by Anita Higman
So, he was one of those guys who loved to quote famous dead poets. I fidgeted with my rose, starting to feel uncomfortable and wondering how many women he’d schmoozed into a senseless stupor over the years with his smooth hair and silvery tongue. Probably more than he could keep track of. That was the way with well-designed men. They were like Italian suits in a denim world. But me, I preferred what was real over fantasy.
A quiet crept on the porch with us, but Vlad didn’t appear to be the least bit uneasy. He also didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon. Shouldn’t he say “so long” or “tallyho” or whatever a slightly British guy would say? Maybe he expected me to invite him in. “Would you like to come in for a minute? I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.”
“I would love a cup of coffee if you have some.”
I stepped away from the open door. “Certainly.”
Never taking his eyes off me, Vlad stepped over the threshold. “Thank you.”
“I assume you’re B.J.’s stepbrother.” I hoped my frank words could add a little reality to what suddenly felt too intimate.
Vlad’s eyes filled with mist. “His death was quite a shock.” He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes. “My stepbrother has always had a bad heart.”
“I’m very sorry.” Now I felt like a jerk for bringing up his stepbrother just to defuse my uneasiness. “Would you like that coffee now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Vlad moved into the entry hall. “What an absolutely delicious house.” He bent down and touched the floor. “Hardwood. . .very nice.” He rose and glanced around. “And such spacious rooms. Lots of custom woodwork. You don’t see much of that anymore. And just look at that ornate stone fireplace in the living room.” He shook his head. “Gargoyles. They’re marvelous.” He moved from the entry toward the staircase. “Oh, and look at this.” He ran his fingers along the banister. “It’ll be quite the showpiece when these stairs are restored.”
I smiled, enjoying his assessments. “It was a gift I inherited from my grandmother. Although she never lived here.” I glanced around, appreciating the fact that the interior renovation didn’t seem nearly as overwhelming as the exterior had been—especially after I’d cleaned the house from top to bottom, “The restoration on the outside is pretty well completed, but as you can see there’s still some work to be done in here.”
He winced. “I’m sure it will cost you a fortune.”
My mouth popped open, wanting to tell him about the two gallon jars crammed full of one-hundred dollar bills that Granny had left me in the tunnel, but something stopped me. I didn’t think that was something to tell a perfect stranger. “Actually, it’s not been as expensive as I thought it would be.”
For a moment we ran out of neighborly things to say. He pointed to my new camera, which sat on the coffee table. “Are you a photographer?”
I chuckled—maybe a little too loudly. “Not really. In fact, the novelty of the thing has already worn off. But I do like to capture the unsuspecting.”
“Oh, yes, so do I.” Vlad grinned, showing a row of flawless, glistening teeth.
What else had I expected? He could part a room at a party in five seconds flat. People must stare at him everywhere he goes. Kind of like the way I was staring right now. I looked away, embarrassed. “So, what do you do. . .for a living?”
“Occasionally I do some modeling.”
Well, that figures. “Oh?”
“It pays quite well, so I’ve not bothered to pursue another career.”
I nodded. “Let me get you some coffee. It’s a little cozier in the kitchen.” Cozy? Why had I said cozy? In fact, was it even appropriate to be alone with this man? I had no idea.
Vlad led the way through the Gothic arch and then stopped abruptly. For a moment, he seemed to know his way. Had he been in my house before or was the layout simply logical?
As I tinkered around in the kitchen, making coffee and placing some muffins on a plate, out of the corner of my eye I saw Vlad was watching my every move. Like a surveillance camera. I felt a chill on my skin as he kept his gaze on me.
I turned to him. “Muffin?”
“Yes?” he asked.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but didn’t. “I mean would you like one? A muffin. I think they’re eatable.”
He chuckled. “No, thank you. Just coffee.”
After my machine had made enough brew for a short visit, Vlad insisted I sit down on my one cushy chair while he served me. He handed me a cup of coffee with cream and no sugar and then eased down onto one of the hard folding chairs. If he was uncomfortable, he didn’t let on.
