Familiar Bonds Part 5

Bell and Vivienne burst through the black curtains backstage, the echoes of the distorted music still ringing faintly in their ears. They expected a cramped, cluttered space, but instead, they stumbled into the same club as before—only it was different.  

The shadowy figures were gone. The air was heavier, colder, with a faint metallic tang that made Bell wrinkle her nose. Twisted metal chairs filled the room, their jagged edges gleaming faintly in the dim light. They resembled grotesque sculptures, all spindly legs and sharp curves, as though an artist had decided to make furniture inspired by nightmares.  

On the stage, across the sea of chairs, sat the Hat Man. His form, impossibly black and void-like, absorbed the light around him. Even his sharp edges seemed to shimmer and distort, as if he weren’t entirely in this reality.  

On his arm perched Poe, his feathers sharper, darker, and more menacing than before. His red eyes glowed faintly, unblinking, as he stared at Bell. At the Hat Man’s feet, a sleek black cat twisted and rubbed against his legs, its glowing green eyes fixed on Vivienne.  

“Poe,” Bell whispered, her voice trembling as her heart clenched.  

The Hat Man tilted his head, his featureless void of a face somehow radiating smug satisfaction. His voice, layered and dissonant, filled the room, echoing in their minds rather than their ears.  

“Ah, Bell,” he drawled. “I was wondering when you’d catch up. I must say, you’ve been terribly slow. Perhaps you didn’t want to know the truth after all?”  

Bell’s knees wobbled, but Vivienne snorted, hands on her hips. “Spare us the theatrics,” she snapped. “We’re here for the bird and the cat, and we’re not leaving without them.”  

The cat hissed, its tail flicking toward Vivienne.  

“Relax, Whiskers,” Vivienne said, raising an eyebrow at the feline. “I’m not here to steal your spotlight.”  

The Hat Man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down Bell’s spine. “Bold words from someone who has yet to pay her dues,” he said, his gaze shifting to Vivienne briefly before returning to Bell.  

“You haven’t spoken to him much, have you?” the Hat Man continued, his tone laced with mockery. He stroked Poe’s chest feathers with a long, shadowy finger. “Your little familiar. So loyal, so devoted. Or so you thought.”  

“Poe,” Bell said again, stepping forward, her voice desperate. “Come on. Come home. Whatever he’s told you—whatever this is—it’s not you. You’re my partner. My—my friend.”  

Poe tilted his head, his glowing eyes locking onto hers, unreadable.  

“Friend?” the Hat Man repeated, his voice dripping with derision. “Oh, my dear Bell. You still don’t understand, do you? Poe is no mere familiar. He is something far older, far more complex than you could ever comprehend. Bound to you not by loyalty, not by love, but by something much darker.”  

Bell froze. “What are you talking about?”  

The Hat Man leaned forward, his voice lowering to a near-whisper that seemed to echo in her very bones. “Your precious Poe is bound to you through a ritual that you’ve long since forgotten—a bond forged in desperation. He doesn’t follow you out of devotion. He stays because he must.”  

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Here we go. Monologue time. Do you practise these in a mirror, or does it come naturally?”  

“That’s not true,” Bell said, her voice shaking. She turned to Poe, her eyes pleading. “Tell me that’s not true.”  

Poe didn’t move, didn’t respond. His silence was deafening.  

Vivienne growled under her breath and began pushing her way through the maze of chairs, the twisted metal scraping and groaning under her touch. “I’m done listening to this garbage,” she muttered. “We’re taking them back, one way or another.”  

Bell stayed rooted to the spot, her chest tightening. “Poe,” she said, her voice cracking. “Please. Just tell me why. If this is true—if he’s telling the truth—why didn’t you ever say anything?”  

Finally, Poe shifted, his feathers rustling. His red eyes glowed brighter, and when he spoke, his voice was low, measured, and unfamiliar.  

“You never asked.”  

The words hit Bell like a blow. She took a shaky step back, her throat tightening as tears pricked her eyes.  

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said weakly. “You could have said something; we could have talked through this. How could you—how could this—”  

The Hat Man leaned back in his chair, his laugh reverberating through the room. “Oh, the fragility of trust,” he said, spreading his arms as if to embrace the tension. “It crumbles so easily, doesn’t it?”  

Vivienne, halfway across the room now, turned and yelled back at Bell. “Snap out of it! Don’t listen to him, Bell! He’s playing with you—just like he always does!”  

Bell’s hands balled into fists, her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to meet Poe’s gaze. “You’re not a prisoner,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Not really. Whatever this bond is, whatever happened, you chose to stay with me. That means something. It has to.”  

Poe tilted his head again, as though considering her words. But before he could respond, the Hat Man stood, his form towering and distorted, his presence making the room seem to shrink around him.  

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “The game has only just begun, and I won’t have you ruining it with your sentimentality.”  

With a snap of his fingers, the chairs began to shift and writhe, their twisted frames moving to block Vivienne’s path as the shadows in the room started to close in around Bell.  

“Now,” the Hat Man said, his tone gleeful and menacing, “let’s see how much that bond of yours is really worth.”  

Before Bell could react, the stage plunged into darkness, and Poe was gone.  

The twisted metal demons surged around them, their spindly limbs groaning as they scraped against the floor. Chairs transformed into grotesque figures with jagged edges and flickering red eyes, their distorted forms advancing with unnerving purpose.  

“Oh, fantastic!” Vivienne exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “First the cat, now the furniture. What’s next? The bar stools start breakdancing?”  

One of the demons lunged, its sharp metal limbs clanging against the floor as Vivienne leapt back.  

