Chapter15
The crack of dawn was peeking behind the clouds when Vera, Nyx, and the man marched outside the Ashborne castle. It had been a long day. And ironically, it had just begun.
"Where are we going exactly?" Beside Vera, Nyx was sporting a scowl, one hand still armed with Catherine's stake, the edge of the wood drying with blood.
The man who owned the gruesome evidence smiled. "I told you, we're going to my house."
"And why do we need to come with you, huh?"
"Because I'm bleeding."
"Well you were dead a while ago," Nyx complained. "Or we thought you're dead. How come you didn't have a pulse?"
Vera continued walking with them, all kinds of thoughts in her mind. Prosthetics, the old man had said. Could he have somehow blocked his pulse points too?
Must be. She glanced at him. Pondered at his existence.
Now that they were all in equal footing, she could see how tall Mr. Morris was— his brown hair that was little bit too long, his brown eyes; how easily he could have scared them if he wore a costume. But his earlier explanations didn't exactly give out anything. After they had all scrambled to their feet following his lame greeting, he simply said, "I'll tell you everything in my house. Now come with me if you don't wish me to die."
A blackmail, as far as Vera was concerned. An emotional one that forced her and Nyx to come along lest they wanted to be guilty of seeing the man dead on the streets later on. For real. Nyx, after all, had stabbed him pretty hard.
"I don't regret it," the Price said, as if reading Vera's thoughts. The woman came closer, leaned her head nearer. "He deserves it. I mean who would wear prosthetics and scare people like that?"
"I can hear you," Mr. Morris taunted in front.
"Well I don't care, old geezer," Nyx hollered back. The Price glanced at Vera again, blue eyes suspicious. "Besides, I still don't understand where the woman who'd been following you went. And what does she have to do with your parents? Or was she working with this man all along?"
They both sneaked glances at Mr. Morris. He came out of nowhere when they were trying to hunt the woman. Could that be one of his tricks too?
"I say we dump him," Nyx whispered.
"We can't." Vera gnawed on her lip, unsure. "He's bleeding."
"And so? Are you kind to anyone who's not a Price?"
The two of them studied each other. Vera, who'd seen how Nyx was too willing to come and save her, looked away. Felt hotness on her cheeks but didn't say anything. She was grateful but embarrassed- Nyx had proven time and again to be her personal hero.
It was a long walk. Mr. Morris, though tall at six-foot plus, was taking too long, was almost crouched down, supporting his upper back. He didn't want them to treat him earlier, so Vera had no choice but to watch the blood trickle down his flannel shirt. To wonder where he was going to take them, and if he was going to die along the way. The thought made her shiver.
They passed a lot of houses; big ones, small ones— none of which were familiar yet as she and Nyx hadn't reached this part of the town. In the distance, Vera spotted a windmill.
"Is that?"
"My house?" Mr. Morris picked up his steps, his back beginning to straighten. "It sure is."
Vera and Nyx exchanged glances again, a message passing through their eyes.
First sign of danger and they run. Vera wondered how easily she could understand.
After a while, what was supposed to be a small image of the windmill was now looming over them, big and captivating. It was attached to a two-story house, was color brown like the rest of the structure, was expelling a strong gust of wind that made the grass all over the place dance as if they were alive.
Mr. Morris pointed his thumb to the door. "I know we haven't started in the right foot, kids. But trust me when I say, there's no danger inside."
Nyx's reaction was a loud snort. "I'll believe it when I see it," she said. "No offense, but I think we need some sort of reassurance."
At this, the old man tilted his head, invited them with his hands. "You can put your weapon on my back then. I don't mind. As long as it's not on my wound."
"Sure."
Vera didn't know how to feel when Nyx went to Mr. Morris, pushed the stake on the man's lower back, came forward so the two of them were heading straight for the house. This is all wrong, Vera thought. And yet she and Nyx shouldn't be too naive. They were only being careful after what happened.
The Price stopped just before she entered the house. "Don't go in just yet," she told Vera. "I'll yell when it's all clear. Please trust me."
Both she and Mr. Morris disappeared inside.
Vera had to wait for a grueling half a minute before the confirmation was given. It was just a simple, "Come in," from Nyx, but somehow it was like a rope in the ocean being thrown to her. She hurried to follow them.
Chicken soup. That was what she smelled first upon entering the house; a mouth-watering chicken soup. And looking about, Vera saw Nyx seated on a couch, the old man sitting right beside her.
"Please join us," Mr. Morris said gently, motioning to the plaid sofa opposite them. "As you can see, there's no danger here, no other men pointing guns at you. It will stay that way as long as you are here. Feel free to treat my house as yours."