We made small talk for a few moments, and then I suddenly felt baffled as to why I’d invited him in for coffee. I shouldn’t have. But weren’t neighbors supposed to be sociable? On the other hand, I argued with myself, if Max rang the bell just now, I’d feel embarrassed. I squirmed a bit, lifting and straightening myself in the chair, but I only seemed to sink more deeply. At least I’d remembered to put the brass chest back in the cabinet. Vlad appeared to be such an inquisitive sort of man that he would have insisted on a peek. And trying to talk him out of it might have come off rude. “I’m sorry about my furniture—or the lack of it. I’m still trying to figure out what style I am.”
“Elegant comes to mind.” Vlad raised an eyebrow as he looked over his cup at me.
I took a tiny sip of my too hot beverage. Not knowing how to respond to such complimentary words, I decided to change the subject. “I heard you and your stepbrother were very close.” Why would I bring up such a painful topic? I was such an idiot.
“Uh, yes, B.J. was greatly beloved.” He cocked his head at me. “Who told you? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Max Sumner, my neighbor two doors down.”
“Oh, yes, I remember meeting him. Friendly fellow.”
Wow. People still used that word “fellow?” I couldn’t figure out if Vlad was putting on airs to impress me, or if he was zapped into my kitchen from a time machine. “Yes, Max is friendly, and I’m happy to say we’re getting married.”
“You are?” Vlad looked genuinely disappointed.
I nodded.
He took a long draught from his cup. “So, when is it?”
“What?”
“Your wedding?”
I shook my head, trying to stay focused. “Early May I suppose. We keep moving the date. You see, the guest list continues to expand, so the bigger the affair, you know, the more time it takes to put things together.”
“I see.” He looked into his cup and then back at me. “Don’t you like the coffee? It’s excellent.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, you don’t seem all that interested in yours, so I thought maybe you’d just made the coffee to please me.”
“No, I didn’t. I mean, of course, I’m glad you like it.” Why did I feel so discombobulated around this guy? I fidgeted in my seat to make myself more comfortable.
“By the way, congratulations on your upcoming wedding.”
“Thank you.” I took another sip of my beverage.
Vlad smiled, looking pleased for some reason. “I see the best women of this neighborhood are getting snatched up.”
There was no doubt about it—the man was flirting. I tried to figure out why a gorgeous guy like Vlad would be interested in me. Feeling as awkward as an alligator without a swamp, I started looking at every little thing in my kitchen besides Vlad: the bare walls, the crack in the wood floor, my unmanicured fingernails. Finally, I gave up trying to pay no attention to him and just looked at him.
Vlad was still grinning at me, and it wasn’t just a neighborly grin. I remembered reading about men who could mesmerize women. He seemed to have just such a talent. I glanced away, hoping he was beat tired and wanted to go right to bed. His bed.
Maybe I should ask Vlad to leave. Now. But that would be rude. I rubbed my neck and let my gaze fall toward his feet. My eyelids fluttered. He wore a pair of shoes with p
ointy toes and squatty heels, all dyed the color of dark rubies. Made me think of shoes that were designer or custom. Or ones that were just hilariously and reprehensibly hideous.
Vlad massaged his forehead with the tips of his fingers.
“You okay?”
“Nothing really. Sometimes if the sun has been too bright all day, it gives me a wicked headache. But the coffee helps.” His eyes lit with another charming smile.
“I’m glad.” I took another sip of coffee and gazed back at him, curious and mystified. I found his movie star smile distracting and somehow annoying.
A sudden strike of lightning hit near the house in one deafening bolt. I shrieked. Then the aftershock of it coursed through my body, making me lose my grip on the saucer. It flipped in the air and then exploded against the floor. “Sorry. That was clumsy.” My hand went to my throat. “The noise. . .it startled me.” I sat my coffee cup down and then reached to pick up the pieces. A sharp edge of the porcelain pierced my skin. “Oww.” I cringed and held up my finger to assess the damage.
“You’ve cut yourself.” Vlad knelt down next to me. “Let’s have a look at that.” Before I could stop him, he gathered my hand in his—tightly. He watched as the color red oozed from the tip of my forefinger, pooling into a perfect pearl of blood.
