The Dark Lady and her Beasts
The Wheel of Fortune
Ao3
Strickler glanced at his phone's screen, rereading the message for what must have been the hundredth time.
Come to Carmine's at 6, the table in the back
He slipped his phone back in his pocket, giddiness bubbling up inside his chest. Readjusting his grip on his vase as he strode into the restaurant.
A dozen pink roses, their shade a perfect contrast to the sapphire blue of Barbara's eyes. Normally Strickler never would have considered something so cliché but Barbara deserved it. She deserved romance and grand gestures and the world laid at her feet. He'd paid the extra fee and had them cut and placed in a vase with a special fertilizer solution. And perhaps best of all no goblins had accosted his gift while it had sat in his apartment and the backseat of his car. Now all they needed was their water changed every other day. And If Barbara deemed that too much of a hassle she could gift it to one of her patients with the understanding on Strickler's part that he would choose a less high maintenance gift in the future.
A lightness the likes of which he'd never felt filled Strickler's chest as he wove between tables with his vase. He'd cared for humans in the past, but never like this. Barbara was extraordinary, deep compassion atop a backbone of steel. Their relationship was making him reconsider things he'd considered certainties for centuries, making him rethink everything.
He spotted the familiar shock of flame colored hair and made a beeline straight towards it, weaving through tables keeping a firm grip on the vase.
"Barbara I hope you don't mind, I but I saw these blooms and instantly thought of...."
Barbara whipped her head towards him, cheeks pink, unable to rise from her seat as she was packed into the booth by other bodies.
"Oh Walter I'm so sorry, I should have told you more of what this was about,"
The woman on her left, Toby's grandmother, Nancy if he remembered correctly, snickered.
"Don't apologize Barbara, you've clearly bagged a keeper,"
Barbara's flush deepened from pink to red.
Strickler slowly surveyed the table, taking in the various faces, gradually recognizing each of them as one of his students' parents.
"Th-- thank you for the flowers Walt, I appreciate them, I really do. But I-- we brought you here to discuss something serious,"
Intrigued and more than a little concerned, Strickler set the vase on the end of the table where it would be the least obstructive, and took a seat.
"What is it you all wish to discuss?"
The man directly across from him, Louis Scott, father of Miss Darci Scott, let out a heavy sigh "We've noticed some of our kids have been acting...unusual."
A knot formed in Strickler's stomach "Unusual how?"
The woman on his right, Mrs. Pepperjack, hung her head with a sniff "My little Eli's been sneaking out at all hours, I try to ground him but he just ignores me. And the other day his father set out a trap for raccoons and Eli just exploded on him. He's never acted like this before, I-- I just-- I don't know what to--"
Her sniffles turned in to full own bawls, burying her face in her hands as another woman, Julie Wang, reached over and patted her shoulders.
"Steve has been acting strange to," Naomi Palchuk spoke up in a monotone on his left "At first I was thrilled, the divorce had been so hard on him, I thought he was turning a corner, making new friends and having fun, but he's been sneaking out to. And every time I ask him where's he's been he lies to to me about it-- I know Steve's had...issues in the past, but whenever he acted up before he got defensive and evasive, he never tried to outright lie about where he was or what he was doing,"
Strickler nodded along slowly "I can see why you'd be concerned. If you don't mind, would the rest of you all share your specific concerns as well?"
Deep wrinkles appeared at the corner of Louis' eyes "Darci's been quiet, withdrawn, she used to tell me everything now all I get is surface level stuff. With my hours being what they are I honestly don't know if she's been sneaking out or not,"
He slumped back in his seat, looking so much older than his forty years "To be perfectly frank with my work hours and no other adults in the house there's a lot of stuff that Darci could be getting up to I'm simply not capable of stopping her from doing,"
"Mary's always been outgoing," Julie said quietly "Her behavior hasn't changed much, but now she's started wearing sunglasses and coats all the time, even inside. I...I tried confronting her about it, looking back that was a mistake, she screamed at me and stomped off to her room. A few minutes later she came back...naked from the waist up, she didn't have any scars or tattoos, but the way she blew up at me..."
