"Lucy?" Edward was lying in bed. The lights were out, and there was nothing to be seen but blackness. "Is that you?"

A spark flew from a lit match, giving light to a young British girl with a head full of brown beautiful curls. "Of course it's me, darling. Are you alright? You've got yourself all sweaty with worry—did you have a nightmare perchance?"

Edward peered over the blankets which covered him. "No—I—I thought I heard something."

"Don't be ridiculous, it couldn't have been anything more than deer or something—"

A banging from the corridor echoed softly against the bedroom door.

"There it is again!" Edward perked up at the sound.

Lucy having looked to the door, looked back at Edward, "It's the front door, Edward."

Edward pulled the sheets back and leaped from his bed. "I'll see to it!" He confidently sped-walked down the long hallway of his grand estate, down the large and gaudy staircase, and right to the front and lavish door. Opening it with just a crack but then swinging it all the way to the wall, Edward found a sopping young lady.

"Dear good sir," Veronica poured her heart and soul into his hands, "We were on our way back to the countryside when our horses got spooked by lightning." Edward then noticed a tall, sturdy young man who was also drenched, but his cold gaze under the shadows etching into his face held Edward in his place.

"May we come in? Possibly wait out the storm?"

Edward turned back to the young woman, dazed, "Yes, of course. My apologies for letting you stay out there any longer."

He led them to the dining room and sat them on the side closest to the kitchen. Lucy, in her white chemise, brought a tray of tea and soup. Edward backed into the corner beside the silverware and glassware cabinet, holding himself against the side trying to hide his excitement. He pressed his leg harder into the cabinet door.

"What are a simple couple of kids doing out in the middle of the countryside at this time of night?" Lucy sat herself down next to Henry.

"We were going home—"

"Oh—where's that?"

"Just up the way past the grotto."

"Oh—that little cottage?" Lucy let out a small laugh, "oh~how quaint!"

"I wouldn't be calling their lifestyle quaint, Lucy." Edward spoke from the shadows where he crept.

Bending over the backside of her chair, Lucy admonished him, "Edward! You're the one cowering in that corner of yours!" Lucy then turned to the servants that starred at their guests from the kitchen, "And you lot all should be finding something better to do!"

They scurried away, closing the door quietly.

"You act like you've seen a spectre, Edward." Lucy huffed.

"I have." Staring at Henry, Edward let his guard down and walked into the light. "Or, rather, some form of the devil."

"Outrageous! Do you hear yourself, Edward, and how silly you sound?" Lucy turned back, messing with the tea and biscuits. "Come here and see to your guests." She quickly and soon thereafter got up, dragging Edward to the kitchen.

He could feel the tension of something horrible and otherworldly filling the air. "Those two are in consorts with the devils, I tell you."

He was yanked through the kitchen door.

"I've never seen anyone catch on so early." Veronica turned to Henry, intrigued and fascinated rather than worried.

Henry shrugged, smashing his cookies under his thumb. "He must be some missionary of sorts." He licked his fingers. "Damn, now why'd I go and do a stupid thing like that?" Henry spat out the crumbs, wiping them from his tongue with his napkin. "Oh look." He whispered to Veronica, "They're staring."

Veronica turned to the kitchen door to see the servants muttering together.

"They must sense it too—what on earth are you trying here? You're not going to feed again, are you, sir? There's much too many people to try that since you've had not too long ago."

Henry smiled, wicked with pleasure from seeing how they coward under him. "Oh, how I love the Christians!" He mocked them. "I've heard Congregationalists are taking root now instead of those nasty puritans. They were so much fun—remember they'd tried hanging you on several occasions on a count of witchery?" He laughed.

Veronica loosely shook her head. "That was something!" She scrunched her brow in annoyance. How could Henry find her suffering during the witch trials in puritan America amusing? How dare he laugh.

"What's eating you?" Henry prodded Veronica.

She heavily sighed, facing away, "I don't want to see these people dead, sir."