7 – Veins of Red Lightning
Vlad pulled another beautifully monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped my finger with it. The blood spread through the delicate fabric like veins of red lightning.
“But I’m ruining your—”
“Think nothing of it,” Vlad said, never taking his eyes off my finger.
Inside my head somewhere I heard a droning sound. Then my head went light. “What’s happening?”
Vlad’s face loomed closer to mine. We both looked up, locking eyes. His stare pierced me through—eyes, onyx-colored and infinite, glowed with curiosity and sadness. I felt an unexplainable pull toward him, like a deadly undertow. Who was this man? And why did I feel so out-of-control?
Vlad’s breath moved a tendril of my hair. His hand, still clinging to mine, felt cool—unnaturally so, like slate. Thunder swelled around us in a cavernous rumble. I drew away, confused and shaken.
“Are you all right?” He rose from the floor and leaned over me.
“I don’t know.” My eyes blurred a bit. “I’m so sleepy. . .and giddy.” I chuckled. But I’ve never been giddy in my life, a voice said to me. I rubbed my neck. Outside, the wind stirred again, but this time it sounded far away.
Vlad picked up the pieces of china and gently set them on the table.
I became fixated on two of the broken pieces—tiny painted violets now severed in two. “‘Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’” Why was I quoting Edgar Allan Poe?
“You haven’t drunk all your coffee, Bailey,” Edgar murmured to me.
What was he saying? Perhaps Mr. Poe was right. The caffeine might help me clear my head. “Wait a minute; who’s Bailey?” I asked.
Vlad laughed then, a deep-throated laugh that chilled me through.
What was wrong with me that my own name sounded foreign? I drank the last swigs of the liquid in my cup, hoping to shake off the drowsy fog in my head. The coffee was unusually bitter. Tasted like the dregs. But I never made bad coffee. Did I?
“Maybe you just need to rest a bit,” a voice said as creamy as butter.
My head felt too heavy to hold up. “What did you saaay?” Then just for a moment, I rested my eyelids and glided into a dark world I’d never known. Small creatures, winged and the color of night, gnawed their way into my dream and glared at me, looking hungry and inquisitive. The tiny animals swooped and dove at me—each one trying to take a sip from the veins on my wrists. I shook them off with a scream and a shudder, but they flew back at me, tearing at my flesh. A shadowy figure came to me then and helped me shoo them away. Where am I? “God, please help me.” Did I call out?
“I’m right here. Everything’s okay,” a reassuring voice said near to me. So very near.
“Who are you? Max?”
“I’m Vlad, your new neighbor.”
“Oh. Yes.” I felt breath on my cheek like tickling feathers, someone lifting my head. “What happened to me? I feel like I’ve been asleep for days.”
Vlad knelt beside me and held my wrist as if he were taking my pulse. “It’s okay. You just slept for a bit.”
“Slept? But why didn’t you wake me?” I blinked a few times.
“I tried, but you looked so tired, I decided to let you sleep.”
I bolted up in my chair and lifted my hand from his grasp. I still felt wobbly, but my thoughts cleared. “That was strange. How long did I sleep?”
He looked at his watch. “About fifteen minutes or so.”
“Really?” I patted my cheeks.
Vlad looked serious. “I’ve seen this before. Along with his bad heart, my stepbrother had this malady.”
I took in a deep breath. “Had what?”
“Narcolepsy. It came on B.J. suddenly as an adult.”
“Oh?” I knew very little about narcolepsy, but I felt certain I didn’t suffer from it.
“Anyway, you might want to see a doctor about that.”
My environment came into perfect focus. Pieces of my broken saucer still sat forlornly on my table. At the windows, I could tell the storm had passed, but something still hung in the air—like an unseen, but threatening presence in the room. And the red rose which Vlad had given me sat withered on the arm of the chair, the scent faded and the petals tinged with brown.
Something wasn’t quite right. Time had passed. Significant time. And no matter how tired I was, I’d never allow myself to fall asleep while I was alone with a stranger. Not unless I was injured and unconscious. Or drugged. I turned to him, and my eyes narrowed.
Vlad’s expression morphed into sweet concern, but underneath was something else—a glint of shrewdness.
