The Bush House Museum had quite a collection of good portraits, considering its size and how it's more like a house really than a public museum. Howard couldn't help but admire a few of them despite the injuries and the task of searching for a monster hunter.
The real exhibit was the furniture and restored arrangements of the house back that the Bush family owned back in the 19th century. It was a time capsule and was preserved to look as much as it did before.
People also traveled around the gardens and other areas of the estate. But since it was raining, Howard didn't really have time to smell the flowers, both literally and figuratively.
Hopefully the rain would muffle his footsteps in this very quiet house. There was no one around, not even guards because of the news of the incoming hurricane. They just closed it up and locked the doors since it's uncommon for this small dainty area to experience robbers.
But Howard knew some strings were being pulled in his favor.
He turned to the mysterious man with webs for clothes and too many eyes. His spindly fingers never stopped moving. His whole body was long and thin, and his skin was dull gray. Neither black or white, and it seemed that he could merge just fine with both shadows and lights.
Since he was a child, Howard had only called him Mr. Spider. Sometimes Tarantulaman or some other snappy name whenever Howard finds him too annoying.
"Why are you still here?" Howard scoffed.
"You want me to go out in the rain?" Mr. Spider tilted his head to the side, his neck too crooked for what a human could do.
"You can just scuttle off in some corner or behind walls or something." Howard said. "You might scare off the hunter."
Mr. Spider laughed. "Oh, Howie. You shouldn't worry about me. Stealth is within the very core of my being."
He then tilted his head to the other side, as if listening into the walls. He closed his eyes. "Ah. This is her territory. I see."
"Her? You mean Pele?" Howard asked.
"No. This place has not burned. You have not met the mistress of this domain yet, I'm afraid. She rather likes to keep to it herself. Moping around and grieving." Mr. Spider said.
Howard frowned. "What's her name?"
"Some call her Muerte, but I prefer calling her Perdida. It fits her more. Death is ever-present. Right now, humans are dying as we speak, as billions of their cells die and new ones are born everyday. But she…. She's the embodiment of loss, of being unable to accept that loss."
Howard suddenly heard the sound of wailing upstairs. But it mixed with the rain somehow, to the point where you're not sure if it was real or just the sound of the rain playing tricks. Still, he followed the sound….
And found nothing.
Mr. Spider patted his shoulder. "You won't find her unless she shows herself. But mostly, she preferred to manifest and be present without making her presence known. That is why people tend to not realize they are in grief until they have come to accept it. And you, my friend…"
He smiled. "You still have not."
"I have." Howard pushed his hand away. "I wouldn't be here in the first place if I had not gone over my depression."
"Oh, but you have not. You just replaced it with something else. After denial, there's anger. You turned all of your energy from moping into blaming the source of your loss, into being angry at the change of fate itself. That is why you can never escape from the past. Why you can never escape from h—"
Howard suddenly shushed him. "Do you hear that?"
He paid attention past the raindrops and the pointless babble of this overgrown spider to listen to that sound downstairs again. It's getting louder now. He then realized….
That it was thumping footsteps, and someone had entered the house.
It was too loud to be from regular shoes. It sounded like metal, and it disappeared for a while, as if the person just took off those metal shoes.
Mr. Spider grinned from being interrupted. It was meant to be this way.
"My time is up. That's enough exposition for today, a new character approaches." He said, and jabbed the spot where Howard had a large wound on his stomach. "Break a leg, Howie."
Howard ignored these antics, and soon enough, Mr. Spider was gone. Not in an 'invisible but still watching way'. He didn't have to watch to work behind the scenes. Once a weaver begins weaving, the patterns just come naturally.
Howard carefully peered from the top of the staircase to see the front door. Sure enough, there were shoes with metal heels.
Spiked metal heels. They were three inches thick, and were coated in blood.
Even the rain had not washed away the blood in them. The person's wet footprints led to the kitchen and dining area of the Bush House. Howard looked around and found a fireplace poker. Brandishing it like a small spear, he went to approach the hunter cautiously.
"Ugh. These ghosts are too fuckin' loud today. Reckon' they're not fond of rain much. Wish I could punch 'em, but pah!" The person mumbled.
It was a man. A big one built like a bear, with a thick Germanic accent. But his way of talking was almost emulating either of the southerners… Or at least badly. It's rather exaggerated and out of place.
He had several scars on his body, since his shirt had cut off sleeves and the kilt-like thing he wore only reached above his knees, no pants. He was very hairy, and the hair all around his body was even dyed blue to further emphasize them. Howard had never seen dyed arm hair and chest hair before.
The blue fella turned around, narrowing his eyes. "You don't look like any ghost I've seen 'fore. Seen a lot of 'em covered in blood, but not so modern dressed as you ar'."
"I'm not. I'm a hunter, like you." Howard said.
Once hearing him speak, the man took a long curved knife. It was an actual saber, and he held it up in front of Howard faster than he can blink.
"You don't look like any hunter I know either. Leave or I'll cut your legs off before you can even run."
Howard chuckled, and lifted up his leg pants. The hunter drew the knife closer once he reached for it, but Howard just calmly rolled up his pants to reveal his prosthetic leg.
"Don't need to cut it off. Someone beat you to it many years ago, bud."
The hunter looked at the leg, then back at Howard's serious face, and then….
He laughed.
Howard frowned, but the large hunter just kept on laughing.
"Hahahaha! I like ya! When'd you get that one done?" He asked, and then…
He detached his arm that held the saber!
"This one's been done since I was 15. Bitten by a large bloodsucking bat, had to cut it off before the vampirism spreads." The hunter said. "Am actually glad it's not my legs. Won't be able to experience the joy of the chase if they're not on top condition."
He patted Howard's shoulder. "My name's Gunnar. What's yours, brother?"
"Howard." He answered, lowering his weapon. "You believe I'm a human hunter now?"
"Oh yeah. No monster would just chose to not grow them legs, or use some chunk of metal and plastic to replace it." Gunnar said. "Though…."
He then pointed at Howard's neck.
"You got bit, haven't ye? I need to make sure you're some regular full human. Come."
He suddenly revealed a trap door under the carpet and opened it. "Well don't just stand there! You ain't getting noodly-leg over some darkness, ain't ya?"
"Where are we going?" Howard approached it skeptically.
Gunnar just grinned.
"Just think of it as a test. Both for you being full human…. and how well of a hunter you really are."
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