"Okay." He sat back in his chair, "It's done!"

~~~~~~

"Edward!" Lucy hissed, "What on earth are you doing going around and accusing people of wizardry. Do you want to start a witch hunt?"

Edward pulled his arm from her, "Salem was almost a hundred years ago, Lucy." She peered over his shoulder into the dining room. "But that doesn't mean they don't exist anymore!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. What witchery do you see in those two?"

Edward let out a fantastical gasp, "I. Say." He said, separating his words. "My great grandfather might have been kept from leaving England, but it didn't stop him from believing in its purification!"

"Stop holding onto such daft beliefs!" Lucy grabbed his face, pressing her fingers into his skin. "I don't want to hear another word. I'm sure you'll find them nice company. We don't have company often because of your insane ideas of witchery."

"But I was right about the Smith's!"

"They were feeding into your lies, Edward!"

He let out a sob; a singular tear dropped on Lucy's wedding ring, running over the keeper rings. Edward envied that ring. "But" Lucy continued, "It isn't excuse enough for them to set up those hedonistic rituals."

Edward paused, taking in a deep breath, remembering the young girls he found in the woods calling spirits. He let out a stiff and wavering sigh.

"Are you ready to greet our guests?" Edward looked down at Lucy's feet. He nodded shyly and rather embarrassed—embarrassed for his behavior.

~~~~~~~

Upon the Dunham's reentering the dining room, Veronica and Henry sat up from their deep conversation.

"Okay!" Edward cleared his throat. "If you'd like to stay the night, we have a few rooms for you to choose from. My servants will be at your very need if you're ever so inclined."

Edward led them down a long corridor with a candle in his hands. He muttered to himself the servants hadn't lit the lamps.

At the very end of the hall, Edward motioned to a door to the guest room. "I'm assuming you're together."

"Oh!" Veronica gasped.

"No." Henry simply stated.

Edward bit his lip to stop his smile erupting from his face. "There's a separate room across the hall for you, sir." He bent, leaning towards the other door.

"Hmm." Henry turned and walked into the other bedroom.

Veronica casually reached for the door, pushing her way to a small beautifully decorated room.

"Edward, by the by." He introduced himself.

"Veronica." She said sweetly, shaking his hand.

"I'd like to formally invite you to a luncheon next week when the sun comes out. I hope you'd be attending."

"Yes! Of course!"

"I hope he's to attend too." Edward said slyly.

"Of course!"

Edward followed Veronica into the room to the seating area by the fireplace. They watched as a servant lit it and got it going.

"Who are you?" He softly pressed once the servant left.

"What do you mean?"

"Where're you from?"

Veronica smiled nervously. She felt under questioning. "Nowhere—I mean—I'm from London!"

"You don't have an English accent." Edward noted.

"I—It's just very faint."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five." She said forcefully, questioning his motives, "What do you see in getting out of this?"

"I just want to get to know you!" He said innocently, "After all, your fiancée and you are invited to lunch next week."

Veronica eyed him before bursting out, "We're not married nor are we engaged to be married or engaged to be engaged ever!"

"Who is he to you then? Family?"

Veronica sat back, "In some sense."

When she didn't expand or explain, Edward stared and continued to stare until she finally said: "I am a sort of servant of his, keeping an eye on his health."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's—He's." Veronica was trying to find the right words. "He's a skin condition that when the sun hits him, he burns terribly."

"Like a vampire."

Veronica smiled, laughing even. Like, try something more along the lines of is exactly one.

"I suppose. He can remind me of such the way he walls himself up at times. A hermit actually."

"I don't see any bites on you."

Veronica's laugh faded as she looked to Edward and saw how serious he was about the vampire fact.

"Oh! Don't you know that you don't need to be bitten to sell your soul to the devil?" She laughed, seeing how his eyes widened. "I'm joking, Edward." She patted his shoulder, watching him recollect himself.

She was going to have fun with this one.

Chapter 2

0 Comments