“This is ridiculous!” she shouted, “I knew a night out in a haunted demon club was a bad idea. Should’ve gone bowling instead!” 

Vivienne cursed under her breath, spinning on her heel and darting back toward Bell. "We need a plan!"  

Bell’s pulse raced, her breath coming in short gasps as the walls seemed to close in. “I don’t—what are they?!”  

“No time for questions!” Vivienne snapped, shoving a toppled table aside as the demons closed the gap. “We need out!”  

Bell’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. That’s when she saw it—a faint, glowing outline of a door, just visible behind the bar to their right.  

“There!” she shouted, grabbing Vivienne’s arm and pointing. 

 Vivienne followed her gaze. “Mystery door number two. Sure, why not? Let’s hope this one doesn’t lead to the broom closet of murder.” 

The two sprinted toward the bar, ducking low as the demons lashed out with sharp, spindly limbs. Vivienne vaulted over the bar first, landing with a grunt, and Bell followed, nearly losing her balance as a clawed appendage swiped at her back.  

“Go, go, go!” Vivienne barked, shoving Bell toward the glowing door. She swiped a glass off the bar and flung it at one of the pursuing demons. It shattered harmlessly on its jagged frame.  

“Yeah, take that!” Vivienne shouted, then grimaced. “Okay, bad idea. Let’s move!”  

Together, they crashed through it, the door splintering apart as they tumbled into the next room.  

Bell landed hard, her hands scraping against the ground as the air around her shifted again. She pushed herself upright, coughing as a cloud of ash swirled around her.  

The club was different now. The once plush carpet was gone, replaced by blackened, charred remains. The walls were scorched, their edges jagged and crumbling, as though they had barely survived a terrible fire. Flakes of ash floated down from what remained of the ceiling, drifting like snowflakes in the heavy, suffocating air.  

Vivienne stood, brushing soot from her arms as she scanned the ruined space. Her eyes locked onto the stage, and her face hardened.

 “Of course,” Vivienne muttered, brushing ash off her coat. “Because why wouldn’t this place have a literal hell pit?” 

Bell followed her gaze. Across the room, where the stage remained miraculously intact, sat Poe and the black cat. The stage glowed faintly, untouched by the destruction around it. Poe perched on the edge, his glowing red eyes fixed on Bell. The cat wound itself lazily around him, its emerald eyes gleaming with quiet malice.  

Between them and the stage was a vast pit where the floor had collapsed, a deep, yawning chasm of darkness. A single, precarious wooden board stretched across the gap, barely wide enough for one person to cross.  

Vivienne didn’t hesitate. She marched toward the board with a single-minded determination, her boots crunching against the ash.  

“Vivienne, wait!” Bell called, her voice laced with panic. “It’s not safe!”  

“Neither is staying here!” Vivienne shot back, not breaking stride.  

Bell turned her attention to Poe, her heart aching. “Poe,” she called, her voice soft and pleading. “Please. I know you’re still in there. Whatever he’s telling you—it’s not true. Just fly over to me. We can fix this.”  

Poe tilted his head, his crimson gaze unblinking.  

From the shadows around the stage, the Hat Man’s dissonant voice drifted, low and taunting.  

“Fix what, Bell?” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do you think your bond can be mended with empty promises and hollow words?”  

Bell’s fists clenched, her throat tightening. “You don’t know anything about us.”  

“Oh, but I do,” the Hat Man purred, stepping into view. His form remained a void, an absence of light that distorted the air around him. He rested one shadowy hand on Poe’s back, stroking him like a prized possession.  

“Poor, stifled Poe,” he continued, his voice thick with feigned pity. “Bound to you, tethered by a ritual you don’t even remember. You think he wants this? You think he wouldn’t take freedom if it were offered?”  

Bell shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’re lying. Poe chose me. He stayed with me because he wanted to.”  

The Hat Man chuckled darkly. “Did he? Or was he simply trapped by your selfish need to keep him close?” He turned to Poe, his tone softening like a conspirator whispering in confidence.  

“Come now, my dear. Don’t you see? This bond weakens you. Chains you. Without her, you could be so much more.”  

Poe’s feathers ruffled, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly.  

Bell stepped forward, her voice cracking with desperation. “Don’t listen to him! Poe, you’re not a prisoner—you never were. I—I don’t care what he says. Just come back to me. Please.” 

“I’ll get him,” Vivienne said suddenly, starting across the wooden board with a determined scowl.  

“Vivienne, wait!” Bell shouted. “That thing doesn’t even look stable!”  

Vivienne waved her off. “Relax. I’ve walked in six-inch heels on cobblestones; this should be easy.”  

She stepped onto the board confidently, only to wobble immediately. Her arms flailed wildly as she fought for balance.  

“Okay,” she said, her voice high-pitched with panic, “maybe a little harder than cobblestones!”  

Bell looked back to Poe, her heart pounding as she waited for his choice. For a long, agonising moment, he didn’t move, the room holding its breath as the ash fell like snow.  

Finally, Poe shifted, his wings spreading slightly. Bell’s breath caught in her throat as hope surged within her.  

“Poe…” she whispered.  

But his next move wasn’t toward her. Instead, he leaned closer to the Hat Man, his beak brushing against the shadowy figure’s hand in a gesture that could only be described as acceptance.  

Bell’s chest tightened as the Hat Man laughed, a triumphant, echoing sound that reverberated through the ruined club.  

“See, Bell?” he said, his voice a cruel melody. “Even he knows the truth. Your bond is nothing but a cage.”