Freezing rain pelted down as the clothing she wore tightly clung to her porcelain skin, silent rage the only thing keeping her warm as early autumn leaves made a path for her on the sidewalk. The young woman mulled over the thought of her former lover caught in the arms of another. She had suspected for a time he was unfaithful, only needing the proof she now had to confront him. A shiver escaped her as she looked up to find herself on an unfamiliar street. Though it was well into the dark half of the evening, she decided to move on down the path though she was not yet ready to return home. Sure, she would have to face him, but she could let it go for now and take a step to heal the pain and plan her next move. Her chest felt tight, and she feared her teeth would break from clenching her jaw if she continued on with being soaked to the bone.
The smell of wood burning caught her attention as her hard emerald eyes softened toward a white three-story Victorian manor that seemed to be decayed. As she came nearer, she caught the silhouette of a man on the porch which caught her off guard. From what she could gage from the light fixture at the front door, he had to have been at least six feet, give or take a few inches. He was dressed in a classic prohibition style that meshed her own rockabilly vibe. A faded robin’s egg blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants, and a white apron that seemed to be dried blood splayed across the front with a medical cap protecting his hair. What caught her attention the most was the brown leather muzzle that covered the lower half of his face. The figure disappeared into the home, causing her to go after him as her energy felt a magnetic pull from either the apparition or the house itself.
She found the door was shut, but the large porch did give her some comfort from the rain, though now she truly felt the full ice of the wind. Her hand fell on the knob as she checked it, finding that it was not latched. Odd, considering her recent experience of the smoke smell and seeing someone. Her eyes darted around, nothing was proof of life to her, she gave the door a soft nudge and the house welcomed her by opening wide with a soft creak.
A fire was going in what seemed to be a small foyer, the hearth was of dark stone and the walls looked to be lightly decayed, but overall, it was inviting to her. The wallpaper was to the turn of the 20th century, a portrait caught her attention, and she felt her heart warm a bit. It was of a gentleman in a straw hat with a horse pulling a log. He had to have been around his mid to late 30’s in the painting, he was in a tank top and work pants pre-World War II, his form functionally strong from years of labor in the way his shoulders sat. His eyes showed pride, and his grin was pleasant. She studied the details of it, appreciating each brush stroke. To her, the piece was timeless, eerie, but timeless.
At that moment she felt eyes on her and turned, only to find the same man in the painting staring at her from the corner of the room. She looked back to the painting and then back to the corner, once again empty, leaving her to feel alone. Taking a last glance at the painting, she gave it a faint smile. Her eyes trained around the room, gazing up to notice the familiar swirling of a portal above where she stood. She sidestepped from under it and fell into a hallway door. The soft light of a candle beckoned her as she curiously continued on to explore this seemingly rundown place as she found herself staring down a dark hallway.
She heard a giggle from a room next to her that was opaque and sounded like a young girl. She stopped and turned to look, the voice of a boy whispered, “No.”
No? No, what? she wondered, shrugging, and walking to a small corridor to her right. The light became bright as she came to a dining room of three women in modern versions of styles of bygone eras, making her question her own reality. Was this some strange illusion that she was witnessing? Were they apparitions? Or did she fall into some trap set by something much darker?
Their necks could have snapped with the speed with which they turned, their expressions matching her own confusion as they stared at each other. Her breath caught as she now felt that prickling sensation from the energy of flight or fight, though her heart was deceptively calm. Was the universe going to finally be merciful to her?
“Who are you?” one asked in a prestigious tone. Her hair was of an ashen walnut, her dark eyes hypnotic. Her complexion was the fairest of the three and also seemed to be the matron of them as she stood at five six and her frame lean with soft curves.
“Margret, behave.” Another of them snapped and stepped out of the shadows, “The poor thing is drenched!”
The one called Margret scoffed.
“Margret, that is no way to treat a guest.” The tallest them spoke in an even tone, trying to keep herself polite at the same time.
She noticed all of them had eyes with various shades of brown, but the one that came across as the crone were very reminiscent of tumbled tiger’s eye that complemented her soft black hair.