Julie trailed off, nodding at a couple on her right.
Abigail Longhannon and Isaac Weaver, Shannon's mother and stepfather, shared a look.
"It was an adjustment..." Isaac said slowly "Me and Juniper moving in--"
"I'm sorry," Strickler cut in "Who is Juniper?"
"Oh! My daughter, Shannon's stepsister, she's ten. We've been blended for two years now but the girls never quite mixed. There's always been...tension there,"
"I thought it was just sister stuff," Abigail said, voice tight "Typical family drama. They're both at difficult ages and they've been through a lot, but lately things have become extreme,"
"Extreme how?" Strickler leaned onto the table with folded arms, voice gentle, gaze tender. A compassionate confidant all too willing to hear out someone's deepest, most vulnerable secrets, and had many times in the past.
"It-- it started last Thanksgiving, for some reason Shannon refused to eat anything but the turkey. June started teasing her about it and Shannon just-- just completely lost it, she actually punched a hole in my mother's drywall. At first I thought it was a one off thing but it's just escalated. Shannon's coming and going at all hours no matter what we say or do and now June's got this crazy idea that she's a snake monster that sheds her skin,"
Strickler blinked "I'm sorry what?"
"We don't think that's the truth at all," Isaac was quick to say "June-bug's always had a big imagination, but we started thinking that she might have seen something else and misinterpreted it,"
"That is...certainly something to think about,"
"And you know Jim," Barbara said softly, instantly commanding Strickler's full attention "He's been moodier lately, I thought it was...because of our relationship, so we took a step back and I thought things were getting better, but just the other day we were at the department store and he had a full blown panic attack,"
"That is concerning," Strickler said gently "But emotions, especially in teenagers, can manifest randomly without their direct target present, just because I didn't happen to be present at the time--"
"He ripped a mannequin in half." Barbara said, voice dead flat.
For the first time in decades Strickler found himself at a loss for words "He what?"
"Jim's struggled with anxiety for a few years now, but his outbursts have never been violent. He tells me nothing's changed but I can tell something's eating him up inside. I haven't noticed him sneaking out but with the hours I put in at the hospital he could be gone for hours without me knowing. I just-- I think my baby's in trouble..."
Almost instinctively Strickler moved to rise and wrap an arm around her shoulders but before he could even leave his seat Nancy and Abigail enveloped Barbara from either side.
Nancy glanced up at him, usually jovial face solemn "Toby may very well be sneaking out to, between my eyes and my hearing I can't say. But two nights ago something happened that deeply concerned me, the reason why I arranged this gathering,"
Nancy drew herself upright, steeling herself "Toby came to me...asking about what happens to us after we die, and...and whether he would see his parents again."
Strickler could see Nancy's fingers trembling as they gripped Barbara's shoulder.
"Normally that wouldn't concern me, goodness knows I've asked myself that more times than I can count over the years. But Toby sounded so...certain, not just that he'd see his parents again, but that they would be...angry with him,"
Strickler's breath caught in his throat, something cold and heavy settling in his gut. Out of all the things he'd heard tonight this was the most troubling.
"I tried to reassure him the best I could, but I don't think I did very well, and Toby absolutely refused to say why he would think such a thing," Nancy sucked in a deep breath "I think...I think my Toby has landed himself in something bad. And after hearing what everyone here has to say, I think all of the kids have, even if they don't realize it yet,"
Strickler slowly surveyed the crowd around the table "Given all that you have told me I'm concerned as well, but I do have a question of my own. Has anyone here tried to contact Mrs. and Mr. Nuñez?"
The silence following his words was deafening, furtive looks and strained glances passed across the table. Air thick with strained tension.
"We did but they...declined to join us," Julie said at last.
