THE VAMPIRE AND I

NINE

On wide acres of green land stood a mansion. It was old and gorgeous. Surrounded by countless trees, it was hidden from the eyes of civilization of the city of Philadelphia.  It is beautiful, when the sun shines, its greyed bricks would shine in all its magnificence and when the moon graces it, it brings out its silvery appearance like that of an ocean’s goddess. The locals were captivated by it, the tourists too were not left out. It had slippery vines climbing over its every wall, doors and windows.  

It has three buildings merged as one; a bridge connects all. The main building, The Royals, is in the middle. It has its front to face the east. It housed the royals who live there and the great hall. It juts out from as though it were the head of a bird and the other two buildings were its wings waiting for its order to take off. It is taller than its siblings, it had a cylindrical shape. If viewed from a treetop, it would be had to say it the base is floating on the water coming from the waterfall that stood in front of the house like an armed guard. It had a blue roof. It is hard to determine how many rooms the main building housed from the windows. The mistress of the house once said they find new rooms at least once a month. 

The King’s Mansion as the whole house was called, was always ready for its guests whether expected or not. Its inside could only be seen by a certain level of influential people; no one knows what these people are graded by. Once, a low government worker of meagre savings had jokingly applied for the tour. She was a single mother of three, her husband having just died a couple of months earlier. She had done it out of boredom and she had been picked. Now, her portrait graced the great hall of the King’s Mansion along with billionaires, farmers, gamblers and children who had been lucky enough to have visited the Mansion. They told no one what they saw though and that all added to the mystery. Even children who are known for their inability to keep a secret won’t say anything. They would keep their mouths shut no matter what they were tempted about.  

The building to the right of the main building was for the housing of guests. The Guests’ Home is shorter than the main building but the same height with the last building, The Helpers’ Abode. It is reserved for guests and the King’s Mansion sure do have many guests. It has an open roof where parties could be held when the weather permits. The last lady of the mansion had loved having parties in the rain. She would coax everyone to wear waterproof clothing over their dresses and suits and serve tees in small tents that are sometimes blown away when the wind is strong.  

From outside, any one could see that there was nothing left untouched. The mansion was glorious. The waterfall was a natural one and when the stream got too deep to pass on pebbled ground, a beautifully craved wooden bridge would be lowered. There were no myths about the house, just unfiltered stories that changes its version immediately it passes from one lip to another. No one knew when the building went up so no one could say anything about it. 

The outer grounds were for everyone however. Although, no one could mistakenly get there with the mansion surrounded by a thick forest, some brave and adventurous families would camp in the land for summer. The last Kings to live there would always throw a big party at the summer outside the Mansion. The tables and chairs would be arranged around the waterfall, some supported by the big stones in the stream. The first party would take place in the garden which starts from The Helpers’ Abode and ends beside The Guests’ Home. All rear entrances of the three buildings leads into the garden; which was a mixture of rare and common flowers alike. No season was more beautiful than the other in the garden; as one plant die, another takes over. As evening approach, gifts would be passed around and more food would be stuffed into each person’s stomach. The campers will then return to their tents and prepare for their departure the next morning. Only summer camping was allowed. The King’s Mansion, once a place of undiluted laughter is now only a shadow of itself. 

The current occupants would not let anyone camp. They would not send out invitations to people that asked for it. They accepted no guests and kept the house in a rundown condition. The whispers that went around the house said they were angry with the last Kings, the real heirs of the house. The current occupants had chased them out and taken control of the Mansion. In the frenzy that occurred, the Kings had locked The Royals and taken the key with them. It was a big blow, an unexpected one; they had lost but not completely and everyone who had lived with them or served them had applauded their action. 

The Steeles, the current occupants, had tried everything they could to open the door but nothing had worked, the door had remained locked. They resided in The Guests’ Home; something that made them angrier as time passes.  

Outside the fortress, echoes of voices could be heard if you stand close enough. On this day, the sun had done enough and was going down, it had its veins stretched across the sky causing the sky to look like a canvas of blood red, dull orange, dark blue and ocean grey paints all mixed together to deliver a magnificent result. Nature really is the best painter. 

The guards had just been changed. The Mansion’s three entry points were guarded by three guards each that was changed every six hours.  Although, the Royals building was empty, Mrs Steele insisted that there should be guards posted there as well. This evening, Cole, Shedrich and Justin were the guards at the entry to The Guests’ Home. They had been there since before the takeover and thier loyalty to the Kings has never wavered; the loyalty of ninety percent of the helpers also has never wavered. The Steeles hadn’t changed anyone save for the Head Butler and the House Mistress, they had thrown the former ones out. 

“She is angry,” Cole murmured. He was short and chubby and hated guard duty, he had wanted to be a chef but the littlest child of the Steeles, a boy of seven had told his mother that he saw him eating from the garden. Little brat, Cole thought. The boy had said he wanted Cole to be a guard and his mother had given her permission without a second thought. 

Shedrich heard him and chuckled, “You are saying it like it is a new thing.” 

Cole frowned, “Well, it’s getting damn tiresome.” 

