NOTHING LIKE A GOOD GHOST HUNT: Part 1
TITLE: Nothing Like a Good Ghost Hunt
PAIRINGS: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Gwaine, Lancelot/Gwen, and hinted-at others.
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: ~ 18k
SUMMARY: Merlin and his team are commissioned to investigate the hauntings at the famed Camelot Castle and get more than they bargained for when they find that the paranormal investigation team led by Arthur Pendragon has been commissioned to do the same.
NOTES: Written for Prompt #15 for merlin_horror fest.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3
NOTHING LIKE A GOOD GHOST HUNT
There were five golden rules when hunting ghosts.
Number One: Do your research.
This was the first golden rule for a reason. You couldn’t begin to hunt a ghost or resolve a haunting without finding out as much as you could about the haunting location and likely spirit culprit.
The location of current interest was an old library in Feltham, built in the early 1900s, with many of its original rooms still intact though heavily renovated to make the library accessible to a larger group of patrons and to accommodate the technological advances of the past century. Though partly modernized, it was still considered ‘quaint’ and any other time, Merlin might have enjoyed spending the day roaming around the library, taking in the splendid architecture and revelling in the rather vast collection of early edition books. But today was a working day not a leisure day, so much of the quaintness went unexplored, including a look at a first edition copy of Dickens’ Great Expectations that the library boasted to have on display.
The likely spirit culprit in this case was one Maybel Dixon who, it was discovered, had presided over the original library as an assistant librarian between 1916 and 1918 when she met her untimely death at the hands of the wife of her lover, the Head Librarian - one John Stowte. The wife - Lucy Stowte - had become enraged when she learned that her husband was having an affair with the efficient but rather lovely (as indicated by the photographs the library held in its collection) Maybel. It had been told that Mrs. Stowte confronted Maybel in the reading room on the second floor of the library as Maybel was meticulously picking up and organizing books to re-shelve in their proper places. The librarian had apparently been caught by surprise when Lucy Stowte declared her a ‘trollop’ (mostly speculation but consistent throughout accounts), and she clutched the books to her chest to prevent them from falling, which had unfortunately left her somewhat defenceless when Lucy stabbed her in the abdomen with the sterling silver nail file from her bureau set she had tucked away in her handbag.
Accounts of Maybel’s murder by patrons in the library at the time mention shrieks that drove shivers down spines and, strangely but perhaps not shockingly, screams that were heard throughout the library about books being ruined (one account quoted the librarian as screaming, “My books! My beautiful books!) Apparently, Maybel Dixon had taken her role as assistant librarian very seriously and was purported to have anointed herself “Keeper of the Books”. It seemed likely that Maybel had not taken kindly to being murdered before she had been able to secure the books in their proper places and her between-worlds presence in the library may well have reflected her belief that she had to complete her task. At least that was Elena’s take on the haunting. Merlin, on another hand, figured that Maybel was just pissed off and wanted to wreak havoc for a while until someone told her it was time to let it go.
What was perhaps most interesting about this haunting was that Maybel Dixon had been dead for almost a century and yet the wreaking of havoc (which generally indicated a poltergeist) had only begun in recent months. Sure, there had been periodic reports of sudden cold spots in the library, books falling from shelves all of a sudden, and sightings of faint apparitions over the years since Maybel’s murder, but nothing monumental as far as hauntings went. Three months ago, however, coinciding with a rash of vandalism in the library by youths, Maybel’s largely dormant spirit had apparently awoken. Books flew rather than fell off of shelves; unseen hands ‘pushed’ patrons and staff down the staircase connecting the first and second floors; flashes of light appeared down hallways and around corners and patrons reported hearing whispers that sounded like soft shriekings of, “My books! My beautiful books!” (probably induced by suggestion rather than anything else). The incident that had led to calling Merlin’s team involved an entire book shelving unit being ‘pushed’ over by the alleged spirit which had nearly crushed one of the youths suspected of the vandalism.
This had led to Merlin’s working theory that Maybel was pissed off that these kids were messing with her books and her library and she had seemed to have no qualms about seriously injuring them. This made Merlin further wonder if maybe Maybel didn’t have her own deep, dark secrets hidden somewhere the accounts and records hadn’t revealed. She may have been an efficient librarian and professed Keeper of the Books but Merlin suspected Maybel Dixon may have had a dark past she hadn’t wanted anyone to discover.
Number Two: Never hunt alone.
Merlin was not hunting this ghost or resolving this haunting alone. He had a complement of competent team members who were helping him. There was Lance, of course, their resident research nerd who had unearthed and put together the back story of the library and its first librarian and assistant librarian. Lance was, as always, dutifully at the ready, hunkered over his laptop, waiting for any signal from Merlin that additional information was needed, very likely with Will, their visual/audio guy, hanging over his shoulder. Elena and Freya were busy smudging various sections of the library, ensuring that any and all spirits were being cleansed away, along with any residual negative energy. And he had Gwaine, who was responsible for ensuring everyone’s safety and made tactical decisions when the need arose, although if Merlin knew Gwaine he was likely chatting up the current and very pretty librarian in the library office while the rest of the team did their thing under the guise that he was making sure that she remained safe.
Merlin, who was currently in the thick of things as far as the ghost hunt and haunting resolution were concerned, was the team’s (fearless) leader and what some called an “intuitive” - not a psychic, which is what Elena claimed to be, but someone who could sense or feel paranormal phenomena like spirits and ghosts. When he was a boy, his mother had told him he had “magic” as a way of helping to explain his unique gift. Now that he was older and in the business of ghost hunting, Merlin had occasion to meet other intuitives - like Freya, for example - people who had a similar sensing gift.
He was definitely feeling the spirit of Maybel-the-librarian now, even if his eyes couldn’t see her. And the feeling was dark - ominous and sinister. This is what had been fuelling Merlin’s suspicions that perhaps Maybel had secrets she hoped would stay buried.
Number Three: Never let them see you sweat.
Merlin wasn’t exactly sweating, but he was about to blow his top. And that was after, at the start of all of this, he had been close to peeing his pants - another ghost hunting no-no (never show fear) and not just because it would be embarrassing and because Gwaine would tease him mercilessly and never let him forget it.
But, thankfully, the urge to piss had given way to being pissed off. After raising the hair on the back of his neck a few times (he refused to admit she’d scared the wits out of him at least twice), the librarian ghost had begun to get cute with him and Merlin’s patience was past the point of being tried. He had finally been able to corner the spirit in the private collection section of the library and it was well time to cast her out.
“Come out, come out wherever you are...” he taunted bravely because she was just a ghost, after all.
Merlin thought he heard snickering.
Oh, he thought determinedly, this librarian ghost bitch was going down!
Number Four and Five: Get the job done and get the hell out.
These were golden rules number four and five, respectively, but Merlin liked to think of them as a combined rule since it seemed kind of ridiculous to him not to get the hell out after the job was done. What was the point of hanging around? No, best to cast the ghost out from its haunting place, scram, and never look back.
And it was high time for both the ghost and the ghost hunter to face the proverbial music. Catching a glimpse of the spirit’s reflection on the monitor screen of the computer sitting atop the reading table, Merlin knew that the spirit was hovering just in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the row of bookshelves. He turned and faced the spirit, illuminated by the morning light coming from the window. As far as ghost apparitions went, this one was fairly well formed. Merlin could make out Maybel’s shapely figure in the skirt and jacket suit that was fashionable in her day, the austere swept up hair, and the features of her face that had made her alluring and attractive. It was no wonder John Stowte’s head had been turned. Maybel had been quite the looker. But there was also a trace of something sinister in her expression that made Merlin want to shudder.
He suppressed the urge and turned his attention back to the task at hand, uttering the strange words he instinctively knew to say: “Grith faestne mid thisse tintregedan sowle! Ablinn du, forlaet du nu!” (This roughly translated, or so he believed, into “Give peace to this tortured soul! Leave now/be gone!”)
The spirit reacted but seemed torn, perhaps measuring the merits of staying to deal with unfinished business and wanting to be released from its between-worlds prison. Merlin spoke the words again, trying to convince the spirit that being released and leaving this place was in the best interests of all.
The librarian ghost made one last effort to resist, the spirit coming at him in a fury of screeching and wailing, which did nothing to help Merlin’s already near-frazzled nerves. He deflected the spirit’s attempt to assail him with a quickly uttered, “Forp fleoge!”, another pair of words he used on instinct but that he had always been reasonably certain was some version of “Keep the fuck away!”
And just like that, the restless spirit of Maybel Dixon departed from the here and now and returned to the world she belonged. Merlin stood between the bookshelves for a few minutes, using his ability to intuitively sense any sign that the spirit of Maybel still lingered.
