Before climbing out of the bed, Matt patted Foggy’s shoulder. He stepped into the middle of the room and began to stretch. Of course. No day without training. As Matt bent down, presenting his well shaped butt, Foggy quickly reminded himself of the shower he needed.

In the bathroom, he threw the dirty clothing into the corner. While brushing his teeth, he tried to push away the memories of the nightmare. But the images of the faceless man and the wobbling water creatures were vivid in his mind. 

Foggy was glad, Matt hadn’t pried. Not so much because of the scary part, even though Foggy wasn’t keen on reiterating it. 

No, really embarrassing was the setup. In his dream, it had appeared completely normal to him to sleep in a marital bed with Matt - naked. His nightly self did not at all question this. The house had not been ‘the house Matt just inherited’ in his dream. It had been their shared home, furniture and decor cloying and kitschy. Foggy had no idea where it all came from, but it was definitely not a sign that he was getting over his romantic feelings for Matt. They just became cheesier.

Sighing, Foggy cleaned his toothbrush and turned to the shower. It was pleasantly easy to regulate the water’s temperature (an experience he did not have in many hotels) and Foggy felt the relief of warm water on his skin.

Wrapped in a bath towel returned to the hotel room a few minutes later. Matt was just opening the door for Marnie who sheepishly wheeled a cart inside.

“It’s our breakfast service for premium guests,” she explained. “A selection from the buffet so you don’t have to come downstairs. For you free of charge as an apology.”

“We appreciate it,” Matt said. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to,” Marnie said and smiled. “She really is a kind woman. Something must have startled her, she meant no harm.”

“I know that.” 

Marnie nodded and smiled. “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your breakfast and call if you need anything.”

“Wow,” Foggy said when she was gone. “Old Granny Corter got us quite a lot of food so far.”

“Granny Corter?” Matt laughed.

“Yeah, the receptionist’s surname was Corter - according to his name tag anyway,” Foggy explained. “So there is a fifty-fifty chance, his grandmother is a Corter, too.”

“Not really,” Matt said. “From what I overheard yesterday she is their mother’s mother. And in this generation the chances of the maternal name being the family name…”

“Yeah, yeah, smartass,” Foggy grumbled good-naturedly and snatched a piece of bacon from the breakfast cart. “Eat, Murdock, we got things to do and places to be.”

*

Foggy buttoned up his jacket. While the sun’s light flooded the streets, cool winds heralded the arrival of autumn. A sweet smell filled the air and before Foggy could wonder where it came from, he spotted the linden trees surrounding a nearby small park.

He told Matt about it and suggested to go there for a little walk. Gus wouldn’t meet them before 10 and Foggy wasn’t keen to wait in the house the whole time. With a smile, Matt agreed and they walked over to the park.

It sat as a rondell between an array of charming shops, a cafe, two restaurants and a small bank building. The park had many visitors of all ages. Adults leisurely strolled between colorful flower beds, teenagers chatted on the benches and kids played in the sandbox. Pleagrove apparently tried to savor what was left of summer.

“There is a free bench,” Foggy whispered. “Want us to hope for the best and walk there in dignity or should I race there like a schoolboy crying ‘diiiiiibs!’?”

“Dignity is overrated,” Matt said, “while a free park bench on a nice day in late summer…” Matt stopped mid sentence and tilted his head, “A woman in high heels is approaching. Is she coming to us?”

Foggy looked past Matt. In fact, there was a young woman with long brown hair coming towards them. Her steps were determined and she smiled in a way that had Foggy’s skin crawl. That was a snake smile.

“Yes,” Foggy whispered. “Lithe figure, dark hair, tasteful clothing, nothing expensive though. Honestly? She radiates trouble. Please don’t fall in love with her.”

He spoke the last sentence before he could stop himself. Fortunately, Matt laughed. Maybe by now he could see his own pattern of falling for pretty women who had “menace” written all over them.

“Maybe we should just…”

“Mr. Murdock?” said the woman and Matt turned around, faking surprise.

“Yes?”

“Jessica Carmile,” she introduced herself. “I work for the Pleagrove Observer.”

“Oh?” Matt said innocently, but definitely giving off “who cares?” vibes.

She smiled it away. “Yes. I heard you are Thomas Murdock’s grandson and will move into his house.”

“I inherited the house,” Matt clarified. “But whether I move in or not can hardly be newsworthy.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “It’s not just any house and your grandfather was not any man.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was the main subject in the mysterious disappearances back then.”

“Excuse me?” Matt tensed and Foggy saw his fist clench around his cane. “What disappearances?”

“Six people, four women and two men disappeared, not long after your grandparents moved here and it stopped after he died.”

Matt stood open-mouthed and speechless. Quickly, Foggy stepped closer to him and put a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“It’s the first time we even hear of this, Miss Camille…”

“Carmile.”

“Sorry, Miss Carmile,” Foggy said. “But whatever happened back then, I don’t know what you think Matt could tell you about it. He wasn’t born. His father was in elementary school.”

“Sometimes family passes secrets on.” Miss Carmile shrugged. “I was hoping Mr Murdock would give me an interview.”

“So you think my grandfather killed those people, told his 6 year old son about it and he then told me?” Matt asked in a dry tone. “And now you think I would tell you about it?”

Averting her eyes, she pressed out an awkward laugh. “That’s not…”

“I’m sorry, Miss Carmile,” Matt said firmly. “This conversation is over.”

“But…”

“You heard him,” Foggy snapped. 

Matt was about to run off. So Foggy hurried to grab his arm for appearance and led him away from the park. 

*

Understandably, Matt did not want to stay in the town’s center and they returned to the hotel. Foggy did not know what to say so he did what he was good at: research. Google was not as helpful as it would probably be for a more recent case. Nonetheless, he could share something with Matt in the end.

“Okay, look,” Foggy said. “This woman was not only out of line, she also twisted the truth a lot. Your grandfather was the main ‘suspect’ due to being the only ‘suspect’. I hope your radar sense shows you my passionate air quotes around ‘suspect’ because according to the online articles I found, he was a suspect very shortly and that by proxy because for two of the disappeared folks he was the last one to have seen them. An information he, in both cases, provided himself which he probably wouldn’t have done if he killed them, right?”

“I guess,” Matt mumbled, sunken into himself.

“Right. Anyway, there was no connection to be made between him and the other people who disappeared.”

“Well, he would be a bad serial killer if all his victims could be traced back to him,” Matt deadpanned.

“Come on, Matty, that’s…,” Foggy sighed, “... anyway, furthermore, Carmile’s claim that it began shortly after your grandparents moved here, relies on a very broad definition of ‘shortly’. They had lived here half a year when the first one - a local salesman - didn’t come home after work. In the end, all cases were closed, the sheriff coming to the conclusion that all these people left on their own will. They all had some sort of… issues. The first one, for example…”

“Foggy,” Matt said. “I appreciate that. And I’m not saying my grandfather killed them. But all those people just left at the same time? All without leaving a trace or telling anyone? Even if it made sense for each single case on its own, it is a weird coincidence.” 

“‘At the same time’ still means a span of…” Foggy checked the dates of the first and last case again, “...16 months.”

Matt sighed. “Thanks for looking into it, buddy. I do feel a bit better. Plus, even if he was a killer, it’s not my fault, right? I wasn’t even a dirty thought back then.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Foggy said. “It’s all in the past.”

Glancing at his phone, Foggy saw the time.

“We should get going to meet with Gus,” he said.

“Yes, let’s go. I need a distraction.”

Unfortunately, Matt would not get his distraction soon. At the house, Gus was already waiting - in the company of Mrs. Miller. As soon as Matt and Foggy got out of the car, Mrs. Miller stormed towards them and grabbed Matt’s hand.

“Oh, you poor boy!” she exclaimed. “I don’t even know what to say. The nerve of that woman!”

“Erm, what?” Matt looked very confused. “What woman?”

“Jessica Carmile, of course.” Mrs. Miller said. “Calls herself a ‘journalist’ while working for that local rag.”

“How do you…”

“My cousin, Nelly, was in the park this morning,” Gus chimed in and smirked. “Very good ears, that one. She heard your conversation with Jessica and came to my shop. She loves gossip.”

“Nelly would better have intervened and tell that Carmile girl to leave innocent men alone,” Mrs. Miller ranted. “Catching you unawares with those nasty old rumors like that.”

“I wouldn’t have been completely unaware if you had told me,” Matt replied, calm but with a hint of accusation. “That was what you have been holding back, right?”

Sheepishly, Mrs. Miller nodded. “Yes,” she admitted. “I assumed you didn’t know, but I didn’t want to spoil your first day here with it. Or make you think you weren’t welcome.”

“Yes, you have nothing to do with all that,” Gus said.

“Neither had Thomas,” Mrs. Miller insisted. “We never believed that.”

“Most of us,” Gus corrected.

“Nobody who mattered,” said Mrs. Miller stubbornly. “Anyway, don’t listen to this woman and don’t let old rumors ruin your new life here.”

“About that…,” Foggy began, but apparently Matt did not feel like explaining anymore.

“We won’t,” he said. “Gus? Could we start?”

“Oh, of course!” Gus nodded, looking at his watch. “I had hoped…,” he looked up, “... ah, there she is.”

Foggy followed Gus’ line of sight. Around the corner came a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, waving at the group with a broad smile. She was short but athletic with well-defined arms, shown off by the short sleeves of her white shirt. Her blue jeans were washed out and dirty around her lower legs. Carrying a tool case, she approached the group.

“That’s Emily, my granddaughter,” Gus said, pride ringing in his voice. “She works at my shop. Can repair almost anything.”

“I can.” Emily smiled fondly at her grandfather before turning to Matt and Foggy. “I hoped you let me have a look at the house. I’ll make you a good price for everything that needs fixing. Everything but electric stuff.”

“My nephew is an electrician,” Gus hurried to say.

“Of course, he is,” Foggy said, amused. “Sounds good to me. What do you say, Matt?”

“Well, if Gus would like to make fixing my house a family project…” Matt shrugged, but he, too, was smiling.

Probably, there weren’t many alternatives around and if the knack for handiwork ran in Gus’ family, the house would be in good hands.

“We’d absolutely loved to,” Emily said. “I wanted to get my hands on this house since I was a little girl.”

“Now is your chance then,” Matt answered, stepped to the gate, unlocked and opened it and gallantly gestured Emily in.

Emily blushed a little and nodded in determination. “To work.”

Mrs. Miller said her goodbyes and the rest of the group went to the house. While Gus immediately began working on the front door, Emily rushed inside and disappeared. Foggy took Matt’s arm and led him upstairs.

“You haven’t been in the room I picked for us to stay in,” he said. “Let’s make sure it’s alright for you.”

Matt’s smile was definitely strained. But he claimed it was fine and let his fingers glide across the walls. Then he grabbed the spray bottle to wet the remains of wallpaper so he could easier remove them with the scraper.

Foggy shrugged. Matt had picked his job so Foggy decided to take the bed apart. He realized that he did not have the necessary tools for it. Maybe Emily could borrow him some of hers. He met her on the staircase.

“What’s your judgement so far?” he asked.

“It’s astonishing how little repair it needs,” she said, more surprised than disappointed. The attic walls need some sealing as well as the basement’s. Otherwise, walls and roof are fine. I should fix the sinks though.”

“Please do,” Foggy said. “We got one more night at the hotel, then we’d like to stay here and…”

“Say no more. I’ll prioritise the upstairs bathroom and the kitchen,” Emily said.

“Great. Thank you.” Foggy gave a relieved sigh. “Oh, can you borrow me something to take apart the old bed?”

She laughed. “That could mean a screwdriver as well as an axe.”

“Heh.” Foggy returned her smile. “I’ll try the soft method first.”

“A screw driver it is.”

*

After taking the bed apart, Foggy wiped his forehead. He was quite proud of himself, but also exhausted and hungry. However, a quick look at the watch told him it was time for Matt and him to change so they could meet the estate manager.

“Hey, buddy,” he said. “Let’s get back to the hotel and find clean clothes. We have to get to Myers soon.”

Matt remained silent. Confused, Foggy turned to him and saw a sheepish expression on his face. 

“I wondered…” Matt said.

“What?”

“It’s a lot to ask…”

“What is it, Matt?” Foggy said on a laugh.

“I was wondering if I should take a cab and go alone.”

“Oh. Um, sure… I never meant to impose,” Foggy said quietly.

Quickly, Matt crossed the room. He put his hands on Foggy’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

“You’re not,” he said. “I’d love to have you with me. But… I was wondering if I could leave the room to you? You’re right, it’s the best room at the moment. And it’s fine, but working here becomes a bit… uncomfortable after a while. You’re done with the bed. I could help carry out the parts and then you start cleaning while I meet with Myers? I know it’s a pretty big favor to ask…”

Sighing, Foggy patted the hand on his shoulder.

“This is absolutely fine, Matty,” he said. “If you are okay meeting with Myers alone. I could come with you and clean the room later while you rest in the hotel.”

“Absolutely not!” Matt insisted. “I feel bad enough asking that of you. I’ll use my appointment with Myers as a reprieve and be back helping afterwards.”

“Alright,” Foggy said.

Matt left with Gus a while later. The old repairman had already installed the new lock, handed the key to Foggy and offered Matt a ride to the hotel. After refreshing and changing, Matt would call a cab to get to Myers.

Of course, Foggy would not let him help when he’d be back. Now that he knew what Matt needed, he was determined to provide it. The room would be clean, would be inhabitable and would smell nice when Matt returned. Since Emily was very optimistic about the bathroom upstairs, Foggy also hoped he could get it in a presentable state for Matt’s return as well.

Semi-professionally, he closed the small dents in the bedroom wall with plaster. Nodding in satisfaction, he regarded his work when he was done. After having cleaned the floor, the windows and the wardrobe, Foggy took a break. Water bottle in one hand, sandwich in the other, Foggy leant against the now wallpaper free wall, he had touched up. Not bad for a layman , he praised himself inwardly.

Foggy contemplated what to do after he’d be done with that: new wallpaper or paint. Both options, however, would have to wait for another day.

For now, Foggy needed to catch his breath. Sighing, he sat down on the floor with his food and water. He just wanted to start eating when the athletic form of Emily appeared in the door frame. A smile between amusement and empathy formed on her face as she spotted Foggy. 

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, not used to that much physical labor,” Foggy answered. “But I’d like to get as much as possible done before Matt returns.”

“He means a lot to you, hm?” she asked.

“He’s my best friend.” Foggy averted his eyes and took a sip of his water.

“Uh-uh,” she said, smirking. “Listen, I’ll be back in an hour or two. Got some other clients and need some tools. Water in the bathroom should be fine. I’ll take care of the kitchen when I’m back. Don’t start climbing ladders or something like that while nobody else is here, okay?”

Foggy laughed. “Not planning to.”

“No spontaneous climbing either.” Emily gave him a stern look.

“Cross my heart.”

“Alright, see you later.”

She waved. Foggy heard her retreating towards the stairwell. Quickly, she went downstairs and a moment later the main door opened and closed.

Alone and silent, Foggy ate. When he had finished his sandwich, he wasn’t quite ready to get up and clean the bathroom. His eyes fell on the wooden chest he had found in the attic. He had almost forgotten about it.

Now, curious and in need of a reason to procrastinate for a few more minutes, he got to his feet and retrieved the box from its place on the window sill. The box had a lock, but it was broken so Foggy could open it easily. 

There were several photographs and letters. The latter were all addressed to Laura Murdock, Matt’s grandmother, and came from a woman named Linda Redfield. The envelopes had all been opened and the letters had probably been put back neatly after reading. Still, Foggy felt it was not his place to look at them. He’d tell Matt about it and let him decide whether or not to open them again. 

The photographs however, did not seem to be of private, or even intimate, nature. They were of the house, most likely meant to serve as a memory of their first days here. The colors on the walls were fresh and bright, the furniture appeared new and on some pictures there were packing boxes in the background.

At first glance, these were unremarkable images. Still, Foggy’s eyes widened more and more, the longer he looked at them. Even though he was sure to see those photographs for the first time, the house’s furnishing shown there was pretty much how he had seen it in his dream. The color of the carpets, the pattern on the wallpapers, the furniture, even the family portraits on the walls along the staircase - it was just like he had seen it.

Foggy frowned. It had to be a coincidence. Though the likelihood of his dreams being so accurate by chance was low. 

One difference was there after all. In his dream there had been a door in the basement, leading to the garden. In reality there was none. Foggy halted. Or was there? 

Recalling his short visit to the basement, Foggy tried picturing the wall in question. There had been an old shelf, full of clutter. So, in theory…

Curious now, Foggy put the box back on the window sill. He left the bedroom and went downstairs to enter the basement. As he walked between the shelves, barely any light falling in, he remembered that this time nobody was in earshot. He shook his head. Silly thought. Why would he need anyone to be? 

Foggy passed the mirror that had startled him last time. It was still half hidden by the large curtain, making it appear like a window to another room. On a whim, Foggy grabbed the fabric and used it to cover the mirror fully. Afterwards, he walked to the shelf in the corner of the back wall. It was heavy and it took Foggy a while to move it. But finally he managed to push it a few inches away from the wall, enough to peek behind.

Gasping, Foggy stared at the wooden door, concealed until now by the shelf. It looked like in his dream, just older. The aged wood was darker, some holes in it through which leaves of the rogue plants made their way into the house. 

A sinking feeling in his stomach, Foggy took a step away from the wall. Craving light and warmth all of a sudden, Foggy whirled around to leave the basement. But he froze as soon as he had turned. 

He looked into his own fearful face. Not even partly covered, the mirror reflected the gloomy room. Foggy’s gaze wandered to the ground. Crumbled, the heavy curtain he had draped over the mirror just minutes ago, lay on the old dirty floor boards. There was no wind, neither to move it nor to muffle the sound it should have made while falling.

Like in a trance, Foggy stepped closer and bent down to pick it up. In a rush of childish stubbornness, Foggy lifted it to put it back over the mirror again. The fracture of a second later, the curtain hit the ground again as it slipped from Foggy’s hands.

Foggy screamed. In the mirror, behind his own form, stood a pale woman. Her hand reached for his shoulder and Foggy turned to slap it away. 

Panting, he stared at the workbench behind him. Noone there. Feeling as if his blood and flesh had turned to ice, Foggy had trouble moving. Panting, his heart thrumming in his chest, Foggy turned his head to look into the mirror again.

This time there was only himself. He looked at the workbench again. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, Foggy tried to make sense of all this. Either way, he had to go. Apparently, being down here did him no good.

Just as he had finished the thought, it went darker. The weak lamp near the stairs had gone out, leaving only the sparse sunlight the wild vegetation of the garden allowed to fall through the window. As his eyes were still adjusting, he heard a loud slam. The basement door! He whirled around.

He froze as he saw the mirror. The woman was back. Her eyes were wide, the sockets black. Her mouth was contorted in what might have been fear or rage. Her thin hand, skin translucid, bones showing, moved towards Foggy. 

Terrified, Foggy ran for the stairs. His foot caught in one of the storage shelves and he stumbled to the ground. A curse on his lips, he scrambled back up, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. He screamed as he spotted the tips of white fingers reaching through the surface.

Foggy raced towards the steps. As fast as he could, he went upstairs, cold horror driving him. At the top of the stairs, his fears were confirmed. Not only had the door fallen shut, it also would not budge. 

In panic, Foggy threw his body against it. The slamming sound was loud in his ears, but still he was sure to hear shuffling as if someone was dragging their feet across the boards of the basement floor. Tears of terror were forming in his eyes as he kept jumping against the hard wood - to no avail. 

When the shambling stopped, Foggy turned his head. At first, he saw nothing, still he could not help whimpering. Foggy had just dared to breathe as a pale hand peeled from the shadows below and slammed on the bottom steps of the stairs. Another scream became stuck in his throat.

Then, he fell. Behind him, the door disappeared. With a yell of shock, Foggy lost his balance and his back hit the ground, hard. Eyes widened by the horror, he stared at the figure above him.

“Mr. Nelson?” Emily, just as confused as he was terrified, held out her hand and pulled him to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be leaníng against the door. Figured it got stuck and locked you in.”

“Y… yeah, the light went out and…” As he stood again, Foggy looked back down. There was nobody there. “I thought… there was someone…”

“A trespasser?” Emily asked.

“I… don’t know.” 

“Let me get my flashlight and we check together,” Emily said resolutely. “I wouldn’t rule it out though I don’t think anyone ever tried getting in. Maybe it was a cat or something.”

Still in shock, Foggy fell against the wall. Trying not to shake, he watched Emily squat down next to her tool case. After some searching, she found what she was looking for and, with a triumphant “aha” pulled out the light.

Foggy contemplated stopping her. But if he gave her his reasons, she would at best laugh, at worst call the authorities to have him locked up for his own good. So when she turned on her flashlight and descended into the basement, Foggy followed. The least he could do was protect her from… something.

As they passed the basement lamp, Emily squinted and looked at the light bulb.

“Blown”, she stated. “I’m gonna have to put more lamps down here, so you don’t have to rely on one alone. I suppose it died when you were further in the room?”

“Y… yeah, I was on the other side.”

“Lucky that you didn’t break your neck on the way back,” Emily said. “Let’s see what you might have heard.”

She searched the whole basement. Meanwhile, Foggy stood, feeling useless, between the shelves, casting nervous glances at the mirror.

“I can’t find anything,” Emily announced after a while. 

“Sorry,” Foggy said. “I was so sure. Maybe…”

Foggy shrugged. What could he say? He could hardly tell this woman he met a few hours ago that a ghost had appeared in the mirror and came out of it to get him. After all, it couldn’t be true, right? He must have imagined it.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. Emily gave him a kind smile and looked him straight in the eye.

“Hey, there is no shame in getting spooked in a dark room like that when the light suddenly goes out and the stupid door gets stuck,” she said. “Alright?”

Tentatively, Foggy smiled back. “I… I guess, yeah.” 

That had to be it, right? He had moved the curtain and probably left it unstable so it had fallen. Then, in addition to the stress of renovations, lovesickness and weird dreams, he had been scared by the darkness, a trick of the eye and some strange noises. Maybe he’d even hit his head as he’d fallen. 

Before he could question himself for his weak explanation, Emily asked, “What were you even doing here?”

“Um, I looked for the back door,” Foggy answered and, half genuine, added, “I thought there must be one and saw none on the ground floor.”

“Oh, and?”

“Yes, behind that shelf.”

Together with Emily, it was easier to free the door.

“Nice,” she commented. “Will be easier to carry the old stuff outside through here when you start clearing the basement out.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “Later.”

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose you have enough of the basement for now. I’ll take care of the kitchen sink next.”

“Yes, thanks.” Foggy nodded. “I’ll go back to work as well.”

Foggy returned to the bedroom. There, he grabbed the bags with the cleaning supplies he had brought and went to the bathroom next door. As he slowly found back to his planned schedule, he thought about what had happened in the basement. He must have imagined it! It had looked and felt so real though.

No. Foggy shook his head. All the stuff happening was getting to him. But he had to stay clear- and level-headed. Matt was the one under pressure. So Matt needed support now and not his best friend losing his mind. For a moment, Foggy let the hand that held the sponge sink to take a deep breath.

There was nothing in the basement, there was nobody in the mirror. It was just a trick of the light that had spooked him and when suddenly it had become dark, he had seen things that weren’t there. Yeah. Just stress and an overly active imagination.

An hour later, Foggy let his eyes wander over his work. Satisfied, he noted that the bathroom, despite its age, looked good. Foggy’d been able to restore the former lightgrey of the tiles and the shine of the faucets and fittings. The toilet after a thorough treatment with disinfectant was usable without danger of serious diseases. The shower was even inviting, except for the lack of a curtain. He’d had to throw it out as it was beyond saving, but the holder was alright and would carry a fresh one. Especially proud Foggy was of how good the tube looked. Emily had replaced the outlet with a new and clean one, but Foggy had scrubbed the walls. Sometimes, Matt liked to have a bath, sinking into the water, for some light sensory deprivation. Should the need arise, he could do it now.

Foggy heard an unfamiliar sound. It took him a moment to realize it was a doorbell. Emily or Gus must have repaired it without telling Foggy. Shortly, he wondered who might be coming to visit, but then he remembered that Gus had left the keys to the new lock with Foggy. The “visitor” probably was Matt, currently unable to enter his own house.

Foggy hurried to the main door. After opening it, he indeed found Matt standing there.

“Hi,” Foggy said. “How did it go?”

“Not too bad, I suppose,” Matt said. He appeared tired, but not overly stressed or worried. “The good news is, my grandfather had all his accounts at the same bank so there won’t be much running around. They were the ones we have to thank for the whole thing.”

“How so?”

“Apparently, the news of my grandfather’s death never reached them,” Matt explained. “So, for them, he still was a but a customer. His data even was digitized in the 1990s. So this year, their system found that a very wealthy customer of theirs - who never really used his money but whatever - turned 90. So they sent a card.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” Matt shook his head. “It was a birthday card, returned to sender, who set all this in motion. They got it back, tried finding the correct address and were told he’s dead. They tried finding the next of kin with the help of the city. They realized that nobody had ever claimed any of the estate of Thomas Murdock.”

“Okay, your grandma never…”

“No, looks like when my grandfather died, she basically left and never looked back.”

“Odd. Is there a grave?”

“They are looking for it, but so far nothing.” Matt sighed. “Anyway, the accountant at the bank said they’ll send me the stuff soon. Oh, and they would be happy to be a reliable partner in finances to me as they were to my grandfather.”

Foggy snorted. “So reliable. Took them only six decades to notice he is dead. I wouldn’t… wait, you already were at the bank? Alone? I could have…”

“No need.” A small blush rose in Matt’s face. “The… ah… estate manager’s assistant accompanied me during her break. I think she felt sorry for me. Even bought me a coffee afterwards. She will also take me to the county recorder’s office to get my name into the house’s register tomorrow. She has friends there and I won’t have to wait for an appointment.”

Foggy tried hiding the stabbing pain in his chest with a dirty laugh.

“You dog!” he exclaimed. “The good ol’ lost puppy act!”

“I wasn’t acting!” Matt defended himself, but he too was grinning. “I was extremely lost when I heard all that.”

Trying not to think of Matt, chatting and flirting with a dark haired beauty in a cute little cafe, Foggy pointed at the stairs.

“I think the bedroom and the bathroom are alright now,” he said. “You should make the super nose check. If it’s alright, we can leave the hotel tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Matt said. “How are you though? Everything alright here?”

“Yeah, all great.”

Shit. Matt cocked his head. Frowning and in a stern tone, he addressed Foggy.

“You’re lying,” he stated.

For a moment, Foggy cursed this ability of Matt. He preferred not to burden Matt with this. The poor guy had enough on his plate. His best friend freaking out over nothing was the last thing Matt needed. In addition, it was a bit embarrassing. So Foggy decided to try with a half truth. 

“Me being clumsy, buddy,” he said. “Locked myself in the basement and fell.”

“You alright?” Matt stepped closer.

“Yeah,” Foggy laughed. “No serious injuries.” 

Apparently, his heartbeat matched his story. Because Matt nodded and patted Foggy’s shoulder.

“Please take better care. I need you,” he said before going up the stairs.

“I… I will. Sure, Matty,” Foggy stammered, chest and face heating up. With his heartbeat elated just again, he followed Matt.

Chapter 3

The following days found Foggy carrying unsalvageable furniture into the front yard, clean walls and scrub floors. While Foggy kept working in the house, Matt was busy sorting the legal aspects of the inheritance. He was at the bank, the courthouse and the register, often in the company of the ever helpful Erin Denvers, assistant of the estate manager.