Stickler gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. Based on his experiences with them at parent teacher conferences he could infer exactly how such an inquiry went. How dare anyone accuse their angelic daughter of being anything less than perfect. If there was a problem surely it was one of the other children being a bad influence on their impeccable little progeny.
Louis sat up "But based on the fact that you brought up that name I assume you've noticed something with the kids?"
"Indeed I have," Strickler straightened "I have noticed all of your children pulling away from other peer groups and towards each other, my assumption had been that they were merely forming a clique of sorts, a typical phase of high school development. But your testimonies have confirmed that this is nothing so innocuous." he made a point to shift his gaze, looking each person at the table in the eye "I will keep careful watch on all of them, as should all of you. In fact I believe we should form a group chat, to keep each other informed of any and all concerning behavior in the children. Allowing any one of us to intervene if the need should become dire,"
Barbara gave a tight nod, eyes shiny and bright "Thank you Walt,"
*
Strickler slammed the car door shut and hurried into the school as fast as he dared.
Traitorous voices had been whispering in the back of his mind for centuries that he didn’t need Gunmar to create his own kingdom, it was only in the past year those whispers had become shouts. Growing steadily in volume ever since he'd sat down for that first date at Benoit's with Barbara.
Damn Bular and his thuggish stupidity.
Damn Gunmar for his careless indifference to all the changelings that had given their lives for him.
Strickler had spent centuries clawing his way tooth and nail to the top, and damn him he wanted something to show for it kneeling to a tyrant for the rest of his days.
He didn't want crumbs he wanted the whole bloody cake. His own fiefdom with no master save for himself, Barbara right there with him. Not above or beneath him, but standing beside him eye to eye. Teaching and guiding pupils on his own terms with no backwards school district bureaucracy getting in his way.
One swift turn of the lock and he was inside his office, another more discreet lock and soon he was inside his true workspace. Goblin free in what was becoming an unusual but frequent occurrence.
He moved to his workdesk and glanced around. All as exactly as he’d left it, neat and organized and quiet. No scattered papers or half chewed erasers, no sign of goblins here or having been here in some time. Cementing his choice.
Many number of less than flattering adjectives could be used to describe Strickler, a good deal of them probably accurate. But one thing Waltolomew Stricklander was not was superstitious.
He didn’t flee ships along with the rats or follow flocks of ravens out of some backwards, old world belief. He did it because rats could detect a sinking ship before any sailor, because where the birds went carrion was sure to be. Rats, carrion birds, goblins, and Stricklander themselves all had one thing in common, they were survivors.
No goblin would be composing poetry any time soon but the grimy little creatures were far from stupid. They knew disobedience towards their Gumm Gumm masters meant being left to the non-existent mercy of the Trollhunter. So if the goblins were shifting their alliance that meant either the Gumm Gumm war machine had cracks as of yet undetected, or they found another master even fiercer and more effective than Gunmar.
Either of those things opened up opportunity for Strickler, and one thing he would happily call himself was an opportunist.
Reaching into an innocuous stack of dictionaries and thesauruses Strickler pulled out a book that was anything but innocuous. Penned by the dishonorable Bodus, some say cursed during his dying breath, crafted using twisted, forbidden magics, stolen by Strickler himself during the war that nearly cracked the planet in half.
The Book of Ga-Huel. An enchanted tome capable of revealing all secrets past, present, and future. Many a troll, changeling, and human had gone mad trying to pursue it’ pages, even Strickler himself only glanced at it sparingly, lest he lose himself in the allure of trying to divine his future instead of shaping it with his own hands.
He rested his hand on the cover and steadied himself with a breath.
But if the tide was changing that meant chaos was inevitable. And if Strickler wanted to control the chaos he needed information, inside information that no one else had access to.
Utilizing the book was not without risk, but the promised rewards dangled tantalizing above his head.
Forcing his eyes open, Strickler opened the book to a random page.