Merlin allowed himself a sigh of relief. He sensed nothing, except for his own urge to get the hell out as quickly as possible now that the job was done.
Merlin turned the key and pushed open the door, stepping into the place he called home, which was basically an old apothecary shop that he had inherited from his great Uncle Gaius. He set his rucksack on the antique tincture cabinet in front of the curtained window by the door and flicked a switch to illuminate the middle section of the shop with soft light.
Two years ago, when Gaius had passed, Merlin had found that the apothecary shop, which he had fiddled around in under Gaius’ supervision since he had been a boy, had been left to him. Not wanting the responsibility of running a shop full-time, he had basically converted the shop - circa 1791 - into a living space. Merlin had left the cabinets, jars and chests in the main shop area for nostalgic purposes, and had thrown in a Georgian period sofa, armchair, tables and lamps for a more homey look. He had converted the shop counter into a make-shift kitchen, adding a stove and fridge, while making eclectic use of the vintage shop jars, beakers, bottles and bowls as kitchen ware. At the back of the shop, there were three additional small rooms - one he used as a bedroom, one as a bath, and one as an office - each of the rooms featuring antique cabinets as part of the decor. It turned out apothecary chests came in rather handy.
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way over to the rust-coloured sofa, thinking it would probably do him good to soak in a nice, hot bath. Of course, the bathroom was equipped with a large claw-foot tub that was perfect for long therapeutic soaks and romantic bubble baths - not that Merlin generally had time for either. But it was one of those luxuries he tended to indulge in from time to time - at least the therapeutic soak - especially after a gruelling ghost hunt.
Something white and rectangular caught his eye by the door and Merlin wondered that he hadn’t seen it when he had come in, as he would have had to step right over it. Mysterious, he thought, then laughed to himself. Being in the ghost-hunting business, he supposed he was prone to turning many a thing into a mystery. It made the job - which was actually quite mundane, to tell the truth - somewhat more exciting.
The something turned out to be an envelope, which Merlin guessed must have been slipped under his door. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was cream not white with his team’s official name handwritten on the front in bold, defined strokes. Merlin carried the envelope with him over to the sofa, where he sat propping his feet up on the low drawer chest that served as a coffee table, and slid a metal bar used for separating pills under the envelope flap.
Inside was a single-page letter on fancy paper, gold letterhead pronouncing The Dragon Trust, signed at the bottom by someone named Kilgharrah, who must have addressed the envelope if the handwriting of the signature was anything to go by. Merlin’s eyebrow quirked up as he read through the content with interest, his excitement growing with each word he read. What Kilgharrah was proposing was absolutely the most fantastic thing his team would ever be a part of - if they decided to take the job. And surely they would since there was actual promise of funding and quite a bit of it too.
He set the letter down on the chest table top, his body feeling instantly renewed with the excitement now thrumming through it. Merlin decided to postpone the bath soaking in favour of a quick shower so that he could call a meeting of his team to discuss Kilgharrah’s proposal.
Already, Merlin could feel the strain from resolving the library haunting slipping away as he thought about the exciting opportunity that had mysteriously been presented to them.
The team of ghost hunters was gathered in Merlin’s apothecary shop living room, listening intently as Merlin told them of Kilgharrah’s letter and his proposal. Well, all except for Gwaine who was rooting around in Merlin’s fridge, listening at the edge.
“This juice or poison?” Gwaine asked, holding up a vintage apothecary jar of pinky-orange liquid.
Merlin saw Will roll his eyes and heard Elena giggle. “Come on, Gwaine, you know I keep the poison in jars on the shelf,” Merlin reminded him, gesturing toward the stock of shelved jars behind the counter.
Gwaine shrugged then poured himself a vintage beaker full of what was actually raspberry lemonade.
Gwaine’s interruption gave the rest of his team time to consider and assess what Merlin had just told them.
“So this would be a paying gig that would be equally split among the BOO-Busters?” Will, who was the one always the most concerned about finances, asked frankly.
Officially, they were known as the BOO-Busters (even now, Merlin couldn’t help grimacing at the name and he much preferred to go to that fantasy place in his mind where they were known as the more sophisticated “Team Emrys”) and this was the name that had addressed the envelope. Of course, when they had first started, Will had wanted to call them the BOOgers but most everyone had objected on principle (except Gwaine who insisted he liked the sound of it) and so some sort of compromise had been made, with the end result being the BOO-Busters.
“Thirty thousand pounds upfront plus expenses,” Merlin told him, “and another thirty upon presentation of evidence.”
Will let out a whistle. Merlin knew what he was thinking - what they were all thinking. This job would net them each a cool ten thousand pounds, which was far more than they usually ever got for hunting ghosts or resolving hauntings. The truth of it was, ghost hunting was a rather expensive hobby. They did the rounds, of course, at the various paranormal conferences and conventions to garner sponsorship for their activities and occasionally secured funding from celebrity benefactors or were paid outright for their services by owners of places that were haunted, but payments tended to be relatively small and generally only covered the expenses involved in the hunting. This kind of sponsorship and funding was not enough to actually live on; certainly none of them could afford to quit their ‘day jobs’.
And each of them, for the most part, had pretty decent day jobs. Merlin made use of his chemistry degree to concoct herbal remedies, ointments and tinctures, which he sold to a very select local clientele as well as online through a website Lance had created for him. Freya was an emergency dispatcher and Will was a wedding photographer/videographer. Lance was an IT technician who worked as a consultant for several upscale corporations. Elena was a freelance psychic who, like Merlin, provided service to a select local clientele (many of their regular customers overlapped); she also ran a website where she mediated live chats and provided information about psychic abilities. Gwaine claimed to provide elite security to a prominent business in the city, but Elena suspected that was Gwaine-speak for being a bouncer at the local pub. And Elena would know. She was psychic, after all.
“What kind of evidence is expected?” asked Lance, the practical one of the bunch.
“The usual,” Merlin said. “Photos, videos, EVP recordings. Anything that captures the presence of spirits.”
Lance nodded. It was the standard request.
“And this trust corporation or whatever it is says it can get us in and out of Camelot?” Freya asked sceptically.
This was the part Merlin was both excited about and troubled over. The location the team was being asked to investigate was the ruins of the famed Camelot Castle. All of England and much of the world was familiar with the legends surrounding Camelot and its castle fortress. While parts of the castle had been destroyed in battle during the medieval period, the castle as a whole remained and was visible(though perpetually shrouded by mist and fog) from respectable distances. There had been numerous attempts on the part of both the government and private parties to explore the castle ruins with the hope even of opening the castle to the public, but these attempts had been ultimately thwarted in turn.
The primary difficulty was that the castle ruins at Camelot were hard to actually find, even though they were visible. Those who ventured to journey there found themselves quickly disoriented and lost, often ending up where they had started, no closer to reaching their destination. It was said that the castle was guarded by spirits that were efficient in keeping people away, spirits connected to the legendary tales that had enticed people for centuries.
Occasionally, there were reports of someone or some group having made their way to the castle ruins but who were ultimately driven back by the spirits. These people inevitably achieved fame for a brief period, capitalizing on it by writing books, giving talks, establishing websites, and selling things collected during their ‘visit’ (the authenticity of these items was suspect and any knowledgeable ghost hunter or antiques dealer would quickly dismiss it as bunk). To Merlin’s knowledge, no one had ever come back with real evidence - spectre photos, EVP recordings, thermal image video. This meant that, for the most part, Camelot Castle remained a dangling carrot to paranormal investigators (and to many historians, Merlin would dare say). And now the BOO-Busters had a chance to grab a firm hold of that carrot and actually peel it. It was a ghost hunter’s dream.
“So, why didn’t this Kilgharrah chap ask Those Who Shall Not Be Named to check out the castle?” Will wanted to know.
It was a good question and one Merlin didn’t have an answer for. Of course, by “Those Who Shall Not Be Named” (they often shortened this to T.W.S.N.B.N when the mood struck) Will meant PPI - Pendragon Paranormal Investigations - which was led by Arthur Pendragon and his sister, Morgana. Given the location of the haunting - Camelot Castle - the PPI team would seem to be the much more logical choice. After all, it was believed that the last kings to reside in the castle before its abandonment some time during the late 5th century were, in fact, ancestors of the current Pendragon family, most notably King Uther and his son and successor, King Arthur.
“All the better for the BOO-Busters,” Elena said cheerfully and Gwaine, who had finally settled on the sofa beside her, gave a supporting whoop and nod.
Merlin looked at the five members of his team expectantly. “So, we in?”
