House of Blood

by Bryan Smith

  Eddie put the chair down.

  He sat in it and cupped his face in his palms. “Fuck me gently with a thresher.”

  He rubbed his eyes and opened them again, and he saw what he expected to see. A panel of the wall was sliding slowly open. He glimpsed darkness and the hint of a flickering flame. Giselle emerged through the opening bearing a gas lantern. As soon as she was in the room the wall panel began to slide shut. Then the opening was gone and there was only the wall. The seal was seamless. He shook his head. Well, it made sense. A place like this would have sliding wall panels and secret passages.

  Giselle blew out the lantern’s flame, walked over to the writing table, and set it down. Eddie looked up at her and was unsurprised to see her smiling at him. She looked just as she had in the dream. The long black skirt swirled about

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  her ankles. The burgundy top looked flimsy, almost see-through, like something that should be ripped from her body posthaste.

  Hmm, what a strange thought…

  Giselle reached out and stroked his face with the palm of a hand. Eddie shuddered at her touch. Something passed through her fingertips into him, something sensuous, an electric elixir that made him drunk with desire.

  He gulped. “Giselle, I’ve never been so scared of a person in my life, but…”

  Giselle smiled.

  And she opened her mouth.

  And said, “But you want to make love to me.”

  Eddie’s eyes widened.

  He felt dizzy.

  So very, very dizzy.

  He slid out of the chair and tumbled to the floor.

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  The Master relaxed with another drink as he considered his nomadic nature.

  Though he tended to remain in one place for decades, he’d traveled the world, beginning new colonies of slaves in the remotest corners of nearly all the major continents. These he wiped out whenever a renewed sense of wanderlust told him the time had come to move on. No trace was ever left. These demolitions were great, masterful symphonies of destruction, carnage on a grand scale, and it all occurred beyond the eyes of the outside world. The gap between the world the humans inhabited and the dark corners he carved out of the fabric of existence could not be breached.

  Unless he willed it.

  Which, as was the case tonight, he sometimes did.

  He wasn’t certain yet, but he thought this place in the

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  mountains of Tennessee might be the last of his kingdoms. That sense of restlessness was beginning to fade. The notion of starting fresh somewhere else possessed none of its former invigorating power.

  Time.

  That relentless tick-tock ogre.

  He was getting old, and some of his passions were deserting him.

  There was a life beyond this realm. He knew that. A place where he might finally live among others of his kind. This place wasn’t the afterworld of primitive human belief, but it was similar in some respects. His physical body would die and decay, but his life would not end. He would ascend to this other realm, this elevated place of light and wonder, and would inhabit a new shell. Solid flesh and blood. But this was the extent of his knowledge. He knew little of the form and substance of this other place. The few texts that talked about it were too vague in their descriptions.

  The texts he had were handwritten tomes handed down from others of his kind through the millennia. The ancient pages survived only through a concentration of his will. When he ascended to that other place, there would be no one left to continue this act of magical maintenance; the pages would crumble, the binding would dissolve, and the remaining pile of dust would be swept away by the next gust of wind that happened along.

  The Master sipped his drink.

  A thoughtful frown creased his brow as he considered these things. It wasn’t a given he would automatically ascend to the other place. He certainly shouldn’t assume it

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  would just happen. The gods required a constant level of appeasement and sacrifice. The ancient texts were quite clear on that matter.

  Tick-tock.

  The disquieting thing was the lack of a measuring stick. He had nothing to judge his efforts against. Had he done enough? Why were the gods silent? A melancholy loneliness settled over him. He ached for the company of others of his kind.

  He became angry at himself.

  How had he contracted so many human weaknesses? He fed off them in a vaguely vampiric way, derived life-sustaining energy from their terror, and he wondered now if he’d absorbed some of their essence.

  Yet another in a long series of troubling possibilities.

  He carried his drink to his chambers.

  His “guests” would arrive soon. The sense that there was something unique about the one called Dream was undiminished.

  She was special.

  The thought he’d been trying to suppress-because it was so obviously not possible-floated fully formed into his consciousness.

  She was the reason for this uncharacteristic bout with melancholy and self-doubt.

  And this uncomfortable contemplation of the eventual end of his natural life.

  He sighed deeply, stretched out in a chair, and closed his eyes. The flesh of his face began to ripple and contort. Some of the gray-but not all-faded from his hair. New hair filled in other places and removed the illusion of a

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  receding hairline. The creature in the chair no longer looked like the benign older gentleman it usually pretended to be when greeting new arrivals.

  The man in the chair looked forty instead of sixty.

  Old enough to command respect.

  Yet young enough-and handsome enough-to instill desire.

  He was instituting a new approach tonight, a one-time deviation from the usual program of subjugation and torture. Dream was the reason for this change of plans. She would come to him of her own free will. He wasn’t sure why, but he sensed this was important.

  The Master smiled.

  The change was complete.