Easier said than done, Vera thought as she stumbled to the sofa. There were many things that could go wrong. Her distrust had never faltered, not for one second.
But—
She gave Nyx a brief glance. The Price was looking all over the country-styled interior, was silent in her observance. Vera had no doubt that the woman would protect them when the going gets tough. If her distrust had never faltered, why was she thinking like this?
"There you are!" someone exclaimed.
Vera quickly abandoned her current thoughts in favor of the person approaching them in the brightly-colored living room. Was surprised to see a woman, about the same age as Mr. Morris, albeit not as disgruntled looking as the man. In fact, her flowery dress was presentable. The only problem was she was holding a butcher knife.
Nyx jumped up, to be quickly pulled down again by the man beside her. "Dear!" Mr. Morris said, looking at the woman nervously.
"Where had you been?"
"A-around."
"You've been snooping again haven't you?" The woman lowered her knife. Fixed her brown, almost salt-and-pepper hair, she only noticed Vera and Nyx. "Huh? Who are these children?"
"Ma'am, I'm hardly a child," Nyx was quick to say. "You should see my lady parts. They're—"
"They're our staff," Mr. Morris cut-off, so loud that everything else drowned out. Vera and Nyx gaped at him, noticed that his breathing was labored. But the man didn't seem to notice as he explained. "They're the staff I've been promising you, Greta. These two girls had come here to work for us."
Vera had never heard something as absurd and misleading, not until she went to Luca at least. Her life in California had been full of questions, yes. But only when she got to her ancestor's hometown was she pitted from one experience to the next, and it hadn't been a week.
Opposite her, Nyx was beginning to speak for both of them. "Staff?" the Price murmured. "I'm not sure we're on the same page here."
"Ow!" Mr. Morris suddenly wailed. Then stood. Then fell. Then clutched his back, face contorted in agonizing pain.
"Dear, what's wrong?!"
In a flash, Greta— Mrs. Morris, assuming from their exchange of monikers, was beside her husband, supporting him. Her keen eyes rounded when she patted something from his back. Perhaps the warm blood. And no sooner that she did was she turned from the strict, butcher knife wielding woman, to a concerned wife. Vera winced when her knife clattered to the floor.
"What's this?!" Mrs. Morris said. "Are you hurt?!"
"It's nothing, dear. Just an accident."
"B-but—"
"Don't worry," Mr. Morris assured. "These two kids will help us with the deadline. I was gone overnight because I had to pick them up."
Lies. Lies and all of them knew it.
Except for Mrs. Morris that is. She turned to Vera and Nyx, a grateful nod of her head. "Please remain there while I treat Ed in the room. Excuse us for a minute."
Vera's mouth remained open while the woman took her husband out of the chair, then out of the living room.
In front of her, Nyx groaned. "I have no idea what's happening. Do you?"
Vera shook her head at the Price. They had been in this from the start. She fumbled for her backpack strap. But it gave her no comfort the way Nyx's arms did in the last few days.
Vera sighed, a long one. She shouldn't be thinking of this now but only their safety. What has gotten into her?
"My God, Lady Ashborne. Stop daydreaming about me for a second and answer the question." Nyx was smirking when Vera looked again. The Price shrugged, stood up. "That got your attention, didn't it? I have no shame."
"This is hardly the time for jokes."
"And when is?" The woman walked steadily to Vera, eyes gleaming. "When we're dead? When Greta over there is cooking us in the oven? Why that's unfair, Lady Ashborne. I say we have fun too."
"You're lacking in sleep. Are you that tired?"
"Maybe." The Price collapsed next to her, stared at the ceiling. Everything in the room was clean and cared for. The two of them stuck out like a sore thumb. "Maybe I just want to continue talking too because if I don't then everything will hit me."
Vera took a deep shaky breath, wasn't sure how to respond. She felt that way too. Luckily, Mrs. Morris— Greta returned, and this time with an assuring smile.
"He's fine," she said, as if they'd sat there specifically to wait for the news. "I covered his wound with gauze. Do you know what happened to him?"
Vera gave Nyx a warning glance before speaking to the woman. "No, miss. We don't."
Greta sighed, brushed a hand on her arm. "Trust my husband to get into some sort of trouble. He's always been like this."
"About that. . ." Nyx was beginning to stand. "We need to clear out something to you. The staff position—"
"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Morris clapped her hands together. "Good thing you reminded me. You two youngsters come with me."