Foggy had still not met her. But glancing at her in her car, waiting by the gate, Foggy had seen she was not a dark-haired but a redheaded beauty. Not that it mattered. After all, she was not a chubby blond man.

His thoughts, or an accurate interpretation of them, must have been written on his face. Because Friday morning, Emily patted his back after Matt had left.

“He likes you, too, you know?” she said.

“What? Who?” Foggy said and thought, Wow. Playing a little too dumb there, Nelson. 

Chuckling, Emily shook her head. “You know who. I mean, obviously he is not longingly staring at you. But the way he smiles when you explain an idea of yours or make one of your silly jokes…”

“For one, Miss Emily,” Foggy said strictly. “I never make silly jokes. I’m widely known for my subtle sophisticated humor.” Ignoring her snort, he continued, “For two, Matt and I are just friends.”

“Sure.” Emily nodded firmly in mock seriousness. “Just like Ernie and Bert.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Foggy gestured around. “Don’t you have a house to fix?”

“I really do.” Emily laughed. “Reminds me, my cousin Sam…”

“Sam the electrician?”

“Yup, him. He says the wiring in the house looks good. Only had to fix some minor stuff. I put his bill in the kitchen. It should be no problem to operate an oven and a refrigerator.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call the supplier so we don’t get any problems,” Foggy said. “I’ve suggested to Matt to install at least a simple kitchenette. For one, we could use it while we’re here. For two, the house might sell better if some essentials are here.”

“Reasonable.” Emily nodded. Then her face lit up. “Wait! My cousin…”

“Sam the electrician?”

“No, Beck from the furniture shop. He recently had a return. A small kitchen. Wrong color if I recall correctly. The paneling is white and the surfaces dark grey, but the customer wanted it the other way around. If you take it, I’m sure he could make you a good price.”

For a moment, Foggy hesitated. But Matt had told him he trusted Foggy with decisions like that. White and darkgrey weren’t colors that would repulse potential buyers and for Matt that wouldn’t matter anyway. 

“That would be great,” he answered.

“I’ll call him.” With that, Emily returned to the kitchen and left Foggy to his own devices.

If not for the weird occurrences, Foggy might even have enjoyed this. He liked helping Matt out. In addition, it was nice to see his own hands’ work take fruit. The rooms on the ground floor had been cleared, the walls fixed and painted. The second bedroom and the study upstairs were also free of broken furniture, still needed some plaster and color though.

Gus had sold them a microwave and an electric cool box, but most of the time, they went out to get food. It was getting expensive and Matt insisted on paying. They ate on cheap garden chairs Foggy had found at a store in Pleagrove. Together with the matching table they gave the whole experience some camping flair. 

He and Matt slept in the old bedroom. They’d placed their sleeping bags on the floor and each put a yoga mat underneath to save their backs. Foggy did absolutely not think about the fact that they slept in the exact same spot the marital bed had stood in his dream. 

The rooms needing the most work still were the attic and the basement. Now Foggy had no desire to return to the latter. However, the attic was only slightly less scary. Furthermore, now that the door from the basement to the garden was free, it would be easier to carry the disposable things outside, even on his own. Trying the same on the narrow stairs to the attic, would be trickier.

Swallowing, Foggy regarded the door to the basement. He should go down. To prove to himself once and for all that there was nothing to fear. After all, Emily was here at the moment. But as he switched on the new lightbulb and stared into the halflight of the basement, he could not help the image of the pale woman in the mirror flickering before his mind’s eye. The memory was blurry and he had trouble remembering her fully. Her hair had been dark and she’d worn an old fashioned dress with dots. Something had been off about her. Well, aside from the fact that she shouldn’t have been there - and wasn’t, Foggy reminded himself. There was something about the color of her skin. She’d been so pale… 

Foggy shuddered. The memories made him step back. He couldn’t go down there alone at the moment. Hopefully, in a few days he might be able to, but now his feet moved away from the basement door almost on their own accord.

So he went upstairs to take care of the attic.

A little wistful, he found that neither the clothes, the holiday decorations nor the toys inside the boxes would be of use to any person, charity or orphanage. With the aid of mold, moth holes and even mice excrement, time had pushed the objects beyond saving and so he brought them outside. The books had fared better so Foggy decided to store them in the living room later. But he would ask Matt for help carrying them.

Sighing, Foggy regarded the large shelf in the corner. 

“Guess I can’t forever avoid you, huh?”

So he picked the fitting screwdriver from his set and put it on one of the shelf boards. With a groan of extortion, he pushed the cartons with the books aside to make room for the shelf parts. A scraping sound had him turn.

His screwdriver was rolling along the shelf board and fell. It landed on one of the boxes, its weight pressing down the carton lid, creating a small gap. The tool slid further and disappeared into the opening.

Foggy swallowed. Breathing heavily, he tried calming himself down. Probably the shelf or the floor boards, or both, weren’t completely straight. That had to be why the screwdriver had fallen. And its odd landing was just a coincidence.

Nodding in determination, Foggy opened the box. He did not see the screwdriver at first glance and cursed. Of course. So he lifted some of the books to find it. When he finally spotted it, he stopped short. Underneath the books, right beside his rogue tool, lay two pieces of paper, held together by a paper clip. Both looked old so Foggy knelt down and carefully pulled them out.  

On closer inspection, he saw that it was a library card. It was nothing like the small plastic card he possessed for his favorite library. It was made from old paper and instead of storing digital information had a due date card attached. 

The ink in the name field was smeared a bit, but “Laura Murdock” was still readable. Confused, Foggy saw that Laura had exactly one time borrowed a book and that had been on the same day, she had gotten the card. The title and the due date were no longer readable, but the field for the return date was empty, suggesting that she had never given it back.

“Let’s hope Matt won’t inherit that fine,” Foggy mumbled as he turned his attention to the paper clipped to the library card and unfolded it.

With furrowed brows he read the one word that was scribbled on it.

“Umspectris?” he read.

Foggy wondered if it was a typo, an anagram or a foreign name. Below the strange word, several weird symbols had been scribbled down. He couldn’t make sense of it. After considering it for a moment, Foggy let the library card and the paper slide into his pocket. 

He was about to close the box again when he recognized that one of the books was a photo book.  Very careful, Foggy opened the first page and smiled. A picture of a baby boy, wrapped in a white blanket sat above the copy of a birth certificate of “Jack Murdock”. He wondered if Matt was interested in keeping it? Pictures had hardly any value for a blind man, but it was a memory of his father. 

Opening the next page revealed images of the baby, apparently taken in the hospital. They were all very similar, but to a proud father the tiny differences in hand position, nose crunching and feet moving probably all had deserved their own photograph.

As he turned another page, Foggy froze. There was a black and white picture of Jack in the arms of a pretty blond woman. It had to be Matt’s paternal grandmother Laura. A woman Foggy had heard about, but never met. So he’d thought. But he recognized her at once. She was the woman from his nightmare who had stood near the river, beautiful and sad. He examined her face to see if she could have been the woman he’d seen in the mirror as well. But no, not only was her hair too light, her features were clearly not the same. However, now as he stared at the picture, he knew what had been off about the woman in the basement. She hadn’t simply been pale. Her skin was that of a white person in an old black and white photograph…

Foggy closed the book. There had to be an explanation for all of this. But which? Where would he have seen Laura’s face? Matt didn’t carry pictures around. And if Matt had pictures of Laura, they wouldn’t be of her at that young age. Foggy’d also never met Matt’s dad who might’ve possessed pictures of his mother from this time.

Music filled the room. Yelling, Foggy dropped the book and whirled around. 

Laura and Tommy were lovers, sang a voice that Foggy knew to be Ray Peterson’s. He wanted to give her everything.

The song’s source seemed to be the box with “Electronics” written on it. So Foggy approached it.

Flowers, presents and most of all, a wedding ring

It was a song Foggy liked. But right now, it had the hairs on his neck stand up and caused goosebumps all over his skin. 

He saw a sign for a stock car race

Frantically, he rummaged through the box. The melody and lyrics faded into the background as he tried finding whatever played the music. After what seemed like an eternity, he saw it. A little red radio was stuck underneath a toaster. Foggy pulled and found the cable entangled with a set of old headphones.

Tell Laura I love her, tell Laura I need her…

Harshly, Foggy pulled and in the end managed to get the radio out. He tried turning the device off. While he found that the switch already pointed at “off“, he still pushed it back and forth several times. As it did not work, he suspected a loose contact. So he turned the machine around to remove the batteries and finally restore the silence.

The battery compartment was empty. Slipping from Foggy’s shaking hands, the radio fell to the ground. Clattering, several parts fell off. Nonetheless, the song kept playing as Foggy raced towards the stairs.

Not looking back, leaving his tools and the remaining clutter behind, he all but jumped down the narrow steps while Ray Peterson kept singing.

Noone knows what happened that day…

*

Foggy didn’t say a word to Emily. Apparently, she hadn’t heard the music since she didn’t mention it. When Matt returned, he knew that something was off with Foggy - because of course he did - but Foggy claimed to simply be tired.

With raised brows, Matt accepted this explanation, but did watch Foggy intently this evening. So Foggy tried to appear cheerful.

They resorted to the bedroom, both sitting down on their sleeping bags. Of course, they had no wifi, but watched some Netflix videos Foggy had downloaded in the cafe some days ago.

“You sure you’re okay?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, just a bit exhausted.”

Matt hummed in understanding. “I want you to take tomorrow off,” he said. “We could grab some snacks and drive somewhere. I’m sure there are some nice spots around.”

Biting his lip, Foggy hesitated. There was still a lot to do and he’d hate to lose a whole day. But the thought of leaving the house behind and to have Matt for himself for a while was very tempting.

“Let’s see how we feel tomorrow, okay?” he suggested, a compromise between the two hearts beating in his chest.

“Alright.” Matt nodded and smiled. “You in for a little walk before we go to sleep?”

Foggy, already side-eyeing his warm sleeping bag, swallowed his objection. Maybe some fresh air would do him some good. 

“Why not?” 

They put on their jackets. By now, it had grown pretty cold in Pleagrove and dusk fell earlier. So Foggy grabbed a flashlight which made Matt laugh a little.

“Why would you need that? You have me,” he said.

“Jealous of a lamp, Murdock? Really?”

“I just don’t understand,” Matt answered dramatically. “I’d treat you so much better.”

“Dork.” Smiling fondly, Foggy took hold of Matt’s arm and they went outside.

In the silence of the falling night, they walked towards the river. The grass, soughing in the evening breezes, and the murmuring waters surprisingly had a soothing effect.

It was astonishing how much friendlier the darkness appeared with Matt by his side. The rustling of the remaining leaves was just the wind, the dancing patterns on the grounds merely the shadows of the trees. Foggy barely noticed the chilly air, focusing on the warmth of Matt’s hand in his.

They went down the hill. Foggy breathed in the fresh air with the whiff of autumn in it. The river made its way through the land, the bends on both sides adorned by colorful wildflowers that - so far - had withstood the end of summer.

Foggy let his flashlight wander over the area. Once again, he was astonished by its size and taken in by its beauty. But then, he halted.

The stream of his light moved along the opposite side of the river. As it reached the trees on top of the other hill, he saw something blinking. Surprised, he repeated the move. Again, he saw a dancing spot of light between the trees.

“Odd,” he said.

“What?” Matt wanted to know.

“I think something on the hill is reflecting my flashlight,” Foggy answered.

“Really? That is odd.” Matt stepped closer to the river.

He stood completely still, focusing on something.

“What did you say is up there?” he asked after a while.

“Trees. Lots of them.” Foggy shrugged. 

“Nothing else?”

“Well, right now I can hardly see anything from here,” Foggy admitted. “But during the day? Yeah, trees were all I saw. Why?”

“There seems to be something else… a structure of some sort.”

Foggy did not question how Matt knew that. Probably something about the wind breaking, the air circulating or tiny animals moving around. Something weird like that.

So he just said, “Wanna have a look? Emily checked the bridge. She says it’s safe.”

“Well, if Emily says so.” 

There was something weird to Matt’s tone. Before Foggy could think about it however, Matt began walking. Foggy, still holding his hand, followed. The old bridge groaned under their weight, but proved itself to be trustworthy for they arrived safely on the other side.

The grass covered hill was harder to climb than the stone steps, leading to Matt’s house. A few times, Foggy almost slipped, but Matt always caught him, holding him upright. Matt himself walked steady, fast and elegant, like some sort of mountain lion. Because of course he did.

Arriving on top, Foggy had to catch his breath. Patiently, Matt waited. As Foggy signaled he was good to go, they ventured forward. From right between the trees, the area looked larger, the thicket denser. In the dark, Foggy couldn’t see very far, even with his flashlight.

Luckily, Matt seemed to know where to go. With unerring steps, he led Foggy through the dark maze of branches, roots and fallen leaves. On a clearing, he halted.

“What the…” Foggy said.

“I assume it’s not my radar sense playing tricks on me?” Matt asked.

“If it tells you there is a freaking building, no.”

Surrounded by the large trees, stood a two story house. It was nondescript with a gray facade, a dark tile roof and curtainless windows. One of the - surprisingly clean - glass panes must have been what had reflected the light Foggy had directed at the trees. Something about that house was odd.

“I see no entrance…,” Foggy said, searching the wall. “Oh wait, there.”

On the side, in the shadows of a large tree, a stairwell led downwards to a simple wooden door. 

“Should we enter?” Matt asked. “I mean…”

“Well, it is on your property.” Foggy shrugged. “It’s either yours or someone owes you an explanation for putting it here.”

Matt chuckled. “You have a point.”

Together, they descended the stairs and Foggy carefully pressed down the door handle.

Without a sound, it opened, presenting a large, but empty room. It wasn’t just empty in the sense of being abandoned by people. It also wasn’t crawling with insects, adorned with cobwebs and mice scurrying across the ground. There was no thick layer of dust on the ground or even a dent in the wall. Neither decoration nor dirt, neither rubble nor furniture was to be seen. It was a large square room with white walls, a plain wooden floor and stainless windows.

“Foggy?” Matt asked, uncertain.

“If you are picking up a void concentrated in a basement room, that’s correct.”

On the other side of the room, a stairwell spiraled upwards. Foggy took Matt’s hand and led him to the ground floor. As he stepped into the corridor, he froze. Suddenly, he realized what he couldn’t put his finger on before. This was Matt’s house. Obviously, it was not as it was completely empty, but the cut of the rooms, the stairwell… In the basement, Foggy hadn’t noticed as it looked so different without all the clutter and the shelves. But now it was clear as day; this was the same house - just mirrored. That’s why they hadn’t found the main entrance. It pointed away from the river.

“Matt this is exactly…”
“Like the house on the other side, yes, I… I can see it now. Well, not see, but, you know…”

“Yeah, I know.” Foggy did not miss that Matt didn’t refer to his grandfather’s home as “my house”, but this was a question for another time.

Their hands found each other again as they explored the house further. Verifying that this was really just like the other one, they went through all the rooms. It appeared like it was freshly built and painted, but nobody had been here to give a personal human touch to it. Until they entered the bathroom. Here, too, everything was unnaturally sterile. However, on the wall opposite the door, hung a mirror. There was nothing special about it. It had a rectangular frame made of dark wood, smoothly polished with no additional carvings. 

“A mirror,” Foggy told Matt. “Weird piece to leave behind when you take everything with you. And weird piece to bring first when you move in.”

“I guess,” Matt said. “Do you hear that?”

“What do you…” Foggy began, but stopped himself mid-sentence when something within the mirror seemed to shift. The surface warped before his eyes. He blinked and looked again, finding it smooth again.

The reflection flickered. Squinting, Foggy stepped closer, Matt’s hands slipping from his, and examined the mirror. Then, just for the fracture of a second, the image of a different bathroom appeared in the mirror. It had the same cut, but the tub and the sink had different colors and there was a glass with two toothbrushes on the board underneath the mirror. Foggy’s eyes widened. This was the bathroom in the other house.

“Matt, you’ll think I’m crazy, but…” Foggy turned around, only to find himself alone in the bathroom. “Matty?”

When had Matt left? And why? Foggy opened his mouth to call out for Matt again. But before he could, a loud cry broke the nightly silence.

“Matt?” In panic, Foggy stormed out of the bathroom.

There was no sign of Matt in the dark corridor as Foggy let his flashlight wander around. But soon, he heard him again, quieter but no less pained. This time, however, Foggy could make out the direction it came from and he ran towards the attic stairs. Like the rest, it was a mirrored and clean version of its counterpart in the other building.

Foggy registered in the back of his mind that the attic was bare of any furniture and decor as well. He was focused on Matt who knelt, bent over, on the ground. Unpleasant memories of his nightmare flooded Foggy’s mind and, for the fracture of a second, he hesitated.

Scolding himself, he raced to Matt’s side. This was his best friend who sat there, suffering. There was no time for childish fears. Foggy knelt beside Matt.

“Matt? Matty!” Foggy said. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t see. I… I’m blind. Help me… please…”

“What?” Foggy couldn’t make sense of this. 

Part of him was tempted to answer “duh”, but Matt didn’t appear to be joking. Foggy put the flashlight down to have his hands free. He tried having it stand upright, but it tipped over and rolled across the floor. In agony, Matt screamed.

“So loud! Please! Make it stop! It hurts!”

Quickly, Foggy caught the flashlight. It stopped moving, now laying still, throwing a stream of light on the ground. Matt stopped screaming. But he was still breathing heavily and visibly in fear. Then Foggy understood. It wasn’t the first time Matt’s superpowers turned on him. When he lost control, his keen sense of hearing became a burden and tortured him with every sound. So Matt was “blinded” as he could not use his heightened other senses to replace his eyesight. Foggy was uncertain what might have caused it, but it didn’t matter right now. He had to get Matt out of here.

After he’d taken back the flashlight, Foggy helped Matt to his feet. Supporting Matt, Foggy carefully steered the both of them towards the main entrance. He was not even surprised to find it unlocked. 

The cool night air was welcome. As he rounded the house to find their way back, he noticed how suppressive the atmosphere inside had felt and how stark the contrast to the exterior was. Now without Matt’s keen senses, the way through the trees was trickier. But following the sound of the river, Foggy navigated them out of the thicket.

Very careful, Foggy climbed down the hill. Coming here, he had depended on Matt - now it was the other way around.

“Foggy?” Matt asked weakly.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m here.”

“It’s so loud! Everything is so loud,” Matt whimpered.

“Wait.”

Foggy stopped. Without hesitation, he pulled off his jacket and helped Matt into it. It looked a bit odd with Matt wearing two jackets now and under better circumstances Foggy would have laughed. Instead, he pulled both hoods over Matt’s head. After opening his own belt, he wound it across Matt’s head so that the fabric of the hoods were pressed against his ears.

“You look ridiculous and it probably doesn’t do much,” Foggy said apologetically. “But you only have to stick it out until we’re in the house. I’ll run you a bath, okay?”

Foggy wasn’t sure how much of it Matt heard. But he let Foggy take his hand again and followed him down the hill. With quick steps, they crossed the bridge and returned to the house. 

As soon as they were inside, Foggy guided Matt to his sleeping bag and gently helped him sit down. Rummaging through his backpack, he found his old headphones. The left speaker had been broken for some time, but fortunately that didn’t matter now. He helped Matt out of the jackets and put the headphones over his ears.

“Thank you,” Matt said, visibly exhausted.

“No charge. Everything is gonna be alright.”

 In the bathroom, Foggy turned on the tub water. Relieved, he noted that Emily had done a good job with the new faucet. The water stream was clean and strong and it was easy to regulate the temperature.

Doing his best not to stare, Foggy assisted Matt as he undressed. When the tub had filled, Foggy guided Matt to the bathroom. Matt hissed shortly when his cool skin met the hot water, but then he sank in with a pleasant sigh. As his ears were underwater, he seemed to relax and Foggy quickly ran to get himself a book. Then he sat down on the toilet lid and made sure Matt was safe.

He didn’t know much time passed. As he heard water moving, he looked up and saw that Matt had emerged.

“Hey, Matty, how are you?”

“I… I’m better,” Matt said. “Thank you so much, buddy, I…”

“No problem,” Foggy hurried to say. “We have each other’s back. Always.”

Matt smiled tiredly. “We do.”

“I’ll get you a towel.”

After helping Matt out of the water, he accompanied him to the bedroom. While still a bit wobbly on his legs, Matt managed on his own to get into the fresh pair of boxers Foggy handed him. So Foggy changed as well and they slipped into their sleeping bags.

“What happened, Matty?” Foggy asked softly. “Why did you leave? What messed with your senses?”

Sheepishly, Matt shrugged. “I heard something. Not sure what. I followed the noise, didn’t pay attention and… I think I stumbled? And hit the ground… hard. Then… I… I’m not sure.”

“Nothing else?” Foggy asked.

He recalled the attic room in the other house. The floor had been empty and completely even up there. What could have made anyone stumble, let alone someone as dexterous as Matt? Judging from his expression, Matt seemed to ponder this question as well. 

However, no matter what had happened, the aftermath had exhausted Matt. It wouldn’t do for him to stress over it. So Foggy decided not to press.

“Sleep, buddy,” he said. “We can talk about it some other time. You need rest.”

Matt yawned. “Yes,” he said. “I think you’re right. I really do.”

Foggy turned off the floor lamp Mrs Miller had gifted to them. Still a bit concerned, he listened into the darkness for any sound of distress Matt might make. All he heard, however, was Matt’s breath, calm and even. The soothing noise lulled him in and his eyes fluttered shut.

*

Foggy was woken by sunlight in his eyes. With a yawn, he rose. Nervously, he noted that Matt didn’t even stir, but when he saw Matt’s chest rising and falling with regular deep breaths, he smiled. The poor guy must’ve been really out of it when neither the change of pace in Foggy’s pulse nor Foggy crawling out of the sleeping bag, woke him.

In the kitchen, he found a note from Emily. She had left some cooking supplies and a portable cooking plate. “To pass the time until the kitchenette arrives,” the note read.

Feeling guilty, Foggy recalled that he had barely talked to Emily yesterday, not even said goodbye after his strange experience in the attic. 

It couldn’t be helped now. Smiling, Foggy regarded the things she had left for him. Unfortunately, the cool box currently contained nothing that he could use with them. 

He had just started making sandwiches, when the bell rang. Curiously, Foggy hurried towards the door and opened it.

An attractive young woman, smartly dressed in a light gray blazer with a matching skirt, awaited him. Long red hair fell in unruly curls onto her narrow shoulders, framing a pretty face with cute freckles, gracing her cheeks and nose bridge. Her bright smile faltered a bit when she saw Foggy. But she caught herself quickly as he greeted her.

“Hi!” she said. “I’m Erin Denvers.”

After a second, Foggy said, “Oh, right. You help Matt with all the estate stuff.”

“I do!” she laughed. “Poor thing has so much on his plate.”

“Yes,” he said. A thought crossed his mind and he said, “Oh, maybe you can help? You saw the entries in the registry, right? Was there anything except the house? Last night we found…”

“I think I should discuss this with Matt?” she interrupted, the harshness of her tone betraying her friendly expression. “You know… privacy? He trusts me with all that since I agreed to help him. I can’t discuss it with anyone?”

“Suuuure,” Foggy answered. “Well, he is still asl…”

“Matt!” Smile widening again, Erin turned her heads towards the stairwell. 

Following her line of sight, Foggy spotted Matt coming down. With his hair ruffled, his walk a bit sleepy and his shirt crumbled, he looked simply adorable.

So it did not surprise Foggy much that he himself became invisible to Erin.

“Good morning, Matt,” she said. “Sleep well?”

“Can’t complain,” he answered. “Did I forget an appointment?”

“Oh no, I just thought I dropped by,” she said. “In case you need help.”

“As I said we saw this other…” Foggy began, but Erin didn’t seem to hear him.

“Maybe we could have breakfast,” she suggested.

“Actually, I was just making…” Foggy tried again.

“I know a lovely cafe nearby,” Erin informed Matt. “You are in this difficult situation… I don’t want you to be alone with it.”

Suddenly, Foggy felt a large hand on his shoulder. Matt had put his arm around Foggy, pulling him close. Of course, he had done this before, often even, but somehow it felt different.

“As you can see, Erin,” Matt said, “I’m not alone.”

Erin’s expression froze. It was eerie to see the bright smile get stuck on her features. A blush of embarrassment colored her pale cheeks as she wrestled to find the right words.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, in fake cheerfulness. “I see. I didn’t know. I mean, I…”

“I’ll talk to Myers later,” Matt said. “As far as I understood, everything is on its way. Should I still need some assistance, I’ll call. I have your number somewhere.”

“Yes, right, of course,” she pressed out, already retreating from the doorstep. “I’ll go now. Bye!”

As the door was closed, Matt let out a sharp breath. His arm was still slung around Foggy so that, when he turned to him, his nose brushed along Foggy’s hair.

“I can’t believe how polite you were,” he said. “She was so rude to you.”

“Was she?” Foggy asked, his voice pitching higher than he wanted it to.

It was hard to focus while being so close to Matt and having his warm breath right at his ear.

“Yes, very much so,” Matt said and tilted his head. “You okay?”

“Of course, I just… sandwiches!”

“What?”

“I was making sandwiches when the doorbell rang,” Foggy explained. “I should finish this.”

“Is there coffee?”

“Only iced coffee in the cool box,” Foggy said. “Sorry.”

Again, Matt’s hands were on him. Patting Foggy’s back, Matt said, “Don’t you dare apologize. Without you I probably would’ve starved since coming here. How about we pack up those sandwiches, find a coffee shop, get lattes to go and look for a nice picnic spot?”

“Uh, are you up for this?” Foggy asked. “Yesterday…”

“I’m okay,” Matt said. “I can’t say I know what happened there, but it won’t happen anymore. I promise not to put you in a situation like that again.”

“What? That’s not why I’m asking.”
“I know, I know. Just… don’t worry, okay? Let’s take a day off.”

“Okay.” Foggy surrendered with a sigh. “Let’s just wait for Emily so…”

“Emily has a key,” Matt interrupted harshly. 

“Yes, she does,” Foggy said, stunned by Matt’s reaction, “but she might be wondering where we are.”

Matt’s expression and tone softened. “We can leave her a note. She is the professional. It’s not that she needs us.”

Foggy smiled. “I guess you’re right. Maybe she even gets more done without me asking her for advice and tools all the time.”

*

After getting coffee, they indeed found a nice spot not far out of Pleagrove. A large meadow surrounded by trees with bright red and yellow leaves stretched towards a little lake. The sweet smell of autumn lay in the air, birds sang and a strong wind rushed through their hair.

It was cold today, but both Matt and Foggy were accordingly dressed. 

Foggy also always stored blankets in his car. So they sat on one while each of them had another slung around him. They enjoyed the hot coffee and the self-made sandwiches and Foggy realized how much he had missed having Matt to himself.

Several times, Foggy considered talking to Matt about the strange things he had seen and heard in the house. Especially now that something weird must have happened to Matt. But the selfish urge to have a carefree picnic with his best friend stopped him from taking the direct approach.

“How do you feel?” he asked at one point. “About the house, I mean.”

Matt shrugged. “It’s still odd to think about it. How my father lived there as a little boy and now it is mine. How the grandfather I never knew bought it and lived in it.”

“A good kind of odd or the bad kind?”

“Just odd-odd, I think,” Matt said with a smile. For the third time today, his hands found Foggy as he hugged him. “But I like being here with you. ‘Here’ as ‘on this picnic’ and ‘here’ as ‘in Pleagrove’. It’s nice to get out of New York once in a while, but I’d miss you if I’d gone alone.”
Swallowing hard, Foggy returned the embrace. “Same, buddy.”