As was team custom, each member was expected to cast a vote. Gwaine and Lance nodded, Will gave a shout of “hell yeah”, Freya murmured a soft “okay”, and Elena stared intently at Merlin, no doubt trying to communicate her vote telepathically (to date, this had never worked) which Merlin logically assumed meant she was in.
Merlin grinned. “Guess we’re going to Camelot.”
True to its word, The Dragon Trust, through Kilgharrah, had arranged for Merlin’s team to be dropped by helicopter right in the heart of Camelot. Once they were on ground, Merlin could admit (to himself, of course) that there had been moments during the air ride that had caused him some concern, particularly when the pilot began to have trouble steering the chopper once they approached the castle. And if Merlin had dug his nails into Lance’s thigh at that time, he was sure that his research expert, who had looked a tad dubious that they would land safely himself, would say nothing.
The Castle itself, though parts of it were in ruin and had never been repaired, was magnificently impressive and especially so up close. Of course, his team had experience with haunted castles. They were all familiar with the most famous castle hauntings - Chillingham, Warwick, Edinburgh; even without the lure of ghosts, these castles were impressive in design and architecture. But Camelot Castle was impressive on a whole other level. It was, to sound completely cliché, legendary.
They made their way across the courtyard, carrying equipment, food supplies, and their personal belongings. The arrangement with Kilgharrah called for the BOO-Busters to spend three nights at Camelot to obtain evidence of paranormal activities. It was not quite eight o’clock in the morning on Friday and they were to be picked up by helicopter on Monday morning. That gave the team ample amount of time to set up and perform their investigations.
“Where to?” Gwaine asked, setting a bin down that contained some of their food supplies.
Lance did the same with the burdens he was carrying and unfolded a large piece of paper, which Merlin knew was a rough blueprint of the castle that Lance had been able to put together from various sources.
“Probably best to pitch camp in the Great Hall, which might have been the Throne Room,” Lance replied, pointing his finger to a spot on his ‘map’. “That seems to be the hub and we can branch out our investigations from there.”
“Great Hall? Throne Room?” Will remarked. “Posh bunch of gits the Pendragons were.”
“Bet the current Pendragon princess has a throne room in his flat,” Gwaine joked and Will laughed.
Elena tsked but Merlin saw a grin playing at her lips that mirrored his own. Freya and Lance reserved judgment.
With Lance’s competent direction they traipsed through the castle, Elena occasionally stopping along the path to ooh and ah at various things she found impressive.
“Getting any vibes?” Gwaine asked Merlin and Freya.
“Just the usual ‘spooky place’ ones,” Merlin replied dryly, and Freya gave him wink. Merlin’s intuitive abilities tended to be stronger than Freya’s but even his ‘spidy senses’, as Gwaine and Will liked to call them, didn’t turn on as quickly as Gwaine was prone to believe.
“There’ll be plenty of time for Merlin and Freya to feel out the place once we get settled,” Lance reminded the group. He turned and motioned a lingering Elena to move along.
When they entered the Great Hall, the first thing they noticed was the absence of a throne. That was to be expected, of course. The second thing they noticed, however, was the presence of a massive round table, a little worn and dusty but otherwise impeccably preserved, the Pendragon crest of old carved into its centre, a testament to the legacy of the fair King Arthur. Merlin wasn’t sure what surprised his team more - that the table fabled to create equality among King Arthur and his knights was historically preserved and present or that there was a scattering of modern day belongings strewn on top of and around the famous Round Table.
They soon found out the reason for this puzzle when the members of PPI suddenly appeared, led by a frowning Arthur Pendragon.
“Well, well, isn’t this a surprise?” Morgana Pendragon said, arching a perfect eyebrow. In looks, she was almost the exact opposite of her brother - raven-haired and pale-skinned in comparison to Arthur’s blonde locks and golden skin.
Yes, Merlin thought cynically. Definitely a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Arthur Pendragon.
“We could ask the same,” Will returned in challenge.
“We’re here on a sponsorship,” Merlin told him, his suspicions mounting.
Arthur Pendragon cocked his head and gave Merlin a penetrating look. “Let me guess,” he said. “The Dragon Trust? A man who calls himself Kilgharrah?”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, not liking where this was going.
“Same here,” Arthur revealed, blowing out a sigh.
Will snorted. “Since when does PPI need sponsorship? You’ve got money up the yin-yang for investigations.” He gestured grandly around him. “Besides, kind of your family’s castle, isn’t it?”
Arthur ignored him. “Just stay out of our way,” he growled.
Merlin’s eye twitched in annoyance. “We have as much right to investigate as you do,” he said, trying to keep his temper at bay. “We’re all ghost hunters, after all.”
Arthur laughed, the throaty kind of laugh that was full of sarcasm. Arthur Pendragon was the team leader of Pendragon Paranormal Investigations, but he was also known to be one of the biggest sceptics around, which was highly ironic. Merlin knew he scoffed at terms like “ghost hunting” and “ghost hunters” and tended to hold disdain for self-identified ghost hunter groups like Merlin’s BOO-Busters.
As far as Merlin and his team were concerned (and was confirmed visually before them), PPI was all bells and whistles. They had the most up-to-date and expensive cameras, camcorders, EMF detectors, and EVP recorders. They wore matching black tactical vests with white PPI letting on the back, communicated using high-frequency headsets, and did on the spot research using their wireless-ready tablets. Merlin’s BOO-Busters, by contrast, were anything but high-tech and glamorous. Their standard ghost hunting attire was a mish-mash of whatever was comfortable , clean, and had enough pockets to carry their gear around. They got by with equipment bought on budget, used the tried-and-true walkie talkie method of communicating, and for reference they preferred good old-fashioned journal-style notebooks to electronic tablets (hey, if a journal was good enough for John Winchester and his boys, it was good enough for the members of Team Emrys).
Merlin stared Arthur down, ready to defend his team and their work against the jabs he was certain Arthur was intending to throw at them. Morgana wisely interjected.
“Okay, so here’s the situation. Both of our teams are here to investigate on the commission of the same sponsor. If the arrangements are the same, we both got money upfront with the promise of more money upon presentation of evidence. It makes no sense for us to battle each other and every bit of sense to work together.”
They all stared at her. Arthur was the first to speak.
“You can’t seriously be suggesting, Morgana, that we work with this team of-of misfit ghost busters?”
“Hey!” censured Gwaine.
“Oi!” Will complained. “Who you calling misfits?”
Morgana Pendragon folded her arms across her chest. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” she said. “Anyone else besides Arthur got a problem with that?”
Merlin was about to voice a vigorous protest in answer to her question when he realized Morgana was directing the question to her own team mostly. Shoulders were shrugged and heads were shaken and Morgana seemed to take that as unanimous approval for her suggestion of the two teams working together. She ignored her brother’s scowl and turned to Merlin.
“So?” she asked, her eyebrow arching.
Merlin felt trapped. On the one hand, working with PPI meant working with Arthur Pendragon and he was less than eager to join forces with the arrogant prat. On the other hand, pooling their resources and expertise together would be beneficial in obtaining evidence they both sought; at the very least, not having to compete would increase the likelihood of a successful investigation. Since there was little else besides the Arthur factor that he could use to argue against such an alliance, he found himself nodding to indicate that his team was in, knowing that Gwaine, Lance, Will, Elena and Freya would concede to his decision (even if Will would likely complain about it for some time later).
Morgana smiled as Arthur deepened his scowl. She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to know each other then.”
Like Merlin’s team, PPI consisted of six core members. There was Arthur and Morgana, of course, who were essentially co-leaders though it seemed pretty obvious to everyone that Arthur thought of himself as leader and Morgana as his second-in-command. Merlin was reasonably sure that Morgana let Arthur believe that to keep things simple but would not be one to back down if the circumstances warranted it; she had already shown that she was a capable leader. There was Leon, tall and bearded, who was basically PPI’s Gwaine. There was Elyan and Percy, who were introduced as the ‘camera crew’, and Merlin couldn’t help noticing that the giant - Percy - was giving Freya an interested look. Will and Elyan were already comparing cameras and talking excitedly, and Merlin thought that was a good sign. And there was Gwen, PPI’s researcher. Merlin was quick to note that Gwen was very pretty, with smooth cafe latte skin, dark curly-hair, beautiful doe eyes, and an engaging smile. If the look on Lance’s face was any indication, Merlin wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Merlin hid a grin as his research expert pushed his glasses up, cleared his throat, and then ambled over to say hello to the pretty Gwen, who beamed back at him.