“Josephina is right, we should be hospitable.” The third grinned with shimmering earthly hazel eyes, her canines sharp as her southwestern accent came out. “Come dear, sit. Eat something.”
The young woman who stared at them in shock slowly shook her head, slightly embarrassed by her current state of disarray.
“What’s wrong, darling?” those tiger’s eye orbs dancing over her, searching for an opening to attack.
She could not help the tears as they threatened to spill, causing the one dubbed ‘Josephina’ to move her sit. She did accept that and took a deep breath; she found she was not able to speak as her throat threatened to close. She sucked in more air and blinked back the tears. “Nothing to worry about,” she forced a smile as her octave was above a whisper and felt an energy shift from simple tension to shock from them.
Josephina was immediately joined by the other two ladies as they moved to take seats with the new house guest. “Must have been something to stir up such emotions,” she mused. “Heartbreak?”
“Suppose you could call it that,” she let out a shudder.
“What a terrible thing…and on a night like this?” the one called ‘Margret’ ridiculed and her classic Brooklyn accent slipped, “Talk about a cliché.”
The one that remained unnamed shrugged, “I think it rather fitting.”
Margret shook her head and murmured, “We can’t eat you like this.”
The other two women gave her a look of shock.
Margret got defensive as she cut her eyes at them and back to the pin up before them, then back to her companions. “We can’t! She doesn’t have fear!”
“Stop!” the other hissed at her.
“Vampires….”
The trio looked at her, taken aback by her bluntness, “What?”
“Vampires, correct?” she looked carefully at each of their faces, “It’s the only way this place is so intact and well kept.” Her smile became a bit more pronounced, “And whoever was the painter deserves a lot more credit, deceased or not.”
They continued to stare at her, “You….”
“No fear,” she shrugged.
Margret blinked, “What are you?”
The young female sighed, “A very upset woman that has given up enough to know that she is in a dark place and has been left to continue her walk alone.”
“Let’s kill her,” the other with the earthly hazel eyes whispered.
Josephina put up her hand, “Wait. I think that she is being sincere, Lottie.”
She moved her head to the side as she studied them, “What’s the pleasure of going after someone without fear?”
Margret was not sure how to take that and her expression turned blank.
“That is…true.” Lottie gave her a side eye before leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand, “So what made you come in?”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“A man.”
Each of them exchanged glances.
“What?” she wondered if what she had seen was just an apparition, would not have been the first nor her last time.
Josephina eyed her, “You came in…because of a man?”
“Yes.” She chuckled to herself at how stupid it really was, “That and it was enough to get out of the rain for a while.”
Margret arched her brow and leaned into her, “Care to give us a description?”
She raised her hand up, “Tall, in a white apron splattered with blood.” She shivered and shoved her hands between her thighs, “He looked like…well, a butcher.”
They again exchanged glances.
“Resident ghost?” their guest asked nonchalant.
Margret took a breath, “Oh…you could call him that.”
Josephina shook her head, “He is our…familiar…sort of.”
“So…he is human?” she glanced to the crone of the trio, “And alive?”
“Human?” Lottie shook her head, “We are not sure if you would say that, but he is a spook.”
“And the old man?” she gestured with her hand to a corner that was actually empty.
“Oh, now he is a ghost who was one of the family members that owned this land,” Josephina waved it off, more interested in the one that was still breathing.
“We ate him,” Margret grinned.
The guest took a deep breath, “So…how long have you been here?”
“We have been here for…um…” Lottie counted with her fingers.
Margret looked to the guest, “What year is it?”
She answered with a grumble, “2017, worst year ever.”
“Then it has been almost…84 years.” Margret’s voice strained at the realization.
The guest blinked and tried not to laugh, “Well. Thank you for the hospitality.”
Lottie looked at her, “Sorry about the…”
“…‘eating me’ thing?” her brow arched.
Margret nodded, feeling a little sheepish.
“It’s alright, I’ll take the complement.” She smiled at them, her body trembling a bit as the room around her seemed to become a bit more decayed.