It seemed that Vera and Nyx had no other choice but to do as the woman had said, for Mrs. Morris had quickly left them again, went to another room. Nyx grabbed the knife from the floor and nudged her head to Vera. Vera, brows furrowed, went after the woman.
"Mrs. Morris?"
The hallway was long. Stretched on. Dim.
Vera was relieved to see that Nyx was right behind her, was signaling her to take extra precaution.
"Greta?"
"In here, dear," came a muffled reply from one of the rooms on the right. Vera vaguely thought of the witch in storybooks, then shook her head hurriedly, tried not to replace it with the image of Nyx's ancestor, Cecilia. There was enough on her plate as it was.
She stopped just outside the door where the reply came from. Heard shuffling inside, but the room was still inaccessible. Closed. So Vera, Nyx breathing right behind her, pushed the door open. Squinted at the darkness. Tried to see what was hidden in the room.
She screamed when a decapitated head was handed to her.
"Aaaah!"
"That's fantastic!"
A bulb flickered open, and Mrs. Morris motioning her hands, stepped back inside the room.
"Stellar reaction, dear! Perfect! I knew I did a good job with that product, but your scream really proves my hard work paid off. Can you give me an additional review?"
Vera stared down, tried not to run away. On her hand was a severed head, eyes streaming with blood. It looked so real, so alive, but the moment Nyx took it, Vera saw the materials hiding underneath. Not skin and bones, surely, but something synthetic.
"This is great," Nyx murmured, while Vera tried to calm down. "It looks so realistic."
"Of course it does." Mrs. Morris took the head, gestured towards the room. Vera, who had barely gotten it together, stared in awe. Shelves upon shelves were located there, and most of them full to the brim with body parts. Prosthetic body parts. "I think this is the right time to discuss the job," the woman said. "The schedule will be hectic, but the pay will be fair. Meals will be provided thrice a day, and a room will be available for you to sleep in. With only one condition."
What was she talking about?
Mrs. Morris shrugged and continued. "There's only one room for now. Most are being used for production, so if both you can live with that arrangement, then we'll all have an easier time around here. What do you two say?"
"Sure," Nyx answered in a heartbeat. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow."
Vera's mind was spinning. A schedule was being made for her. An agreement without her consent. "Wait a minute," she said, raising her hands. "What? What exactly is this job?"
"Why my assistants of course." Mrs. Morris pulled the drawstring from the ceiling. The room was once again plagued in darkness. She retrieved the head from Nyx. "I'm assuming that's what my husband said when you came here. You wouldn't be coming to Luca if it's not for that right?"
"Right," Nyx supplied. Vera glared at her. But the opportunity to talk to the Price was lost when Mrs. Morris stepped out from the room, pulled the door close. The woman signaled for them to follow again.
"Right this way please. I'll show you to your room."
Nyx was already bouncing to the older lady before Vera could complain. The three of them came to a flight of stairs. They continued ascending and walking until Mrs. Morris stopped by a room. This one, she handed the key to Vera before pushing them inside.
"Lunch is at noon. I'll give you extra clothes if you need it." Mrs. Morris stepped back and beamed. "Now I know this is such short notice, but I hope we all get along. Have a rest, you two." The woman closed the door.
Vera released the breath she'd been holding. She didn't know how long. Her life was suddenly a jump from one adventure to the next, and she knew exactly who to blame.
Turning around she scowled. "You! You didn't even ask for my opinion, Nyx. What's wrong with you?"
The next few words died on her lips. The Price, the woman who'd been excited just a few seconds ago, was on the bed, head on the pillow, eyes shut and dead to the world. The knife and the stake, Vera saw, were on the desk. She walked carefully to Nyx, squinting.
"Hey. . . Are you asleep?"
But the woman didn't answer, her breaths coming out steadily. Vera stared at her companion's face.
So pretty.
What?
She didn't just think that, did she? Where did that come from?
"Maybe I should rest too," she murmured. "Maybe I'm just tired."
But whatever it was she was feeling didn't go away even after she went back to the door, locked the room. It remained long after she settled on the other side of the bed, long after she faced the wall.
Vera squeezed her eyes shut, tried to count to sleep. Yet all she could think about was the woman laying right beside her. The woman who had saved her. Countless times, it was beginning to be a habit.
"Vera?"
"Y-yes?"
"Stop thinking of me. Go to sleep."
Vera gasped. "B-but I wasn't!"
The mattress moved, the bed had creaked. A warm breath blew on her ear. "Yes, you were," Nyx whispered, so softly it was a tickle. "Don't lie to me. I am a witch. And right now, I have cast my spell on you."
A/N: Don't forget to vote and comment. :)