Both teams unpacked their equipment and belongings in the Great Hall and then a plan was drawn up for their collective investigation. It was decided that the members of each team would pair up in order to keep the working relationship between them solid and effective. Will and Freya, along with Elyan and Percy, would work together as the audio/visual crew. As the primary researchers, Lance and Gwen would work together. Morgana was to pair up with Gwaine, the BOO-Buster’s security while Elena was to pair up with Leon, PPI’s security. That left, of course, Merlin and Arthur.
“Guess it’s you and me, Mulder,” Arthur Pendragon said and Merlin caught the quirk of his lips. Ha very ha.
“If you say so, Scully,” Merlin returned, not to be outwitted. At least he was the man in the pairing.
He expected another scowl from Arthur and was surprised to hear him chuckle in good humour. Apparently Arthur Pendragon could take a joke as well as dish one out. Maybe he wasn’t such a pompous arse, after all.
Merlin soon found out that he should have waited and reserved judgement on that call.
He and Arthur were in the west wing of the castle, prowling the corridors and rooms, looking for any signs of paranormal activity. Arthur had his fancy EMF detector out as well as a device used to pick up electromagnetic wave patterns. Merlin had similar equipment, not as fancy of course, but as usual was relying more on his ability to sense than anything else. He did not mention this to Arthur, of course, wanting to avoid ridicule but it seemed ridicule was to come nonetheless.
“So. The BOO-Busters,” Arthur commented sardonically as they made their way down a long corridor. “Really?”
“Yeah, because Pendragon Paranormal Investigations is not pretentious at all,” Merlin returned just as dryly.
“Well, at least we’re professional investigators,” Arthur defended ardently, “and not just a bunch of misfit yahoos running around chasing ghosts.” His eyes condescendingly raked over Merlin in his well-worn cargo pants and hoodie. “You know, I really don’t get why Kilgharrah would sponsor you and your bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters.”
Merlin stopped short, unable to prevent his mouth from dropping open, taken aback. Misfit yahoos? Bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters? Pendragon couldn’t be serious.
He crossed his arms against his chest and narrowed his eyes at Arthur. Then he backed up against the stone wall, steeling himself to deliver a few choice but scathing words about just how much of a pompous arse Arthur Pendragon really was. How dare he insult Merlin’s team like that? But before he could even begin his diatribe, the wall seemed to shift behind him and he yelped out a startled cry. Arthur, for all his pompous arseness, reacted quickly, reaching out to him, but Merlin was already falling backward.
He grabbed hold of Arthur’s tactical vest for anchorage but this proved to be a bad idea and only resulted in pulling Arthur along with him, both of them plummeting - well, more like sliding - down - definitely down - a dark passageway that easily stretched thirty or forty metres.
They were dumped, finally, onto a hard, cold floor, pitch-black darkness surrounding them.
And, of course, Arthur had landed squarely on top of him, the force of his weight knocking the breath out of Merlin. Elbows jabbed into his sides and a knee not so delicately dug into his thigh as Arthur gained his wits and rolled off of him.
“You okay?” Arthur’s voice broke through the darkness. There was rustling and then a beam of light lit upon Merlin as Arthur evidently found his flashlight.
“I think your elbow punctured my kidney,” Merlin said, sitting up slowly. “But other than that, I’m fine. You?”
“Terrific,” Arthur replied and Merlin could feel him smirking. “Lucky for me, your bony arse broke my fall.”
Merlin dug around in his hoodie pocket for his own flashlight. Arthur was already on his feet, shining the light around to gain their bearings.
“What is this place?” Merlin asked, getting to his feet, slightly put out that Arthur hadn’t at least offered to help him up. After all, his heavy (Merlin deliberately left out ‘muscled’ in his mind) frame had landed on Merlin’s much leaner one and that was after Arthur had pretty much insulted him.
“Not sure,” Arthur said, now moving along one wall, mapping out the space and likely looking for an exit. “Probably one of the vaults underneath the castle.”
Merlin surveyed the dark space with his light as Arthur continued to map along the walls. At first, all he saw were what looked like old crates and a few scattered objects mostly piled up in one area, which he guessed was probably the centre of the ‘vault’ given that he could see Arthur’s beam of light mapping a wall on the other side. He pointed his light to where Arthur now was, his eyes fixed on the heavy metal gate beyond. Arthur pulled on the bars then cursed.
Merlin walked over to him, careful to light his path to avoid bumping into a crate or some miscellaneous object - were those scrolls on the ground? Arthur pulled on the gate and cursed some more. Then he tapped his headset.
“Leon? Perce? Morgana? Anybody there?”
From the look on Arthur’s face, Merlin was pretty sure he wasn’t getting a response.
He nodded at Merlin. “You got your walkie?”
Merlin felt around in his cargos but came up empty. Fuck, he cursed silently. Where had his two-way gone? He uttered another silent oath. A good ghost hunter never lost means of communication with team.
“Probably fell out when we hit the floor,” Arthur said, quite generously Merlin thought considering not five minutes ago Arthur had called them a bungling bunch of Scooby-doo ghost busters.
Merlin flashed his light over to the spot they had landed, passing over the crates in the middle. Except there weren’t only just crates now. There were definitely objects, not the ones scattered about, but ones distinct, set apart by the fact that they were glowing.
“What the hell?” he murmured. He could make out two staffs, a chalice, a couple of crystals, some kind of decorative triskelion, and was that a trident?
“What?” Arthur said, making his way over to their landing site, apparently unperturbed by the glowing artifacts that had suddenly popped up.
Merlin stared at him. “Um, you don’t see them?”
“See what?”
Merlin waved his hand at the crates and the glowing artifacts. “That,” he said.
“You mean the crates?” Arthur’s face was visible from the light of the flashlights and at the moment it was looking rather pinched.
“Not the crates, Arthur! The other stuff. The stuff that’s glowing.”
Arthur’s mouth tipped into a frown. “Glowing? Did you hit your head on the floor or something, Merlin? ”
“Are you telling me you can’t see the artifacts over there that are freakin’ glowing?” Merlin asked with unsubtle exasperation. Arthur shook his head, his look similar. “Not even this trident - a freakin’ trident, Arthur - here--”
Merlin made to grab the trident so he could shove its glowing presence into Arthur’s face. But he was quickly thwarted by a screeching orb appearing suddenly and aggressively, causing Merlin to stumble backward and land on his behind on the hard, stone floor, his flashlight rolling off in the process.
Arthur jabbed his light at the orb which seemed to retreat to nowhere then traced it over Merlin whose wits had been scared out of him in large enough measure not to feel embarrassed about being sprawled on the floor again, this time without his flashlight.
“Fuck,” he said as Arthur helped him to his feet. “Freakin’ orbs.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Scared of an orb are you, Merlin?”
“Not scared,” Merlin returned even though he knew Arthur could see that his hands were shaking as he handed Merlin his flashlight.
Arthur was shaking his head, a smirk visibly playing at his lips. “What kind of ghost hunter is scared of ghosts?”
“I’m not scared of ghosts,” Merlin maintained then added in an attempt to deflect, “And I thought you didn’t buy all that ghost crap anyway.”
Arthur seemed ready to retort, probably intending on giving Merlin a sermon on the differences between spirits, ghosts, apparitions and orbs and how science could explain most of what people claimed were “ghosts” but he was distracted by a loud crackle and a faint voice.
“Um, Merlin? You there?”
Arthur leaned over and picked up Merlin’s walkie talkie which had rather fortuitously appeared at his feet. Merlin rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands.
“Gwaine?” he said into the radio.
There was more crackling, Gwaine’s voice coming through only faintly and rather broken up. Merlin and Arthur both listened carefully but they couldn’t make out anything Gwaine might have been saying, except the occasionally clear “Merlin?”
Arthur grabbed the two-way from Merlin, who yelled out in protest, and pushed the button on the radio. “Vaults. Underneath castle. Find us.” He repeated the same words three or four times then handed the radio back to Merlin.
Merlin cocked an eyebrow. “I could have told him that, you know,” he said then, like a five year old, he added, “It’s my walkie talkie.”
“Yes, but chances are the radio would have gone dead before you and Gwaine finished your Abbott and Costello routine.”
Merlin huffed, looking back over at the pile of crates, determined to snatch that trident - orb or no orb - so he could poke Arthur Pendragon with it.
But the glowing objects were gone. Or at least Merlin couldn’t see them anymore. He let out a sigh. Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
After thoroughly searching the vault for some way to get out and coming up completely empty, they finally settled on the floor against one wall, resigned to wait until Gwaine or somebody from Arthur’s team found them. Merlin could sense Arthur’s frustration with the situation; no doubt he was annoyed that he was stuck in a vault with Merlin but, really, Merlin had the right to be just as, if not more, annoyed.