The trio laughed, Josephina the first to catch her breath, “You are an odd one.”
She thought about it and nodded, “I suppose so.”
Josephina shifted in her chair as her European accent became a bit stronger, “Would you like dinner? A real dinner?”
The woman shook her head, “No need.”
Margret smiled as she now became amused, “Perhaps a drink?”
She shook her head, “Just waiting for the weather to die down and go on my way home. Have to make sure all of his things are on the lawn in the morning.”
Margret’s grin dropped. “Love, we can’t let you leave. We can’t risk exposure.”
“Nor can I,” she sighed, “But I can’t hide forever either.”
They were confused by her statement.
Her eyes shot up from where she had been staring down at her hands as she realized what she said. “Sorry. Perhaps tomorrow I could join you. I would not mind celebrating and it would give you time to prepare and I would not feel like I am imposing.”
Josephina gave a nod, “Dinner then. And as collateral?”
“You may have your ‘familiar of sorts’ walk me home,” she warmly smiled.
The other two arched their brows, the suspicion once again strong in the air. Josephina quietly thought on it before giving her a nod, “That seems decent enough.”
“The sun will be down around eight, perhaps he can come and also escort me here?” she waited for the response with a soft curve of her lips.
“Or wait until the morning?” Josephina challenged.
“I will be imposing; I already practically broke in.” she felt embarrassed by that as she thought on how she just walked right in and did not think beforehand.
“Far from it, the door was open. You were invited,” Lottie waved her hand.
“We can make a bed up for you and you need to have something to eat. Please.” Josephina stood, “I will not stand for someone to starve themselves over a fool’s decision.”
She gave a nod and smiled wide, “I assure you that food is far from my mind at the moment. But as for tomorrow, that will be different.”
Josephina moved over to the kitchen, “We will be having a guest!” She looked back into the dining room before slipping past the small swinging double doors. Her head popped back out and smiled at the guest, “Food allergies?”
The guest gave her a gawk and shrugged, “Peanuts?”
She raised a finger and turned back to kitchen, “Peanuts!”
“Out of the kitchen, you leech!” a man shouted from the room with a strong Cajun accent.
“Thank you, Louis!” she called out as she returned and sat back down. “I apologize for the foul behavior on our…house staff.”
“As I said, it is on such a short notice.” The woman felt that she was exposed and possibly in a trap that was not involving something she wanted in at this moment.
“Well, red or white?” Josephina asked her with a warned tone.
The guest gave her a huge grin, “Red.”
“Wonderful choice.” Her fangs flashed, “I have an 1850 merlot that you will appreciate.”
Her eyes went wide, “You have…what?”
The crone’s eyes shifted as if she said something wrong, “An 1850 merlot?”
Her breath caught, “How?”
“The old man you saw?” she gestured with a wave of her hand, “His family originally used this as a vineyard and then a distillery.”
“My damn.” The guest blinked away her surprise and it was replaced with joy, “Well, I will appreciate trying a piece of history.”
“Well, you do look like a piece of history.”
“Oh?” she did not think of the fact that she had herself in a victory roll up-do and her side swept bangs were threating to stick to her face. Her clothes were also modern, but reflecting the classic pin up style of the 40’s and 50’s. “I am sure I seem dreadful.”
“Not at the least!” Lottie giggled.
“So, will I be dead by peanuts?” the pin up asked, a glint of excitement on her face.
Josephina shook her head as her eyes slowly turned wide and her guest felt the towering presence of someone behind her.
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and was met with sharp, almost playful, celestine blue orbs. A blush formed on her cheeks; a wide grin found its way to her face as they locked onto the other.
His eyes widened with shock as he found himself met with a sense of something familiar. The mask may have covered the lower half of his face, but his stare gave him away as they became a lighter aqua aura shade, then turned a few shades to a dark glacier as well as his pupils dilating the longer they fixed on the guest’s own as he watched them shimmer on a borderline deep jade from the bright emerald they first were. He took her neck in his gloved left hand the same way a viper would strike its prey, pinning her against the high back dining chair as he stood behind her, her head craned and her spine arched, her gaze forced to meet his as his hand moved to rest under her chin and his grip tightened just enough to warn her.