Around noon, they went back to Pleagrove. Matt offered to see the liqueur museum with Foggy, but Foggy laughed and suggested doing so on another day. Foggy steered towards a supermarket to buy some cooking ingredients, but Matt stopped him.

“Let’s buy that last so the milk won’t go bad.”

“Last?” Bewildered, Foggy halted. “What else do you want to buy?”

“Stuff for the house,” Matt said. “You know, something that’s actually comfortable to sit in, lamps instead of the bare lightbulbs, a coffee machine, a real refrigerator, things like that.”

Foggy scratched his head. All these things sounded nice and would make the house more comfortable. However, it was still a house they’d leave behind in a while and who knew what taste a potential buyer had when it came to furniture and decor.

“You sure you want to spend this kind of money, buddy?” he said. “After all, we don’t know how long we’ll stay.”

A smile formed on Matt’s face. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Myers was right. The money my grandfather left is enough to get the house fixed and then some. I can afford to make it a bit nicer for us, even if only for a few weeks.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Thanks to Google, they found “Filbert’s Furnishing and Furniture”, on a less frequented side street offside the Plaza. They entered the shop and started looking around.  Matt asked Foggy what he wanted and if Foggy carefully suggested something, Matt would buy it. Or Matt would just get it because he felt Foggy might like it.

In the end, they had to ask for a delivery service. The salesman was too happy to provide it, given how much money they’d spent there. In the end they bought a fancy coffee maker, a toaster, a new refrigerator, several simple but nice floor lamps, two mattresses with fitting sheets to replace the sleeping bags, a couch for the living room and a kitchen table with four matching chairs made from cherry wood.

“Monday?” asked the salesman.

“Tomorrow would be better.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, sir.”

“I’ll pay extra,” Matt said.

“Al… alright.” The salesman nodded. “Tomorrow around 3 pm?”

“Perfect,” Matt said. “Thank you.”

When they were back on the street, Matt took Foggy’s arm. “Lunch?” he suggested.

“We’re just coming from a picnic,” Foggy laughed.

“Not true, we’ve been in that shop for quite a while.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop buying stuff.”

Matt blushed and his shoulder’s slumped. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Guilt washing over him, Foggy hurried to say, “I know. Thank you! It will be much cozier now. I just feel bad because you spent so much money.”

“You’re worth it, buddy.” Matt playfully bumped his upper arm against Foggy’s. “So what’s the verdict on lunch?”

“Let’s go to the supermarket and get what we need for pancakes,” Foggy suggested. “I want to try this cooking plate Emily got for us.”

For a short moment, a shadow flitted across Matt’s face. But it was gone as fast as it had appeared and he smiled broadly.

“I love pancakes,” he said.

“Duh! Who doesn’t?”

*

In the house, Foggy found a note from Emily.

“Hey Foggy, found your message,” it read and, followed by a winky smiley, “Hope you had fun.” 

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather and will go home earlier. Sorry about that. Emily” 

Again, Foggy’s guilty conscience flared up. But since Emily didn’t seem to be angry or disappointed and he’d had such a nice morning with Matt, he pushed it aside. Emily was having a break as she deserved. This woman took care of herself.

Foggy put on tea for Matt. Then he gathered the ingredients he needed for the planned pancakes. Whistling happily, he stirred eggs, milk, sugar and flour in the bowl. The new cooking plate worked flawlessly and soon the first pancakes were done. 

As Foggy was chewing on the test pancake, Matt entered the kitchen. Foggy’s eyes widened as Matt stepped very close behind him, his toned chest pressing into Foggy’s back. Matt put his chin on Foggy’s shoulder. After taking a deep breath, he hummed pleasantly.

“Smells good.”

Attempting to ignore the heat in his cheeks, Foggy tried for a laugh.

“Yes. Bad news is, I grabbed oat milk instead of cow milk. Good news is, I’m fantastic at making oat milk pancakes.”

Foggy used up the batter. With Matt’s body still touching his own, he couldn’t help his hand shaking as he put the last pancake on the plate.

“Sit down,” Foggy said cheerfully and suppressed the sigh when Matt stepped out of his personal space. After Matt had taken a seat on one of the ugly neon colored garden chairs, Foggy announced, “Pancake!” and went to get the plate he had prepared for Matt.

They ate in companionable silence. Afterwards, Foggy cleared the table and began cleaning up. 

“Let me help,” Matt said.

“It’s fine.” Foggy waved dismissively. “I got this. I still think after yesterday you shouldn’t overdo it.”

Foggy didn’t see Matt move. Yet, he was suddenly right in front of him. On his handsome face lay an amused smile and there was something in his expression Foggy couldn’t quite place.

“Thank you, Foggy.” Matt’s voice dropped low. He sounded… dark? Smug? Sultry? Yes, definitely all of that.

“You… you’re welcome, buddy,” Foggy said, heroically stopping his voice from shaking. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“I don’t know, Foggy,” Matt purred. “Not everyone would do so much for their friends as you do for me.”

Matt was swaying his head from side to side. Each movement brought his face closer to Foggy’s while he crowded Foggy against the wall.

“Ah, I… I don’t know. I mean…mmm.”

Foggy’s eyes went wide. Matt Murdock’s index finger suddenly lay against his lips. Their noses were almost brushing now and Matt grinned even broader.

“Shhh,” he said and let his finger slid downwards, flipping Foggy’s bottom lip gently. “It’s alright. I like it when you do things for me.” He pressed himself against Foggy’s body. “When you’re so good to me. For me.”

Not knowing what to say, Foggy resorted to, “Uh, well, erm…”.

“Always makes me wonder what else you’d do for me,” Matt continued.

This was awfully close to several wet dreams Foggy’d had since meeting Matt. But it was not a dream. Matt’s breath was hot on Foggy’s cheek, a hand planted firmly on Foggy’s waist, the other in his hair. The smell of chamomile from Matt’s lips mingled with his aftershave and the scent of fresh pancakes.

Foggy swallowed. The predatory smirk on Matt’s face was doing things to him. If not for Matt’s biceps, his muscled chest and that ruby red mouth crowding his thoughts, Foggy might have considered Matt to be a bit cruel. But as it were, he just stood wide-eyed and unmoving, a hypnotized mouse in front of a snake.

“Tell me, Foggy,” Matt said. “What else would you do for me?”

“You know,” Foggy answered quietly.

His cheeks were burning. He must be beet red in the face by now and he was shivering under Matt’s touch. But Matt showed no mercy.

“How would I know, Foggy?” he asked innocently, tilting his head. “You have to tell me first.”

“Matt, please, I…”

“Tell me.” Matt’s voice was suddenly firm. Calm, but sharp. It startled Foggy and he tensed. Quickly, Matt’s hands grabbed his shoulders to steady him. Softer, Matt repeated, “Tell me.”

“Everything,” Foggy whispered. “I would do everything for you.”

“Hmm,” Matt hummed, satisfied. “And why is that?”

“Because…” Foggy bit his lip. “... I love you.”

Matt’s hand tangled in Foggy’s hair again. The smug grin turned into a soft smile as he bent down to brush his nose against Foggy’s. 

“Lucky lucky me.”

Matt pulled Foggy in. Using his hold on Foggy’s head, he brought their lips together forcefully. In surprise, Foggy made an embarrassing strangled noise, but complied. Without hesitation, Matt slipped his tongue inside Foggy’s mouth, claiming it in a deep, wet kiss. At first, it brought the taste of tea and pancake, but it faded with every lash of their tongues, leaving nothing but human. Matt, to be precise. 

The thought alone had Foggy’s knee buckling. Matt held him upright with a strong grip on Foggy’s hips, breaking the kiss to mouth along Foggy’s jaw. Their crotches pressed against each other, erections brushing.

“How about… we take this…  to the bedroom?” Matt whispered between nips and kisses to Foggy’s neck.

*

Clothes lay scattered on the floor. Foggy’s bag was open and the content had been spilled during Matt’s hasty search for lube. Thankfully, he didn’t inquire why Foggy had brought it. (Not that Foggy could have answered this.) A seductive smile had been Matt’s only reaction.

Now, Matt was pinning Foggy to the ground, almost desperately devouring him with his kiss. Matt’s lips were chapped and cool but intoxicating nonetheless. Pliantly, Foggy lay beneath Matt, opening up to him, mouth and legs. With a satisfied sigh, Matt slipped a hand between Foggy’s asscheeks. Tenderly but determined, he pushed a lubed finger inside. Foggy tensed for a second, but forced himself to relax.

Being completely honest, Foggy would have liked to go a bit slower. After all, he had fantasized about this for some time. There was always a lot of kissing and cuddling involved in his mind, sweet whispers and adoring touches. 

But he wasn’t going to complain. This was Matt! His best friend and the man he loved wanted him. And he wanted him passionately and urgently. While one hand worked Foggy open, the other was restlessly roaming across Foggy’s body, touching every inch of flesh Matt could reach. Foggy swayed into the touches, silently begging for more as his occupied mouth could not.

Preparation was hasty but thorough. Foggy felt Matt’s cock brush against his ass and as Matt stole another kiss, Foggy braced himself. But instead of entering Foggy, Matt grabbed Foggy’s hips and flipped him around. 

Matt chuckled when Foggy yelped in surprise. But he so sweetly kissed the nape of Foggy’s neck that Foggy could not even dream of being mad. Instead, he spread his legs wider and let Matt slip between them. Matt let out a pleased purr and put his hands on Foggy’s ass cheeks. Appreciatively, he kneaded the soft flesh before sliding along the inner thighs. Gently, but insistent, he pushed Foggy’s legs further apart and lined his cock up with Foggy’s slicked entrance. 

Foggy closed his eyes. Savoring the feeling of Matt touching him, not just like a friend but like a lover, he waited. After a while, he felt the head of Matt’s cock breach him. With a slow roll of his hips, Matt entered him. 

Accompanied by a long drawn out groan, Matt slid home. Foggy keened while his nails dug into his sleeping bag. After a few seconds of adjustment, Matt started moving.

Every thrust made Foggy feel the strength of the body above him.

Matt was deep inside him now. His cock dragged along Foggy’s inner walls, masterfully finding that sweet spot again and again. Like a tidal wave, Matt’s passion ripped Foggy away. All Foggy could do was take it and he wouldn’t want it any other way. His own cock, hard and leaking, was trapped between his stomach and the sleeping bag as Matt fucked into him. The soft kisses to Foggy back and nape, the gentle hand gliding along his spine stood in stark contrast to the harsh snap of Matt’s hips.

“Fuck,” Matt breathed out as his movements grew more erratic. “So long. It’s been so long. And you’re so fucking perfect.”

For a second, the question of how long exactly Matt had felt that way came to Foggy’s mind. But then Matt seized his hips and pulled him up. Sitting back, Matt dragged Foggy onto his lap and slung one arm around him. His right hand splayed possessively on the curve of Foggy’s stomach while his left journeyed upwards, from Foggy’s hips along his side, across his shoulder until it finally found his hair. Matt’s fingers tangled in the blond strands and pulled, tipping Foggy’s head back. Picking up his thrusts again, Matt held Foggy close. He applied hot wet kisses and harsh bites to Foggy’s throat, murmuring encouragements.

Foggy was lost to the sensations and emotions. Like a leaf at the mercy of the wind, he went with the motions while his balls tightened and familiar heat pooled in his stomach. 

One particularly clever hit against his prostate tipped him over the edge. Foggy screamed. His body tensed, his walls pulsated around Matt’s cock and he cried out Matt’s name as he climaxed.

“So perfect,” Matt whispered once more.

He pressed another kiss to Foggy’s neck. Moaning into the slope of Foggy’s shoulder, he came inside Foggy, wildly riding out his climax.

“Fuuuuck,” Foggy breathed out as he slumped bonelessly against Matt.

Chuckling, Matt kissed Foggy’s hair. He lifted Foggy up gently, his softening cock slipping out of his lover. Carefully, Matt guided Foggy downwards so he could lie on his sleeping bag. Foggy whined lowly when Matt moved away.

“Sshh, be right back,” Matt told him.

With half-lidded eyes, Foggy watched how Matt began fiddling with his own sleeping bag. He pulled the zipper, opening it completely. Now he could fully unfold the sleeping bag and throw it across Foggy like a blanket.

Afterwards, Matt slipped underneath as well. He stole another kiss, put his arms around Foggy and pulled him close.

*

A low squeaking sound woke Foggy up. Outside, night had already fallen and his surroundings lay in the dark. The bedroom door opened and a large shadow appeared in the frame. Gasping, Foggy sat up, pressing himself against the wall.

“Hey, shh,” Matt’s voice said. “It’s just me.”

“So… sorry, wasn’t quite awake.” Foggy switched on the lamp.

Matt was carrying a tray, bringing with him the smell of chocolate.

“I thought I prepare food for you for a change.” With a charming smile, Matt handed over a plate and a cup.  

“Thank you,” Foggy said, regarding the sandwich and the cocoa. “What about you?”

“I already ate,” Matt said. 

After finishing his dinner, Foggy snuggled against Matt. “What time is it? You want to do something?”

Grinning, Matt seized Foggy and tackled him down. 

“No idea what time it is,” he admitted. “But I definitely want to do something.”

Blushing, Foggy laughed. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“Never.”

Later, they lay, limbs entangled, beside each other. Foggy was pleasantly tired, reveling in the warmth and safety of Matt’s embrace.

“Matty,” whispered Foggy and buried his face in Matt’s toned chest.

“Right here, sweetheart,” Matt said. “Not going anywhere.”

Chapter 4

Foggy couldn’t stop grinning. His butt was sore and he had a stinging bite mark on his throat. Yet he was the happiest he had been in ages which sure accounted for something since he in general led a happy life. Nothing however compared to Matt kissing and fucking him. 

While brushing his teeth, Foggy heard the front door open and close. Quickly, Foggy shut the bathroom door. While he was determined to make up to Emily for barely talking to her for two days, he didn’t plan on doing so with the sight of his naked ass. 

Whistling, he turned on the shower. There still was no curtain so Foggy put a large towel on the ground to catch any errant water. As he stepped into the warm water stream, he sighed.

Last night he’d been so tired. Despite his own cum on his legs and Matt’s on and in his butt, he’d fallen asleep easily. Now, however, it was a big relief to get rid of the dried mess.

Just as he’d finished the thought, the door opened. With a, “good morning, sweetheart”, Matt entered. The bathroom lamp illuminated his naked body, the play of light and shadow emphasizing his impressive muscles. Foggy couldn’t help staring as Matt bent forward to reach for his toothbrush, showing off his perfect butt. But then, Foggy cleared his throat.

“Not that I’m complaining about your Adam’s costume,” he said. “But you might give Emily a heart attack and we need her.”

With furrowed brows, Matt turned his head in Foggy’s direction. 

“Emily’s not here.”

“You sure? I think I heard the door…”

“I’d be surprised if she works on a Sunday.”

“Right,” Foggy said.

He smiled. Matt really drove him crazy. For a moment, Foggy’’d even forgotten what day it was. Still, he was sure he’d heard the door and Matt had been in the bedroom.

“Didn’t you hear the door?”

“A heard a door, several times,” Matt grumbled. “Mrs. Miller is having a family brunch and her grandchildren are running into and out of the house. I think there are 50 of them.”

Laughing, Foggy grabbed his shower gel. But Matt caught his wrist. Grinning, he stepped into the shower to Foggy and pushed him against the wall.

“Can I join you?” he asked with a voice like dark chocolate and the seductive smile distracted Foggy so much that he dropped the bottle in his hand.

“Oops, let me get that.” 

Foggy wanted to squat down to get the shower gel back, but Matt kept him upright.

“You won’t need it now,” he said.

“What? Oh…”

Foggy felt his feet leave the ground. Easily, Matt lifted him against the wet tiles and caught him in a kiss. Embarrassingly fast, Foggy melted. Sensually, their lips and tongues moved against each other while Matt held Foggy tight and safe. His lips wandered along Foggy’s jaw and Foggy helpfully tilted his head to give Matt access to his neck. A pleased sound rumbled in Matt’s chest.

“You’re so good, so perfect,” Matt told him. “I bet you’re still wet and open for me from last night.”

Matt’s erection poked against Foggy’s butt. A little wistful, Foggy patted Matt’s shoulder and pushed lightly. With an adorably confused expression on his face, Matt lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Foggy answered. “Last night was great but… left me a bit sore.”

Matt’s face fell. Gently, he let Foggy down and then stood in the shower, uncertain.

“Sorry,” Foggy repeated.

“No.” Matt cupped Foggy’s cheek and kissed him sweetly. “I am. I hurt you…”

“In a good way,” Foggy laughed. 

“Still…”

Foggy giggled. It was a funny picture. Wearing his trademarked guilty face, Matt stood in the shower, water pouring over him and his hard cock pressing into Foggy’s plush stomach. So Foggy pulled Matt down for another kiss. 

After pecking Matt’s nose, he whispered, “My butt needs rest, but I have two hands, you know.”

At once, Matt’s face lit up. 

“True,” he said, smirking. “So do I.”

“Makes four hands,” Foggy said. “Guess we can work with that.”

*

Due to the missing curtain, the bathroom was slippery and wet as Matt and Foggy climbed out of the shower. Foggy shooed Matt out and started mopping up the water on the ground. When he was done, he went to sort out his hair. Brush in one hand, he took a towel in the other to clean up the fogged mirror.

He let the towel glide over the damp surface. 

There was no towel in the reflection.

And this was not his hand. 

It was larger and darker and it reached for him. A figure, blurred by the fog moved inside the mirror, coming closer.

The towel fell into the sink, the brush hit the ground and Foggy stumbled against the bathroom walls, crying out. The white hand slid through the surface. Loud steps sounded from outside. The bathroom door flew open, revealing Matt, a bath towel swung around his hips and an expression between confusion and fear.

“Foggy?”

“The mirror… a hand… there is someone!”

Matt stood still. The only movement was a subtle tilt of his head. Frowning, he focused, most likely trying to pick up on whatever had scared Foggy.

“I don’t…”

“Please.” Foggy slid along the wall towards the ground. “It was there. In the mirror.”

Quickly, Matt was by his side and helped him up. With gentle force, Matt got Foggy to his feet and guided him out of the bath, into the bedroom.

Foggy knelt on his sleeping bag and Matt put a blanket over his naked shivering form.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he said. “What happened?”

Then, it burst out of Foggy. He told Matt everything that had happened here. About his dream with the faceless man and the woman he’d later recognized as Laura Murdock, the other woman in the mirror, the radio that played with neither power cable nor battery and the strange image in the bathroom mirror of the house on the other side.

When he had finished, he didn’t dare look at Matt. He didn’t want to see a face about to laugh or one full of pity or outright terrified. But apparently, Matt sensed it. His hand found Foggy’s chin, tenderly lifting it up so he could press a kiss on Foggy’s lips.

“You must think I’m going crazy.” Sighing, Foggy fell forward and buried his face in the slope of Matt’s shoulder.

Matt shook with the soft chuckle he let out. “For one,” he said. “If you go crazy, I’ll turn my grandfather’s house into a psychiatric hospital, exclusively for you. For two, no, I don’t think that. What I do think is that you worked very hard with very little sleep in an unfamiliar creepy house. And that’s on me.”

“What? No, it’s not!” Foggy said. “I wanted to do this.”

“Yes, to help me and I appreciate it,” Matt said. “But I should have stopped you the moment I knew it wasn’t necessary. And I’ve known for a few days now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Myers was right. More than I thought, actually. My grandfather wasn’t a ‘quite wealthy man’,” Matt said. “He was fucking rich.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, we can sit on our butts and watch as other people fix up this house,” Matt said. “And I… I didn’t say anything because I’m an idiot. I didn’t want to accept that my father struggled so hard financially, a struggle that ultimately killed him, when there was so much money and my grandmother never spoke of it. Not once! I was angry and didn’t know how to tell you and… you worked so hard and…”

“Sshh, okay, Matty,” Foggy said. “I get it. I’m not mad at you so please don’t be mad with yourself on my behalf, okay?”

Matt swallowed and nodded.

“Good,” Foggy said. “You see, the work here was even fun. But those strange things… I just don’t believe I imagined all this. I thought so at first. Wanted to believe it. But now? I mean, you heard the song, too, right? On the first day. The same song I heard - from the radio that had no power.” 

“I admit it’s weird. But can’t electric devices sometimes do that?” Matt asked. “I’m no expert, but maybe there is such a thing as residue energy that suddenly activates a radio?”

“Two times? At least one time for a whole song?”

“We could ask Emily when she comes in next time. Or Gus.”

Biting his lips, Foggy shrugged. “Why not? But… the images in the mirror. One time might have been a trick of the light but four times?”

“Well, maybe you began to expect weird stuff in the mirror?”

“So you do believe I’m crazy after all?” Foggy asked.

“No!” Matt lifted his hands in a placating manner. 

“What about that strange house? Where did that come from?”

“Actually, I can answer that,” Matt said. “My grandfather built it.”

“Pardon me?”

“While you were cleaning up, Myers called.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I suppose he wants this to be over as fast as possible.” Matt laughed. “Anyway, he just told me that the registry was changed and this is officially my property now. But I asked about the other house and apparently there is a building permit in the documents. There is no documentation that it was built, but my grandfather applied for and was granted a permission to build it.”

“Odd. What did he do that for?”

Matt shrugged. “Remember when you stood on that bridge the day we arrived? You said the river is like a golden cut, that both sides appear to mirror each other. Maybe my grandfather noticed, too, and thought it would be funny to have a mirror of the house on the mirror of the hill.”

“So he was crazy?”

Matt laughed. "Possibly. We’ll never know, I guess.”

Unsure, Foggy kept chewing on his lips. He wasn’t convinced. This had all been too real, but it was understandable for Matt to look for a rational explanation. After all, Foggy had tried the same for a while.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Matt took Foggy’s face in his large hands and kissed him. Comforting, he stroked along Foggy’s back.

“Hey,” Matt said, “I don’t know exactly what you experienced. But I know one thing: I will not let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”

“Matty…”

“You know that, right? That you’re safe with me.”

Foggy smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

*

In the afternoon, their purchases arrived. A thin, taciturn teenager with chinlong dark hair and an older man who might be his grandfather arrived in a van. Despite having to work on a Sunday, they were friendly and, without complaints, carried everything into its designated spot. 

Foggy offered them coffee , but they declined politely. When Matt gave them a generous tip, they smiled and thanked him, but still, very obviously, couldn’t wait to leave.

“How about we test that new sofa with a lazy Sunday afternoon?” Matt asked. “I brought my audiobooks and I’m sure you have some reading food in your bag as well.”

“Sounds very good.” Foggy sighed pleasantly. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Matt kissed his forehead and went towards the stairs. “You take a seat. I’ll get my Ipod and one of your books. You’re currently reading the one that lay next to your sleeping bag right?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Be right back.”

With hesitant steps, Foggy entered the living room. Crossing his arms in front of his body, he looked around and smirked. The single sofa, with the floor lamp next to it, in an otherwise empty room looked a bit like a modern art installation. But it was much nicer here now with the floorboards cleaned, the walls painted and the broken furniture gone. 

He approached the window. Thoughtful, he regarded the untamed garden and planned on suggesting to hire someone for this next. While he studied the ivy climbing up the garden wall, he suddenly saw something dark moving through the garden. At first, he thought it was the shadow of a bird, flying across the house.

But while it wasn’t static, it didn’t move much. Instead, it grew. No, it didn’t grow, it came closer. Shocked, Foggy took a step back. This wasn’t out in the garden, it was in the window. His own reflection was barely visible, but there was something behind it in the glass pane. Foggy turned, only to find himself alone in the living room. His head snapped back to the window just in time to see an inkblack hand reach for him. 

Foggy stumbled backwards, gasping. Steps on the stairwell reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He hurried into the corridor where Matt just arrived from upstairs and fell into his arms.

*

Foggy awoke with his head in Matt’s lap. Gentle fingers were combing through his hair. They were on the new couch and Matt had apparently been listening to one of his audiobooks while Foggy had slept.

Embarrassed, Foggy recalled how he’d broken down crying and then sobbed in Matt’s arm until exhaustion had taken over.

As soon as Foggy opened his eyes, Matt took the earbuds out. Smiling, he said, “Hey.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” Foggy mumbled as he sat up.

With one quick move, Matt slung his arms around Foggy and pulled him fully onto his lap.

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll order some pizza, watch a movie and then we’ll lie down on our new cozy mattresses.”

“To sleep?” Foggy teased.

“Among other things.”

The rest of the afternoon and the evening was uneventful. They ate, put on a movie and went to sleep. Around midnight, Foggy needed to pee and anxiously got to his feet. The idea of being alone in the bathroom wasn’t pleasant.

Matt seemed to pick up on his distress.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m coming with you. I need to brush my teeth again. I still got spinach or something between my teeth.”

Not knowing whether to feel grateful or embarrassed, Foggy decided for both. Smiling, he waited on Matt and they went together. Without any disturbances they could do their business and return to bed. The peaceful time, again, had Foggy questioning himself.

Either way, Matt’s presence right next to him was enough to grant Foggy a good night’s sleep.

*

On Monday, they cleared the basement out. Foggy was terrified of the thought to return down there but with Matt he could do it. The first thing Matt carried out was the old mirror. Foggy was relieved when it was gone, but still he made sure to never be in the basement when Matt was outside. 

Emily apparently was still sick. It occurred to Foggy that he’d never gotten her number so he called Gus’ shop, but nobody picked up. Again, Foggy felt guilty. Now he couldn’t even check on the woman who was of such great help, couldn’t even offer a simple “get well soon”.

It was the attic’s turn on Tuesday. Unlike the basement, Foggy had already cleared it out partially. So they were done with it by noon. 

“Lunch in town and some more shopping?” Matt asked. “We really should get a kitchen. Maybe a TV and DVD player?”

“The latter seems excessive for only a few weeks,” Foggy laughed. “And while we do need a kitchen, Emily wanted to talk to her cousin about that. But I have no idea how to get a hold of her. I don’t have her number and Gus isn’t picking up.”

“We can go by Gus’ shop when we’re in Pleagrove,” Matt suggested. 

“Yes, let’s do that,” Foggy agreed.

However, as they arrived in town and went to the tool shop, the lights were out. A sign said ‘closed’. Foggy threw a curious look inside, but there was nobody to be seen.

“I hear nothing inside,” Matt said. “Shop’s empty.”

“Weird.”

“Just the sign?” Matt asked. “No additional handwritten note? Maybe it fell down?”

Foggy peered into the shop to see if something lay on the ground inside. Then he let his eyes wander over the street.

“Nope.” He sighed. “Let’s have lunch and check later.”

“Sure thing.” 

Matt put his hand on the small of Foggy’s back. Blushing, Foggy reached between them and slung his arm around Matt as well. Maybe that way it would look a little bit like the blind man needed help to navigate around. 

Indeed, Matt didn’t appear to worry about it much. While he was carrying his cane, he didn’t use it like he felt around with it. The way he moved and steered Foggy with the hand on his back, an attentive observer would see that Matt led Foggy not the other way around.

“Maybe act a little more like you don’t know where the restaurant is?” Foggy said. “I don't think we've been here long enough a blind man to have memorized it all.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Matt said, not at all sounding sorry, “I just enjoy being out with you like this.”

“Nice double meaning.”

“Thanks, I’m proud of it.”

Chuckling, Foggy disentangled them and took Matt’s hand so he could guide them inside the “Brick Oven”, a cozy restaurant with rustic atmosphere, oakwood furniture and cottage flair decoration.

The waiter brought the menus and asked what they wanted to drink. He had just left them, when the little bell above the entrance door jingled. A familiar woman stepped in.