PART 2
PAIRINGS: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Gwaine, Lancelot/Gwen, and hinted-at others.
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: ~ 18k
SUMMARY: Merlin and his team are commissioned to investigate the hauntings at the famed Camelot Castle and get more than they bargained for when they find that the paranormal investigation team led by Arthur Pendragon has been commissioned to do the same.
NOTES: Written for Prompt #15 for merlin_horror fest.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3
NOTHING LIKE A GOOD GHOST HUNT
There were five golden rules when hunting ghosts.
Number One: Do your research.
This was the first golden rule for a reason. You couldn’t begin to hunt a ghost or resolve a haunting without finding out as much as you could about the haunting location and likely spirit culprit.
The location of current interest was an old library in Feltham, built in the early 1900s, with many of its original rooms still intact though heavily renovated to make the library accessible to a larger group of patrons and to accommodate the technological advances of the past century. Though partly modernized, it was still considered ‘quaint’ and any other time, Merlin might have enjoyed spending the day roaming around the library, taking in the splendid architecture and revelling in the rather vast collection of early edition books. But today was a working day not a leisure day, so much of the quaintness went unexplored, including a look at a first edition copy of Dickens’ Great Expectations that the library boasted to have on display.
The likely spirit culprit in this case was one Maybel Dixon who, it was discovered, had presided over the original library as an assistant librarian between 1916 and 1918 when she met her untimely death at the hands of the wife of her lover, the Head Librarian - one John Stowte. The wife - Lucy Stowte - had become enraged when she learned that her husband was having an affair with the efficient but rather lovely (as indicated by the photographs the library held in its collection) Maybel. It had been told that Mrs. Stowte confronted Maybel in the reading room on the second floor of the library as Maybel was meticulously picking up and organizing books to re-shelve in their proper places. The librarian had apparently been caught by surprise when Lucy Stowte declared her a ‘trollop’ (mostly speculation but consistent throughout accounts), and she clutched the books to her chest to prevent them from falling, which had unfortunately left her somewhat defenceless when Lucy stabbed her in the abdomen with the sterling silver nail file from her bureau set she had tucked away in her handbag.
Accounts of Maybel’s murder by patrons in the library at the time mention shrieks that drove shivers down spines and, strangely but perhaps not shockingly, screams that were heard throughout the library about books being ruined (one account quoted the librarian as screaming, “My books! My beautiful books!) Apparently, Maybel Dixon had taken her role as assistant librarian very seriously and was purported to have anointed herself “Keeper of the Books”. It seemed likely that Maybel had not taken kindly to being murdered before she had been able to secure the books in their proper places and her between-worlds presence in the library may well have reflected her belief that she had to complete her task. At least that was Elena’s take on the haunting. Merlin, on another hand, figured that Maybel was just pissed off and wanted to wreak havoc for a while until someone told her it was time to let it go.
What was perhaps most interesting about this haunting was that Maybel Dixon had been dead for almost a century and yet the wreaking of havoc (which generally indicated a poltergeist) had only begun in recent months. Sure, there had been periodic reports of sudden cold spots in the library, books falling from shelves all of a sudden, and sightings of faint apparitions over the years since Maybel’s murder, but nothing monumental as far as hauntings went. Three months ago, however, coinciding with a rash of vandalism in the library by youths, Maybel’s largely dormant spirit had apparently awoken. Books flew rather than fell off of shelves; unseen hands ‘pushed’ patrons and staff down the staircase connecting the first and second floors; flashes of light appeared down hallways and around corners and patrons reported hearing whispers that sounded like soft shriekings of, “My books! My beautiful books!” (probably induced by suggestion rather than anything else). The incident that had led to calling Merlin’s team involved an entire book shelving unit being ‘pushed’ over by the alleged spirit which had nearly crushed one of the youths suspected of the vandalism.
This had led to Merlin’s working theory that Maybel was pissed off that these kids were messing with her books and her library and she had seemed to have no qualms about seriously injuring them. This made Merlin further wonder if maybe Maybel didn’t have her own deep, dark secrets hidden somewhere the accounts and records hadn’t revealed. She may have been an efficient librarian and professed Keeper of the Books but Merlin suspected Maybel Dixon may have had a dark past she hadn’t wanted anyone to discover.
Number Two: Never hunt alone.
Merlin was not hunting this ghost or resolving this haunting alone. He had a complement of competent team members who were helping him. There was Lance, of course, their resident research nerd who had unearthed and put together the back story of the library and its first librarian and assistant librarian. Lance was, as always, dutifully at the ready, hunkered over his laptop, waiting for any signal from Merlin that additional information was needed, very likely with Will, their visual/audio guy, hanging over his shoulder. Elena and Freya were busy smudging various sections of the library, ensuring that any and all spirits were being cleansed away, along with any residual negative energy. And he had Gwaine, who was responsible for ensuring everyone’s safety and made tactical decisions when the need arose, although if Merlin knew Gwaine he was likely chatting up the current and very pretty librarian in the library office while the rest of the team did their thing under the guise that he was making sure that she remained safe.
Merlin, who was currently in the thick of things as far as the ghost hunt and haunting resolution were concerned, was the team’s (fearless) leader and what some called an “intuitive” - not a psychic, which is what Elena claimed to be, but someone who could sense or feel paranormal phenomena like spirits and ghosts. When he was a boy, his mother had told him he had “magic” as a way of helping to explain his unique gift. Now that he was older and in the business of ghost hunting, Merlin had occasion to meet other intuitives - like Freya, for example - people who had a similar sensing gift.
He was definitely feeling the spirit of Maybel-the-librarian now, even if his eyes couldn’t see her. And the feeling was dark - ominous and sinister. This is what had been fuelling Merlin’s suspicions that perhaps Maybel had secrets she hoped would stay buried.
Number Three: Never let them see you sweat.
Merlin wasn’t exactly sweating, but he was about to blow his top. And that was after, at the start of all of this, he had been close to peeing his pants - another ghost hunting no-no (never show fear) and not just because it would be embarrassing and because Gwaine would tease him mercilessly and never let him forget it.
But, thankfully, the urge to piss had given way to being pissed off. After raising the hair on the back of his neck a few times (he refused to admit she’d scared the wits out of him at least twice), the librarian ghost had begun to get cute with him and Merlin’s patience was past the point of being tried. He had finally been able to corner the spirit in the private collection section of the library and it was well time to cast her out.
“Come out, come out wherever you are...” he taunted bravely because she was just a ghost, after all.
Merlin thought he heard snickering.
Oh, he thought determinedly, this librarian ghost bitch was going down!
Number Four and Five: Get the job done and get the hell out.
These were golden rules number four and five, respectively, but Merlin liked to think of them as a combined rule since it seemed kind of ridiculous to him not to get the hell out after the job was done. What was the point of hanging around? No, best to cast the ghost out from its haunting place, scram, and never look back.
And it was high time for both the ghost and the ghost hunter to face the proverbial music. Catching a glimpse of the spirit’s reflection on the monitor screen of the computer sitting atop the reading table, Merlin knew that the spirit was hovering just in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the row of bookshelves. He turned and faced the spirit, illuminated by the morning light coming from the window. As far as ghost apparitions went, this one was fairly well formed. Merlin could make out Maybel’s shapely figure in the skirt and jacket suit that was fashionable in her day, the austere swept up hair, and the features of her face that had made her alluring and attractive. It was no wonder John Stowte’s head had been turned. Maybel had been quite the looker. But there was also a trace of something sinister in her expression that made Merlin want to shudder.
He suppressed the urge and turned his attention back to the task at hand, uttering the strange words he instinctively knew to say: “Grith faestne mid thisse tintregedan sowle! Ablinn du, forlaet du nu!” (This roughly translated, or so he believed, into “Give peace to this tortured soul! Leave now/be gone!”)
The spirit reacted but seemed torn, perhaps measuring the merits of staying to deal with unfinished business and wanting to be released from its between-worlds prison. Merlin spoke the words again, trying to convince the spirit that being released and leaving this place was in the best interests of all.
The librarian ghost made one last effort to resist, the spirit coming at him in a fury of screeching and wailing, which did nothing to help Merlin’s already near-frazzled nerves. He deflected the spirit’s attempt to assail him with a quickly uttered, “Forp fleoge!”, another pair of words he used on instinct but that he had always been reasonably certain was some version of “Keep the fuck away!”
And just like that, the restless spirit of Maybel Dixon departed from the here and now and returned to the world she belonged. Merlin stood between the bookshelves for a few minutes, using his ability to intuitively sense any sign that the spirit of Maybel still lingered.