The trio of vamps yelped, “No!” only for her to not move, nor did he. They soon noted that these two were no longer aware of their surroundings and it seemed they were locked in some strange unspoken conversation.
A grin spread across his face. Even with the muzzle shielding his mouth, she could see it in his eyes.
“A new plaything?” his baritone voice purred soft, unknowingly causing the woman in his grip to shiver no longer from the cold, but from some primal need.
“No, a real guest.” Josephina fought to not growl as she licked her lips and bared her teeth, “She took your invitation.”
He momentarily became confused and glanced at the trio, “I’m sure you—”
They each shook their heads with the same shared strained expression, assuring him that they were in fact, not responsible for her entrance.
His glacier orbs shifted to a lighter shade of confusion before settling back down to the woman he had in his hold, “You saw me?”
“Hard to miss someone like you.” She shrugged, completely relaxed, disregarding that he could snap her neck at any time that he wished.
“‘Like you’?” he found that an odd thing to say, but it intrigued him.
“Lost in time,” she stupidly smiled.
His eyes widened and he cursed the muzzle on his face. He wanted to taste her properly with his own fangs. There was something in her eyes. Mischief. A lot of it.
“We knew you were a gentleman, but never to this extent.” Margret remarked, never before seeing him flustered.
His eyes shot back up to glare her down, his blade quivering in his right hand as it rested at his side. The comment dumbfounding him as he debated on what to do.
“Oh, now put Mildred down, you’re being rude.” Josephina ordered, knowing that he had no intention of slitting the lady’s throat.
He released her from his grip as he held the cleaver closer. He felt exposed, he had not invited her in, nor had he wanted company. But there was something hiding behind her smile and that gave way to curiosity. He released her from his hold, and quietly slunk back to his basement domain through the kitchen, only to be stopped by a large black man that was stirring shrimp into a rue.
“What?” he spat as he met the deep amber gaze of the man before him.
Louis noted his energy as he studied him with an arched brow. He let his Cajun accent come out in a careful mutter, “Do I kill her?”
He paused and then shook his head. “The ladies said she was a guest and to leave her be. Why?” he felt pissed and hot at the same time, causing him to have anxiety and feel confused.
Louis noted this and bit his lip to try not to push him over the edge with teasing him, “She has an apparent food allergy.”
His brow arched, “Oh?” What does that matter to me? he thought to himself.
“Peanuts.”
He blinked and thought a moment before shaking his head, “Don’t risk it. They may do more harm to you at this moment."
Louis swallowed and noted that something was really up with his dear friend, “Alright then. I’ll leave it to you to tell me what to feed her.”
The butcher before him took in a deep breath and closed his eyes before asking with an exasperated sigh, “Has she chosen a wine, beer, or liquor?”
“She is drinking red…” he watched him and how he saw the careful thought process before he watched his brow go up.
He found himself smirking, “Is she bringing it?”
“No,” his eyes narrowed as he thought that this guest was just some unsophisticated child, “Miss Josephina mentioned the 1850.”
His light eyes widened a bit, “And what did she say?”
The Cajun knew that he had him on the hook, “That she would be ‘honored to enjoy the history.’ Personally, I think that she has a death wish.”
He found himself grinning and chuckled. Yes, this woman definitely was on the edge and was just looking for a reason to get pushed over it.
Louis went to plead for her survival, “She can’t--"
“She will be reflective of what you’re used to making. Just please don’t kill her in the process.” He moved to go back down into the darkness of his solitude.
Louis once again stopped him, “But what do I make y’all?”
“I don’t think she will be against pork…or even cow. I’ll bring the cuts, just remember to not be sloppy. They want to impress her, the 1850 isn’t for just anyone.” He continued back down into the cellar and into his space, now cleaning the stone floor of the carnage from the mere moments before she stepped in. He knew that he could not hide from her forever and would have to face her, but why would someone do such a thing with a blatant disregard for her safety? No, something was off, and he was going to figure it out.