“Oh no,” Foggy moaned.

“Carmile?”

“How do you…”

“Distinct perfume. Is she coming here?”

“She’s looking around and… yupp, here she comes.”

Accompanied by the sound of her heels on the vinyl tile flooring, Jessica Carmile approached their table, calling out, “Mr. Murdock!”

“Ms Carmile,” Matt said, his tone unplaceable.

“Can I sit?”

“No,” Foggy said. “We want to have lunch in private and Matt already made it clear that he has no interest in talking about old stories.”

“They're not that old now, are they?” she gave back.

“Missing person cases from the 1960s are old in my books,” Matt said with a strained smile on his face.

“What about missing person cases from this week?” Ms Carmile asked.

“What?”

“Emily Harper.” Jessica Carmile tried for a factual tone, but Foggy did not miss the triumph in her voice nor the glint of delight in her eyes.

“What about Emily?” Foggy asked.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Ms Carmile said. “She was expected for tea with her family on Sunday afternoon, but didn’t show up. Wasn’t home, wasn’t with friends. On Monday evening, the police were called. I’m surprised nobody questioned you already as she was at your house everyday.”

“Not on Sunday.” Foggy wasn’t sure why he felt the need to say this. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Nevertheless, he felt horrible.

“How is that?”

“Ms. Carmile, we hardly owe you an explanation.”

“No, you don’t,” she conceded. “But maybe you want to talk to me. Before people start making assumptions why Emily disappeared so shortly after you came here. You, the grandson of Thomas Murdock who was the suspect…”

“He was a suspect by proxy for a very short time.”

“Still, the coincidence…”

“You horrible woman!” sounded an elderly woman’s voice through the restaurant.

Mrs. Miller, her face like a thunderstorm, waltzed towards their table, pointing at Jessica Carmile. “How dare you use Emily’s disappearance to harass a poor blind man? Her family is sick with worry and you use this horrible case to satisfy your sensationalism. You should be ashamed!”

“I’m just trying to find out the truth.”

“What truth? Even if Thomas did anything to those poor people.” Mrs Miller looked at Matt and Foggy and said firmly, “ - which he didn’t!- ” before turning back to Jessica Carmile, “do you think his ghost is back? Or do you think that Emily, who has a black belt and regularly throws the trouble makers out of Gina’s bar, could be overwhelmed by a blind lawyer? So much for factual journalism!”

By now, everyone - patrons and personnel - was looking in their direction. Some smirked, some looked annoyed, but it was clear that amusement as well as ire was aimed at the younger woman. Jessica Carmile’s cheeks reddened. Embarrassed, she looked around.

“I’m just trying to find out the truth,” she repeated, this time whispering under her breath. “See you later.”

“I sure hope not.” Mrs. Miller watched as Jessica Carmile left the restaurant. “The nerve. You poor thing.”

The last part was directed at Matt. Without further thought, she sat down on their table, patting Matt’s shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her,” she said. “I’m sure the sheriff will want to talk to you, but that’s routine, you know?”

“We do know, Mrs. Miller,” Matt said. “As you said, I’m a lawyer. So is Foggy. By the way, how do you know this?”

She cleared her throat and blushed. “Oh, someone mentioned it. I suppose someone used the Google to find out more about you.”

“No matter,” Foggy said impatiently. “What about Emily?”

Mrs. Miller sighed. “Well, that Carmile person told you no less than I know, I fear. Poor Gus is worried sick.”

“That’s why he didn’t pick up the phone and closed the shop.”

“Oh yes, he, his son and daughter in law are searching the whole area,” Mrs. Miller said. “They also give out flyers.”

“Maybe we can help,” Foggy said.

“Oh, I’m sure, they would appreciate it.” Mrs. Miller smiled. “I’ll give you the address of Emily’s parents.”

*

An hour later, they arrived at a nondescript but pretty two-storey house. The entrances were at its side, one door on the ground floor, one at the top of a wooden stairwell. Foggy wanted to check the name on the lower door when the upper one opened and a man in uniform stepped out. He turned back to the apartment and tipped his head. The door closed and he came down. 

Tall and athletic, he looked intimidating in his attire that gave him away as the local sheriff. He had rich brown skin and short black hair. His striking amber eyes fell on the two men at the bottom of the stairs and he scrutinized them, surprised.

“Who are you guys?” he asked.

“Matt Murdock and Franklin Nelson,” Foggy introduced them. “We heard from our neighbor that Emily Harper is missing and thought we might help.”

“Sheriff Benjamin Bennet,” the sheriff introduced himself. “You two are on my list of people I need to talk to.”

“We thought as much, Sheriff Bennet,” Matt said. “Emily has been working for us after all.”

“Yeah, you inherited that house, right?” Bennet pointed vaguely in the direction of Maple Drive.

“Yes, Emily helps us fix it.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Friday,” Matt said.

“Her neighbor said she saw Emily get in the house with her tools on Saturday,” Bennet said. 

“Yes, she came to the house on Saturday,” Foggy said. “But we weren’t there. Emily has a key so she can come and go whenever she has time for us. We left her a note saying that we took the day off. When we returned, we found a note from her that she wasn’t feeling well and had left early.”

“Did you keep the note?”

“Well, I do have the habit of stuffing paper into my…” Foggy rummaged through his trousers’ pockets, “...here we are.”

“I’ll verify if that’s her handwriting,” Bennet said. 

“You think someone might have faked it?”

“No, I don’t, but I need to be sure.”

Bennet kept questioning them. When they had left on Saturday, when they’d returned. If they’d noticed anything weird about Emily. If she’d seemed stressed or scared. However, they couldn’t really help him.

“That would be all for now,” he said after a while and asked. “So, you’re here to help with the flyers?”

Foggy shrugged. “Not much else we can do to help, is there?”

“It’s nice that you want to help. You’ve known her for a few days only.”

“Emily is just great.” Foggy smiled. “She helped me so much. Lent me tools, explained how stuff worked to me with the patience of a kindergarten teacher, didn’t laugh at me for failing to fasten a screw…”

Bennet laughed. “Two left hands, huh? I have a brother like that.”

“Hey, we all have our talents,” Foggy defended himself. “Mine just don’t jump at people, seeking attention.”

“Oh, sure,” Bennet smirked. “What are your talents then, Mr. Nelson? What do you do?”

Suddenly, Matt’s arm was around Foggy. “He is a lawyer,” Matt said. “We both are.”

“Ah damn,” said Bennet. “I wanted to bring the ‘don’t leave town’ line like a badass, but I guess you guys know I have no grounds for this.”

Laughing, Foggy shrugged. “We still won’t leave town so soon.”

“Good to know.”

Sheriff Bennet left. So Foggy and Matt climbed the stairs to knock at the door. After introducing themselves, they offered their help. Mrs Harper, a pretty woman around her forties, was grateful and handed them some flyers. During their conversation it became clear that her husband didn’t  believe in their action’s benefit, but preferred it to doing nothing. The same was true for Gus who couldn’t for a minute remain still, walking up and down the apartment until they finally left to spread the flyers and awareness.

“You are stretching your feelers out, right?” Foggy whispered to Matt.

“Of course I do, darling.” Matt sighed. “But this isn’t magic, you know. Unless, I hear someone explicitly say ‘Haha, Miss Emily, I kidnapped thou’ or ‘Woe me, I, Emily Harper have been kidnapped…’”

“I get your point, Matt,” Foggy hissed.

“Sorry,” Matt said sheepishly. “Just… I want to help, really, but…”

“I know, even you have your limits.” Foggy pecked Matt’s cheek and then went to stick a flyer to a lantern post.

*

When dusk fell, they walked towards Maple Drive, Gus by their side, putting posters up on trees and lanterns along their way. At the gate, Foggy invited Gus in. He offered coffee and cookies, but Gus declined. The sprightly old man seemed to have aged by years within a few days. With a forced smile, he said his goodbyes and left.

Sighing, Foggy watched after him. He felt Matt’s hand on his and turned to face him,

“I’ll have coffee and a cookie.” 

Matt gave that boyish smile which of course rendered Foggy helpless so he allowed himself to be pulled towards the house. 

“Oh,” Matt said, patting his pockets.

“What is it?”

“Can’t find my key.”

“I’ll use mine.” Foggy unlocked the door.

Inside, Matt helped him out of his jacket before getting out of his own. While Matt was walking to the coat rack, Foggy stretched and yawned. As he relaxed, he frowned. Something silver shimmered near the kitchen door. Foggy went closer and picked it up.

“Found your key,” he told Matt. 

“Oh. where?”

“Right here on the ground,” Foggy said. “So strange. You of all people would hear it falling, wouldn’t you?”

Grinning, Matt pulled Foggy into his arms to steal a filthy kiss.

“Maybe I was distracted,” he said.

“So it’s my fault?”

“For being so tempting, yes.”

“Sounds very reasonable,” Foggy said sarcastically.

Matt chuckled. “I was promised cookies.”

“I’ll get them.” Foggy kissed Matt’s nose and went to the kitchen. 

While the coffee was brewing, he put some cookies on a plate. He reached for the empty cookie box to throw it away. It slid from his grasp. Wide-eyed, Foggy watched as the small narrow cardboard box glided over the kitchen table. For a moment, it lay near the edge. Then, with a momentum that startled Foggy anew, it took a 90 turn. Afterwards, it moved no more.

Not taking his eyes off the box, Foggy stepped closer. Not knowing what to do or even to think, he stared at it. He lifted his hand for a second attempt to get rid of it, when a scraping from his right side had him jump again.

Two coffee spoons, which he had put on the table for him and Matt, now both slid across the table. The first one came to a halt left of the cookie box’s length, the other moved to the right. Both of them spinned so their endings met above the side of the box

Shaking, Foggy eyed the construct. Together, the box and the spoons unmistakably formed an arrow. His gaze following the invisible line from the tip Foggy found himself staring at the bare kitchen wall.

“Everything alright?”

Startled, Foggy whirled around, letting out a shocked noise. Matt stood in the doorframe. His brows furrowed, he stepped closer and stroked Foggy’s cheek.

“Sorry to scare you,” he said. “Just, your heartbeat suddenly picked up and… sorry, I know you don’t like it when I do that, but I can’t really help it.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Foggy said, waving off the apology, and took hold of Matt’s hand to lead him to the table. “I need to show you something.”

Carefully, Foggy guided Matt’s finger to the weird construction. Matt explored it. After a while, he raised a brow and chuckled. 

“Is that supposed to be an arrow?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Shouldn’t you know?” Matt asked, amused. “You made it after all.”

“I didn’t,” Foggy said. “The cookie box and the spoons moved on their own and formed this.”

“What?”

Foggy did his best to describe what had happened. Afterwards, his heart sank as Matt gave him a skeptical look.

“It’s true,” Foggy said, pleading Matt to believe him.

“I… sweetheart, it’s just… you have to admit it does sound…”

“Crazy?”

“...unlikely.” Matt cupped Foggy’s cheek. “It was all a bit much lately. Come on, let’s get cozy.”

*

‘Getting cozy’ apparently meant Matt manhandling Foggy upstairs, coffee and cookies forgotten. Chuckling, Matt wrestled Foggy down to the mattress. With deft hands, he undressed Foggy before taking care of his own clothes. Foggy tried helping, but Matt was too fast for him to keep up.

Soon he felt Matt’s naked body moved against his own. Every brush of Matt’s lips sent a wave of molten heat through Foggy’s body. His touches spoke of desire and need. Matt’s hand on his hips, in his hair and against his back felt like being owned in the sweetest way. Foggy was still amazed that he got to have this, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

At one point, Matt’s hand landed on the back of Foggy’s head, fisted in his hair, everything but subtle, he tried guiding Foggy downwards.

Foggy smirked and wound himself out of Matt’s hold. “So that’s how it is, Murdock, huh?”

Growling, Matt caught him. Roughly, he pulled Foggy back into his arms. Foggy giggled and writhed but found himself unable to escape.

“I want your mouth on me,” Matt said, half pleading, half demanding.

"Alright," Foggy sighed dramatically and pressed a kiss on Matt’s cheek. “There you go.”

“Tease.” Matt caught Foggy’s lips in another kiss, tongue seeking out its counterpart. When he moved away, he drew his mouth into a pout, “Please.”

Gently, Foggy pressed against Matt’s chest. Getting the hint, Matt lay on his back so that Foggy could kiss a trail down his torso. 

“You know you had it the moment you wanted it, right?” he asked between the pecks.

“Not true,” Matt gave back in a strict tone as his hand slid into Foggy’s hair again. “You’d have done this in college then.”

Foggy lifted his head. “In college?” he asked. “For so…”

“Shhh.” Matt pressed him back down. “Focus.”

“Jerk,” Foggy mumbled but picked up where he’d left.

When he finally wrapped his lips around Matt’s erection, a deep guttural groan was his reward. Pleased with himself, he proceeded. Slowly at first, he bobbed his head, bit by bit taking in more of Matt’s cock. As he picked up pace, Matt moaned in appreciation and gently scratched along Foggy’s scalp.

Encouraged, Foggy kept up while putting his tongue against Matt’s shaft. Matt panted and his hips twitched. Braced on one hand, Foggy let the other wander to his own cock. 

Matt’s grip tightened and he growled. “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he said sternly. “I’ll take care of you when you’re done here.”

Okay? Bossy. Foggy might have felt indignant if it didn’t turn him on so much. Obediently, he kept his hand away from his leaking, aching cock and focused on Matt’s. The rise and fall of Matt’s chest became faster, his legs twitched and his voice raised. He started rolling hips, pushing himself deeper into Foggy’s mouth. It had Foggy gag a bit, but Matt didn’t seem to notice and Foggy was not going to stop.

“Fuck!” Matt went taut. He held on to Foggy’s hair, pushing him down. Uttering obscenities under his breath, he came into Foggy's mouth. Most of it, Foggy could take, just some drops running along his chin, dripping on the sheets. Then all tension left Matt’s limbs and he bonelessly fell back into the mattress.

A little bit smug, Foggy observed Matt. He looked good like that: sprawled out in bliss, cheeks red, breath elated, but still relaxed. After a while, Matt pulled Foggy up so they were face to face. 

As promised, he took care of Foggy. Tenderly, he mouthed at Foggy’s neck, the scrape of his stubble against the delicate skin sending shivers down Foggy’s spine. When Matt finally circled his hand around Foggy’s cock, it didn’t take long. After a few firm, even strokes, Foggy moaned out Matt’s name and spilled over Matt’s hand.

“So perfect,” Matt mumbled once more. 

Matt disappeared and returned soon after with a wet cloth. Efficiently, he cleaned up their shared mess before wrapping them both into the blanket.

As Matt pressed a sweet kiss to Foggy’s mouth, Foggy realized something. He didn’t want to lose Matt. He’d just gotten him. Sort of. They hadn’t really defined what that was between them. However, whatever it was, Foggy knew that it involved Matt kissing him, Matt wanting him and Matt holding him at night. Foggy couldn’t lose this. But he might if Matt’s patience for Foggy’s admittedly crazy stories ran out.

Foggy himself did no longer believe he imagined all those things. Didn’t think Emily’s disappearance so shortly after starting to work on the house was a coincidence. But Matt did. So Foggy would leave Matt alone and look into all this on his own.

The thought ensouled him as he slowly drifted to sleep.

Chapter 5

The internet connection was terrible. Foggy’s roaming capacity was used up and Mrs Miller's wifi that in some parts of the house would pop up was too weak. So it took him forever to finally load the page with the one article about the disappearances in Pleagrove in the 1960s. 

Unfortunately, it was an article that mostly informed the general public that the police had closed the investigation. So it contained no more than a summary of the events. But also a full list of names for the missing persons: Russell Weiss, Heather Yates, Ronald Pearson, Grace Hensley, Rachel Charles and Dorothy Olden. 

Searching for the names didn’t help much. The names were common and the most recent entries had nothing to do with Pleagrove.

Foggy wrote down the names on a piece of paper to maybe later google them again at the “Blueberry Cafe” which offered weak coffee but strong wifi. As he let the note, neatly folded, slide into his pocket, he halted. A thought came to him and he went upstairs. 

As he passed the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Matt’s back. He was still on his phone. Initially, he’d called the bank, but Foggy was pretty sure he was talking to someone else now. But that was to be expected. There was a lot to organize. 

Foggy steered towards the pile of laundry in the bedroom’s corner.  It had grown quite a bit and Foggy needed to find a laundromat soon. But he found the trousers in question fast enough. From the pocket, he pulled Laura’s library card.

It was old, but there was no reason the library shouldn’t exist anymore. If someone collected local Pleagrove news from the 1960s, it was the local Pleagrove library.

Holding the library card, Foggy was also reminded of the strange word on the attached paper. 

He took his phone in hand again. After typing “Umspectris” into the search bar, he groaned in annoyance. Slowly, very slowly, the page loaded until it finally showed him a rather disappointing result. The only entry with the correct spelling was a very short text on a wiki page about the supernatural.

“Umspectris: demonic creatures of rogue nature who are known to suck out people’s life force.” 

A few days ago, Foggy would have shrugged this off. Now he wasn’t so sure. Laura must’ve researched the name for a reason. 

Sighing, Foggy put the notes and the library card in his backpack. It would be interesting to know which book Laura had taken from the library and never returned. The title was  not readable but the catalog number. Maybe he could find out that way which book it was and find another copy. Or…

Foggy’s eyes fell on the wooden box. With everything going on, he’d forgotten about it and not told Matt about the letters. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Foggy contemplated his options. Considering Matt’s relationship to his grandmother and his newly ignited anger towards her, the letters might end up in the river if Foggy told him about them. Even though they weren’t from Laura but addressed to her. Reading them before telling Matt about them would be at best morally questionable.

However, he had to know what was going on. Since the events around the house had been buried under the weight of many years, he needed all the information he could get. So he took the letters out of the box and sat down on his mattress.

*

Dear Laura, 

thank you for taking the time to write to me so soon. I know you’re an adult, but big sisters worry, no matter the age of the “baby” sister. 

I’m glad the move worked so smoothly for you. There is no surprise you’re already done unpacking and setting up - you were always fast and organized when you’d put your mind to something.  

What a stroke of luck that Thomas inherited his great uncle's house and it’s so close to his new firm! 

It is good that you go out and meet the people in the town. One needs good friends and neighbors around and it sounds that they are all very welcoming. Anna and Dorothy sound delightful and I’m glad you found them. It is great to have a loving husband and son, but sometimes the company of other women is invaluable.  

I’m sorry your happiness is not completely unblemished. But look at it like this: The house is beautiful and sturdy, but it is old as well. Old houses make noises. We as adults can gloss over them. But to an imaginative kid like Jack, creaking wood and the wind in the timbers are easily confused with low steps and strange whispers. Shadows look like ghosts or monsters. You were like that when you were a little girl. There is nothing wrong with that! But as his mother you must reassure him that there is nothing in the walls. Or in the mirrors for that matter. 

Compared to your big changes, nothing that happened here can be considered news. Unless, you count Cecil having red hair now.  

Please take good care of yourself and give my best to your boys. 

Yours 

Linda 

P.S.: I talked to George about the noises you hear. He said his sister once experienced something like this and there were rats in the attic. Maybe tell Thomas to check, especially under the roof and in the basement. 

Dear Laura, 

I’m sorry to hear Jack has trouble finding friends. If the kids are afraid to come to your house - for whatever reason - maybe you can arrange meetings on a playground?  

The sounds and voices you sometimes think you hear? Maybe they are coming from the street or you let Jack influence you too much. 

As for the people you saw across the river at night, maybe they were just some curious teenagers. Or people who genuinely didn’t know it was private property. You said yourself the area stretches far away from the house and only the front yard really has a wall.  

Don’t read too much into it all. 

I have news this time: remember the nice new neighbor I told you about? Yesterday, he waited for me after work with a shy smile and some flowers. He asked me out and I said yes! Wish me luck! 

Yours, 

Linda 

Dear Laura, 

John is just the best. We have been out a few times and I think I’m in love! I told him all about you. 

By the way, he agrees that “Silver Thread” is the perfect name for a river. You and your friends are right and Thomas is just a Philistine. Admittedly, John might have said that to get in my good books because he likes me, too, I think. 

I haven’t been so happy for a long time. 

Mom asks if you could send her some bottles of apricot liqueur. I swear she only wants it because she thinks you get them cheaper. Of course, I tried telling her that not everyone in Pleagrove is in the liquor business and thus just living there will not grant you a discount, but you know how she is. 

Speaking of money. Don’t worry about that. You know we’ll always help you out! Also, I fully believe that whatever bump in the road Thomas is hitting, he’ll overcome it. Better times will come. 

Yours, 

Linda 

Foggy looked up. “Silver thread”. He was sure he’d heard that before. Of course. Back then, he hadn’t understood what it meant, but the old lady in the hotel had used the term. If she was, would she be able to tell Foggy something? Anything, really?

Dear Laura,  

I’m sure you’re overthinking. Thomas doesn’t have a mistress! He worships the ground you are walking on - as he should - and would never even entertain the thought of having an affair. 

As for the changes in his behavior, that could have many reasons. Maybe he is a bit worried about Jack, like you are. Maybe he is just tired. His new work pays a lot, but is probably stressful. Maybe suggest to him taking some time off. Sometimes men have secrets. That doesn’t mean there is another woman involved.  

John has a kitten now. It’s the cutest little thing, but also very destructive. His sofa will never be the same. 

Maybe you should get a pet, too? Maybe the house won’t be so spooky with more life in it? 

Yours, 

Linda 

Dear Laura, 

this is indeed worrying news. The police really have no idea where those poor people could be? Is there a real possibility that they were murdered? 

But don’t worry about the questions. I’m sure you remember Reggie? He used to be… 

“Hey, sweetheart! What are you doing?” 

With a gasp, Foggy looked up. He hadn’t heard him coming at all, but now Matt stood in the door frame, smiling softly.

“Reading,” he answered quickly. It wasn’t a lie, but still he feared his heartbeat might give him away.

“Must be captivating,” Matt said. “I really startled you, huh?”

“You did.” Feigning embarrassment, Foggy scratched his head and laughed. It was after all a good explanation for a fast pulse. “Do you need my help with something?”

“No, I’m glad you’re relaxing, buddy,” Matt said. “Just checking on you. Everything alright? You want a cup of tea?”

“I’m good.” Foggy felt his cheeks heating up and at the same time his heart sank a little. Matt was being so sweet and kind while Foggy was breaking his trust.

“Alright.” Matt threw him a kiss. “Call me if you change your mind.” After taking a few steps, he returned, “Oh, by the way, someone comes around for some wiring work in the basement. Shouldn’t be too loud, just don’t be surprised about foreign voices or footsteps in the house.”

There was no hint of teasing, let alone mockery, in Matt’s words. Still, it stung. Apparently, Matt thought Foggy so on edge that he expected him to freak out over a cable worker. But Foggy just smiled and nodded. 

“Got it. Thanks.” he said.

Swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, Foggy returned his attention to the letters in his hand.

He used to be a policeman and says to him it all sounds like routine. It doesn’t mean they believe Thomas did anything to the missing people. Which would of course be a ridiculous thing to think. He is the kindest man in the world. 

Just please take good care of yourself and Jack. Maybe don’t walk the streets after dark until the police know more. 

Yours, 

Linda 

Dear Laura, 

I’m starting to worry about you. Please see a doctor about the insomnia and make sure Thomas has your phone fixed. Letters are nice and good, but if you need help I want you to be able to get it quickly! Also, I’d like to hear your voice sometimes. 

What you wrote about Thomas’ success is unfair, in my opinion. Maybe he did benefit from his colleague’s disappearance, but that’s hardly his fault! Someone had to fill his position and it just makes sense that whoever was second in line for the initial promotion would step up. You should be happy. With Thomas completing so many lucrative sales, you’ll never have to worry about money again. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? 

Please don’t take this the wrong way. But have you considered asking in town for a part time job? Not for the money, just to get out now and again and meet new people. 

Oh, I almost forgot: John and I are thinking about moving in together. I’m excited though I’ll miss having two apartments to store my clutter. But he is the perfect man for me so I’d be stupid to say no. 

Yours, 

Linda 

As he pulled out the last letter, Foggy saw that he’d been wrong. There was no address on the envelope and inside was a short letter from Laura she apparently never sent. It was in her handwriting, even though the swing of her hand was not comparable to the neatly written name on her library card. The words had been put down in haste, not caring about smearing the ink or keeping the lines straight. Foggy had a harder time reading it.

Dear Linda, 

this might be my last letter. I may be dead when it reaches you. It’s real and it’s close. I can’t save Thomas but maybe Jack. I need to save my boy. Pray for me, Linda. There is a… 

“Damn it, Laura,” Foggy muttered under his breath.

She could at least have finished the sentence. Unfortunately, neither Linda nor Laura mentioned a book so Foggy still had no clue what Laura’d taken from the library.

With a frustrated sigh, he took out his phone to make some notes about the letters. Writing down names and hints to weird occurrences in the house hopefully would help him piece the puzzle together.

Frowning, he tried to make sense of Laura’s words.  “It” might of course refer to a hostile entity. So had it attacked the family? And Laura could either save Jack or Thomas? Actually it was weird it would take a life force sucking demon so long to attack them and attack six random people before. Unless, the disappearances really were unrelated. Then it was possible the demon was somehow caged and the Murdocks had accidentally freed it after some time. Thomas Murdock had officially died of a stroke, but perhaps that was what getting one’s life force sucked out did. 

All that was speculation. What did Foggy Nelson know about demons? There was no way around it, he needed to go to the Pleagrove library to find out more about the disappearances and Umspectris.

Suppressing a yawn, Foggy massaged his own temples. He needed a break. The words on the screen became blurry and he had a hard time focusing. 

He decided to take Matt up on the tea offer. The library could wait until tomorrow.

*

Getting to the library on his own wasn’t as easy as Foggy’d hoped. Matt was all over him. Wherever Foggy was in the house and whatever he was doing, ever so often, Matt would appear. He’d either steal a kiss, pinch Foggy’s butt or simply curl his arms around him from behind.

Foggy wrecked his brain to find a harmless white lie. It had to be believable, small enough to not crank up his heartbeat and contain an excuse to leave the house. 

He really tried getting out alone. When he said he needed some air Matt would announce “Wait, I’ll accompany you.”. Claiming to need something from the supermarket, had the same effect. A bit frustrated, but unable to be annoyed by cuddly Matt, he in the end enjoyed the day with Matt.

But Foggy didn’t forget his goal. He would need a distraction to do some research in peace. 

For now however, he took Matt’s hand and let himself be pulled into his arms and pushed onto the mattress. 

Tomorrow was another day.

*

Friday morning, after breakfast, Foggy still was contemplating possible escape plans. However, he was interrupted by the doorbell. As he opened, he looked into the face of Sheriff Bennet.

“Sheriff! Good morning!” Foggy said. “You want to see where Emily works, I suppose. Feel free to look around. But I fear we touched quite a lot and…”
“Morning, Mr. Nelson,” Bennet said. “Thanks for the offer, but this isn’t about Ms Harper.”

“Oh? You want to come in?”

“Thank you.”

When the sheriff entered, Matt came down the stairs.

“Good morning, Sheriff Bennet,” he said.

“Mr. Murdock,” Bennet said with slightly furrowed brows. “I… I had assumed you’re blind.”

“I am.”

“Oh, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” Bennet said. “Just, the way you came down the stairs. Fast and secure. I… Sorry, I’m being offensive.”

“It’s quite alright,” Matt gave Bennet one of his disarming smiles. “We’ve been here for a while now. I’m a fast learner and by now I walked these stairs countless times.”