Merlin allowed himself a sigh of relief. He sensed nothing, except for his own urge to get the hell out as quickly as possible now that the job was done.
Merlin turned the key and pushed open the door, stepping into the place he called home, which was basically an old apothecary shop that he had inherited from his great Uncle Gaius. He set his rucksack on the antique tincture cabinet in front of the curtained window by the door and flicked a switch to illuminate the middle section of the shop with soft light.
Two years ago, when Gaius had passed, Merlin had found that the apothecary shop, which he had fiddled around in under Gaius’ supervision since he had been a boy, had been left to him. Not wanting the responsibility of running a shop full-time, he had basically converted the shop - circa 1791 - into a living space. Merlin had left the cabinets, jars and chests in the main shop area for nostalgic purposes, and had thrown in a Georgian period sofa, armchair, tables and lamps for a more homey look. He had converted the shop counter into a make-shift kitchen, adding a stove and fridge, while making eclectic use of the vintage shop jars, beakers, bottles and bowls as kitchen ware. At the back of the shop, there were three additional small rooms - one he used as a bedroom, one as a bath, and one as an office - each of the rooms featuring antique cabinets as part of the decor. It turned out apothecary chests came in rather handy.
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way over to the rust-coloured sofa, thinking it would probably do him good to soak in a nice, hot bath. Of course, the bathroom was equipped with a large claw-foot tub that was perfect for long therapeutic soaks and romantic bubble baths - not that Merlin generally had time for either. But it was one of those luxuries he tended to indulge in from time to time - at least the therapeutic soak - especially after a gruelling ghost hunt.
Something white and rectangular caught his eye by the door and Merlin wondered that he hadn’t seen it when he had come in, as he would have had to step right over it. Mysterious, he thought, then laughed to himself. Being in the ghost-hunting business, he supposed he was prone to turning many a thing into a mystery. It made the job - which was actually quite mundane, to tell the truth - somewhat more exciting.
The something turned out to be an envelope, which Merlin guessed must have been slipped under his door. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was cream not white with his team’s official name handwritten on the front in bold, defined strokes. Merlin carried the envelope with him over to the sofa, where he sat propping his feet up on the low drawer chest that served as a coffee table, and slid a metal bar used for separating pills under the envelope flap.
Inside was a single-page letter on fancy paper, gold letterhead pronouncing The Dragon Trust, signed at the bottom by someone named Kilgharrah, who must have addressed the envelope if the handwriting of the signature was anything to go by. Merlin’s eyebrow quirked up as he read through the content with interest, his excitement growing with each word he read. What Kilgharrah was proposing was absolutely the most fantastic thing his team would ever be a part of - if they decided to take the job. And surely they would since there was actual promise of funding and quite a bit of it too.
He set the letter down on the chest table top, his body feeling instantly renewed with the excitement now thrumming through it. Merlin decided to postpone the bath soaking in favour of a quick shower so that he could call a meeting of his team to discuss Kilgharrah’s proposal.
Already, Merlin could feel the strain from resolving the library haunting slipping away as he thought about the exciting opportunity that had mysteriously been presented to them.
The team of ghost hunters was gathered in Merlin’s apothecary shop living room, listening intently as Merlin told them of Kilgharrah’s letter and his proposal. Well, all except for Gwaine who was rooting around in Merlin’s fridge, listening at the edge.
“This juice or poison?” Gwaine asked, holding up a vintage apothecary jar of pinky-orange liquid.
Merlin saw Will roll his eyes and heard Elena giggle. “Come on, Gwaine, you know I keep the poison in jars on the shelf,” Merlin reminded him, gesturing toward the stock of shelved jars behind the counter.
Gwaine shrugged then poured himself a vintage beaker full of what was actually raspberry lemonade.
Gwaine’s interruption gave the rest of his team time to consider and assess what Merlin had just told them.
“So this would be a paying gig that would be equally split among the BOO-Busters?” Will, who was the one always the most concerned about finances, asked frankly.
Officially, they were known as the BOO-Busters (even now, Merlin couldn’t help grimacing at the name and he much preferred to go to that fantasy place in his mind where they were known as the more sophisticated “Team Emrys”) and this was the name that had addressed the envelope. Of course, when they had first started, Will had wanted to call them the BOOgers but most everyone had objected on principle (except Gwaine who insisted he liked the sound of it) and so some sort of compromise had been made, with the end result being the BOO-Busters.
“Thirty thousand pounds upfront plus expenses,” Merlin told him, “and another thirty upon presentation of evidence.”
Will let out a whistle. Merlin knew what he was thinking - what they were all thinking. This job would net them each a cool ten thousand pounds, which was far more than they usually ever got for hunting ghosts or resolving hauntings. The truth of it was, ghost hunting was a rather expensive hobby. They did the rounds, of course, at the various paranormal conferences and conventions to garner sponsorship for their activities and occasionally secured funding from celebrity benefactors or were paid outright for their services by owners of places that were haunted, but payments tended to be relatively small and generally only covered the expenses involved in the hunting. This kind of sponsorship and funding was not enough to actually live on; certainly none of them could afford to quit their ‘day jobs’.
And each of them, for the most part, had pretty decent day jobs. Merlin made use of his chemistry degree to concoct herbal remedies, ointments and tinctures, which he sold to a very select local clientele as well as online through a website Lance had created for him. Freya was an emergency dispatcher and Will was a wedding photographer/videographer. Lance was an IT technician who worked as a consultant for several upscale corporations. Elena was a freelance psychic who, like Merlin, provided service to a select local clientele (many of their regular customers overlapped); she also ran a website where she mediated live chats and provided information about psychic abilities. Gwaine claimed to provide elite security to a prominent business in the city, but Elena suspected that was Gwaine-speak for being a bouncer at the local pub. And Elena would know. She was psychic, after all.
“What kind of evidence is expected?” asked Lance, the practical one of the bunch.
“The usual,” Merlin said. “Photos, videos, EVP recordings. Anything that captures the presence of spirits.”
Lance nodded. It was the standard request.
“And this trust corporation or whatever it is says it can get us in and out of Camelot?” Freya asked sceptically.
This was the part Merlin was both excited about and troubled over. The location the team was being asked to investigate was the ruins of the famed Camelot Castle. All of England and much of the world was familiar with the legends surrounding Camelot and its castle fortress. While parts of the castle had been destroyed in battle during the medieval period, the castle as a whole remained and was visible(though perpetually shrouded by mist and fog) from respectable distances. There had been numerous attempts on the part of both the government and private parties to explore the castle ruins with the hope even of opening the castle to the public, but these attempts had been ultimately thwarted in turn.
The primary difficulty was that the castle ruins at Camelot were hard to actually find, even though they were visible. Those who ventured to journey there found themselves quickly disoriented and lost, often ending up where they had started, no closer to reaching their destination. It was said that the castle was guarded by spirits that were efficient in keeping people away, spirits connected to the legendary tales that had enticed people for centuries.
Occasionally, there were reports of someone or some group having made their way to the castle ruins but who were ultimately driven back by the spirits. These people inevitably achieved fame for a brief period, capitalizing on it by writing books, giving talks, establishing websites, and selling things collected during their ‘visit’ (the authenticity of these items was suspect and any knowledgeable ghost hunter or antiques dealer would quickly dismiss it as bunk). To Merlin’s knowledge, no one had ever come back with real evidence - spectre photos, EVP recordings, thermal image video. This meant that, for the most part, Camelot Castle remained a dangling carrot to paranormal investigators (and to many historians, Merlin would dare say). And now the BOO-Busters had a chance to grab a firm hold of that carrot and actually peel it. It was a ghost hunter’s dream.
“So, why didn’t this Kilgharrah chap ask Those Who Shall Not Be Named to check out the castle?” Will wanted to know.
It was a good question and one Merlin didn’t have an answer for. Of course, by “Those Who Shall Not Be Named” (they often shortened this to T.W.S.N.B.N when the mood struck) Will meant PPI - Pendragon Paranormal Investigations - which was led by Arthur Pendragon and his sister, Morgana. Given the location of the haunting - Camelot Castle - the PPI team would seem to be the much more logical choice. After all, it was believed that the last kings to reside in the castle before its abandonment some time during the late 5th century were, in fact, ancestors of the current Pendragon family, most notably King Uther and his son and successor, King Arthur.
“All the better for the BOO-Busters,” Elena said cheerfully and Gwaine, who had finally settled on the sofa beside her, gave a supporting whoop and nod.
Merlin looked at the five members of his team expectantly. “So, we in?”