  The Accord pulled to a stop alongside the long front porch. The imposing house loomed over the car’s passengers like a steely-eyed beast. Gabled windows extended from either side of the columned porch. The house would not have looked out of place in an upscale modern neighborhood, but there was a hint of something old world about it. There was an implied menace in the way it seemed to crouch against the side of the mountain, as if readying to strike.

  Karen leaned through the gap between the front seats and said, “Creepy”

  Alicia whistled. “No shit.”

  Dream was entranced by the house. She was aware of the menace it exuded, but it evoked something else in her, some nameless longing that made her heart race. She opened the door on her side and extended a long leg through the opening.

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  Alicia seized her wrist. “Whoa, hold up!”

  A thunderclap of unexpected fury rumbled inside Dream’s head. She twisted free of Alicia’s grip and barked at her, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

  Alicia blinked. “Jesus, Dream.”

  Dream winced.

  What the hell brought that on? she wondered.

  She clasped hands with Alicia. “I’m sorry”

  Alicia frowned. “Whatever. We’re all on edge. I know that.” She glanced at the house again before shifting her gaze back to Dream.

  She shuddered.

  And opened the door on her side. “Oh, hell. Let’s go if we’re goin’.”

  Dream smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Place is creepy as all get-out, but we don’t have a lot of other options.”

  Karen sighed in the backseat. “Other than just killing ourselves.”

  Dream tried not to show her shock.

  Karen’s comment was offhand, flippant.

  She couldn’t know one of her friends meant to do that very thing.

  “Nobody’s killing themselves.” Alicia sounded weary and out of patience. “Let’s get up in th
is fucker and see if we can get some help for that little asshole.”

  Meaning Chad.

  They all got out of the car and stretched their legs. Dream stared up at one of the gabled windows. A flickering light emanated from the darkness there. A candle. She walked up to the porch, climbed the steps, and soon stood

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  before a large door. Karen and Alicia, still wary, trailed after her, and stood to either side of her.

  The door was ornate and carved from old oak. There was a small window at about eye level, and there was a heavy brass knocker below the window.

  Dream grasped the knocker. She rapped it hard against the door four times and stepped back.

  There was no initial acknowledgment of their presence from the other side of the door. Dream was ready to reach for the knocker again when they heard a muffled click of footsteps from somewhere inside. A woman in heels, from the sound of it. Then yellow light was blazing through the small window. A moment later, the door creaked open.

  A tall, slim woman of about forty stood in the opening. Her expression was severe, made more so by the way her black hair was pulled tightly away from her face. She wore a simple black dress, a dress an urban woman might wear to an elegant club. Something in her posture and the set of her features hinted at cruelty.

  A smile devoid of warmth twisted the woman’s thin lips. “Are you ladies lost?”

  Dream gulped. “Um …” She cleared her throat and somehow found her voice. “Yes. We’re lost and we need help. A friend of ours is… dead. And another one is missing.”

  Dream’s voice quavered with unexpected emotion, the veil of detachment slipping momentarily away. “Please, we need to call the police. Please help us.”

  “Oh, my,” the woman gasped, an exaggerated, nearly theatrical sound. “How dreadful.” She made a tsk-tsk sound and shook her head. “Why don’t you ladies step inside?

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  You can call me Ms. Wickman, by the way. We’ll have a talk and figure out what to do about your missing friend.”

  Dream stepped over the threshold and into the house. Alicia and Karen followed her inside, and the heavy oak door swung shut behind them.

  Ms. Wickman turned the lock.

  “There,” she said, obvious satisfaction in her voice. Her hazel eyes sparkled with ill-concealed excitement. “Now no one gets in or out.” She chuckled, a sound that unnerved them all. “We’re all safe from the big, bad killer.”

  Dream was appalled by the inappropriate nature of a humorous remark at a time like that, but then Ms. Wickman swept past them and beckoned them to follow her. So they did, moving down a short hallway off the foyer, then stepping through a doorway into a large and impressively appointed living room.

  “Here, dearies, have a seat on the comfy sofas.”

  The women seated themselves, settling into squeaky leather.

  Alicia said, “We appreciate the hospitality, but what we could really use is a phone.”

  An expression that was nearly a smirk tugged at a corner of the woman’s mouth. “Yes, I suppose that’s so. There isn’t one in this room, unfortunately. Relax and get comfortable.” She smiled again. “You should know that this isn’t my home. I am merely an employee of the man of the house. He will be in to see you shortly.”

  She was gone before they could question her further.

  Alicia released a shuddery breath. “Oh my God, she is so fucking strange.”

  Karen looked startled. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

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  Alicia laughed. “Yeah, what’s she gonna do? You think she’s coming back with a chain saw? Get real. She’s just an antisocial wacko living up here in the woods with her recluse boss.”

  Karen said, “Think about what you just said. That last sentence.”

  Alicia frowned.

  Dream cleared her throat. “You both need to calm down. You’re jumping at shadows.”