I cleared my throat. “It might be best for you to go now.”
He rose from the floor. “Of course. I understand. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
You have indeed.
8 – This Carnival House of Horrors
Once I’d shooed Vlad out of my home like the evil bats in my nightmare, I rinsed my hands in the downstairs powder room. Then I took a damp washcloth and held it against my face. Lord, please tell me what just happened. I felt sullied somehow. And terribly deceived. The cool washcloth revived me a bit.
I looked at my watch. I’d been asleep much longer than fifteen minutes—more like forty minutes. But why had Vlad lied to me about the time? Did he hope I wouldn’t notice? Had Vlad sat across from me, staring at me the whole time? Did I snore and drool? But no one would just sit there that long, merely watching a stranger sleep. No sane neighbor anyway.
And I’d never felt so loopy. No, that wasn’t true. Once before, when I’d had my wisdom teeth extracted, I’d been given a drug that made me feel the same way—that same dreamy euphoria.
I dropped the washcloth. Could Vlad really have drugged me? He’d insisted on pouring the coffees and serving us both. After he’d gotten me situated on my cozy chair, which was conveniently facing away from him, he must have dropped a dissolving powder into my coffee. And it must have been a medicine similar to the one I’d gotten in the dentist’s office—one that worked powerfully and quickly, and one that would wear off fast. But why drug me?To take advantage of me? I looked at my clothes. They were tidy; and other than waking up groggy, I felt fine.
Maybe before I put my emotions in overdrive, I needed some solid evidence. My cup. There would surely be a residue of the drug. I hurried to the kitchen. I found the cups rinsed and stacked in the sink. That proves it. No, it proves nothing, really, except that Vlad was a neat-freak along with being a shoe aficionado. Just to satisfy my need for evidence, I sniffed both cups and scoured the sink and counter for any leftover deposits. All was clean and tidy.
Then I meticulously checked Vlad’s every step from the co
unter to my chair. Nothing again. In spite of the lack of evidence, I still believed I’d been drugged. But what did Vlad really want? Maybe instead of watching me, he’d busied himself snooping around. He certainly seemed more than a little intrigued with my house. Going from room to room, I looked for anything moved or any tangible evidence of Vlad’s presence. To be on the safe side, I even checked the passage in my closet. But in the end, he’d been careful. All looked untouched.
I’d forgotten to check the library. But what could Vlad possibly want in there? I trotted downstairs, yanked open the French doors, which led from the dining room into the library, and then flipped on some lights. A work crew had removed some of the really dusty books, but the ones left appeared in perfect rows, unmoved.
I slid my hand along the mantle of the fireplace and glanced downward. A single rose petal sat innocently on the hearth. I picked it up. Red and fresh. How could something so soft and delicate carry such a heavy weight of guilt? But it did.
The tiniest shiver coursed through me. My rose had already wilted, so the petal must have fallen off Vlad’s boutonnière. But why would he be so careless? Or maybe he didn’t notice that the one solitary petal had fallen off his lapel.
So, I’d been right. My hand came down and struck the mantle, making my palm sting. But the biting tingle was nothing like the painful truth of what had just transpired in my own home—Vlad had drugged me! And he’d been nosing around my house looking for something.
My body backed up against the library wall and slid to the floor. Not again. Surely not. Hadn’t I endured enough over a stupid bootleg treasure that didn’t exist? I mean, what a lot of bullying for a brass box full of worthless memorabilia. Could Vlad have heard an old rumor or legend about the house too? Could my strange trip through this carnival house of horrors be revving me up for another ride?
More than anything, I wanted to tell Max. I wanted him to hold me, comfort me. But would he believe me?
I hugged my legs and cradled my head in my hands. In spite of what seemed to be the facts, I still had no concrete evidence. No leftover tainted coffee. Yes, I held Vlad’s rose petal, but what would it look like to anyone else? That he was a nosy guy? And what if I really did have a sudden adult case of narcolepsy, and I’d just made a fool of myself? Had Vlad truly stayed because he was concerned about me? Since he was impressed with the house, he may have just given himself a quiet tour while he waited for me to wake up.
