Engulfed By His Shadow

Chapter 15 : Play A Knave

{UNEDITED}

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"Nonsense! Who in their clear senses would buy that cursed manor. It has been doomed over two centuries now!" Peter spat as his large stomach rumbled while he spoke with aggression.

"A young diamantaire and businessman, he seems to be excising the glitters he earned while he has it and would probably leave when he gets bored. Do you really think he would consider living in that manor for long?" Mr. Donovan inclined back in his chair and asked.

"Aye, to have parties and women. The manor is a beauty but you do remember what happened to the previous owner who had just signed the property papers.."

".... spat blood and died in his bed," Mr. Donovan finished gravely.

"Who knows he might have had enemies, Peter," Mr. Donovan quickly suggested.

"Mr. Donovan, do you believe in god?"

Mr. Donovan pulled the rosary out of the chest pocket of his sand coloured jacket and nodded.

"As they say, it's true good exists but hand in hand, so does the evil," His eyes gleamed.

"Oh, Peter! You seem to have been drinking a lot lately, there's no such thing as demons or monsters.." Mr. Donovan dismissed it but Peter snorted in dismay and took his leave.

Peter stomped his foot as he walked along the street in frustration, "No monsters? That old bat is nuts! They do, they exist everywhere! I have seen the monsters and demons!".

He stumbled along the dead night; the gin he had, had started to take over him but his will to have some more didn't diminish. Peter pushed open the door to a local bar where beautiful women danced and men smoked and drank to their miseries. He pulled himself a seat and winked at a female bartender who ignored him in plain site. He ordered himself a glass of gin and downed it until his senses blurred and the shallow music blasted in his brain.

Peter decided to leave when he couldn't take it anymore and stepped out of the bar. He traveled past two blocks when he heard a strange gurgling noise. Peter's curiosity took the best of him and he followed the sound and slowly walked towards an abandoned theater. The light bulb flickered and the sound became intense. He moved his sight around to catch the source but his senses were slow. A wild flapping sound like an eagle's resonated over him and he looked back.

Peter's mouth dried down and eyes bulged out of their sockets at the sight. He staggered back then ran along the empty and dark alleyway chanting, "This is not real, this not real..."

"Peter.... my love..." A soft female voice called him back but refused to turn and stop.

"Peter, wait for me my love, it is I, Martha..." The voice beckoned again forcing peter to stop.

He turned around slowly and it surely was his dead wife, back to life.

"Martha?" Peter chocked and strained his eyes to catch the glimpse of a curvy blonde figure.

"Yes, my love!" She spread out her arms and called him to her silently.

Peter slowly took a step towards her then another until he was running in her arms like a mad man. He laughed madly forgetting his sadness and tears and wished to kiss her senseless like it was a one in a million chance.

As he drew closer her image turned fainter and he roared angrily, "Martha!""

"I am right here...." The voice was as clear as it could be.

The gin could be the reason for his blurred vision, he thought. He ran closer and closer until he knew she was at an arms length and as soon as he brought forth his arms to hold her close to his chest, his hands collided with smoke.

He watched in astonishment and blinked until a sudden talon grabbed his neck and lifted him up in the air. Peter struggled and punched the air as he tried to escape free.

"I am not a fan of foolish cat chases..." A manly voice snapped him out of his dream and the grip on his neck tightened.

"You! You were supposed to be dead!?" He coughed under the hold.

"I am.." He grinned wide at him which caused Peter to turn paler and chant a prayer to the Christ in fear.

"It's a pity they do not believe in you when you warn them about the demons around you, Peter.." The voice mocked him.

"Don't kill me, I wasn't involved in this... I have no hand in this! Let me live, you Nosferatu!" He screeched in fear.

"Afraid of the monsters your kind created?" The voice asked making Peter struggle more, but the demon before him was huge.

"W-What do you want?" He stuttered.

"Harred Genea," The demon demanded but Peter shook his head.

"I can't tell you where that is. I do not know where it is."

The demon blew an air that reflected the image of a young man in his early 20's.

"I am sure his blood would be as inviting as yours..." The demon yapped his tongue out and it was enough for Peter to surrender.

"Not my son!"

The talons started digging onto his fat skin and he gurgled, "Master hid it in Wellmann's new mansion in Reumaria, he buried it under the apple tree!"

"Haunrich knows?"

"No.."

The demon growled in content and loosened his hold.

Peter fell down hard on the cobbled street and quickly got himself up to escape the scene, but the demon had something else in his mind. He spread his wings out and swung himself at the helpless man.

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Cloyd returned back from his study being exhausted. He ran a tired hand along his dark hair and opened the door to his bed chamber, slowly. He watched the figure sleeping soundly on his bed and smiled softly. His eyes sparkled at the fragile body and peaceful face.

Her soft hair splayed across his pillow and chest rising up and sinking down in continuous rhythm. He staggered close to her and ran a finger along the side of her face then dragged it south, towards her chest to play with the chain lying over it.

Cloyd removed his hand from her and crawled closer to her. He decided to lay down beside her and call it a night but his eyes snapped open into a red hue and a possessive arm dropped over the girl's body and crushed her close to his chest. His face nuzzled in the crevice of her neck as he gently sniffed in her vanilla scent, while she lay unconscious in deep hypnotised slumber.