  Karen’s head jerked toward Dream. “Yeah, and for some pretty good reasons, or have you already forgotten? What’s wrong with you, anyway? You’re acting weird.”

  Dream sighed. “I am not. I’m just tired.”

  It was only a partial lie.

  She was acting weird, and she knew it.

  Hell, she felt weird.

  Strange.

  Well, this was her last night on earth.

  How else should she feel?

  But the suicidal thoughts vanished as she became aware of a new presence entering the room. She felt a strange tingle as she turned to get a glimpse of the best-looking man she’d laid eyes on in a long time. He was maybe six feet tall, solidly built, and blessed with square-jawed movie-star looks. He caught her eye immediately and smiled in a way that made her knees shake.

  Alicia whispered, “Oh, my!”

  His compelling gaze never left Dream.

  She went to him, extending a hand. “My name is Dream.”

  He clasped her hand.

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  His touch sent a shiver of sensual delight through her.

  He smiled. “Welcome to my home, Dream.”

  Dream blushed.

  She felt weak.

  Helpless.

  Lost in his glittering eyes.

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  Chad followed Cindy through a narrow tunnel that steadily curved and sloped ever downward. The going was slow. You didn’t want to work up too much of a head of steam, or you’d go tumbling ass over teakettle down the tunnel. Staying upright was a job and a fucking half, but Chad found it helpful to let the fingertips of his right hand glide over the tunnel wall. The technique worked well enough, for the most part, but he was unsurprised to find himself stumbling as they rounded yet another bend. He righted himself with a wild pinwheeling of the arms, drew in a steadying breath, and slipped his right foot back into the primitive sandal it had just vacated. “Hey, uh, Cindy?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yeah?” He resumed walking, even jogged for a moment to

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  catch up to her, the sandals slapping against the hardpacked dirt. “Look, I can dig all this stuff about how you do what you have to do down here. Law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, and so forth. But since we’re sort of comrades-in-arms now, having been through a kind of trial by fire together, I thought I’d appeal to your better angels and ask you to give back what’s rightfully mine.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I want my fucking Reeboks.”

  “It’s good to want things, Chad.”

  Chad groaned. “Jesus Christ, woman, you’re taking me down into the bowels of, well… hell… or something. I should get to make the journey in a modicum of comfort. Or is that too much to ask?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that one.”

  Chad sagged. “Congratulations, you are now officially the ball-busting champion of the world. I know you must be proud.”

  Cindy’s expression softened, the smirk becoming an almost affectionate smile. She walked up to him, cupped his face in her palms, and kissed him full on the mouth. Chad’s eyes widened as she continued to kiss him for several seconds.

  She broke off the kiss and said, “What were you saying?”

  Chad frowned, and nervously cleared his throat. “Um … that was unexpected. Unexpected and startling …” He almost smiled. “… but nice.”

  Chad watched a single tear spill from one of her eyes and trace a path over the contours of one of her lovely cheeks. A familiar ache sparked to life in his heart, the leading edge of a mass of pain he tried to keep tucked

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  away in one of the darkest corners of his soul. That corner housed the love he felt for Dream that could never become the romantic love she so desired. Oh, he loved Dream so much. His one regret in the world, the one he would change if he could, was his inability to be what she wanted him to be.

  A man worthy of her bottomless wellspring of love.

  Cindy wasn’t Dream. They were different in countless w
ays. But here was that same source of angst again. He stared at her and felt a terrible empathy. The thin film of dirt that covered her body was heartbreaking. He looked at her unwashed hair and thought how coarse it must feel to the touch. He ached for the woman she’d been prior to coming here, a woman he’d just gotten a bittersweet glimpse of, a mom and a lover and a nurse. A good person. His own eyes glistened with moisture.

  No one deserved this fate.

  He took her into his arms and she stepped willingly into the embrace, wrapping her arms about his back as she cried softly against his ear. The embrace was brief, but he sensed it was a welcome gesture. When they parted, Chad sensed something fundamental had changed between them. He thought maybe he’d touched something long dormant within her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Sometimes it all hits home.” She managed a small smile. “Sometimes I get desperate to wake up from this nightmare and I just lose it.”

  “You don’t ever need to be embarrassed to be human in front of me, Cindy”

  Please let me have a chance to say that to Dream before I die, he thought. That and so many other things.

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  She kissed him again. A light peck on the cheek. “Thank you. Now …” She heaved a big sigh. “This has been … nice … but we should get going again.”

  Chad nodded. “Right.”

  Cindy clasped hands with him, and they began to make their way through the tunnel again, this time at a slower, more deliberate pace. Chad was so preoccupied by the abrupt change in the tenor of his relationship with Cindy that he failed to immediately notice the widening of the tunnel. He was so immersed in contemplation of the development that the hum of nearby machinery didn’t register until Cindy said, “Slow down.”

  Chad looked at her. “What?”

  So she said it again. “Slow down. Listen.”