“I see.”

“Told you you need to be more careful,” Foggy mumbled, inaudible for the average ear.

“How about we settle down in the kitchen?” Matt asked. “There should still be coffee left from breakfast.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Bennet said, “but it turns out this might be more than a missing person case. So I should probably do this by the book and look around first.”

“More than…” Foggy felt his stomach sink. “Is Emily…”

In a calming manner, Bennet lifted his hand. “We haven’t found her. But the day before yesterday, Jessica Carmile didn’t come to work. Yesterday, her boss called me when she still didn’t show up. Went to her house and found the last two days’ paper on her doorstep.”

“So she hasn't been home since Wednesday morning,” Foggy stated.

“Exactly, so it’s quite possible she never came home Tuesday night,” Bennet said. “I know she had an interest in you,” he pointed at Matt, “so I asked around in Maple Drive and someone saw her going through the gate.”
“What?” Matt and Foggy asked as one.

“We haven’t seen her,” Matt said.

“Which makes sense,” Bennet said. “She was seen here around the time you guys were talking to me at the Harper’s home. Thing is, the neighbor saw her enter and not leave. Sure, he didn’t stay around for long, but since you weren’t home…”

“...she should’ve come out again pretty soon,” Foggy finished the sentence. “Nobody was here to let her in.”

“So maybe she went down to the river and… well, let’s not assume the worst, but I need to check.”

“Of course,” Matt said. “There is a back door in the basement. It’s shorter than the way around.”

When Matt led Bennet to the basement door, a thought crossed Foggy’s mind.

“The key!” he said.

“Pardon?” Bennet turned to him with a confused face.

“When we came home on Tuesday,” Foggy said, “I had to unlock the door because Matt couldn’t find his key. We found it on the ground and didn’t think much of it, but now…”

“I see.” Bennet nodded. “If Jessica Carmile stole your key when you met her in the restaurant, it would be another explanation why she didn’t come back. She could get in.”

Foggy did not object. Of course, he knew that it needed a highly skilled pickpocketer to steal from Matthew Murdock, especially without him noticing. Much higher skilled than a reporter for a small town paper probably was. Maybe he underestimated Jessica Carmile though. If so, she might have been alone here in the house with… whatever else was here.

“You’re free to look around the house as well of course,” Matt offered. “We have nothing to hide.”

Foggy’s thoughts raced. A second missing woman and her trail ended here. This was horrible. But it also meant he needed to find out what was going on all the more. While he loathed leaving Matt, he knew Matt was a brilliant lawyer. He wouldn’t need Foggy’s help to deal with a small town sheriff.

So he took his chance.

“Of course, Sheriff Bennet,” Foggy said. “I needed to get some groceries though. Is it okay if I leave? Matt can show you around.”

“Of course.” Bennet smiled. “Nobody here is under suspicion or under arrest. You can get your groceries while Mr. Murdock helps me out here.”

“Great,” Foggy said. “See you in a bit.”

“But, why don’t we both…” Matt said.

"Efficiency, buddy,” Foggy said. “You help out the sheriff while I get the groceries. Then you put them away while I make lunch.”

“You have to admit, Mr Murdock, it sounds reasonable,” Bennet laughed.

“Indeed. Bye.” Foggy pecked Matt’s cheek.

With quick steps, he left the house and then the property.

*

The Pleagrove library wasn’t far from the town’s center. Steps of gray cobblestone led up to it from the street where Foggy’d found a parking spot. Trees in red and yellow overhung several wooden benches and a chess table in front of the building. The two storey house sat between an elementary school and a kindergarten and posters in the windows advertised a kids’ reading night.

Foggy opened the glass door. As he entered, his optimism grew upon spotting the vast number of books which might help him in his endeavor. It was far from the largest library he’d ever seen, but the space was well used. The outer walls were completely lined with shelves, only leaving space for an emergency exit at the back wall, while several more rows had been placed within the room. Left of the main entrance, a spiral case led to the upper floor and to the right, another one slithered down to the basement. 

In the center of the room stood the librarian’s desk. A dark haired woman in her thirties looked up from her book, her surprised gaze falling on Foggy.

“Hello?” Foggy said insecurely, wondering if he missed a closed sign.

“Oh, yes, hello,” the woman greeted back and waved him closer. “Come in. Sorry. Usually Friday morning I’m alone until school’s out and the kids storm in. So I didn’t expect anyone.”

“The adults of Pleagrove aren’t big on reading?” Foggy joked.

She chuckled. “Not during the weekdays,” she answered. “That’s why we’re open on Sundays, but closed on Mondays.”

“Smart.” Foggy’s eyes found the woman’s name tag. “Ms Summer, is it?”

“That’s me,” she said. “You’re new to Pleagrove?”

“I am.” Again, not a lie. He was new, even though he didn’t plan on staying. “And I’d like to know more about the town. Do you have some old newspaper articles?”

“Some?” she laughed. “The archive is full of them. You can use it, including the microfiche catalog, but I’ll need an ID and your current address. You don’t have to get a library card, but it’s free so…”

Foggy hesitated. “How long would that take?”

“I can set everything up while you’re in the basement.”

“Sounds good.”

*

Damn. Foggy stared at the archive’s catalog. He’d be here a while and Matt would start to worry. But aborting was no option. So he decided for a compromise and sent Matt a message: “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just taking a bit longer.”

Sure, Matt would want an explanation. But Foggy could come up with something later. 

He went to work.

The library had indeed more articles about the disappearances than the internet. Foggy was able to gather further information about the missing persons.

Russell Weiss, a 52 year old salesman, hadn’t come home after his tour. At first, he was an isolated case. Even as two others had vanished, nobody had connected him to the other disappearances since he hadn’t lived in Pleagrove. Only when his wife’d found a copy of his schedule placing him in the town right before his disappearance, he’d been added to the others.

36 year old housewife Heather Yates had been walking her dog. The dog had come home - unlike Heather.

Ronald Pearson, 29, caught Foggy’s eye because he had been a real estate agent, just like Thomas Murdock. He probably was one of the people Matt’s granddad had been connected to. After all, a letter from Linda suggested his disappearance had benefited Thomas in his job.

Together with her friends, 19 year old Grace Hensley had been on a nightly walk. Her friends swore she’d hid playfully behind a tree and when they’d looked, she’d been gone. Unfortunately, they’d all been drunk and scared and confused thus unable to point anyone to the tree in question. Needless to say, the police hadn’t really believed them.

Rachel Charles, a waitress of 24 years, had left the diner she worked at as usual, but never returned home. 

The article about Dorothy Olden disgusted Foggy. It was a monument of misogyny and victim blaming.

Dorothy Olden, 36, was last seen by her teenage neighbor Carol Rainers as she left the house late in the evening. This was apparently a habit of Miss Olden’s. The librarian often attended bars and pubs, unaccompanied and late at night, according to witnesses. 

“Unmarried at her age, always alone in that house,” says an anonymous acquaintance. “Women get silly ideas then, no? She probably just left.” 

“I’d often see her with dirt on her clothes,” another source claims. “Who knows what she was up to in that shed behind her house? Maybe she had to run?”  

“I wouldn’t be surprised if someone got her,” one Trevor Parks, a neighbor of Dorothy, tells the PG Observer. “Often I told her not to go out alone after dark, but she wouldn’t listen.” 

So whether she fell victim to a crime or left town, it might have been due to her risky lifestyle… 

“Ugh!” 

Foggy stopped reading to write down the mentioned names of Dorothy’s neighbors. 

“Poor Dorothy,” he mumbled.

Then he froze. Dorothy! Of course. Anna and Dorothy, the two friends Laura had mentioned to Linda, maybe also the friends who had come up with “Silver Thread” as the name for the river. Could the old lady at the hotel be Anna?

Hoping for more helpful data, Foggy skimmed the rest of the offensive article. As expected there was nothing more of substance. But when he scrolled further down, he froze. Bit by bit, a black and white photograph of Dorothy Olden became visible. In a mixture of shock and excitement, Foggy stared at it: It was the woman from the basement mirror.

Usually, finding out one met a woman who’d disappeared in the 1960s, was reason for concern. But Foggy’d had his fair share of concern already since he’d arrived in Pleagrove. Now he only took the new puzzle piece as evidence that he was on the right track. 

He would have to talk to the woman in the hotel and find out more about Dorothy’s neighbors. 

For now, he left the archive and sought out one of the library’s computers. The search mode was already open. He typed in the catalog number of the book on Laura’s card and the computer informed him “‘Lurkers - Forgotten Creatures in the Dark’, copy unavailable’”. Apparently, whoever had digitized the catalog mustn’t have cared enough to find out who had borrowed the book last. They’d just marked it as missing and had been done with it.

Looking at the title, Foggy doubted it was a mainstream work  he could easily get another copy off. But that was a problem for another day. For now, he had to return to Matt.

*

The sheriff’s car was gone. So the hope that Matt was distracted by Bennet’s presence faded. Foggy carried his alibi groceries (that had cost him 15 additional minutes) through the front garden. At the door, he started searching for his keys.

Before he could find them, the main entrance flew open. Foggy wanted to greet Matt. However, he didn’t get the chance as he was immediately grabbed and pulled inside. His back hit the corridor wall as the shopping bag hit the ground. Wide-eyed, he stared at Matt who kicked the door shut en passant.

Relief and rage fought for the reign over Matt’s face. He grabbed Foggy’s hair and pressed their lips together for a long angry kiss. When he broke away, he stayed close, his nose and mouth still touching Foggy’s

“Where have you been?” he growled while his hands held Foggy’s jaw. “I was worried sick!”

“So… sorry, Matty!” Foggy really was. He’d expected Matt to be concerned, but he hadn’t expected this extent. Then he remembered, “I sent you a message though…”

“You didn’t!” 

The sudden rise of Matt’s voice and the sharpness of his tone made Foggy wince. 

“Yes, I did.” It wasn’t easy to move while caught between the wall and Matt’s unmoving body, but somehow Foggy managed to get out his phone. “It was around… shit!”

Looking at the screen, Foggy saw the red notification “delivery failed”. Down in the archive of the Pleagrove library, the connection probably was too weak, but so keen on starting his research he’d not checked that the message went out.

“It… didn’t send it.” Foggy sighed. “I’m so sorry, Matty, I…”

“You should be,” Matt spoke harshly.

Again, he dove down for a kiss. It lasted longer this time and turned filthy pretty quick. Bit by bit, the fury in it morphed into desperation. One hand in Foggy’s hair, the nails of the other digging into his hips, Matt steered Foggy towards the stairs.

“The groceries. I should…” Foggy tried freeing himself from Matt’s hold.

The grip tightened painfully and Matt made a sound like an angry wolf.

Foggy gulped. 

“It can wait,” he said.

*

One of Matt’s hands splayed across Foggy’s stomach. It was prepared to bat away Foggy’s own whenever one of them wandered towards his aching cock. Matt’s other hand had slid between Foggy’s ass cheeks, lubed fingers circling around his rim, tantalizingly slow. Ever so often, a knuckle would dip inside Foggy, making him whine and whimper.

Foggy wasn’t sure how much time had passed. But he knew that by now his sensible pleas had turned into incoherent begging. All that fell from his lips were breathless versions of “Matt” and “please”. 

While Matt showed no mercy, Foggy could tell that he was no longer mad. Self-satisfied, the bastard grinned at Foggy’s desperate noises and his helpless motions.

“Tell me again how sorry you are,” Matt purred.

“Very!” Foggy pressed out with effort. “I’m so very sorry. Please, please.”

“Please what?”

“Deeper?”

“Deeper than that?” Again, he pushed his finger not even an inch in, watching Foggy squirm with a dark chuckle.

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Will you ever have me worry like that again?” Now two of Matt’s fingers were teasing Foggy’s hole.

“Nope, no, never, learnt my lesson,” Foggy babbled. “Just please, Matt…”

“Can I be sure?”

“Yes, yes, I swear!”

At first nothing changed. So Foggy cried out in surprise as well as in pleasure when one long finger slid into him in one move, hitting that special spot right on. Foggy arched his back, writhing helplessly. Torturously slow preparation followed which left Foggy speech- and breathless when Matt finally withdrew his fingers.

Matt crawled on top of Foggy. With impressive speed, he pried Foggy’s thighs further apart by slipping between them and lined himself up. No warning was given before he pushed in.

Groaning deeply, he started fucking into Foggy at a punishing pace. Foggy had been thoroughly prepared so it didn’t hurt, but the sudden constant attack against his prostate knocked the breath out of him.

The slap of skin on skin filled the room. Their sweat slicked bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, ragged breaths accompanying them. 

“Never again,” Matt would growl out now and again. Or, “What were you thinking?”

Somewhere, in another universe, a clear headed Foggy Nelson would rightfully ask where this suddenly came from. After all, it had been Matt who’d claimed that everything was fine and safe and not at all anything to worry about. 

But this Foggy, right here, right now, underneath Matt? He could only moan and beg. Matt’s strength holding him down, the drag of his cock against Foggy’s inner wall and the sheer want in his voice, pushed rhyme and reason out of Foggy. 

Matt came first. But as the hot semen filled him, Foggy followed him over the edge. Untouched and sobbing out Matt’s name, he held onto his lover as they both sank from their high into the gentle waves of the afterglow. 

*

Sore and sated, Foggy buried his nose in Matt’s neck. Gentle fingers stroked along his back and Matt breathed a soft kiss against his hair.

“You can’t do this, Foggy,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Foggy repeated and half-lied, “I had to park near a library and couldn’t resist going in because it looked so interesting. I didn’t notice my message didn’t go out, I swear. Then I must’ve lost track of time.”

Matt hummed and nodded. “Alright,” he said before adding with a grin, “You paid for it, after all.”

The reminder of what Matt had done to him made Foggy shiver pleasantly. If he weren’t so tired, it might’ve tempted him to run off once more and be “punished” like this right again. As it were, he just smiled. He pressed his heated cheeks against Matt’s muscled chest and sighed.

“I understand,” Matt said after a while. “Why you needed to get out, find a bit of a distraction, take your mind off things”

Pressing his lips together, Foggy remained silent. He didn’t want to lie. However, he also couldn’t tell Matt that his trip to the library was anything but taking his mind off of things. After all, he did it with a specific goal on his mind.

“I mean,” Matt continued, “neither of us is very fond of Jessica Carmile. But Emily sure seems to mean a lot to you.”

There was this weird edge to Matt’s voice again. Realization widened Foggy’s eyes. He sat up straight and, despite the concerning topic of two missing women, couldn’t help a tad of amusement.

“Are you jealous of Emily Harper?” he asked in disbelief.

A blush colored Matt’s cheeks. When he didn’t answer, Foggy shook his head. Matt Murdock, prettiest boy of the ball, was insecure enough to feel threatened by a woman Foggy had known for mere weeks.

“Wow, that’s dumb,” he said and laughed when Matt let out an indignant huff. “Really, it is. Not only am I not interested in her. She even tried to get me to make a move on you.”

Surprise blossomed on Matt’s face. “Really?”

“Yes, she comforted me whenever you were running around with that Denver’s woman,” Foggy admitted.

“So you were jealous, too.” Now it was Matt’s turn to tease. 

“I was,” admitted Foggy. 

The sudden sadness in his voice wiped the smug expression from Matt’s features. He pulled Foggy close and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Had I known this hurts you…”

“It did, but you couldn’t know.” Foggy sighed. Blinking stinging tears away, he added, “Emily was just there, you know. Distracting me when I hurt or when the… I scared myself in the basement. She was kind to me though she barely knew me in the beginning.”

“It’s easy to love you,” Matt said softly.

Foggy sobbed and chuckled at the same time. “Maybe. But she… her presence was comforting. I miss her.”

Matt must’ve smelled the tears now spilling from Foggy’s eyes. His grip tightened. Soothing noises fell from his lips as he ran his fingers through Foggy’s hair.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he repeated over and over.

Clinging to Matt like a drowning man to a lifebuoy, Foggy cried quietly. He really wanted to believe him. He really wanted to believe it would be alright.

Chapter 6

The weird occurrences didn’t stop. The opposite was true. Foggy heard whispers from behind closed doors only to find the room empty when he checked. Shadows moved in the corner of his eye but nobody was there when he turned around. 

Foggy’s attempts to find a copy of the book “Lurkers” were unsuccessful. The search options of regular online bookshops came up with nothing. The title popped up on some antiquarians’ pages but was always marked as “out of stock”.

Foggy knew he would have to leave the house without Matt again. Even though he had accepted the slow internet connection. If it was at all possible to talk to the old lady in the hotel, it had to be in person.

Matt was busy. Right now, he was setting up a makeshift gym in the attic. Though Foggy had to admit that Matt had probably bought too much stuff for it to count as “makeshift”. Claiming he needed no help, Matt was carrying stuff upstairs. 

Frowning, Foggy regarded the large mirror in his hands.

“Um, I know checking on one’s posture is very important,” he said in mock seriousness. “But why the hell did you buy a mirror? You of all people?”

Matt laughed. “It was part of a package deal,” he explained. “To buy all the rest separately without the mirror would have been more expensive.”

“Ah, I see.” Foggy nodded. “But why are you bringing it upstairs? You sure won’t need it.”

Grinning, Matt bent down to Foggy. “Maybe you’d like to join me one day.”

“That’s how it is,” Foggy said in dramatic indignation. “The thing's purpose is to make me depressed when I see how hot you look next to me.”

“Don’t worry.” With a chuckle, Matt brushed his nose against Foggy’s. “If I smell only a hint of insecurity on you, I’ll show you then and there how hot you are.”

Foggy hummed as Matt pressed a kiss to his lips. “I admit that does make exercise more attractive for the urban subcategory of Foggys.”

As Matt laughed, his face got that predatory expression again. Which was tempting. However, Foggy had things to do and places to be. 

“Soooo, I’m going to the library again,” he said, taking a step back, and asked casually, “You want to come with me?”

“The library again? Why? Don’t you have books with you?”

Shrugging, Foggy said, “I’m through most of them. Plus, I kind of like the atmosphere in the library. They do have audiobooks, too.”

Foggy felt a bit bad. It wouldn’t completely spoil his day f Matt said yes since even with Matt by his side he could subtly continue his research. However, he hoped Matt would say no so Foggy could return to the hotel and talk to the old lady.

“Ah, maybe some other time, buddy,” Matt said. “I’ll finish this. Just be back before dusk?”

Shaking his head, Foggy smiled. “Matt, it’s just past 9. There is plenty of time before it gets dark.”

“Well, apparently, you tend to forget the time in this library.”

“Objection,” Foggy said strictly. “It happened one time. This hardly proves a ‘tendency’”

“Sustained”, Matt answered. “Grudgingly.”

Giggling, Foggy kissed Matt again. Then he left the house. He shouldn’t be so happy about successfully tricking Matt. But he told himself it was necessary. He needed to get to the bottom of things, but couldn’t… wouldn’t risk pushing Matt away with it.

The hotel was no further away than the library but lay on the opposite side of town. Aware that Matt might be able to hear in which direction Foggy took off, Foggy steered the car towards the plaza and took a turn there. 

At the hotel, Foggy left his car at the guest parking lots. He wouldn’t be long. In the lobby, Derek looked up as the door slid open. His face lit with recognition and he smiled.

“Mr. Nelson! How is the house? Do you need a room?”

“Erm, no, thanks! Actually, the house is pretty comfortable by now,” Foggy said. “It’s about your grandmother.”

Derek’s face fell. “Please, she didn’t mean any harm. We can’t afford a lawsuit.”

“What?” Shocked, Foggy stared at Derek. “No, we’re not… we’re not going to sue you!”

Relief spread on Derek’s expression. “Oh. Right. Thanks. What is it then?”

“Is your grandmother’s name Anna, by any chance?”

“It is.”

Trying to contain his excitement, Foggy carried on.

“I have reason to believe that your grandmother might have known my partner’s grandmother. Laura Murdock,” he said.

“That’s possible,” Derek said. “It’s a small town so they probably met.”

“From my understanding they were friends and I’d like to ask Anna some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

Foggy swallowed. He had to thread carefully now.

“Erm, you see my partner heard all those stories about the disappearances back then.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope nobody gave him a hard time?”

“No, no, most people were nice, but he would like to know more. Now, his grandparents are dead, but maybe a close friend has some insights that…”

“I doubt that my grandmother has insights, Mr. Nelson,” Derek interrupted. “She couldn’t tell you now if she had tea or coffee for breakfast this morning. Let alone what happened at Maple Drive over 60 years ago.”

“I once heard that old memories are often easier to access than recent ones.”

A shadow of sadness passed Derek’s face. “They may go last, but they go as well.”

“Okay, but if I could just try…”

“No, Mr. Nelson.” Derek shook his head. His tone was polite but brooked no argument. “She wouldn’t be able to help you. Thinking about these old stories will only upset her.”

“Al… alright.” Foggy gave a disappointed sigh. “Thanks for your time.”

“Of course. Have a good day.” Derek smiled politely and nodded.

Frustrated, Foggy returned to his car. He drove to the “Blueberry Cafe” where he ordered a coffee. His other clues were the neighbors of Dorothy Olden. As he had feared, he had no luck with Trevor Parks. He found several entries, mostly local articles about the Pleagrove firewatch he had been a member of. Unfortunately, he also found an obituary. Trevor had died 15 years ago.

Carol Rainers popped up as a Pleagrove local as well. One article spoke of her collecting money for a women’s shelter, another about her winning a baking contest at the Pleagrove Summer Fair. In the pictures she looked kind and open. Somehow it made Foggy feel optimistic that she would hear him out and try to help.

So his heart sank when another obituary showed up. Clicking on it, however, he found that the name of the deceased was a William Rainer, Carol’s name was mentioned however, together with her address under “Condolences to…”. At least five years ago, Carol’d still lived in Pleagrove.

Vibrating in his seat, Foggy stopped himself from going there at once. He was lucky enough to find a number for the address and called.

“Hello?” answered a female voice.

“Hello, my name is Franklin Nelson,” Foggy introduced himself friendly. “Am I speaking to Carol Rainers?”

“Depends on what you want from her.” There was amusement in her tone.

She probably had many shady phone calls offering shady contracts. And apparently, she wouldn’t fall for them.

“I would like to talk to her about Dorothy Olden,” Foggy said.

For a moment, there was silence. Only even breathing was audible until Carol spoke again.

“Why? Are you a journalist? I will not partake in another smear story about Dorothy.”

“What? No, I’m a lawyer,” Foggy said and then sighed. “But I’m not calling as a lawyer. My best friend inherited the house on Maple Drive, he is Laura Murdock’s grandson, and I… I want to know what happened.”

Again, nothing for a while. 

“You can come see me,” Carol said. “But if I don’t like you or your questions, I’ll kick you out.”

“That’s very fair.”

Carol laughed a bit. It was a warm and encouraging sound. She gave her address and Foggy didn’t stop her, not wanting to scare her off by revealing he already had it.

“See you in a bit,” he said.

“Don’t dawdle. I didn’t steal my time.”

*

“Hello, Mr. Nelson.”

Carol was a short woman of slender but not thin built. Her silver gray hair was gathered in a messy bun and while the years showed on her face, they didn’t in her posture. Standing straight, she scrutinized Foggy from head to toe. Deep lines were carved into her skin, but the sea green eyes were attentive.

“Hello,” Foggy greeted back and she waved him in.

Carol led him towards her living room. They passed an old fashioned landline phone on a light wood desk and a bulky wardrobe that was way too big for the corridor.

The living room itself was decorated in beige and dusky pink. On the low coffee table stood a steaming pot of tea and two cups, all with a wild floral pattern on it.

Carol pointed at the bleached out sofa. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rainers.”

“Carol, please.”

“Thank you.” Foggy smiled. “I’m Franklin.”

“So you’re with the handsome lawyer who inherited Laura’s house?”

“Erm yes. You knew Laura, too?”

Carol smiled. “After a while you know everyone here,” she said. “Some better, some just in passing. But the Murdocks were well known here. Handsome successful businessman, his beautiful wife and they’re adorable son. People took to the family. But they didn’t approve of Laura befriending Anna and Dorothy.”

“How is that?”

“Anna and Dorothy were misfits.” The mischievous grin on Carol’s face made clear that she used the term as a compliment, even in admiration. “Dorothy more than Anna, I guess. Unmarried and not trying to change that, preferring comfortable clothes to elegant ones.” Carol laughed. “I remember old Mrs. Faversham almost having a heartattack once when Dorothy came from her shed in a pair of trousers full of oil, her shirt sleeve slipping so that her bra’s shoulder strap peeked out.”

“Scandalous,” Foggy said, joining in the laughter.

“Oh, it was!” Carol nodded. “You know, Dorothy was a librarian, but in her free time she worked in her shed. Repaired broken machines, improved her bike - she loved cycling!”

“What about Anna?”

“At first, Anna wasn’t as frowned upon, barring her friendship with Dorothy,” Carol recalled. “She was the hotel owner’s wife and they had a pretty and polite daughter. People didn’t care that her husband hit her and the girl. Sometimes when she visited Dorothy, I could hear her cry and Dorothy begging Anna to leave him.”

“Did she?”

“No. The bastard died. And all those righteous people who didn’t say a thing when he abused her, started gossiping when she blossomed after his death. She took over the hotel, got the business out of depth and lived her life.”

“Was there anything suspicious about her husband’s death?”

“Hardly.” Carol waved dismissively. “The idiot drunkenly drove his car against a tree. Lucky, Anna and the girl weren’t with him.”

“So Pleagrove raised its brows at Anna the happy widow and Dorothy the equally happy spinster?” Foggy asked with a wink.

That elicited warm and genuine laughter from Carol. “Oh, I like you! Yes, yes, they did. And some feared they would taint sweet and subservient housewife Laura.”

“Was Laura sweet and subservient?”

“I wouldn’t know for sure.” Carol shrugged. “But whenever I saw them, Laura and Thomas, they didn’t look like that was the case. He treated her with respect, never talked over her, asked her opinion and still…”

“...still what?”

“Short…” she cleared her throat and appeared to be swallowing a lump. “Shortly before it all fell apart, Anna and Laura were at Dorothy’s. And Laura was crying, just as Anna had when her husband had been alive.”

“You think Thomas was violent?”

“I… I can’t be sure,” Carol said. “I don’t want to attack a dead man’s reputation without proof. But in the end, Laura always looked sad when she came around. Not at all like the woman who first moved here.”

“So, Dorothy Olden was your direct neighbor when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, she lived next to my parent’s house,” Carol said. “Secretly, I admired her. Though I would never tell my parents or William - that was my brother.”

“And you were one of the last people to have seen her?”

“I dare say the last, not counting whoever took her,” Carol said.

Foggy halted in the face of her insistence. “You are sure she fell victim to a crime? You don’t think she left?”

“She had no reason to,” Carol said firmly. “She loved her job, her hobbies, her life! Those theories about her having false friends and ultimately having to flee the consequences of a criminal life? Ridiculous. Even if a librarian wanted to join a crime syndicate - there is none in Pleagrove!”

“I suppose not.” Foggy smiled. “And since people always had side eyed her…”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Carol. “Why would she suddenly be unable to bear it? Especially since she left everything behind. If you leave because of unkind neighbors, you have time to pack!”

“Can you tell me what happened when you last saw her?” Foggy asked carefully.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Carol hesitated. Then she nodded.

“Yes, I… I’ll try,” she said sadly, “I just feel so guilty still…”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure,” she laughed without humor. “You see, I was only 16 and Dorothy was a grown woman and, as I already said, not pushed around by anyone. It’s hard to believe I could’ve stopped her. Besides, I couldn’t know what would happen. But maybe… had I asked what was going on or had offered to come with her…”

“Come with her? Where?”

