In front of us was a sprawling mansion with dark, towering spires that reached into the night sky and rough-hewn stone walls covered in creeping ivy. If things weren’t creepy enough, the windows glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the driveway as we approached the front entrance. I worried about what the vampire in the driver’s seat had in store for me. Was I dinner? Dessert? A plaything? Or something much, much worse.
I pressed my hand against the door window. “I’m Lydia,” I told my bloodsucking kidnapper. If he wanted to be “best buds,” I would play along. I’d watched enough true crime shows to know it was a good idea to humor killers, to a certain extent, if you wanted to survive an encounter, and vampires, by definition of their species, were killers.
“I’m Malik Darkmore, but my friends call me Mal.”
“Uhm…” I nervously reached for the door handle and gave it a quick tug. Locked, of course. “Nice to meet you, Mal.”
He parked and looked back over his shoulder at me. His face was sharp and perfectly carved as if modeled on da Vinci’s golden ratio for beauty—a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and wide, full lips that held quiet confidence. Usually, I would have enjoyed gazing at a face like his, but his eyes stopped me cold. They were a deep, almost unreal violet with a thin, unsettling red ring around the pupils. The intensity of his gaze made it impossible to look away, like he could see straight through me, into every secret I’d ever tried to hide.
“See, Lydia.” His broad smile revealed those wicked fangs in full as his eyes pivoted to my neck. “We’ve already become BFFs.”
Reflexively, I touched my throat and swallowed hard as I calculated all the ways I might escape the death trap on wheels.
It turned out escaping the vehicle wasn’t necessary. The locks clicked open, and in a flash, Mal was out of the car, holding the side door open for me.
When I hesitated to get out, he shook his head and said, “You can walk, or I can carry you inside, but either way…” His voice carried an unsettling calmness. “We have things to discuss.”
The man was tall and looked like he had heavyweight muscles under his tailored suit, so walking seemed the better option.
I got out voluntarily. The rain had stopped, and the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. My skin prickled with unease.
“Where are we?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.
“This,” the vampire said, gesturing with a flourish toward the mansion’s grand entrance, “is my home. But tonight, it’s also your place of work. You see, Lydia, I found myself in need of a witch’s talents. Talents you happen to have.”
His arrogance pushed my buttons. I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you had a job for me, you could’ve called and made an appointment like a regular person.”
“There’s nothing regular about me, Lydia.” He chuckled a low, resonant sound that made my stomach dip. “Besides, where’s the fun in that?”
Fine. If this was a job, then I treated it like one. “I don’t work for free.”
He arched a brow. “How much do you want?”
His place screamed money, so I decided to go ridiculously high. “A hundred grand.”
He shrugged. “Done.”
“Holy batwings.” I nearly swallowed my tongue. “I should’ve asked for more.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “You should have.” He gave me a knowing look, and I could’ve sworn the red ring around his pupils flared for an instant.
My eyes widened, but I couldn’t look away.
“Follow me,” he said, gesturing toward the entrance.
“If I don’t want to live,” I muttered in a bad Terminator impression.
The corner of Mal’s lips tugged into a half smile that was almost…charming. Then, without another word, he started up the stone steps leading to the massive double doors. They opened with a creak as if on cue, revealing a vast, dimly lit foyer. Reluctantly, I followed him inside. The interior was even more impressive than the exterior—ornate chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting flickering light on walls lined with antique portraits. The floor was polished marble, and a grand staircase swept up to the second floor like something out of a gothic romance novel.
“This way.” He led me toward a room off to the side. I kept my distance, unsure if I should run If I did run, how far could I possibly get? The answer. Not very. The way the vampire had disappeared from the driver’s seat and reappeared outside the rear door in a flash meant outrunning him would be impossible. I tried calling on my magic, but as it was in the car, I couldn’t reach the spark that made me a witch. In other words, running was out of the question.
Speaking of no magic… “How am I supposed to do this, uhm, job for you, if you’ve got the entire place shielded?”
“It’s not the entire place,” he said simply.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Cryptic.”
“Call me, Mal.” His eyes flashed with humor. “Mr. Cryptic was my father.”
I frowned. “Was that a joke?”
He shrugged. “An attempt at one.”
“Funny,” I mumbled but didn’t laugh.
We entered what appeared to be a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with dusty old tomes, and a fire crackled in the stone fireplace. He motioned for me to sit in a velvet armchair by the fire, and I hesitated before lowering myself into it.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice steadier now that I was away from the storm and the eerie silence of the car ride.
The vampire stood across from me, his large, looming figure silhouetted against the flames. “I need you to….”
Tomorrow, Part 3 will be un-coffined by Robyn Peterman!
Comments
hehehe…well, then can’t wait for the next installment