Attempting to force to book to do one’s bidding almost never worked, in Strickler’s experience the book of Ga-Huel understood what its readers needed to know better than they did. The best way to navigate it was to let the book guide you to the answers it wanted you to see.
The page before him shimmered, a blank canvas, then black lines started to appear, an inked image rapidly taking form before his very eyes.
When the picture was complete Strickler could only stare at it in horror.
One of his students, Miss Shannon Longhannon, strangled by an off page figure. Frantically clawing at the cord wrapped tight around her neck. Animalistic pain and terror on her face etched in lines of ink so clear and crisp in was almost like looking at a photo.
Strickler felt his blood run cold. Was one of his students about to be the target of violence? Not overly surprising given his conversation earlier this evening, and admittedly he did care for all of his students, and he would gladly protect any of them from harm, but brutality among humans, even teenage ones, was far from a rare occurrence, why would the book of Ga-Huel show him this?
The edge of the page started to curl, reading the book’s intentions Strickler gripped and turned it.
Now it was Eli Pepperjack, his head and torso being forced beneath what looked to be water. Face a mask of panic and terror, framed by violent splashes of ink.
A chill ran underneath his skin. One occurrence of violence among his students wasn't too far outside the norm, but two...
Another turn of the page. Toby Domzalski, his throat opened up by a curved blade, eyes wide in a perfect expression of shock as blood sprayed out. So visceral Strickler could almost feel the spatter on his cheek.
Strickler’s blood ran cold, frantically whipping through the pages, each one showing one of his students, one of the ones their had parents singled out as ‘troubled’ earlier tonight, being viciously slaughtered.
Steve Palchuck, head bashed in with a metal rod.
Mary Wang, brutally hacked by machetes while she writhed in agony.
Darci Scott, crushed beneath a pile of rubble.
But it was the final picture that struck him the most, not the least of which because it contained two students.
Jim Lake, front covered in blood, eyes glazed and unfocused, clutched in the grip of Claire Nunez. Head thrown back in a wail.
Strickler could practically hear her primal scream of agony and despair.
Abruptly the book slammed shut. Whatever message it had been trying to impart now complete. Now it was up to Strickler to decipher the pieces.
At first he'd thought the parents' intervention and his own changing ambitions were mere coincidence, but the book of Ga-Huel proved that it most certainly was not. Strickler wasn't sure how yet, but his fate was tied with that of his students. And his students were on a path that ended in violent, bloody death, but was this due to trouble they’d stumbled into on their own or the machinations of whatever new player held sway over the goblins? Or perhaps those two were one in the same, this new mysterious player deciding to use Strickler’s own students as their pawns.
He quickly shoved the book back inside its stack of dictionaries and went to work, scouring his office for any and all totems that could be of use.
There were too many unknowns to make definitive moves yet, whoever was pulling his students’ strings may be delighting in using Strickler’s own pupils against him, or they may have simply recruited a group of gullible teenagers to do their bidding, completely ignorant of Strickler’s role in their lives.
Too soon to tell, couldn’t risk showing his hand by making a move prematurely. He had to play this carefully, delicately probe into each of their lives, find whatever common thread was pulling them and follow it back to its source.
Pockets and briefcase now heavy with far more than essays, Strickler shut and locked his office, both of them, and began swiftly striding towards his car.
Only one thing was certain, his students were on a course to inevitable tragedy, and Srickler’s success lay in finding the road that prevented it.
His grip tightened around the leather of his satchel, centuries of indignation bubbling up.
He’d spent his entire life bowing and scraping, fighting for scraps to scrape out the most meager of places at Gunmar’s feet, sacrificed so much…
Well no bloody more.
Enough was enough, Strickler had given everything he had ten times over in service to the Gumm Gumm overlord, that damn brute wouldn’t receive another drop.
Damn compromise, damn sacrifice. Waltolomew Stricklander was getting everything he desired, sovereignty, power, community, all of it, even if he had to tear it free with his bare teeth.