“I don’t know for sure. That night….” Carol’s gaze turned to the window and Foggy could see in her face how her mind drifted into the realm of memories. “I had almost forgotten that my boyfriend’s birthday was on the next day. It was getting late, the shops were closing and I had no money anyway. Then I remembered that Dorothy made the best chocolate cake.” She laughed. “And Dorothy was well organized. I knew she’d have everything to make one at home. So I put on my best puppy face and asked for help.” Carol pressed her eyes shut at the memory. “She was so kind. She smiled and asked me to come in. Without hesitation, she gave me the recipe and offered me to use her kitchen. While we were baking, the phone rang. It was in the living room so I did not hear much. But whoever was on the other end of the line was obviously distressed. I heard that Dorothy had trouble calming them down and after a few minutes I heard ‘Stay there, don’t do anything yet! I think I know how to save them both! I’m coming’.”

“Then she left?”

“Not right away,” Carol said. “Instead, she dialed a number. She said ‘I was right. She needs us’. I admit, I was curious and sneaked a bit closer. But I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying. Just that it was another woman. Dorothy tried to get her to come with her. But apparently, she didn’t want that. In the end, Dorothy hung up and mumbled, ‘fine, I go alone’. I quickly returned to the kitchen table and pretended to not have heard anything.”

“Did Dorothy tell you anything?”

Carol shook her head. “I’m afraid no. She just said that she had to go check something. But she told me to finish the cake and leave it here to cool off. I could pick it up after school. I agreed and she left. She wasn’t back when I put the finished cake on the table. So I left and closed the door behind myself. The next morning, Dorothy’s bike was not on her veranda - she always left it there, you know, this is not a place where you have to secure your belongings. But… I wasn’t worried. I thought maybe it was broken and she took it to her shed to repair it later. She was a handy one, after all.”

“When did you know something was off?”

“After school I wanted to pick up the cake, but she didn’t answer the door.” Carol’s voice was wavering. “That’s when I recalled the strange phone calls and her leaving into the night and… got a bad feeling. I told my parents about it and my father took the spare key and we went in. Everything was as I had left it as far as I could tell.”

“We then went to the police,” Carol continued. “The sheriff was worried, too, I could see that. But he tried to calm us down, and promised to look into it. She never showed up again.”

“I had told the police everything that I heard and they found out that the woman Dorothy had called was Anna Miller, but they could not find out where the call she got before came from. I suggested it might have been Laura Murdock, but Laure denied it. In the end, they even said there was no call she got, that I must have misunderstood.” Carol scoffed. “As if I don’t know how a ringing phone sounds. She received and made a call.”

“But they confirmed Anna’s call?”

Carol laughed without humor. “Yes. Not that it did anything good. Anna and Dorothy were best friends after all and Anna claimed they were ‘just chatting’. I don’t know exactly what she told the police, but it came down to ‘we were just talking about girl stuff’. Ridiculous. But… At the end of the day, I just heard one side of a phone call from another room. I know from what Dorothy said that this wasn’t two women chatting and gossiping. I know that there was another call before… but… since I couldn’t tell what exactly the call was about while Anna gave an answer, the police preferred her statement over mine.”

Carol’s formerly pale cheeks had reddened. Visibly upset, she was wringing her hands, eyes flicking around as if she was searching for a place to put her emotions.

“What do you think happened?” Foggy asked, as gentle as he could.

After taking a deep breath, Carol said, “I think that Laura called Dorothy for help, not sure with what. I have no idea who Dorothy wanted to save and from whom. But I do believe she called Anna for support. Anna said no and Dorothy went alone.”

Silence fell. Foggy feared he was being rude, staying quiet for so long as he sorted his thoughts. But when he finally spoke, he visibly startled Carol, ripping her out of her memories.

“I thank you, Carol,” he said genuinely. “I… I don’t know what to make of it all yet, but it will definitely help.”

She nodded. “I’m glad I talked to you. Unlike the police back then, you actually listened.”

“I’m sorry you had to experience this.”

“Oh!” she waved off his sympathy. “Thank you, but… I’m alive. I got to live. Dorothy gave me something and that was the will and the strength to withstand expectations. I never married, it wasn’t for me. Thanks to Dorothy I knew I didn’t have to. I studied, I traveled, I helped other women. I like to think Dorothy would be proud of me.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. It hurt Foggy to see it so clearly. He knew of course that unsolved cases like this caused pain. But actually observing said pain on the face of a kind old lady was a different thing.

“From what you told me about Dorothy,” he finally said, “learning new things and helping women are right up her street. So yes, I’m sure she would be proud.” 

The tears fell just as a smile spread on Carol’s face. “Thank you.”

She accompanied him to the door. As he was almost out, she stopped him.

“One more thing,” she said, “Dorothy and Anna were very close. For Anna to refuse to help Dorothy… it must have been something very scary that Dorothy was planning.”

In understanding, Foggy nodded. “I see. I’ll keep that in mind. Stay safe, Carol.”

“Why do I have the feeling I should say that to you, Mr. Nelson?”

Foggy gave a humorless laugh.

“I’ll do my best. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Nelson.”

*

Back in the car, Foggy checked his phone. It was 12:30 and so far there were no anxious messages from Matt. Maybe he should go back to the library and try finding out more about Umspectris from another book. He knew the catalog number of the missing one, so maybe the neighboring books could help, too.

A knock had him jump in his seat. With wide eyes, he looked outside and right into the apologetic face of Marnie Corter. Foggy let down the car window.

“Sorry,” Marnie said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” Foggy answered as he was catching his breath. “I’m a bit tense. Not your fault. Can I help you?”

Marnie looked around. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Foggy said, surprised. “Have you eaten? I could do with lunch. My treat.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Marnie said and smiled. “But I could do with a coffee.”

“Coffee it is.”

So Foggy returned to the Blueberry Cafe. Smiling, he held the door open for Marnie and they sought out a table in the back of the room. Foggy ordered himself a sandwich and a coffee while Marnie only picked the latter.

When the waiter left, Foggy asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

“My grandmother,” Marnie said. “My brother told me you were at the hotel this morning, asking to speak with her.”

“I was,” Foggy confirmed.

“When he told me what you wanted… I wasn’t sure whether I should talk to you,” she said. “But when I saw you cross the plaza, I thought maybe its, I don’t know, a sign.” 

She giggled a bit at the thought. When the waiter returned with their order, she fell silent abruptly.

“Grandma is rarely herself these days,” she said in a lowered voice when they were alone again. “She has been like this for almost a decade. But two years ago… I was in her room, you know, prattling on. I do this to… to fill the silence and because I hope it makes her feel a bit normal, feel as part of a conversation, you see?”

“I understand.” Foggy nodded and smiled.

“She never really answers, but that day I had been driving by the house… the house that is your partner’s now. I told her about it. How worn down it is, how overgrown the garden is and how dirty the facade. But I also said it's a shame because the property is beautiful and the house large. So I joked and said maybe I should just move in as nobody seems to make any claims on it.
“And suddenly, my grandmother, usually not moving at all and not speaking at all, lifts herself up in her wheelchair, grabs my arm - like, hard - and says to never ever go there. That I mustn’t even think to enter the property. Especially not in…”

“...the moonlight?” Foggy asked.

“Yes.” Marnie nodded. “Like she said to your friend at the hotel. She then fell back into her chair and said ‘It didn't do Dorothy any good’. So of course, I asked what she meant, but suddenly she was back in her lethargic state. That evening I heard her mutter “poor Dorothy, poor Dorothy” several times. But there was no dialogue to be had anymore.”

“Dorothy Olden?”

“I think so, yes.” Marnie shrugged. “I don’t know much about her, just that she was grandma’s best friend.”

“But… you said that happened two years ago.”

“Yes,” Marnie answered. “But a few days ago, she spoke again.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Marnie admitted. “I brought her dinner. She put her hand on my arm and asked, ‘Do you think we should tell someone?’. So of course I wanted to know what she meant. She gestured for me to come closer so I bent down and she whispered, ‘Laura hid some of it, you know?’”

“Laura?” Foggy repeated. “Laura Murdock?”

Marnie shrugged. “I’m not aware of any other Laura she knew. Anyway, I asked ‘what did she hide?’ and grandma said, ‘he destroyed the book, but she hid some of it’. Grandma then ate her food. Now and again, she smiled and murmured, ‘clever clever girl”.”

When Foggy’s eyes widened, Marnie asked, “Does that mean anything to you?”

“I believe so,” Foggy said while his thoughts were racing.

When Laura actually had found a book with more information about whatever was in the house, the entity would try to destroy it. If it had succeeded that would explain why Laura had never returned it. She couldn’t have. However, if Laura had managed to… what had Anna told Marnie? “She hid some of it”. Maybe she ripped out the pages in question? Either because she knew the entity might come for the book? Or because she wanted to hold onto them after giving back the book? Both were possible explanations, but it didn’t really matter. If parts of the book were still there, containing answers, Foggy needed to find them.

“Thanks, Marnie,” he said finally. “Can I give you my number so that if your grandma says anything else that might help, you can call me?”

“I will.” Marnie gave a sad smile. “It seems to be very important for grandma. So I’ll help when I can.”

*

When he finally returned to Matt, Matt greeted him with a kiss. He was wearing his training clothes and was a bit sweaty. While he didn’t complain about Foggy being out so long, his smile was a bit strained.

“Missed you,” he said as he set Foggy’s lips free.

“I’m here now,” Foggy flirted. “What were you up to?”

“Training, mostly,” Matt listed. “You?”

“Oh you know, browsing in the library,” Foggy lied and quickly changed the topic. “Tea?”

“In a bit,” Matt said. “I would like to finish my exercises.”

“Sure, I’ll put on the kettle.” 

Foggy kissed Matt’s nose and went to the kitchen. Matt’s steps sounded on the stairwell and receded while Foggy put aside a half filled cup of cold coffee. He reached for the electric kettle.

Foggy choked. Next to his hand’s reflection in the kettle’s surface was another. It was large and black and reached for him. With a gasp, Foggy recoiled.

He whirled around when a loud crash sounded behind him. The coffee cup lay on the ground in countless sharp pieces and a large dark stain tainted the wall. The cool liquid was pouring towards the ground in several thin streams.

“Are you alright, darling?” sounded from the attic.

“Y…yeah, all good!” Foggy called back.

Shock and fear made way for annoyance. Almost stubbornly, Foggy grabbed a paper towel to dry the mess before swiping up the shards. If those stupid ghosts or demons or whatever wanted something from him, they should make themselves clear.

Foggy was about to storm out of the kitchen like a petulant child, when something held him back. Maybe they were making themselves clear. Staring at the coffee stain again, he realized that the cup had burst at the same wall the arrow, made of two spoons and a cookie box, had pointed at.

Wringing his hands, Foggy scrutinized the wall. Warily, he stepped closer, letting his eyes wander over the stained partition. At first glance, there was nothing. Despite feeling a bit silly, he knocked against the wall. Disappointed, he found that there was no hollow space behind the plaster. Not willing to give up yet, he let his fingers slide along the surface. It was cold against his palms and rough against his skin. His fingertips ran through the rivulets of coffee, not sure what to expect.

Foggy froze. A sound he couldn’t place reached his ear. He half-believed to have triggered a secret mechanism and unlocked one of the mysteries in the house. 

However, he soon noticed that the sound came from outside. He left the building through the front door and strained his ears. The sound appeared further away now than from the kitchen which suggested the source lay beyond the back garden. Listening closely, he was sure it was a cry. Not of pain, not for help, but of hysteria.

Matt’s footsteps were audible on the stairs. Of course, Matt would pick up the sound when Foggy could. But Matt was fast and would catch up. So Foggy hurried over the lawn towards the back yard. 

As he looked down the hill, his breath hitched. A woman kneeled in the grass. Her head was facing skywards and the heart wrenching wail spilled over her lips. Foggy narrowed his eyes on her. 

“Emily?” he whispered after a while. Then louder, he called, “Emily!” raced down the hill.

The closer he got, the more certain he was. While he had come to know her as calm and collected, her soft features were now contorted in panic and possibly pain. But there was no doubt about it. This was Emily. 

She wore her familiar work clothes, only her feet were naked. And she was soaked. Jeans and shirt clung wetly to her shivering body and thick drops of water fell on her shoulders from her dripping hair.

Without thinking, Foggy pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He draped it over across her upper body like a blanket and put his hands on her upper arms.

“Eḿily?” he addressed her. “It’s me. Foggy.”

Matt joined them. At once, he read the situation. Foggy heard him type on his mobile and a few seconds later, he spoke, “Hello, we need an ambulance. Maple Drive 17, my name is Murdock…. a woman, panicked, possibly fell into the river… thank you.”

Meanwhile, Foggy tried getting Emily’s attention. Indeed, after a while, her expression relaxed somewhat, fear making room for confusion.

“Foggy?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Foggy said and assured, “It’s gonna be alright. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Wildly, she shook her head. “I… I don’t want to…”

“You’re soaking wet,” Emily,” Foggy said softly. “We need to get you inside. You’re freezing!”

“I’m scared…”

“I get that.” Foggy nodded. “But I won’t for a second leave your side until you’re with your parents or your grandfather, alright?”
She lifted her eyes. Doubtfully, she glanced at the house, then back at Foggy. Biting her lip, she nodded.

“Alright.”

As Foggy led Emily past Matt, Matt was still, or again, on the phone.

“Sheriff Bennet?” he said. “Yes, Matt Murdock, here. We found Emily Harper…. We don’t know, my partner found her near the river, she was completely wet and hysterical. My partner has managed to calm her down and is bringing her inside. We’ll wait for the ambulance now.”

They arrived at the garden. One more time, Foggy turned around and his gaze fell on the river. Was it possible that Emily had fallen in on the run from who- or whatever had taken her?

*

After the stream of “thank you”s and “what happened”s from Emily’s parents and her grandfather had subsided, Foggy let himself fall into one of the plastic chairs near Emily’s hospital room. Now, they had to wait. Matt sat next to him and squeezed his hand. Giving Foggy a reassuring smile, he whispered, “She is safe now.”

Foggy nodded, swallowing fresh tears. It was not his place to be upset now, not when Emily’s family was right here, walking up and down in unknowing nervousness.

As soon as the Sheriff came out the door and nodded, the Harpers stormed past him to see Emily. Bennet smiled in relief. Turning to Matt and Foggy, he spread his arms and made a face of disbelief.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

Foggy recounted everything as best as he could. However, he knew that it didn’t answer Bennet’s most pressing questions, it didn’t answer Foggy’s own either.

“How is Emily?” Matt asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bennet said. “She claims not to remember anything. Doctors found no physical injuries and no signs of sexual assault.”

“So… whoever took her, didn’t do anything to her?” Foggy asked. “Not that I’m not glad to hear it, of course, but…”

“I know what you mean, but… no idea.” Bennet shrugged. “They’re waiting for some test results, but she seems fine. Physically. Remains one question: what was she doing on your property?”

“We can’t answer that anymore than you - or her for that matter.”

Oh, that was Matt’s lawyer voice. It said you better have grounds and evidence for whatever you’re gonna say next. Apparently, Sheriff Bennet understood because he nodded thoughtfully.

“We might need to make a swipe on your property,” he said.

“Of course,” Matt said. “We have nothing to hide.”

Bennet left. Matt and Foggy were about to do the same. But it was then that the Harpers came out of Emily’s room. Emily’s mother hugged Matt and Foggy and whispered another thank you. 

Guilt crept up in Foggy. They hadn’t saved Emily, they had just found her. Possibly, it had even been because of them that she had been in danger.

“She’d like to see you.” Gus pointed at Foggy.

“Oh. Is that okay with the doctor?” Foggy wanted to know.

“He said to not upset her, but since she asked for you,” said Emily’s father, “it’s certainly alright.”

So Foggy entered Emily’s room. She looked a bit thinner and paler than he remembered her. Her hair had dried and Foggy suspected she’d been given something to calm her nerves.

“Hey,” Foggy said softly and pulled a chair up to her bedside.

“Hi,” she answered. “Thanks for getting me here.”

“Of course.”

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“What scared you there in the basement?”

Foggy drew in a sharp breath. Intently, Emily looked at him and would probably notice a lie. In addition, it would be unfair to withhold the truth after what she had been through.

“I saw someone in the mirror,” he said truthfully. “A woman. I think her name is Dorothy and she disappeared more than 60 years ago.”

Emily nodded. She averted her eyes and looked at her hands.

“I came to your house and passed the mirror in the corridor and felt something on my shoulder,” she said. “It felt like I was dragged towards the mirror and then… I think I passed out. When I woke, I was in the attic, but it was so different.”

“Different how?”

“It was cold. Very much so. It was dark or so I thought at first. But it wasn’t really, it was just that the colors were faded. And it was so quiet. Sometimes I heard voices, I think. But they sounded far away and I couldn’t find anyone.”

“So I wanted to leave the house but,” she swallowed, “the doors were locked and the windows wouldn’t move. I looked outside and there was this thick black fog. I couldn’t see the front gate and to the back I couldn’t even see the slope of the hill. The more time passed, the weaker I got. I think I fell asleep. Sometimes, I think I heard a woman’s voice, but I’m not sure.”

“How did you get out?”

“I… didn’t,” Emily said. “I woke up in the basement. I think I hadn’t been there when I fell asleep, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, the door opened. I pulled myself up and stumbled outside. I stood in that dark fog I had seen from inside. I think I saw shadows move in there. But then the fog… it didn’t clear exactly, but it parted? A small passage opened, presenting the view down the hill, towards the river. And I heard it. The murmur and splashing of the water while everything else was SO quiet. So I gathered my strength and ran there. I threw myself into the river like a mad woman. I barely made it out, but when I did, the fog was gone. I heard birds and the wind and… I broke down.”

When she had ended her story, she started sobbing. Foggy grabbed the tissue box from the nightdesk and handed it to her. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about the basement.”

Sniffling, she shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said. “I wouldn’t have either. Heck, I told the Sheriff I don’t remember anything, even though I remember very well. But I want to go home, not into a Psych Ward.”

Foggy smiled.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

“I am,” she said and bit her lip. “But are you?”

*

The door fell shut behind them. Exhausted, Foggy leant against the wall and sighed.

“What a day,” he groaned.

He hummed pleasantly when Matt pressed a kiss to his hair. Wordlessly, Matt took his hand. Without protest, Foggy let himself be led into the upstairs bathroom. Matt’s gentle hands undressed Foggy before Matt threw his own clothes off. 

With mild force, Matt manhandled Foggy into the shower. A moan escaped Foggy as the hot water hit him and Matt began massaging his neck. After a while, Matt reached for the shampoo and washed Foggy’s hair, expert hands caressing his scalp. When the foam was rinsed off, Matt proceeded cleaning the rest of Foggy’s body.

Foggy allowed himself to get lost in the sensations. The nice smells in his nose and Matt’s hand on his skin, he closed his eyes and drifted off. Vaguely, he was aware that the water stream stopped at one point and a towel was wrapped around him. He shivered a little when he was guided out of the steaming bathroom into the cooler corridor. But soon, he found himself on his mattress and underneath a soft blanket.

When he blinked his eyes open, streams of golden and red sunlight fell through the window. In a lotus position, Matt sat next to him, wearing earphones and holding his ipod in his hand. Foggy kissed his shoulders, earning himself a smile.

As Matt seemed to be engrossed in his book, Foggy reached for his trousers. He fished out his phone. Maybe he could at least google some other books from the author of “Lurkers”.

“Huh,” Foggy said, which got Matt’s attention.

Matt pulled out his earphones and shifted around so Foggy could see his face. Smiling, he tilted his head, indicating that he was listening.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Foggy said. “I was just surprised to see a new wifi.”

“What’s it called?”

“Umm, NEMU1983,” Foggy answered.

“Oh, good, it’s finally working,” Matt said. “Password is capital F, then itb2016 followed by an exclamation mark. Not the safest but we can change it later.”

“Wait, what? We have wifi now?”

“Yes, the workers were here a few days ago, remember?” Matt said. “They laid the needed cables. All it took was for the company to activate the account. The landlines should work now, too. I’ll check.”

Matt, naked as on the day of his birth, got up, stretched and grabbed his clothes. “Oh, maybe you could get Netflix to run on the new TV?”

“The new what now?”

“Ah yes, you were running around in the library while it arrived,” Matt said, mild accusation in his tone. When he was dressed, he got his cup from the window sill and took a sip. With it in hand, he left the room.

Snatching his bathrobe, Foggy followed Matt into the corridor and downwards. On the stairs, he put the robe on as he tried keeping up with Matt.

“Matty, that’s a lot of money and effort, isn’t it?” he said. “For a house you’re not going to live in?”

“Hmhm,” Matt said as he picked up the downstairs phone to listen for the dial tone. “Works.”

“Are you hearing me?”

“I am, sweetheart,” he said. “And you’re not wrong. Or you wouldn’t be. If I didn’t plan on living here.”

Foggy blinked. For a long while, he just stood next to the phone while Matt walked away.

“What?” he exclaimed finally and went after Matt.

“Matt?” Foggy entered the living room where Matt was letting his fingers slide across the Braille version of the house documents.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About the house…”

“What about it?”

“This is a rather surprising change of heart,” Foggy said. “You wanted to sell it as fast as you can, have nothing to do with it or at least as little as possible. Now you want to stay? Live here?”

“Well, I was being a bit childish, wasn’t I?” Matt smiled a strange smile. “Giving up a large house in a beautiful small town with a huge property and all its possibilities because of bad childhood memories? Probably with monetary loss when done too fast? That would be stupid.”

Foggy frowned. He did agree somewhat with regard to the financial part. But not for a second had he deemed Matt’s wish to get rid of the house childish or stupid.

“I also think you shouldn’t rush selling the place,” Foggy said. “It’s good that you feel comfortable enough to hold on to it until we find the best offer. But staying here? You can’t exactly commute to New York for work every morning.”

“Work?” Chuckling, Matt put away the documents and gestured vaguely towards the documents on the table. The pile was a lot less messy by now. They had a pretty good oversight on everything Matt had inherited by now. “Did you see what my grandfather left me? It’s not just the house but also the money. I don’t ever have to work again.”

“Yeah, well, but I do,” Foggy said and regretted it at once. After all, Matt had left Foggy behind before for a life as a crimefighter. Why shouldn’t he do so for lots of money and a nice house in the country? They had taken their relationship to non-platonic ground only a few weeks ago. Who said that this meant as much to Matt as it did to Foggy?

“No, you don’t,” Matt said sharply and got to his feet. With two long strides he crossed the room and stood in front of Foggy. “Do you really think I let you go back to that shithole and work your butt off for nothing while I stay here?” He cupped Foggy’s cheek and smiled. “You stay with me, of course. I’ll take care of you, just as you take care of me.”

“Erm…” Foggy was at loss for words. Had Matt just proposed they moved in together? In a town they had seen for the first time only weeks ago? And to quit their jobs? Foggy barely knew what to address first. So he went for the most hurtful statement. “Working my butt off for ‘nothing’? Why would you say something like this? We’re doing exactly what you always wanted. We help people.”

“You always wanted to make money.”

“Well, yes, but working with you… I mean, we’re a great team, aren’t we? We just found a balance between helping the less lucky and making money and now you say it’s ‘for nothing’?”

Matt shrugged. “If it makes you feel better we can donate to charities regularly. So we cover helping people and having money from here.”

Looking like he had solved all the world’s problems, Matt smirked. It was an eerie variant of his trademark boyish smile that had made Foggy fall for him a thousand times. But… Something was off here.

“No… I don’t think I would like this,” he finally said. “We are needed, Matt. Karen needs us. Our clients need us. And Hell’s Kitchen needs Daredevil.”

An exasperated noise between a sigh and a groan escaped Matt. But he was still smirking. He put one hand on Foggy’s shoulder and stroked Foggy’s cheeks with the other. Bending down, he whispered, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, hm?”

Before their lips could meet, Foggy turned his head and put his palm against Matt’s chest.

“No, I want to talk about this now,” he said. “We… we’re partners, best friends and… I don’t know… boyfriends? Friends with benefits? Doesn’t matter right now. Point is, you are talking about our lives and careers. Everything we worked for and…”

Harshly, Matt grabbed his chin. He forced Foggy to face him and pressed his lips on Foggy’s. Simultaneously, Matt pushed the shocked Foggy against the wall and held him there with his body weight. His kiss was rough, more teeth than tongue and he did not break it until Foggy bit his lip. Hissing, Matt pulled away.

“I said, let’s talk tomorrow,” Matt said, slow and dangerous. “We have better things to do with our evening.”

“Matt, I don’t want to…”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

Not minding Foggy’s attempt to wiggle out of his hold, Matt dipped his head. His mouth found Foggy’s neck. Foggy knew Matt was strong. But never before had he been confronted with what it meant. It meant that he could not fight Matt off should he have to. Of course, it was ridiculous to think he might have to. Now he was not so sure.

Before panic could rise in Foggy, a loud crash sounded nearby. Startled, Matt let go of Foggy. Foggy, caught between shock and relief, tried making out the source of the noise.

It was easy to find. Matt’s coffee cup had been standing on the small table near the couch. Now however, it lay on the floor in countless tiny pieces, swimming in the spilled dark liquid. 

Foggy had gotten way too used to things like that happening. His first urge was to sigh, shrug and just clean up the mess. But then he froze. Suddenly, he realized that this was the first time Matt had witnessed something like it. At least at such a blatant extent.

“See?” he exclaimed and quickly corrected himself, “Well, no, obviously you don’t, but you heard the cup shatter and I’m sure you are somehow aware of hot - or lukewarm - liquid on the floor, right? You also must know that neither of us did that and that nobody beside us should be here, right?”

“Right,” Matt confirmed, squatting down next to the shards. 

Carefully, he touched the sharp remains of his cup and let his finger slide through the splattered coffee. Then he stood abruptly. Tilting his head, he seemed to listen out for something. With quick steps, he walked towards the door.

“Where are you going, Matt?” Foggy asked, incredulous. 

Finally, he had something to show for about the strange happenings and Matt just left?

“I need to check something,” Matt said as he passed by Foggy.

“What would you…”

“Be a dear and clean up, will you?” Matt gestured towards the mess on the floor. “But be careful with those shards.”

Stunned into silence, Foggy could only watch Matt go. Matt disappeared into the corridor and after a while, Foggy heard the front door open and close.

“What the Hell?”

Left with nothing more to do, Foggy went to the kitchen to gather cleaning supplies. At least he had a task. Everything was better than to ponder what was fucking happening. But as he entered the kitchen, his eyes fell on the still coffee stained wall he’d been examining when Emily had reappeared.

But the stain was no longer a stain. The dark liquid that had been running down the wall messily now formed an arrow. It was pointing to the ground. Swallowing, Foggy squatted down and knocked on the floor board.

A hollow sound was his answer. His eyes widened. For a moment, he hesitated, scared of what he might find. But then he stood to get the tools he needed.

He’d wanted the ghosts of Maple Drive 17 to make themselves clear. It would be rude to ignore them when they finally did.

Chapter 7

Umspectris are demons who can enter our world via reflective surfaces. It is said they wait in the mirror for unsuspecting victims and pull them into their realm where they suck out their life force.  

They are bound to limited spaces, usually areas with a certain symmetry. It is unclear whether the symmetry forms over time due to the Umspectris or if they are drawn to places with a natural sy—---- 

—-rare cases, Umspectris can form a bond with a human which makes the demon more powerful as he is usually bound to a limited area when with a human body he can move freely. The demon will take over the physical for—---- 

-he vulnerability to the demon appears to be hereditary and it is unclear where it began. According to the most common theory the vulnerability usually goes back to an ancestor forming a consensual bond with the demon (in exchange for wealth or power), opening the bloodline up for the demon. Historically, only men are affected wh—- 

“There is a devil in the Murdock boys,” Foggy whispered.

