The Hunters moon

No Escape

Astar

Under ordinary circumstances, the number of people within this hell hole would not bother me. For all I care, this place could burn to the ground. Still, I stay on the outskirts of the lawn. Even from here, the estate watches me, just like she is still there, unease twist within. Here is where her presence seeps out the most. Even though mother has not been here in decades, the essence of her touch seeps out through the mansion.

Not to my surprise, two men barrel out of the house with their tails between their legs. One empties his insides all over mother’s favorite rose bushes. The smile on my face is every bit appreciative. His buddy leans over him, close to hurling himself.

An outsider would consider this overkill. Those who were here during the true horrific times know what terror really is. That this small amount of essence left behind is child's play at best.

Sliding the useless hunk of junk from my pocket, I gave the Mors mansions tour guide a call.

“Speaking,” Gretchen answers.

Resting back on my motorcycle, my eyes are on the dark estate. “Not that I particularly care, but has anyone vomited within the premises or just outside?”

She laughs low. “Luckily for me, only the outside has been defiled. Unless the two who just ran made a mess while running down the stairs.”

Watching the men sink off down the long driveway. One with his hand over his stomach, the other constantly running a hand through his hair. They’d have last moments in the years of hell I endured. “By the looks of it, it was all over the prized rose bushes.”

For a moment she’s quiet, “You’re here?” Surprise laces her voice.

Replying simply, “Outside for now.”

“Oh, is there a reason for your visit?”

My snap is instant. “What business of that is yours if I visit my house or not?”

The casualness in her tone shifts to more formal. “I do apologize. If I knew you were coming here, my Lord, I’d have canceled the tour is all I meant.” The change makes me uncomfortable. Not many know much about the past, but the few that do keep it to themselves. Gretchen is one of those select few who knows I hardly come here. Of course, her interest would peak. Still, being too close to this place causes spiders to run their legs up and down my body.

My tongue runs over my teeth. “There is something I'm looking for. Before I can, I needed every creature within that forsaken place gone.”

“Of course my Lord. There is only one person left and I’ll see to her exit now.”

My interest spikes for a moment. “There is still someone within the estate?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Slightly surprising. “And she made it upstairs?”

“All the way to your bedroom.” Gretchen clicks her tongue, “I think the men were trying to outlast her.”

“Possibly.” We haven't had someone make it that far in ages last I recall. Most who could stomach it were back in the olden days before technology stole their souls. Then again my tabs on this place are not like they once were. “See her to the exit. I’m heading in through the back door where the vomit is non-existent.”

“Straight away, my Lord.”

My eyes roll, I want to tell her to drop the ‘my lord’ overkill. That she doesn’t have to be formal with me every step. But, I want no questions on this yet. Not if there is some way I can lift this curse to free us all. Mentioning anything now would just start a panic.

The back door swings open easily for me. Not to my surprise, the estate looks as dreadful as ever. The kitchen still has the original paint from all those years ago. With the exact same pots, pans, and other useless utensils.

How this place gains traction is beyond me. Taking the servants steps up to the second landing causes me to feel cramped. When I was a child Draven and I would play on these for hours. Now the creaking sound of the boards drag nails across my scalp.

I’m about to pass the second floor when the smell hits me. Within seconds every inch of my body is vibrating, my heart hammering within, cursing the blood through me. On instinct I follow, this sweet scent leads me to my old door. The very door my feet have not been through in decades. One would think I’d stop to think it through. Barolling through the door I'm met with the most intoxicating scent.

Inhaling through my nose it rolls all the way to my lungs, suffocating me. Opening my mouth to inhale, the rich scent rolls over my tongue. The moan that leaves me is utterly feral. Like a switch flippig my mind is instantly rolling, consuming close to an animal.

My hands stop on my old bedpost where the scent is strong, the place delicate fingers touched. I know for the same light touch rolls over my back. A sensual feeling takes over and I'm leaning back into nothing. As fast as that feeling came it was gone.

The beast within me slams my hands next against the wall. It’s all the same as I’d painted years ago, the same swirling colors, the same prayers coating the wall. Something entirely different happens, a hand drifts up my chest, drawing goosebumps in its wake. The growl rumbles through my chest. The feeling vanishes quicker than the last.

This spirituous scent drunkens me on my own feet, the room spins until my feet are before that old bloody painting. The very thing in this room that projects the most. Extending a finger to it slowly I drag it down the black canvas. To my disappointment nothing occurs. It’s not until I step away that a form comes to me.

She stands before me, back to my chest. My heart stutters. Everything within me vibrates to see her fully. Gently my hand brushes the ends of that white hair. The creature before me whips around until those siren eyes land on mine. Beautiful white hair fans over her shoulders, skin the color of the moon pales against her dark pink full lips.

My eyes blaze over her as this creature's scent devours me whole. Just as my hand extends to capture her, she is gone. I stand alone within my old bedroom with my hands outstretched to nothing, the only thing left behind in her wake is the drowning sent.

Be it the beast within, or my own true selfish desire, I run from the room. Gretchen stands outside the mansion showering the roses with water. She smiles as I pass her. “Find everything?”

I don’t so much as acknowledge her existence, my eyes stay front and center looking for her.

“Lord Astar!” She calls for me but I am gone already heading down the driveway to the metal gates. All who were once there are now gone. Before the gates is where the scent begins to mix with others, its unique tang now contaminated. Going right from the mansion is where the scent stops, turning back around. I head in the other direction. It’s faint, but she was here.

Like a predator hunting his prey my nose sniffs out where she is. The scent combines with the florals of the garden passing on my right. Following the garden is the clean scent of water. My mind spins while my body tries to hold out. If I don’t find her soon I truly will lose it. Still breathing it, that sweet rich smell has my hand on the bookstores handle.