Chapter Text
The night before the full moon, Guillermo drove to the corner of Ashley Street and parked his car. It wasn’t really necessary to drive, but the car was good for making a hasty exit should that be needed. It was a relief to be out and about, he was beginning to feel a bit suffocated. But instead of getting out, he sat frozen in the driver's seat, observing two pigeons either fighting or fucking in a nearby tree, through the window with laser like intensity.
“It’s your decision.” Tessa had said to him before he left, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had nodded stiffly.
“You want me to come with you?” she'd asked, then.
“Yes.” he told her “But don’t.”
Her laugh had sounded so forced but she took his hand, forcibly unclenching the fingers and squeezing it for a moment. She kissed his cheek in that maternal way of hers. It didn’t help.
The walk to the manor and up the garden path might as well have been a hundred miles. Thinking about the fact that it was more than likely the last time he would do this didn’t help either.
He didn’t knock, the door was unlocked. A click and a push and he came face to face – or close enough to it – with Nadja in the foyer. Her eyes widened, but she got that reaction under control quickly enough and hardened her face, folding her arms and glaring at him as he pulled the door closed behind his back.
“I thought I’d come in and say goodbye,”
“Well haven't you got a fucking nerve.” She snapped.
He was underprepared for this. He opened his mouth to say…he didn’t even know what, then heard Laszlo's voice from the fancy room.
“My darling, let the boy come in.”
She huffed but stood aside. Guillermo crept forward, not wanting to get too close to her. Peering ‘round the curtain under the stairs he caught a glimpse of the new familiar, whats-his-name watching him with a wide-open face.
Best of luck to you, buddy. Hope you survive longer than the last one.
He went into the library. Laszlo sat in his usual spot. He closed and set down his book as Guillermo filled the doorway, regarding him with a pensive expression.
Guillermo wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. “It’s a shame it has to be this way.” Was what he eventually settled on.
Laszlo nodded, simply. “Yes, it is.” Silence then. Interminably awkward. Guillermo had hoped to see Colin Robinson. It was only just nightfall, perhaps he wasn't home yet.
Grimacing, he turned to go.
“I say, Gizmo?”
He turned back.
“You’re certain you have all you require?”
Guillermo nodded, “I took all my stuff already.”
“And you have sufficient funds?”
“I think so. I've got a fair bit saved, and I shouldn't have too many expenses."
“Well. If you find anything amiss, do call, and let us know.”
“Thank you, Laszlo.” Guillermo wouldn’t take their money. Well. He wouldn’t take any more of their money, anyway. He was thanking Laszlo for the offer, and what it represented. He felt like he'd been understood.
There was a sudden muffled thud somewhere northwest in the building. Guillermo drew a breath.
"Can I...?" he trailed off, jerking his head awkwardly in the direction of the noise.
Laszlo looked grim. "I won't stop you. But I wouldn't recommend it."
"He is in, then."
"Hasn't been out since you left to my knowledge."
Guillermo sighed heavily. There was a lot more he wanted to say, but he knew any attempt at sentiment would only spoil an otherwise pretty pleasant goodbye. So, he just gave a tight smile and ventured back out into the hall.
It was another hundred mile walk to Nandor’s crypt. He stood before the door, contemplating for an eternal moment. There was a version of him – about five years out of date – that would have been thrilled by the prospect of Nandor being this cut up about his absence. But the present-day Guillermo just felt guilty. There was an undercurrent of anger, and a tiny smidgen of self-satisfaction. But mostly guilt.
He knocked, “Hello? It’s…it’s Guillermo. I’m going now, it’s happening tomorrow. I came to say goodbye.”
Silence. He’d be self-conscious, worried that he was talking to no one. But he knew Nandor was there. He knew.
He deliberately hadn’t rehearsed this particular goodbye, because out of all of them he had the least idea of how it was going to go. Coming here tonight he’d half expected Nandor to be absent. He didn’t know whether he was relieved that he wasn’t or not.
“I...” he began, falteringly “I…” love you. I love you.
He shook his head, “…I really care about you Nandor. I want you to remember that. And I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you. Not ever. I don't want to leave you either, but I think this is for the best. I just wish...”
He swallowed past the thickening lump in his throat. The word ‘wish’ conjured up many unwelcome memories.
“I wish you nothing but the best.” He continued, course-correcting, “Stay safe, don't...don't join any cults or - or try to pet any skunks –,” he chuckled in spite of himself, “Try to be happy...please. You deserve that. We both...we both deserve that."
Still no answer. He hadn't really expected one.
He wasn’t going to cry. He was determined of this. He leant his forehead against the thick wood of the crypt door and said a silent prayer. Please God, I know I’m not worthy, but I beg you keep him safe. Keep them all safe.
He left in a daze. It was a feeling not unlike how he remembered it was to be hypnotised.
He wanted to go. He didn’t want to leave. He loved them all and he resented them deeply. He was excited. He was scared. He was totally numb. All these disparate feelings bloomed and warped as colours in a kaleidoscope. He’d had one of those once, an orange plastic thing, he thought it may have been a Christmas present one year, when he was a kid.
The night was clear. Shimmering. Azure blue-black. A portent.
The car was good for crying in too.