He let his shaking hand sink. The singed paper slipped from his fingers and floated to the ground. How could he have been so blind? Matt didn’t act weird. This simply wasn’t Matt.

And Foggy should have known. 

Matt wouldn’t be so controlling. 

Matt wouldn’t resort to putting up flyers when a young woman disappeared. 

Matt wouldn’t throw around money like this.

Matt wouldn’t…

Foggy wiped his eyes. 

Matt wouldn’t want him.

The hole in the floor blurred before his eyes. Blinking the burning tears away, Foggy tried to calm himself. There were more important things than his broken heart and wounded pride now.

He read the page again. Apparently, Laura had rescued it out of a fire as many parts had been burned and were no longer readable. On a free spot of the paper, there were some handwritten notes, in Laura’s by now familiar hand. 

“Press against chest,” it read. Beneath this, a set of three runes had been drawn.

Excited, Foggy studied the signs. Was this a way to get the demon out of Matt? But what did it mean? Press? ‘Write on chest’ might make sense though he had no idea how he would write three runes or sigils or whatever on Matt’s chest without him noticing.

Foggy lifted the floorboard to put it back. It would be loose, but he knew that and Matt could probably smell it. However, when he bent down to fit the board into the opening, he halted. From underneath the neighboring tile, the corner of another piece of paper peeked out. Blindly, Foggy groped for it and found that someone, Laura presumably, had stuck an envelope there. Curiously, Foggy took it and opened it.

Shocked, he stared at the knife inside. No, a dagger. With shaking fingers, Foggy pulled it out of the envelope. The kitchen light slid over the blade as it lay heavy in Foggy’s palm.

For a moment, he wondered why Laura had hidden it with the remaining book page. But as he turned the weapon in his hand, he understood. Three symbols had been scratched into the metall. Comparing them to the runes on the singed page, Foggy found that these were the same.

Of course! Carving or scratching them into a surface made it possible to press them against the affected person’s chest. It was reassuring that the words were “press against chest” and not “press into chest”. 

So what now? 

Frowning, Foggy thought about the last weeks. In hindsight, the demon must’ve taken over Matt in the attic of the other house. Matt’s sudden shock at his own blindness, his inability to control his keen sense of hearing hadn’t been Matt’s struggles. The demon had not expected it. Maybe that was why Not-Matt could see through blatant lies, but not through complex lies or half-truths. After all, it must have taken Matt a while, too, to read all those signs he could pick up from other people’s bodies. So there still was a chance for Foggy to deceive Not-Matt. Maybe. 

Foggy hurried upstairs. Quickly, he hid the dagger under the mattress. Then he got into his nightclothes and brushed his teeth. He avoided looking into any mirrors and waited. His heart beat like drums of war when he heard the door open and close. He couldn’t help it. Not-Matt wouldn’t miss this, but maybe Foggy could trick him about the reason. 

It wasn’t hard at all to start crying as Foggy ran downstairs.

“Sweetheart?” Concern lay on Matt’s face as Foggy fell into his arms.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Foggy sobbed.

Warm hands patted his back. “This is my house,” Matt chuckled softly.

“Okay.” Foggy broke the embrace and wiped his eyes. “But you could’ve stayed away the night and… and… then ask me to leave in the morning. I’m sorry, I… I acted like this. I was just surprised and overwhelmed and…”

“Oh, Foggy.” Matt cupped his cheek. “I won’t throw you out over a little spat!”

Foggy nodded and forced himself back into Matt’s arms, ignoring the part of him that wanted to scream, “It’s not a ‘little spat’ when you keep touching me after I said no!” 

Instead, he allowed Matt to lift his chin and press a kiss onto his lips. 

“So,” Matt grinned, “how sorry are you?”

Foggy’s heart sank. This was what he needed for his plan. However, his stomach revolted at the thought of being touched by Matt, well, Not-Matt. Sure, he’d let Not-Matt touch him like this for weeks now, but it was different now that he knew.

“Very sorry,” he answered, as flirty as he could muster.

Smirking, Not-Matt walked him to the stairs. “Show me.”

Foggy yelped. With no effort at all, Not-Matt lifted him up. Being confronted yet again with the superior strength of the man he had to best, Foggy had a hard time pretending he was having fun. Still, he managed to laugh while he was carried to the bedroom.

As soon as he had thrown Foggy to the mattress, Not-Matt was on Foggy. Roughly, he kissed him and let his hand slide underneath the bathrobe.

Foggy let out an encouraging moan. To appear eager, he grabbed Not-Matt’s shirt and began pulling at it in a clumsy manner. Chuckling, Not-Matt took Foggy’s hand and kissed it before throwing the shirt of himself. At the sight of Matt’s naked chest, Foggy’s heart skipped a beat. That was his chance. With his left hand, he caressed Matt’s torso and dragged Not-Matt down with the right to kiss him.

“I love you,” he said. Lie and truth in one.

Finally, he let his arm fall to the side. “Lube,” he explained.

“I think we put it on the other side,” Not-Matt said.

“Well, that would explain why I can’t find it,” Foggy laughed.

“Wait, let me…” Not-Matt bent to the left and Foggy took his chance.

His hand found the dagger’s handle and circled around it. In one fluid move, he pulled the weapon from underneath the mattress and aimed the flat of the blade towards Matt’s chest.

Not-Matt caught his wrist. With an inscrutable expression, he held on for long seconds. Bit by bit, he increased the pressure on Foggy’s joint until Foggy yelled in pain and dropped the dagger. Wordless, Not-Matt took it and threw it over his shoulder into the corridor.

“That,” he said, slow and cold, “was unwise, darling.”

Painfully, he grabbed both of Foggy’s wrists and pinned them on the mattress above Foggy’s head. Shaking his head, he sighed in disappointment.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I get it. It’s not easy.”

He held Foggy’s arms down with his left hand and used the right to open the bathrobe. Wildly, Foggy began to struggle. He moved from side to side, trying to throw the demon off - to no avail. Meanwhile, Not-Matt appeared to be amused by Foggy’s attempts to free himself. 

“I don’t want this,” Foggy cried out, straining against the hold.

“Now, that’s hardly believable, is it, darling?” Not-Matt tutted. “The way you begged and moaned whenever I fucked you in these past weeks, speaks otherwise.”

He bent down to kiss Foggy. For a moment, Foggy allowed it only to then bite. Not-Matt pulled away and swiped his free hand over his bloodied mouth. 

“It would kill him, you know,” he suddenly said.

Foggy froze. 

“It’s true,” Not-Matt continued. “You needn’t cut me with the dagger. Not a single drop of blood needs to be shed for me to be forced out of Matt’s body. But it will kill him. I’ll return to my realm and won’t be able to leave it for a few days. Enough time for you to run from me, sure. But Matt will be dead and I will wait.”

“You… you’re lying.”

“Am I?” Not-Matt asked. “What do you think happened to Thomas Murdock? It’s funny, really. Laura did what you did. She played clueless and seduced me.” In a high pitched voice, Matt mimicked, “‘oh, darling, let’s make love by the river.’ Well, trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, shame on me. I’ll have to tie you down for a while until I can be sure you’ll behave.”

When Foggy didn’t answer, Not-Matt sighed.

“I let Emily go, didn’t I?” he asked, tone suggesting he deserved a charity award. “I fed off her for a few days, but she’ll recover.”

“What?”

“Well, I grabbed her because I thought she wanted you,” the demon said as if this was a reasonable decision. “But when you, very credible, told me she didn’t and you weren’t interested in her either, I let her go. It made you happy, didn’t it? And nobody is gonna miss Jessica Carmile, right?”

“Of course someone will!” Foggy exclaimed. “You need to let her go!”

“Sorry, not a chance, darling.” Not-Matt shook his head. “She is too dangerous.” he caressed Foggy’s cheek. “I’m always glad to listen to your opinion, but here I need to put my foot down.”

Suddenly, Matt’s face lit up.

“Now, there’s an idea,” he said. “I’ll let you have a say in who I take when I need food. Murderer, rapist, child molester, you name it. But whenever you disobey me, I’ll take someone you like. The nice Sheriff looks tasty.”

In disbelief, Foggy stared at him. It was so unreal to hear such cruelties fall from Matt Murdock’s mouth.

“Why don’t you just pull me into your personal fridge and get it over with?” Foggy asked with his chin lifted in challenge.

“Oh, Foggy,” Not-Matt whispered. “I couldn’t hurt you.” He cocked his head and corrected, “Not much at least. But I can definitely make you scream.”

As his lips sought out Foggy’s again, everything happened so fast.

A loud crash echoed through the room. Both men jumped, turning their head to the bedroom window that had been slammed open hard enough for the handle to leave a dent in the wall. They stared at it, but Foggy recovered faster. 

Due to the distraction, Not-Matt’s grip had loosened just enough for Foggy to wrench his arms free. With all the strength he had, he pushed against Matt’s chest. It was enough to make his captor lose his balance. Another push had him tumble off the mattress.

Foggy darted for the door. Unfortunately, Not-Matt was on his, well, Matt’s feet fast and came after him. In the corridor, Foggy was lucky enough to find the dagger, but as he turned and aimed it at Not-Matt, Not-Matt only grinned.

“And now?” he asked, lifting his arm in mock surrender. “You know I’m right. The dagger will banish me - for a while - but kill Matt.”

They held each other’s gaze. Not-Matt was right of course, Foggy could never harm Matt. Let alone kill him. What Carol recalled of Dorothy’s words on the phone, came to his mind. 

“Don’t do anything yet! I think I know how to save them both.” 

Laura must have thought she could only save Jack by banishing the demon thus killing Thomas. But Dorothy apparently had known more. Foggy needed time to think, time to do more research. However, he was facing said demon right now.

Then Not-Matt moved. Breaking their uneven stalemate, he charged forward. It was more luck than skill that Foggy managed to evade him. Not-Matt stumbled forward and caught himself an inch before falling down the stairs. Face contorted in rage, he turned and reached for Foggy. 

Foggy stumbled back. Blindly, he ran into the only direction that was free and led him away from Not-Matt. Too late, he realized that he was running towards the attic stairs and he would be trapped up there. But there was no turning back now as Not-Matt was right on his heels. 

Half way up, Foggy whirled around and kicked at Not-Matt. That seemed to be something Not-Matt had not foreseen. He staggered back, his left foot catching under one of the narrow steps, and fell down the stairs.

Still, Foggy needed a plan. He had bought himself a few seconds, but that wouldn’t help him. Maybe he could block the way up, but then what? The window was too narrow for him to escape. Calling for help was no option either as he didn’t want to endanger anybody else.

All these thoughts in his head, he arrived in the attic and turned on the light.

At once, his eyes fell on the mirror at the back wall. It was the only thing that wasn’t too heavy for him to lift and that still could do some damage. So he ran towards it, Not-Matt’s angry footsteps back on the stairs.

Just as Foggy was close enough to grab the mirror, a dark figure, from the looks of it, a man, appeared in the frame. Foggy’s eyes widened and he yelled in shock. He tried to change directions, but it was too late. The man stretched out his arm, his large black hand sliding through the mirror’s surface and circling around Foggy’s. It was the black hand Foggy had seen before, but now he realized that the man didn’t have actual black hands, he was wearing gloves.

Foggy struggled against the firm grip. But the man easily dragged Foggy forward and towards the mirror. As his body touched the glass, the image blurred and warped and Foggy felt himself glide through the mirror.

At the last second, another hand took hold off Foggy’s bathrobe. Not-Matt had caught up with him. The dark figure on the other side pulled harder, ripping Foggy out of Not-Matt’s hold.

Hard and painful, Foggy landed on the ground. With a groan, he sat up, not surprised to find himself in the attic yet again. However, he wasn’t sure this was the mirror house as this room did contain Matt’s training equipment. 

Still, it did not look like the original. The lamp was lit but barely had an effect, leaving the place in a gloomy halflight. There was hardly any color, no, the colors were there but faded and washed out as if someone had put a gray satin shawl over the area.

Foggy had no time to ponder his whereabouts. Not-Matt was already stepping through the mirror-portal, angrier than Foggy had ever seen him or the real Matt. Seething, he took a step forward in Foggy’s direction, but the dark figure came out of the shadows and pushed Not-Matt aside.

Foggy’s eyes went wide. Now that he was closer, he recognized the dark man.

Daredevil.

Matt’s alter ego took a challenging posture. Legs wide, arms slightly lifted and breathing heavily, he stared at Not-Matt. His suit was different. The usually red armor was inkblack now and it appeared to cling tighter to Matt’s body as if it was a part of him.

“You are hard to keep in check,” Not-Matt said to Daredevil in a mixture of admiration and annoyance.

“I will protect Foggy,” Daredevil said and attacked.

Easily, Not-Matt evaded the forceful but thoughtless assault.

“Uh, I got that covered, Matt,” Not-Matt said. “I will protect him.”

Daredevil whirled around. Growling, he stormed towards Not-Matt who simply side-stepped him and kicked his shin to make him stumble.

“Matty, Matty, Matty,” Not-Matt tutted. “You know full well that I’m better equipped to protect Foggy than even you! I got your power and mine. No harm will come to him as long as he is with me.”

A cry of rage on his lips, Daredevil charged again. This time he feigned an attack at Not-Matt’s chest, but went low at the last second. The two of them tumbled to the ground wrestling, Not-Matt continuing his taunts.

“You're mad,” he said. “I get that. There you are, having pined forever for your best friend and along come I and just take him. That stings. But there comes a point where you have to admit defeat.”

Way too long, Foggy just looked on. This was too bizarre for his brain to process at a normal pace. Eventually, however, he snapped out of it, wondering if he should help Daredevil defeat Not-Matt. But how? Using the dagger on Not-Matt would harm Matt, something that Matt would probably readily accept to free the world, but Foggy would not. Joining the fight bare-handed would not do anything in the long run either. Besides, Daredevil didn’t appear to be fully himself as he usually wouldn’t be quite so stupid in a fight. So Foggy wasn’t sure he could coordinate an attack with him.

Dorothy! She had been in the mirrors, too. So she had to be around here and instead of researching, Foggy could just ask her what she had discovered. 

If he found her.

So while Not-Matt was mocking an ever more aggressive Daredevil, Foggy crawled to the stairs. By some miracle, he managed to get there without Not-Matt and Daredevil noticing. Too engrossed they were in each other.

Foggy peeked into all the rooms of the upper floor. 

“Dorothy?” he whispered now and again, but got no answer.

So he scurried downstairs and quietly spoke her name there. But neither on the ground floor nor in the basement did he have any luck. Sighing, he regarded the door to the back yard. If what Emily’d said was true, a thick fog awaited him on the other side. As Foggy knew now, Emily had found a path through because Not-Matt let her. But if Dorothy was somewhere there, maybe she could find him if he called her name.

So Foggy hurried outside and froze. Being outside felt no different than being inside: the same silence, the same unmoving air, the same faded colors. Still, what he saw had his jaw drop and his eyes go wide. If this was the house on the hill, he should be standing in midst of trees. Otherwise he should be in the overgrown backyard of the main house. But here were no trees or plants.

In their place, there were mirrors. Dozens of them. Scattered across the meadow in a random pattern, they looked like a madman’s art project. They all were tall with the same elegant but simple wooden frame. But none of them reflected their surroundings. Instead a whirling fog filled the glass pane. Until Foggy stepped closer to one of them. When Foggy was directly in front of it, the whirl vanished.

In the mirror, a road appeared. It took a moment for Foggy to recognize it. The fences of the neighboring houses were different and the trees planted along the street were smaller. But there was no doubt that this was Maple Drive 17.

At the horizon, the sun was sinking. A young woman in a turtleneck shirt with red and black stripes and slim fitted pants was walking along the garden wall of number 17. Searching, she looked from side to side, making cooing noises. 

Foggy’s heart beat wildly as suddenly Matt appeared at the gate. No, this wasn’t Matt. The man’s hair was the wrong shade of brunette and, judging from his height compared to the gate, Matt was taller. Otherwise, he was a dead ringer for Matt. Well, or the other way around. This had to be Matt’s grandfather Thomas.

As the young woman passed him, he greeted her.

“It’s getting dark, Miss,” he said in a warm, fatherly tone. “You should get home.”

“I know, but I can’t find my dog,” she answered. “I need to find him.”

“A dog you say?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I heard a bark in my back garden,” Thomas said and laughed, “I thought I imagined it, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, it… it could be him, but he is shy,” the woman said. “Can I have a look? If it’s him, he’ll come when I call.”

“Of course!” Thomas opened the gate and bowed chivalrously. “There is a river down the hill. Maybe he went to play there. Dogs love the place.”

The woman smiled and entered the garden. Thomas closed the gate again, his smile widening unnaturally as he followed her.

A noise made Foggy jump. When he moved away from the mirror, the image disappeared. He looked around, but could see nothing but the field of mirrors. Foggy wondered if he had just seen the last minutes of Heather Yates who had disappeared while walking her dog.

Curious, he approached another mirror.

He saw two men in a familiar living room. One of them was Thomas Murdock who, with a bottle in hand, stood by the window, framed by two dusty pink curtains. Foggy did not know the other man, a brunette with thinning hair, sitting in a large beige armchair. The man held up a scotch glass and Thomas filled it before pouring himself a drink, too.

“So,” said the unknown man. “No hard feelings?”

“Of course not, Ron,” Thomas said. “You earned the promotion.”

“Thanks,” Ron said, lifting his glass. “Your time will come, too.”

“I’m sure it will.” Thomas smiled eerily. “Oh, I wanted to show you this antique mirror I bought. Interested?”

“Yes! You know how I love stuff like this.”

Thomas patted Ron’s back as Ron got to his feet. “Yes, I do.”

“Ronald Pearson,” Foggy whispered. The one person whose disappearance had shown a measurable benefit for Thomas which had eventually made him a suspect. If only for a time being. 

The next mirror showed a familiar scene. Matt and Foggy sat at a cafe table. Jessica Carmile and Mrs. Miller stood next to them. Everyone’s attention lay on Mrs. Miller, chewing Jessica out. So nobody noticed how Matt took his key out of his pocket and dropped it into Jessica’s handbag. The image changed to the street in front of the cafe. After leaving the location in a huff, Jessica went through her handbag, searching for something. Confused, she pulled out the key. Looking left and right, she waited for a hint as to who had put it there. A moment of hesitation followed, but apparently, she decided not to look into the gift horse’s mouth. 

Again the scenery shifted, now showing the entrance area of Matt’s house. A key was turned in the lock and the door opened. Whispering, ‘Bingo’ Jessica slipped inside. She passed the mirror in the corridor and turned her head in all directions. Gaze switching between the basement door and the stairs leading upstairs, she seemed unsure. Behind her, in the mirror, her reflection began to move. Her counterpart turned around, showing her pretty face, but contorted into an unnatural grin. The image of her own well manicured hands came through the surface, reaching for her…

This time, Foggy was sure he heard something. The door to the house had opened and closed.

“Foggy!” It was Matt’s voice calling out for him, but the cold anger suggested it was Not-Matt.

“Matt,” Foggy whispered, concerned.

“Don’t worry. He can’t kill him, you know,” said a voice. “It would be like a reflection killing the original - unwise.”

Foggy screamed and jumped. Whirling around, he looked into the pale but pretty face of Dorothy Olden. Right now, she appeared very annoyed.

“Be a little louder, will you?” she said sarcastically.

Indeed, now quick steps sounded through the stillness. Not-Matt must have heard him.

“Come on.” 

A cool small hand took Foggy’s and dragged him along. Through the maze of mirrors Dorothy led him away from the house, but still Not-Matt was closing in.

“You’re already in trouble, sweetheart,” he said in a mockery of tenderness. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“Oh, damn it,” whispered Dorothy. “You gotta say this for demons, they are persistent. Hide! I’ll distract him.”

“Hide?” Foggy repeated. “Where?”

“In a memory.” Dorothy smiled and pushed Foggy against a mirror.

Again, Foggy saw the blur and experienced the dizziness of going through the mirror. After rubbing his eyes, he opened them slowly. Surprised, he saw that it was daytime and he was in the kitchen, well, in a version of it. He recognised the white and beige furniture, but when he had seen it first, it was old, dirty and worn down. Here it was new and intact, the only dirt being crumbs from freshly cut bread. 

At once, he recognized the couple at the small round table. The handsome Thomas Murdock and his beautiful wife Laura were having breakfast in their cozy home. It was painfully domestic. Under the table sat a little boy, playing with a toy car. Neither of them reacted to Foggy at all.

“Jack,” Laura admonished fondly. “Come up and eat your sandwich.”

“Not hungry.”

“Well, I won’t force you, but don’t complain later,” she said. “When I cleared the table, that’s it until lunch.”

Jack was engrossed in his toy. Sighing, Laura shook her head and turned to her husband who, unlike her, didn’t look happy but concerned.

“Love, it is going to be okay,” she said.

“I hope so,” he said. “My job can be very lucrative, but one needs skill and luck. We can afford a short period of low income, but then…”

“It will be fine,” Laura said and kissed Thomas’ cheek 

But when she got up to put the milk in the fridge, the smile dropped off her mouth and creases of worry lined her pretty face.

Suddenly, it went cold. Foggy felt a shift and knew that Not-Matt had found him. Thinking quickly, he hurried into the entrance area and as he had hoped found a mirror at the wall. Taking a deep breath, he jumped against it.

It worked. Instead of a hard and painful impact and many sharp shards, the now familiar warping and blurring occurred. 

It was darker here. Foggy recognized the second bedroom on the upper floor. Nobody was around, but Foggy heard a voice from the bathroom. So he stepped into the corridor and followed the noise.

The bathroom door stood ajar. Foggy peeked through the gap and spotted Thomas Murdock staring at his reflection in the mirror, talking to himself.

“Rebuilding that ruin on the hill will use up all my remaining savings,” Thomas said. “That… is a huge risk.”

To Foggy’s surprise, Thomas’ reflection answered, “It will be worth it. Once you restore the symmetry, I can help you. Like I helped your ancestors. But the more perfect the symmetry, the stronger I am. Right now, I’m too weak.”

Thomas frowned. He rubbed his face and sighed.

“You promise that I’ll have enough money to keep this house and… give Laura and Jack everything they want?” Thomas asked. “They deserve it.”

“Of course!” the reflection said. “Laura and Jack will be the apple of my eye once I am free to help and protect them.”

Biting his lip, Thomas appeared to ponder his options. Finally, he nodded. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll do it. But you better keep my family comfortable and safe!”

“You have my word.”

“That’s the point when it all went downhill.” 

Dorothy suddenly stood next to Foggy, shaking her head sadly.

“You need to stop doing this if you don’t want me to scream,” Foggy said.

“You have a point,” Dorothy agreed. “I apologize for the shock and for pushing you into the mirror. But I know these memories best. I can find my way here.”

“Are all the mirrors memories?”

She nodded. “Outside the houses, yes, of his victims and his former hosts.”

“Where are they? Are they alive?”

“The hosts are dead. When they die, he takes over a son or nephew,” Dorothy explained. “Sometimes the line breaks when the family manages to banish him or when there are no male heirs. But somehow he always finds a way to lure the Murdocks back to him.”

“How do you know all this?” Foggy wanted to know. “You met the family in the 1960s. How do you know what happened before?”

“I went through the mirrors,” she answered. “Every victim’s and host’s memory.”

“Speaking of the victims,” she continued, “they are caught in the memory of the day they were captured. Even those whose life source was completely consumed are stuck in his realm, their souls can’t leave. Sometimes, images, projections of them may flicker in the real world. Now and again, memories of their voices may sound through the rooms, but mostly they’re trapped in this realm.”

“Is Jessica Carmile still alive?”

“Barely.” Dorothy sighed. “If we can end this soon, she might survive.”

“Wait a minute…” Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Dorothy, Foggy took a step back. “Why are you free? When everybody else is stuck?”

“I wasn’t dragged here by him,” she said. “He attacked me, but I could fight him off and open a mirror up to his realm. So I never went through the… process, so to speak, that is needed to feed off of me.”

“How did you know how to get here?”

“I’m a librarian, sugar.” She laughed. “I did my research to help Laura.” Her smile faded. “But I couldn't. I could hide here, but he closed the passage behind me. Unlike his victims, I can move freely, but I can’t get out of the house.”

“What about Matt?”

“The host’s souls are free here, too, but it takes a while for them to adjust. Plus, their body being used by the demon is confusing,” Dorothy said. “When Matt slowly came to, I tried talking to him, to maybe make a plan. But he preferred headless actionism.”

“Sounds like him.”

Dorothy chuckled and Foggy smiled a bit.

“Listen,” Dorothy said after a while. “You need to leave.”

“Matt…”

“I know,” she said. “I think we can save him. I couldn’t save Thomas. Laura must have thought he killed me when I didn’t show up. So to spare Jack from becoming his next vessel… she used the dagger.”

“But why… why didn’t the demon kill Laura? Why doesn’t he kill me?” Foggy asked. “I mean, he has to know that those closest to the person he takes over are most likely to notice.”

“He loves you,” Dorothy said.

“He what now?”

“It’s one of his weaknesses actually,” she said. “This isn’t a simple possession. He bonds with the hosts, forming a dark mirror of them. Emotions get twisted, good traits suppressed, bad one’s stronger, but it’s all there, just wrong. The fact of the matter is, the demon, right now, could no more kill you than Matt could kill you. And when he was with Thomas, he loved Laura and Jack too much to harm them.”

Intensely, Foggy listened. Her words made sense and yet he had a hard time processing. Did Matt really… no, not the time now. He needed to focus.

“So,” Foggy said. “What’s the plan?”

“In an Umspectris’ territory lies his power source,” she explained. “A book I read says it’s in the mirror’s center.”

“The river?”

“Very good!” She smiled. “It’s also hidden at a symbolic point.”

“The bridge!”

“Smart one,” Dorothy commended.

“Did you tell Anna about this?” Foggy asked, a thought coming to mind. “She warned us about the river.”

Sighing, Dorothy nodded. “I told her my plan, yes. She must have thought I crossed the bridge and died. But I didn’t even get this far.”

“Okay, so… I go to the bridge, find the source and destroy it?”

“There is a catch,” Dorothy said.

“Of course there is.”

“It needs to be done from both sides, simultaneously,” Dorothy said. “I’ve been here too long. I can’t manifest in a stable manner outside the mirror world. You should be able to. So I destroy this side’s version, you do it in our world.”

“How do we coordinate this?”

“I… should be able to hear you when you speak while carrying the dagger if we are at the same spot.”

“Should?”

“Well, dearie, I haven’t exactly done a test-run on this.”

“Point taken.”

“Now come on, we need to get to the river.”

Chapter 8

“Dad is acting so strange, Mommy.” 

“Nonsense, Jacky, your Dad is just stressed.” 

“Thomas? Is someone with you? I heard you talking.” 

“No, sweetheart. Just me.” 

“I don’t even recognize you anymore!” 

“Why? Because I’m no longer a pushover?” 

“Let’s make love by the river.” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

Being dragged through the Murdock family's memories was not only nauseating but also sad. How different would things be today for Matt if they had never come here?

With a thud, Foggy landed in the grass. Biting his lip to swallow the noise of pain, he got to his feet. He looked at Dorothy who seemed to listen out for something. Her hand was lifted, signaling him to be quiet.

