Beginning Anew

Confrontation

Wind rustled through the trees. The stars shone brightly in the night sky as the house creaked and groaned with the strength of each gust. Leaves whispered by outside, but the peace was eclipsed by the distressed wail of a baby.

Walter groaned reaching for Barbara to see if Emil's crying woke her. Instead of his wife's warm skin, his hand met cold sheets. He cracked open drowsy eyes as he remembered she was working tonight. He'd have gotten up anyway. With her long hours, he'd seen to it that she was disturbed as little as possible.

With a yawn, Walter got out of bed and headed for Emil's crib. The little boy was tossing and turning, screaming in a tone that sent a chill down Walter's spine.

He picked up his son, holding him close as he whispered in Emil's ear, "There, there... everything is fine."

Just to make sure the baby's distress wasn't something easily remedied, he checked Emil's diaper. It was dry. He offered the baby a pacifier, but Emil refused it. With a sigh, Walter scooped up the Jim plush and gave it to his son. To his surprise, even the prized toy didn't soothe Emil.

"What is it?" he asked the wailing child as Emil reached for Walter's face.

The cold dread of a moment before returned. Emil crying wasn't out of the ordinary. Walter had been woken up at least once a night sine the baby was released from the cradle stone, but tonight, Emil sounded... desperate, frightened.

He shushed the child, putting a finger to his lips. "I need you to quiet down," he whispered.

Emil sniffled, still crying, but not as loudly. The little boy shook in Walter's arms.

"Okay," Walter said. "Here's Jim." He held up the blue plush doll. "He'll protect you, remember? Keep him close."

Emil took the toy, clutching it.

Walter gave the baby his pacifier, which quieted him, even though he still sniffed, tears in his eyes.

Holding his son protectively, Walter ventured out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen and living room. The house was draped in darkness, the light of the moon and stars filtering in from outside.

Emil lost his pacifier.

Walter looked down just in time to see the baby start to cry again. "Shh," he gently reminded, replacing the pacifier and walking over to the fenced-in baby blanket in the living room. He carefully laid Emil down in the center of the circle he'd drawn the first week they were back home. "Don't move from this spot," he quietly instructed. "And hold onto Jim."

Emil held the plush tightly, his lip quivering as he almost dropped the pacifier again and uttered a distraught cry.

"Shh," Walter pleaded again before standing up and peering into the kitchen. He crept into the other room, retrieving a UV flashlight and pulling out one of the knives Barbara had found a while ago.

With silent footsteps, Walter went to the garden door and swung it open. The fresh, night wind hit his face and body. He looked around but saw nothing. He held the knife firmly in his hand as he ventured out into the garden.

Without a sound, he pulled out his cellphone, barely daring a glance at it as he dialed and waited impatiently as the phone rang once, twice, then three times.

"Mr. Strickler?" answered a groggy voice.

"Domzalski," Walter whispered, voice cold. "I require your assistance. Something is wrong – I believe I'm being watched."

"You what?" Toby asked. "You think something's going on, so you call me in the middle of the night? Seriously?"

"Get over here, Trollhunter," Walter demanded. "And bring your so-called Wingman. You're useless on your own."