As was team custom, each member was expected to cast a vote. Gwaine and Lance nodded, Will gave a shout of “hell yeah”, Freya murmured a soft “okay”, and Elena stared intently at Merlin, no doubt trying to communicate her vote telepathically (to date, this had never worked) which Merlin logically assumed meant she was in.
Merlin grinned. “Guess we’re going to Camelot.”
True to its word, The Dragon Trust, through Kilgharrah, had arranged for Merlin’s team to be dropped by helicopter right in the heart of Camelot. Once they were on ground, Merlin could admit (to himself, of course) that there had been moments during the air ride that had caused him some concern, particularly when the pilot began to have trouble steering the chopper once they approached the castle. And if Merlin had dug his nails into Lance’s thigh at that time, he was sure that his research expert, who had looked a tad dubious that they would land safely himself, would say nothing.
The Castle itself, though parts of it were in ruin and had never been repaired, was magnificently impressive and especially so up close. Of course, his team had experience with haunted castles. They were all familiar with the most famous castle hauntings - Chillingham, Warwick, Edinburgh; even without the lure of ghosts, these castles were impressive in design and architecture. But Camelot Castle was impressive on a whole other level. It was, to sound completely cliché, legendary.
They made their way across the courtyard, carrying equipment, food supplies, and their personal belongings. The arrangement with Kilgharrah called for the BOO-Busters to spend three nights at Camelot to obtain evidence of paranormal activities. It was not quite eight o’clock in the morning on Friday and they were to be picked up by helicopter on Monday morning. That gave the team ample amount of time to set up and perform their investigations.
“Where to?” Gwaine asked, setting a bin down that contained some of their food supplies.
Lance did the same with the burdens he was carrying and unfolded a large piece of paper, which Merlin knew was a rough blueprint of the castle that Lance had been able to put together from various sources.
“Probably best to pitch camp in the Great Hall, which might have been the Throne Room,” Lance replied, pointing his finger to a spot on his ‘map’. “That seems to be the hub and we can branch out our investigations from there.”
“Great Hall? Throne Room?” Will remarked. “Posh bunch of gits the Pendragons were.”
“Bet the current Pendragon princess has a throne room in his flat,” Gwaine joked and Will laughed.
Elena tsked but Merlin saw a grin playing at her lips that mirrored his own. Freya and Lance reserved judgment.
With Lance’s competent direction they traipsed through the castle, Elena occasionally stopping along the path to ooh and ah at various things she found impressive.
“Getting any vibes?” Gwaine asked Merlin and Freya.
“Just the usual ‘spooky place’ ones,” Merlin replied dryly, and Freya gave him wink. Merlin’s intuitive abilities tended to be stronger than Freya’s but even his ‘spidy senses’, as Gwaine and Will liked to call them, didn’t turn on as quickly as Gwaine was prone to believe.
“There’ll be plenty of time for Merlin and Freya to feel out the place once we get settled,” Lance reminded the group. He turned and motioned a lingering Elena to move along.
When they entered the Great Hall, the first thing they noticed was the absence of a throne. That was to be expected, of course. The second thing they noticed, however, was the presence of a massive round table, a little worn and dusty but otherwise impeccably preserved, the Pendragon crest of old carved into its centre, a testament to the legacy of the fair King Arthur. Merlin wasn’t sure what surprised his team more - that the table fabled to create equality among King Arthur and his knights was historically preserved and present or that there was a scattering of modern day belongings strewn on top of and around the famous Round Table.
They soon found out the reason for this puzzle when the members of PPI suddenly appeared, led by a frowning Arthur Pendragon.
“Well, well, isn’t this a surprise?” Morgana Pendragon said, arching a perfect eyebrow. In looks, she was almost the exact opposite of her brother - raven-haired and pale-skinned in comparison to Arthur’s blonde locks and golden skin.
Yes, Merlin thought cynically. Definitely a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Arthur Pendragon.
“We could ask the same,” Will returned in challenge.
“We’re here on a sponsorship,” Merlin told him, his suspicions mounting.
Arthur Pendragon cocked his head and gave Merlin a penetrating look. “Let me guess,” he said. “The Dragon Trust? A man who calls himself Kilgharrah?”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, not liking where this was going.
“Same here,” Arthur revealed, blowing out a sigh.
Will snorted. “Since when does PPI need sponsorship? You’ve got money up the yin-yang for investigations.” He gestured grandly around him. “Besides, kind of your family’s castle, isn’t it?”
Arthur ignored him. “Just stay out of our way,” he growled.
Merlin’s eye twitched in annoyance. “We have as much right to investigate as you do,” he said, trying to keep his temper at bay. “We’re all ghost hunters, after all.”
Arthur laughed, the throaty kind of laugh that was full of sarcasm. Arthur Pendragon was the team leader of Pendragon Paranormal Investigations, but he was also known to be one of the biggest sceptics around, which was highly ironic. Merlin knew he scoffed at terms like “ghost hunting” and “ghost hunters” and tended to hold disdain for self-identified ghost hunter groups like Merlin’s BOO-Busters.
As far as Merlin and his team were concerned (and was confirmed visually before them), PPI was all bells and whistles. They had the most up-to-date and expensive cameras, camcorders, EMF detectors, and EVP recorders. They wore matching black tactical vests with white PPI letting on the back, communicated using high-frequency headsets, and did on the spot research using their wireless-ready tablets. Merlin’s BOO-Busters, by contrast, were anything but high-tech and glamorous. Their standard ghost hunting attire was a mish-mash of whatever was comfortable , clean, and had enough pockets to carry their gear around. They got by with equipment bought on budget, used the tried-and-true walkie talkie method of communicating, and for reference they preferred good old-fashioned journal-style notebooks to electronic tablets (hey, if a journal was good enough for John Winchester and his boys, it was good enough for the members of Team Emrys).
Merlin stared Arthur down, ready to defend his team and their work against the jabs he was certain Arthur was intending to throw at them. Morgana wisely interjected.
“Okay, so here’s the situation. Both of our teams are here to investigate on the commission of the same sponsor. If the arrangements are the same, we both got money upfront with the promise of more money upon presentation of evidence. It makes no sense for us to battle each other and every bit of sense to work together.”
They all stared at her. Arthur was the first to speak.
“You can’t seriously be suggesting, Morgana, that we work with this team of-of misfit ghost busters?”
“Hey!” censured Gwaine.
“Oi!” Will complained. “Who you calling misfits?”
Morgana Pendragon folded her arms across her chest. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” she said. “Anyone else besides Arthur got a problem with that?”
Merlin was about to voice a vigorous protest in answer to her question when he realized Morgana was directing the question to her own team mostly. Shoulders were shrugged and heads were shaken and Morgana seemed to take that as unanimous approval for her suggestion of the two teams working together. She ignored her brother’s scowl and turned to Merlin.
“So?” she asked, her eyebrow arching.
Merlin felt trapped. On the one hand, working with PPI meant working with Arthur Pendragon and he was less than eager to join forces with the arrogant prat. On the other hand, pooling their resources and expertise together would be beneficial in obtaining evidence they both sought; at the very least, not having to compete would increase the likelihood of a successful investigation. Since there was little else besides the Arthur factor that he could use to argue against such an alliance, he found himself nodding to indicate that his team was in, knowing that Gwaine, Lance, Will, Elena and Freya would concede to his decision (even if Will would likely complain about it for some time later).
Morgana smiled as Arthur deepened his scowl. She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to know each other then.”
Like Merlin’s team, PPI consisted of six core members. There was Arthur and Morgana, of course, who were essentially co-leaders though it seemed pretty obvious to everyone that Arthur thought of himself as leader and Morgana as his second-in-command. Merlin was reasonably sure that Morgana let Arthur believe that to keep things simple but would not be one to back down if the circumstances warranted it; she had already shown that she was a capable leader. There was Leon, tall and bearded, who was basically PPI’s Gwaine. There was Elyan and Percy, who were introduced as the ‘camera crew’, and Merlin couldn’t help noticing that the giant - Percy - was giving Freya an interested look. Will and Elyan were already comparing cameras and talking excitedly, and Merlin thought that was a good sign. And there was Gwen, PPI’s researcher. Merlin was quick to note that Gwen was very pretty, with smooth cafe latte skin, dark curly-hair, beautiful doe eyes, and an engaging smile. If the look on Lance’s face was any indication, Merlin wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Merlin hid a grin as his research expert pushed his glasses up, cleared his throat, and then ambled over to say hello to the pretty Gwen, who beamed back at him.
