Stories under the Velvet Sky

Chapter Twenty Eight: We Now Return to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

It’s not every evening you walk out of your bathroom to find a rotting corpse sitting on your bed dressed in torn clothing that was likely to have been professional looking at one point, but now was ill-suited to even a homeless person. The hat was the only thing on the guy that seemed to be in any good condition.

Some of the skin had either rotted away, or been torn; revealing shiny white bone and black muscle underneath. The corpse was definitely a male, the hips tapered instead of curving. And from what I could tell, he had probably been very attractive once. Long black hair stuck to his skull like a second skin, plastered there by dirt, grime, and some weird looking slimy substance I didn’t even want to think about touching. Bright green-yellow pus oozed out of old-looking wounds, and several scars lined a face that seemed more like a science class plastic model displaying muscle and bone, rather than any semblance to human features.

Comparing that to me, an eighteen year old girl in a B36-Cup bra, size five pants, full skin coverage, and wearing purple pajamas with a bright green towel on my head, I felt very, very lucky all of a sudden. Also, a bit like Barney the dinosaur, but that was another matter entirely.

Blood red eyes flickered to me for a moment before returning to the candle, entranced by the covered flame. “Good evening, Miss Taylor.” The strange corpse-man greeted, his voice warped and raspy; gurgling coming from his throat like he was somehow drowning underwater. His hand, more bone and necrotic muscle, patted the spot next to him on my bed. “Please, sit down. I’d like to speak with you while I still have a moment of clarity.” He said, smiling slightly. It looked odd, as his jaw adjusted and muscles moved, forming only half a smile instead of the full one that would have been there had he had more coverage.

I complied without complaint, curious as to what he wanted, and how he knew my name. “What about?” I asked him, not a trace of fear in my voice. In truth, I felt none. Whoever he was, he did not seem frightening in the least; just very lonely.

“I’d like to give you something, and to apologize to you in advance.” He replied, regret passing over his crimson eyes. “I...am not the man, or rather vampire, I once was.”

Then it clicked. “I won’t hold it against you. Sometimes the greatest enemy is one’s own mind.” For a murderous psychopath, Amædus seemed to be quite amicable. Though he had said that this meeting was only because he was thinking clearly for once.

Amædus snorted, his entire body moving with the action, a conjunction of bones and ligaments working as if pulled by puppet strings. “Your father used to be a very good friend of mine. I truly am sorry that he’s gone. You look a lot like him though, save for the womanly bits.” Oh great, I was being ogled by a dead man. That’ll definitely boost my ego. “I think you’ll turn into a fine young woman, Miss Taylor. You’ve already done quite a lot of good for my youngest son, I have to thank you for that.”

I felt my cheeks burn with the praise he’d given me. He was definitely a stalker all right. Though who he was stalking wasn’t so clear. “You’re giving me a bit too much credit for that I think. He was pretty decent to begin with.” Shouldn’t my uncle be having this talk with Adrian, instead of me having this talk with Adrian’s dad? Everything was backwards!

That got a laugh out of him, he doubled over, air coming out of his hole-pocked lungs in short wheezy gasps. “Oh yes, you’re certainly Isaac’s daughter. Always underestimating yourselves.” He finally managed to compose himself after a few moments of coughing. “I think, that in any event, you’ll be needing these.” One of his cold decayed hands grabbed my wrist, turned it over and closed my hand around a small box of some sort. “Don’t open it here, I don’t know if I will last if you do…” He said sorrowfully.