“He is in the house,” she said. “Not sure if he is looking for you or if he wants to return to our world and wait for you. We better hurry.”

“Wait,” Foggy said. “What… will happen to you?”

Dorothy gave him a sad smile. “I doubt I’m still alive in the human sense of the word. I guess I’ll die.”

“Is there…”

“If there is a way to do this that guarantees my survival, I don’t know about it,” she said firmly. “And we hardly have the time to find out now.” She nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay. Come on. Let’s save your friend.”

As quick as being silent allowed, the two of them hurried through the collection of mirrors. Foggy still was not sure on which side of the river they were, but it didn’t really matter. To get to the bridge they had to go downhill.

“Do you know where exactly it is?” Foggy whispered. “The power source?”

“Yes, I found it,” she said. “It has to be in the same spot on the other side. It’s…”

Foggy was swept off his feet. Something dark came rushing out of nowhere, hitting his side. With a yell, he tumbled down the hill, entwined with his attacker.

Faintly, he heard Dorothy’s voice, but the river and the heavy breath of the assailant in his ear drowned her out. Foggy’s wrists were pinned. He expected it to be the demon in Matt’s disguise, but it wasn’t.

“Daredevil?”

Indeed, it was the black-cladded version of Matt’s alter ego.

“What are you doing?” Foggy asked. “We’re working on freeing you.”

“Give me the dagger,” demanded Daredevil.

“What? Why?”

“I… need to end it, to end him. ” Daredevil was erratic.

Still, Foggy tried to reason with him.

“No, Matty,” he said softly. “It would kill you, too. It killed your grandfather.”

Daredevil hesitated, but then he shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter. I have to… protect you. And everyone else.”

With furrowed brows, Foggy watched Daredevil. He didn’t seem to be at full mental capacity and probably could not be swayed by arguments. But Foggy couldn’t give him the dagger either. If Daredevil had it and found the demon before Foggy and Dorothy could destroy the power source, Matt would kill the Umspector and himself in the process.

For one crazy second, Foggy thought about fighting Daredevil. But when he even began to move, Daredevil growled and pinned his arms.

“Alright, alright,” Foggy said. “Let up, I’ll get it.”

Hesitantly, Daredevil freed Foggy’s arms. Foggy put his hand into the pocket of his bathrobe. The dagger was cold to the touch. After taking a deep breath, Foggy pulled it out. Sitting up, Daredevil gave Foggy room to hand over the weapon. 

As forceful as possible, Foggy lifted his legs. It surprised Daredevil and he wavered a bit which was enough for Foggy. With all his strength, he pushed against Daredevil’s chest, making him fall back and thus freeing Foggy’s legs.

But Daredevil was fast. Foggy knew he could not get up and outrun him. Instead, he rolled across the ground and into the river.

It was a shock. Of course, he hadn’t expected the river to be warm. But feeling the cold water engulf him was overwhelming for a few moments. As Foggy sank deeper, the by now familiar feeling of passing a mirror portal set in.

When he finally heard the river rushing again, he knew he was back in the real world. Well, the normal world. After all, the mirror realm was unfortunately very real, too.

Foggy swam to the surface. Luckily, the current wasn’t very strong, but it was easy to lose orientation under water, especially at night. As he climbed out of the water, he realized Dorothy didn’t get the chance to tell him where exactly the power source was or how it looked. Being separated sooner than expected also robbed them of the opportunity to coordinate once more, to maybe agree on a countdown.

Now he could only hope his target was easy to identify and that Dorothy would be able to reach hers undisturbed. Foggy deemed Dorothy clever enough to never intentionally let the demon know how much information she had about him. But she had been stuck in his realm for a long time. Maybe he had an inkling of what she might know and what she might do.

But either way, the only thing Foggy could do was to get to the power source on this side. So he ran to the bridge. The bright moonlight illuminated the area. But even though he could see surprisingly well, he found nothing out of the ordinary around or on the bridge. Sighing, Foggy decided to get back into the water and check the bridge’s underside.

He froze. A voice called out to him, familiar in timbre yet foreign in the sadistic mocking tone.

“Foggy!” Not-Matt came down from the main house. He didn’t appear to be in a hurry, steps deliberately slow, suave almost. “There you are! I looked everywhere for you. You had me worried, sweetheart. Again. We really need to talk about you having me worried all the time!”

In morbid fascination, Foggy stared at the man approaching him. How could he not have noticed that this wasn’t Matt? Foggy ripped his gaze away. There was no use crying over spilled milk now. Fulfilling his task was the best way for Foggy to make amends for his mistakes. 

Not giving himself time to overthink, Foggy jumped. It wasn’t that bad the second time as his clothes were already wet and he’d been cold anyway. Grabbing the wood of the old bridge from underneath, Foggy searched for anything that looked out of place. 

Not-Matt’s steps were closer now. Foggy could hear his bare feet hit the gras in muffled thumps.

There was nothing here. Nothing that shouldn’t be here at least.

“You’ll catch a cold, darling,” Not-Matt said, terrifyingly tender. “Wait there. I’ll get you out, take you inside and warm you up.”

Now desperate, Foggy felt along the wooded boards without a system. It had to be here somewhere.

The dark chuckle was too close for comfort. “I hope you don’t think this is a good hiding spot, dearest. I can hear you splashing.”

A thought crossed Foggy’s mind. Whatever would be attached to or on the bridge would have been discovered by now. Emily sure wasn’t the first to check on the old wooden construct and even if she was, the power source would have been found, unless it wasn’t on the bridge.

Just as Not-Matt set foot on the wooden boards with a low thud, Foggy dove down. Now he was underwater and the bridge above him blocked a lot of the moonlight, he could hardly see. Luckily, the river wasn’t deep and Foggy could feel the gravel on the ground soon. He dug his fingers through it, pushing it to fumble blindly underneath it, for… something, anything.

Someone grabbed his foot. The demon! From above he tried pulling Foggy up. Foggy kicked out with the still free leg. Not-Matt’s hold loosened a bit and Foggy could keep searching for precious seconds.

Running his hands through the stone and dirt at the river’s bottom, Foggy felt something  smooth. He heard the splashing of Not-Matt’s hands groping in the water in search of him so Foggy hurried to lay bare whatever he had found there.

Light broke through the mass of gravel. A shining mirror was hidden in between the pebbles and Foggy excitedly dug it free. In the surface, he could see Dorothy. She was floating in dark water, the light from the mirror illuminating her face. She was hammering against the surface with a stone, shortly stopping when she saw him, to wildly point at him to do the same.

Again, a hand found his foot. Once more, Foggy struggled free and fumbled along the ground for a large stone. Unlike Dorothy, he would need to breathe soon. But as he was about to slam the rock into the mirror, Not-Matt managed to take hold of both his feet and dragged him upwards. He was strong and his grip was now sure and firm. Foggy couldn’t shake him off.

Instead of kicking or pushing, Foggy pulled. Bending his knees, he forced Not-Matt forward. He heard the plop and felt the impact of the body falling into the water next to him. 

Now or never. Eyes on Dorothy, Foggy matched her rhythm. Simultaneously, they hit the mirror. 

Not-Matt’s dark shadow swam towards Foggy.

Another hit against the mirror.

A large hand circled around Foggy’s wrist. 

Quickly, Foggy took a second rock with his still free hand and slammed it into the mirror a third time.

The mirror broke. Blinding white light streamed through the cracks. A wave of invisible energy pulsed through the water and pushed Not-Matt and Foggy backwards and away from each other.

Foggy returned to the surface, taking a deep breath. He grabbed the edge of the bridge and pulled himself up. At first, nothing happened.

Then, the world shattered. Literally. Around him little cracks appeared, on the meadow, in the water, in the air. The cracks grew and grew, accompanied by splintering sounds. Finally, everything burst. 

On instincts, Foggy covered his eyes. He didn’t know what exactly to expect. Sharp shards of reality cutting his skin, maybe. Or falling into nothingness as the world broke apart. 

But… nothing.

When Foggy dared to look up, everything appeared as it should. The moon threw her silver-white light on the two hills, sparkling in the river who murmured lively on its way through the meadow. 

Only the two dark figures stood out. Not-Matt kneeling near the riverbend, Daredevil in the exact same pose on the other side. A cry of rage and pain escaped Not-Matt. A dark gray mass wavered out of him, slowly but steadily detaching from it. With one last unearthly wail, it was ripped away from Matt’s body and disappeared into thin air. Matt sagged to the ground and lay on the grass, unmoving.

On the opposite water’s edge, Daredevil was holding his temple. He didn’t appear to be in pain, but confused. Looking closer, Foggy could see that Daredevil’s body was transparent, blurring and wrapping like the mirrors had. 

Suddenly, Daredevil tensed. As if gripped by an unseen force, he lifted off the ground. For a moment, he just levitated there. But then with one jerky motion he was pulled across the river, crashing into Matt’s lifeless body. Daredevil disappeared and Matt jolted upwards, gasping for air.

“Matt!” Foggy scrambled to his feet and raced towards his best friend. “Matt!”

“I… I’m okay,” Matt breathed out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Before Foggy could help Matt up, Matt all but jumped into a straight position and had his hands all over Foggy.

“Did… did I hurt you?” he asked. “God, I pushed you down the hill! You could have broken something or worse.”

“Hey!” Foggy caught Matt’s hands. “I’m fine, too! You weren’t thinking clearly. You just tried to protect me.”

“Still, I…”

“Hello? Help!” Someone calling from across the river interrupted Matt.

Both men hurried across the bridge to follow the female voice. They didn’t have to go far. A lithe woman with long dark hair came stumbling down the hill.

“Ms Carmile?” Foggy called out.

Confused, Jessica Carmile turned to him. It took a while for her face to signal recognition, but then she staggered towards them.

“Wh… where am I?” she wanted to know.

Unlike Emily, Jessica hadn’t escaped through the river. But while her clothes were dry, she definitely had been dressed for a warmer day when she’d disappeared. So she was shivering, crossing her arms and rubbing her shoulders.

“You are in the yard behind my house,” Matt told her. “Let’s get you inside and call the Sheriff.”

“The… the sheriff?” she repeated. “Why?”

*

Bennet was visibly not happy. Of course, he was relieved to be able to return the second missing woman to her family. But it was obvious that he wanted answers. Neither Matt, Foggy nor Jessica, however, were giving them to him.

Matt and Foggy had changed into their spare bathrobes after calling him, thus their little trip through the water wasn’t visible anymore. They simply claimed they had been awoken by calls for help. Rushing outside, they found Jessica. It was a very reasonable and believable statement. 

Yet, Foggy couldn’t blame the Sheriff for being dissatisfied. After all, both vanished women had reappeared on Matt’s property. Malnourished and confused, but otherwise unharmed. However, he had done a full swipe of the property after they had found Emily and Jessica had not been here. Or so Bennet thought.

As for Jessica Carmile, Foggy had trouble reading her. It was possible she, too, was ashamed to share what she had experienced. But to Foggy, her confusion as well as her insistence to have no memory after leaving the cafe on the day of her appearance sounded genuine.

When Benet asked her about Matt’s key, it was the first time she hesitated before answering. Foggy knew that she hadn’t stolen it. Not-Matt had put it in her bag to lure her in, but nonetheless, she had taken the bait line, hook and sinker, knowingly keeping a key that wasn’t hers.

But Matt told the Sheriff not to press.

“The key is back and I think Ms Carmile needs to rest now.”

“Yes.” Bennet nodded. “You do look even worse to the wear than Ms Harper. And her blood results weren’t exactly healthy either.”

“But she got better, right?” Foggy asked, alarmed.

“Yes,” Bennet said. “No permanent damage.” He smiled at Jessica. “And I’m sure the same is true for you. But you’ll need to be checked upon.”

“I called an ambulance,” Foggy said. “They should be here soon. Last time, they were faster than you.”

“I was close by,” said Bennet curtly. 

“I see.”

When the ambulance took Jessica Carmile to the hospital and the Sheriff drove away, Matt and Foggy stood at the gate, watching both cars leave. As soon as it was silent and dark again, they returned to the house. With the door closed, Foggy let himself fall against it and groaned.

“I agree,” Matt said, himself leaning against the corridor wall.

Foggy huffed out a small laugh. Then he bit his lip and pushed himself off the door. Wringing his hands in front of his stomach, he stepped closer to Matt. Matt tensed, but he turned towards Foggy to indicate that he listened.

“What do you need?” Foggy asked. “Food? Tea? Booze? Name it.”

“Honestly?” Matt sighed. “I want to leave.”

*

Sometimes, Carol took a walk down the streets of her childhood. Accompanied by bittersweet memories, she passed the old kiosk and the church. As always, she stopped in front of her parent’s house and smiled at its appearance. She liked that the current owner had managed to keep the house’s character and still give it a personal note.

Not so pleasant was the state of the neighboring house. After Dorothy’s disappearance, nobody had ever moved in again so Carol had seen the place decaying with the years. 

Sighing, she was about to leave. But something caught her attention and she turned once more. Wide-eyed, she saw how the light in the abandoned house’s kitchen went on. With a thousand thoughts in her head, Carol stared at it. 

Just as she had decided to go to the door and knock, the light went out again. A sudden wind rushed through the street. The breeze ran through her hair and across her skin, surprisingly warm and pleasant. 

Carol blinked. Something was different all of a sudden. She felt lighter as if the wind had blown a heavy rock off of her shoulders. Smiling, she turned homewards. 

Everything was alright.

*

Marnie pushed her grandmother’s wheelchair next to the park bench. Smiling, she pointed at the hot dog cart.

“Do you want one?”

As expected, Gran Anna didn’t answer. So Marnie sat down next to her, suppressing the sigh. At least Gran didn’t look distressed. Curious, she let her eyes wander and the autumn wind painted a healthy pink onto her cheeks.

Marnie considered getting hot dogs anyway. She hadn’t eaten yet and grandma needed some lunch as well. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her wallet to check how much cash she had with her. When she found it was enough, she lifted her gaze and furrowed her brows.

A woman across the road caught her eye. Many Pleagrovers were out of course during this time of day. But somehow she was distinct. People hurried past her, but she just stood there. Her long brown hair waved in the wind, but was held in shape by a broad dark-green headband. She wore a vintage dress of matching color that emphasized her hourglass figure and fluttered around her knees. The attire should leave her cold, but she looked very comfortable. 

She raised her hand and waved. Confused, Marnie looked around as she was sure not to know the woman. But who else was she waving at? As she pondered just returning the gesture to avoid offense, she saw movement in the corner of her eye.

Marnie looked at Gran. Surprised, she saw Gran lifting her arm and waving at the woman in green. A soft smile lay on Gran’s face and a single tear was caught in her lashes.

Frowning, Marnie glanced across the street again. But the woman was gone. Turning to Gran, she found Gran looking back at her.

“I don’t feel like hot dogs, dearie,” she said apologetically. “Can we get waffles?”

Surprised at her grandmother’s happy smile and the coherent sentences, Marnie opened and closed her mouth several times before answering.

“Sure,” she finally said excitedly. “Waffles it is.”

When Marnie took hold of the wheelchair’s handles again to get Gran to the Blueberry Cafe, she glanced around one more time for the strange woman. But she wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Are you alright, dear?” Gran asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Marnie answered. “What about you? All good?”

Gran smiled.

“Yes, dearie,” she said. “Everything is alright.”

*

Rain poured along the glass pane. Thunder roared outside and sometimes a strike of lightning would illuminate the night sky. Through the thin walls, a late evening commercial sounded from the right, a baby’s weeping and a woman’s cooing noises from the left.

Sighing, Foggy pulled the curtain close. It wasn’t that the gray parking lot of the motel was such a pretty view anyway. Foggy let his eyes wander along the room for something to do, but there was only their luggage he had moved around several times already.

Well, and of course, there was Matt. He lay silently on the bed, hands behind his head. His thoughts were visible on his face, every turn of the cog, his mind playing out each moment in which he could have done differently. 

Foggy wasn’t far from doing the same. Probably he had even more reason to than Matt because Matt had been surprised and overwhelmed in one moment while Foggy had been fooled for weeks. 

However, Foggy saw neither the appeal nor the benefit of a two men pity and guilt party. 

“Are you hungry?” Foggy asked. “I think I saw a sandwich machine. Someone super smart put it next to a coffee machine.”

“You’re in shirt and boxers, Foggy.”

“So are you, but there are our bags,” Foggy said. “I do possess the power of dressing myself.”

“I don’t want anything,” Matt said. 

“Because you’re not hungry or because you want to punish yourself?” Foggy asked.

Matt smiled a little. “Not hungry,” he said. “But if you want a sandwich, I’ll get dressed and get you one. I don’t want you out in that weather.”

Foggy shook his head. “I’m good, too.”

Releasing a breath, he sat down next to Matt.

“Have you decided what to do with the house?” he asked.

“I’m keeping it,” Matt said. “I don’t want to live there, but maybe we can use it as a safe house for our allies? It’s far off, yes, but…”

“... if someone needs a safe place, far off might be good.”

“Exactly.”

Silence fell. It wasn’t the usual easy silence between them. It was heavy and oppressive and Foggy couldn’t take it. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “I could totally understand if you were. But please talk to me so we can fix it.”

As if bitten by something, Matt abruptly sat up. 

“What?” he asked. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I didn’t notice that you… weren’t really you,” Foggy said. “I mean, in hindsight it’s so obvious. So many things you wouldn’t do, so many ways you wouldn’t act. If I hadn’t been so slow I might have freed you sooner. And if I had noticed immediately, you would maybe feel at least a little less violated. Sure, he still would have walked and talked with your body, but sex is a very different thing, isn’t it?”

“Violated?” Matt repeated. “You were the one who was violated, Foggy! Because I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the demon, he even got the chance to… to use you like this.”

Foggy barked out a humorless laugh as he averted his eyes.

“Oh, I pretty much begged to be used,” he said and added embarrassedly, “Quite literally on some nights.”

To his surprise, Matt chuckled. When Foggy looked at him, Matt was blushing.

“That you did,” Matt said and, probably sensing Foggy’s confusion, he explained, “I heard. I also saw and felt. He was me and I was him. Unfortunately, he was in control. But…” he cleared his throat, “...I remember it all.”

“Everything?” Foggy asked, voice squeaking to a humiliating degree.

“Yes.” Matt nodded. “How intense the sensation was depended on what I was doing. When I was exploring the mirror world, it was less intense than when I focused solely on what the demon was doing.”

“But that makes it worse!” Foggy exclaimed. “You not only know that he used your body like this, you even witnessed it.”

If possible, Matt’s cheeks became redder. “Not really. I… God, I'm a terrible person.”

“You’re not! What makes you say that?”

“As I said, when I was distracted, I felt it less. So… whenever he was with you, I stopped. I stopped searching for an exit, I stopped roaming about, I stopped thinking all together. So I could see and feel what he does to you as much as possible. Because he was me, you know. He did to you what I would have wanted to do because he wanted it, too. And he wanted it because it was what I wanted,” Matt rambled. “Sounds weird, but it’s true.”

“But… don’t… don’t you feel like you have been forced?” Foggy asked carefully.

Matt shook his head. “When I let go, I was with you in that room and the way he touched you… it was exactly how I would have.”

“Really?”

“Most of the time, at least,” Matt said. “My mind could not at all control him, but my desires could. He could not NOT want you, he could not NOT yearn to touch you. So I… I think sometimes he was a bit rougher with you than I would have been - to show me that he can. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that.”

“You just apologized for not thinking of the possibility that a demon took over your best friend,” Matt said.

At that, Foggy managed a tiny smile. 

“Point taken,” he said. After a while, he recalled, “Dorothy said the demon loves me because you do. Is that true?”

The last words were barely a whisper and Foggy hated how hopeful and needy he sounded.

Matt’s hand found his. 

“It is,” he said. “And I believe that’s the reason I managed to push open that window so forcefully and to physically fight him in the mirror world - if not very successfully so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thing is,” Matt said. “When he got angry with you for seeing through him and trying to banish him, he planned on… doing things to you I… I could never do. Not kill you, of course. But hurting you, taking you against your explicit no. To do this he had to detach himself a little from me.”

“Which then gave you more power of your own.”

Swallowing hard, Matt nodded. 

Again, they were quiet for some time. But now, their hands were entwined and Foggy felt a bit less bad. But of course, Matt wasn’t done feeling guilty.

“He… he made you so happy,” he said, “with all the affection and love I was always too cowardly to give you.”

Foggy squeezed Matt’s hand.

“I admit I was happy when you… well, when he-as-you kissed me and took me out, spoiled me,” Foggy said and groaned in embarrassment, “God, did he wrap me around his fingers. But that only worked because I love you.”

“Yes, but that’s it.” Matt sighed. “You love me, but he was able to make you happy.”

“For one,” Foggy said, “let’s not pretend you never made me happy before. For two, it didn’t make me happy at all when he started acting like you wouldn’t. When he made decisions over my head, when he planned to abandon Karen, when he said our work is ‘for nothing’, when he declared helping people a waste of time. He may have had your desires, your skills and charms. But empathy? Responsibility? Kindness? Not really. A man who doesn’t care about others, is not you. And I love you.”

“I love you, too, Foggy,” Matt said quietly.

Another moment of silence followed. But this time, Foggy broke it sooner.

“That should be enough,” he said.

“What?”

“I love you and you love me,” he said. “We both wanted it. Sure, the demon turned it into a weird threesome, but he is dead. I don’t want a dead asshole demon to ruin this for us. He’s gone, we’re here and we love each other.”

Matt said nothing for a while. But Foggy could see that he was contemplating his words. Finally, Matt spoke.

“I don’t want him to have so much power over us either,” he said. “But even less I want to make you uncomfortable.” Matt sighed. “He was right. The demon, I mean. I was angry that he just took what I wanted. If I had been braver in the past, or just less oblivious to your feelings, maybe he wouldn’t have…”

“Matt.” Foggy adjusted his position so that he was kneeling next to Matt and took his hands. “A demon with centuries worth of experience in human emotion was better in recognising the signs that I love you than you. So what? Let’s face it, I didn’t make a move on you either because I thought you’d reject me. We can’t undo the past. But we can move on.”

Matt shifted to mirror Foggy’s position. Kneeling opposite each other, they held each other’s hands.

“I guess, what I’m saying is, maybe this time take what you want?” Foggy added after a while. Grinning, he added, “Instead of waiting for another demon to possess you and do it for you.”

Matt’s eyes went wide and he choked out a disbelieving laugh.

“Too soon?” Foggy asked innocently.

“A little bit,” Matt said. His tone was scolding, though he couldn’t help a grin forming on his face. “But you’re right.”

He surged forward. Foggy’s sound of surprise was lost when Matt captured his lips. Simultaneously, Matt’s hand tangled in Foggy’s hair and Foggy’s arms slung around Matt’s neck. With a pleasant sigh against Foggy’s mouth, Matt pulled Foggy closer. Chest to chest, they kept kissing, hungry but tender.

Gently, Matt took off Foggy’s shirt. Afterwards, he lowered him to the mattress and climbed on top of him. Foggy lifted his butt so Matt could pull down his boxers, leaving him naked underneath Matt. Matt was quick to get rid of his own clothes before turning his attention to Foggy’s body.

Matt’s hands ran tenderly across Foggy’s skin. His chest, the round of his belly, his hips, all parts of Foggy were showered in loving attention. Each motion was slow, deliberate, leaving time and space for a no that never came.

Foggy trailed the scars on Matt’s chest and stomach with his fingers. Indulging himself, he roamed across the impressive muscles on Matt’s arms and legs. Now and again, their erections would brush, skin caressing skin and precum mingling.

After a while, Matt slid off of Foggy. “Get the lube,” he said and gave Foggy’s butt a light slap when Foggy scrambled out of bed to obey. As soon as the lube was pressed into his hands, Matt pushed Foggy down again. A satisfied grin spread on his face when Foggy spread his legs the moment his back hit the mattress.

“Eager,” he commented while his lubed fingers made their way between Foggy’s arsecheeks.

“Thanks for noticing.” 

Very careful, Matt prepared them both. When he was done, he covered Foggy’s body with his own. After lining himself up, he slowly pushed in. 

Playfully, Matt nipped at Foggy’s bottom lip while he waited for Foggy to adjust. His mouth kissed a path across Foggy’s jaw, let his teeth scrape along the neck until he found the slope of the shoulder where he lingered for a while, kissing and licking.

With a whispered, “Please, Matt,” Foggy signaled that he was ready. After one more kiss, Matt braced himself on his arms and started moving.

An expert for Foggy’s body by now, Matt knew how to touch, to kiss, to move. Each thrust found Foggy’s sweet spot flawlessly, having Foggy beg and moan within no time. Matt looked very smug as Foggy writhed underneath him, but his own elated breath and every increasing pace proved that he felt a similar degree of need.

When Foggy tensed, Matt entwined their hands. Foggy spilled between their joined bodies, Matt inside Foggy, both with each other’s names on their lips. 

Foggy went limp on the mattress, sighing pleasantly. Chuckling, Matt climbed off of him to clean up, but immediately returned to pull Foggy into his arms. They kissed softly and lazily, the sated desperation leaving nothing but contentment.

“Hey,” Matt whispered. 

“Hm?”

“I think you were right.”

“Happens to me very often,” Foggy said. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Fair.” Matt smiled. “We can’t undo anything, but we can do a lot.”

“I said that?”

“I’m summarizing. You’re wordy.”

“Not right now.” Foggy yawned. “Can we sleep?”

“Of course, love.” 

Matt pulled the covers over them both. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep and they didn’t let go of each other the whole night.

*

Four months later

Foggy awoke because his butt was cold. The blanket had slipped away and where the warm body of his boyfriend should be, was just an empty half of the bed. 

"Outrageous,” he grumbled, adjusting the blanket.

Matt’s voice sounded from the living room. Apparently, he was on the phone and, from what Foggy heard, just now saying goodbye. Footsteps approached and the door opened. Matt smiled softly.

“Sorry, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“I was woken by the loathsome lack of a loving lover to lovingly keep me warm.”

"Outrageous!” Matt said as he slid back under the covers.

“That’s what I said!”

“I know. I heard.” Matt grinned.

“Smartass,” Foggy grumbled and snuggled up against Matt’s chest. “Was that Luke?”

“Danny. Everything seems to be okay in Pleagrove.”

“Did he do a demon swipe?”

“He called it differently,” Matt said on a laugh. “But basically.”

“No demon residue? Or a new demon, feeling drawn to the ‘natural symmetry’?” Foggy asked.

“Nope, all good. But they’re still going to stay a few days.”

“To make sure?”

“Eh, not really,” Matt said. “Jess likes the apricot liqueur and Luke likes to spend some quality time with Jess.”

“And Danny?”

“Likes some quality time with Luke.”

“Makes sense.” Foggy chuckled. After a while, he said, “I’m glad you kept the house. After all this time, people get to enjoy it again.”

Matt nodded. “Same. We can’t change the past, but make the best of the future.”

“Wise words, Mr. Murdock.” Foggy pressed a kiss against Matt’s chest.  “Speaking of. Do you want pancakes in your near future?”

Matt shook his head. Grinning, he pushed Foggy onto his back and climbed on top of him.

“Let’s save the pancakes for the mid term future,” he purred. “I already have plans for the near future.”

“Oh, by all means, share your ideas,” Foggy said dramatically.

With a tender expression on his sharp features, Matt bent down. Foggy’s eyes fluttered shut when their lips met. Sighing pleasantly, he savored the gentle, loving kiss, grateful for the fact that he got to have this, that they both were still here. Safe. Together.

“I love you,” Matt said as he broke the kiss.

Smiling, Foggy answered, “I love you, too.”

It was true and it was enough.

The End