Both teams unpacked their equipment and belongings in the Great Hall and then a plan was drawn up for their collective investigation. It was decided that the members of each team would pair up in order to keep the working relationship between them solid and effective. Will and Freya, along with Elyan and Percy, would work together as the audio/visual crew. As the primary researchers, Lance and Gwen would work together. Morgana was to pair up with Gwaine, the BOO-Buster’s security while Elena was to pair up with Leon, PPI’s security. That left, of course, Merlin and Arthur.
“Guess it’s you and me, Mulder,” Arthur Pendragon said and Merlin caught the quirk of his lips. Ha very ha.
“If you say so, Scully,” Merlin returned, not to be outwitted. At least he was the man in the pairing.
He expected another scowl from Arthur and was surprised to hear him chuckle in good humour. Apparently Arthur Pendragon could take a joke as well as dish one out. Maybe he wasn’t such a pompous arse, after all.
Merlin soon found out that he should have waited and reserved judgement on that call.
He and Arthur were in the west wing of the castle, prowling the corridors and rooms, looking for any signs of paranormal activity. Arthur had his fancy EMF detector out as well as a device used to pick up electromagnetic wave patterns. Merlin had similar equipment, not as fancy of course, but as usual was relying more on his ability to sense than anything else. He did not mention this to Arthur, of course, wanting to avoid ridicule but it seemed ridicule was to come nonetheless.
“So. The BOO-Busters,” Arthur commented sardonically as they made their way down a long corridor. “Really?”
“Yeah, because Pendragon Paranormal Investigations is not pretentious at all,” Merlin returned just as dryly.
“Well, at least we’re professional investigators,” Arthur defended ardently, “and not just a bunch of misfit yahoos running around chasing ghosts.” His eyes condescendingly raked over Merlin in his well-worn cargo pants and hoodie. “You know, I really don’t get why Kilgharrah would sponsor you and your bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters.”
Merlin stopped short, unable to prevent his mouth from dropping open, taken aback. Misfit yahoos? Bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters? Pendragon couldn’t be serious.
He crossed his arms against his chest and narrowed his eyes at Arthur. Then he backed up against the stone wall, steeling himself to deliver a few choice but scathing words about just how much of a pompous arse Arthur Pendragon really was. How dare he insult Merlin’s team like that? But before he could even begin his diatribe, the wall seemed to shift behind him and he yelped out a startled cry. Arthur, for all his pompous arseness, reacted quickly, reaching out to him, but Merlin was already falling backward.
He grabbed hold of Arthur’s tactical vest for anchorage but this proved to be a bad idea and only resulted in pulling Arthur along with him, both of them plummeting - well, more like sliding - down - definitely down - a dark passageway that easily stretched thirty or forty metres.
They were dumped, finally, onto a hard, cold floor, pitch-black darkness surrounding them.
And, of course, Arthur had landed squarely on top of him, the force of his weight knocking the breath out of Merlin. Elbows jabbed into his sides and a knee not so delicately dug into his thigh as Arthur gained his wits and rolled off of him.
“You okay?” Arthur’s voice broke through the darkness. There was rustling and then a beam of light lit upon Merlin as Arthur evidently found his flashlight.
“I think your elbow punctured my kidney,” Merlin said, sitting up slowly. “But other than that, I’m fine. You?”
“Terrific,” Arthur replied and Merlin could feel him smirking. “Lucky for me, your bony arse broke my fall.”
Merlin dug around in his hoodie pocket for his own flashlight. Arthur was already on his feet, shining the light around to gain their bearings.
“What is this place?” Merlin asked, getting to his feet, slightly put out that Arthur hadn’t at least offered to help him up. After all, his heavy (Merlin deliberately left out ‘muscled’ in his mind) frame had landed on Merlin’s much leaner one and that was after Arthur had pretty much insulted him.
“Not sure,” Arthur said, now moving along one wall, mapping out the space and likely looking for an exit. “Probably one of the vaults underneath the castle.”
Merlin surveyed the dark space with his light as Arthur continued to map along the walls. At first, all he saw were what looked like old crates and a few scattered objects mostly piled up in one area, which he guessed was probably the centre of the ‘vault’ given that he could see Arthur’s beam of light mapping a wall on the other side. He pointed his light to where Arthur now was, his eyes fixed on the heavy metal gate beyond. Arthur pulled on the bars then cursed.
Merlin walked over to him, careful to light his path to avoid bumping into a crate or some miscellaneous object - were those scrolls on the ground? Arthur pulled on the gate and cursed some more. Then he tapped his headset.
“Leon? Perce? Morgana? Anybody there?”
From the look on Arthur’s face, Merlin was pretty sure he wasn’t getting a response.
He nodded at Merlin. “You got your walkie?”
Merlin felt around in his cargos but came up empty. Fuck, he cursed silently. Where had his two-way gone? He uttered another silent oath. A good ghost hunter never lost means of communication with team.
“Probably fell out when we hit the floor,” Arthur said, quite generously Merlin thought considering not five minutes ago Arthur had called them a bungling bunch of Scooby-doo ghost busters.
Merlin flashed his light over to the spot they had landed, passing over the crates in the middle. Except there weren’t only just crates now. There were definitely objects, not the ones scattered about, but ones distinct, set apart by the fact that they were glowing.
“What the hell?” he murmured. He could make out two staffs, a chalice, a couple of crystals, some kind of decorative triskelion, and was that a trident?
“What?” Arthur said, making his way over to their landing site, apparently unperturbed by the glowing artifacts that had suddenly popped up.
Merlin stared at him. “Um, you don’t see them?”
“See what?”
Merlin waved his hand at the crates and the glowing artifacts. “That,” he said.
“You mean the crates?” Arthur’s face was visible from the light of the flashlights and at the moment it was looking rather pinched.
“Not the crates, Arthur! The other stuff. The stuff that’s glowing.”
Arthur’s mouth tipped into a frown. “Glowing? Did you hit your head on the floor or something, Merlin? ”
“Are you telling me you can’t see the artifacts over there that are freakin’ glowing?” Merlin asked with unsubtle exasperation. Arthur shook his head, his look similar. “Not even this trident - a freakin’ trident, Arthur - here--”
Merlin made to grab the trident so he could shove its glowing presence into Arthur’s face. But he was quickly thwarted by a screeching orb appearing suddenly and aggressively, causing Merlin to stumble backward and land on his behind on the hard, stone floor, his flashlight rolling off in the process.
Arthur jabbed his light at the orb which seemed to retreat to nowhere then traced it over Merlin whose wits had been scared out of him in large enough measure not to feel embarrassed about being sprawled on the floor again, this time without his flashlight.
“Fuck,” he said as Arthur helped him to his feet. “Freakin’ orbs.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Scared of an orb are you, Merlin?”
“Not scared,” Merlin returned even though he knew Arthur could see that his hands were shaking as he handed Merlin his flashlight.
Arthur was shaking his head, a smirk visibly playing at his lips. “What kind of ghost hunter is scared of ghosts?”
“I’m not scared of ghosts,” Merlin maintained then added in an attempt to deflect, “And I thought you didn’t buy all that ghost crap anyway.”
Arthur seemed ready to retort, probably intending on giving Merlin a sermon on the differences between spirits, ghosts, apparitions and orbs and how science could explain most of what people claimed were “ghosts” but he was distracted by a loud crackle and a faint voice.
“Um, Merlin? You there?”
Arthur leaned over and picked up Merlin’s walkie talkie which had rather fortuitously appeared at his feet. Merlin rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands.
“Gwaine?” he said into the radio.
There was more crackling, Gwaine’s voice coming through only faintly and rather broken up. Merlin and Arthur both listened carefully but they couldn’t make out anything Gwaine might have been saying, except the occasionally clear “Merlin?”
Arthur grabbed the two-way from Merlin, who yelled out in protest, and pushed the button on the radio. “Vaults. Underneath castle. Find us.” He repeated the same words three or four times then handed the radio back to Merlin.
Merlin cocked an eyebrow. “I could have told him that, you know,” he said then, like a five year old, he added, “It’s my walkie talkie.”
“Yes, but chances are the radio would have gone dead before you and Gwaine finished your Abbott and Costello routine.”
Merlin huffed, looking back over at the pile of crates, determined to snatch that trident - orb or no orb - so he could poke Arthur Pendragon with it.
But the glowing objects were gone. Or at least Merlin couldn’t see them anymore. He let out a sigh. Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
After thoroughly searching the vault for some way to get out and coming up completely empty, they finally settled on the floor against one wall, resigned to wait until Gwaine or somebody from Arthur’s team found them. Merlin could sense Arthur’s frustration with the situation; no doubt he was annoyed that he was stuck in a vault with Merlin but, really, Merlin had the right to be just as, if not more, annoyed.
PART 2