Justin ignored them both, he was feeling dizzy. He wanted to lie down, he had one more hour before the next change of guards. He looked at Cole and Shedrich that were a few feet away from him, they were talking about the Lady of the house as she liked to be called. She never left the house; she’d stay inside and command everyone everywhere. Justin hoped the Kings are keeping their promise. They had said they would come back and take what was theirs, everyone was expecting them. There was no love lost between the Steeles and the other inhabitants in the house. 

Anastasia did have a temper; she could get angry at anything and anyone. She hated people who are not wicked and cunning like her, she called them pathetic and weak. She was feared; as she liked and wanted. She had once thrown a maid into the dungeon because she didn’t braid her hair properly. The poor girl had been there now for three months, it is likely that Anastasia had forgotten she was there. 

 That evening, she was on the phone with someone. She was yelling and whatever the other person on the line was saying didn’t seem to calm her down. She was wearing a black dinner gown with pearls on her neck and her ears. She was pacing around the dinner hall barefooted, her shoes laid scattered on the floor. Three maids came in and set the table. They bowed to her but she didn’t acknowledge them.  

“It can’t be!!! I told you not to hesitate!” 

 She picked a brush from the long dinner table and ran it through her black shoulder length hair. She got it tangled and motioned to a maid to attend to her. Still holding the phone, she sat herself at the head of the table. The maid tried to untangle the hair as gently as she could but realized it would require more force. She looked scared unsure of what she should do, her two colleagues won’t meet her gaze as they exited the dining room. She gave the hair a hard yank and exhaled when the hair untangled. She waited a beat or two but Anastasia ignored her, she had stopped her yelling to listen to the person on the phone. The maid finished with the hair and put the hair brush on the fireplace. She got the shoes and wore them on Anastasia’s feet and took her leave through the big double doors of the room. 

The room was tasteful. It had art all over the walls, real art. Paintings that cost a lot more than they looked, beautiful paintings. There were three sculptures, one black and two whites, all in a woman’s image. They were series of a once famous sculptor, now deceased. The floor was covered with starry tiles but at underneath the long big black table was a big long white rug that made eating one’s dinner more comfortable. The gold and red chairs, cushioned with real comfy leather aids sitting.  The fireplace was beautiful, it was built with pure snow-white marbles, the gates were painted red and they shone like jewel every time a fire was lit 

Anastasia got up and looked into the fireplace at the fire burning, seemingly lost in thought. She should have gone herself, she thought. Adrian had stopped talking, he was waiting for her to say something. He was a cocky one, he had kept a calm tone even through all her shouting and yelling, the nerve. 

“Mother,” James, one of her sons called as her entered the room. 

She turned to face him and smiled dimly indicating that she was on the phone, he shrugged and sat down two chairs away to his mother’s right. 

“Do it fast, Adrian. I would take no more excuses,” she said into the phone and hung up. She placed the phone beside the hairbrush and took her seat. 

“Where are your sisters and brothers?” she asked James who was already nibbling on the fruits.  

“I do not know, Mother,” he said as he grabbed a whole slice of pineapple and shoved it in his mouth. He was the last of his mother’s children, the only she had birthed for her current husband, Piers. He came in now looking haggard and unkempt, his brown hair uncombed, his shoes’ laces half tied and his shirt untucked. He staggered to the table, and sat at the right hand of Anastasia. He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down loudly. He was revolting. Anastasia had liked him when he was still an Earl, she had seduced him then and made him throw out his wife and children for her and hers but the i***t had a bad year of famine and had lost his kingdom to a gamble. She couldn’t leave him because his name still worked in some of the right places. She had kept the story surrounding the loss of the kingdom under wraps. She had planned the gamble and set her first son whom she had at the tender age of sixteen on the throne. 

Her remaining children came in one after the other. She had four sons and two daughters birthed for the different fathers. Only her first son, Paul and her twin daughters, Rebecca and Sarah were for the same man. Her childhood sweetheart, Gary, God bless his soul, had been the only person she had ever loved. The remaining men she had married after him had been solely for power gains. Now she is ruling one of the biggest packs in the world, not completely. Not until those damn Kings had been sent back to the dirt they came from.  

“Let’s eat,” she said to the butler who had been standing as still as a rod. He rang a bell and the food came in. 

“Where did Uncle Peter go?” asked Tim. He was the son of her third husband, a now deceased count. She had left one of her loyal minions to deal with his property, she loved her children and wanted them close. Tim had red hair after his paternal grandmother and a pair of bright green eyes. 

“West,” Rebecca answered. She was her father’s spitting image. She had his dirty blonde hair that went nicely with her milky skin. She had also gotten his light brown eyes. She was tall like him but had a shapely body. 

“No. He went south,” Sarah argued. Sarah and Paul had taken her looks. They were of average height and had jet black hair. They had her ocean grey eyes and were of fair complexion. 

“How do you know? I was the last one to speak to him before his journey,” Rebecca retorted 

“No, you were not,” interjected Harold, the son of her second husband, a vampire royal that had been casted away by his family was seeking for revenge. He was one of her best fits. Harold was a twin but his brother who was a hybrid was taken away by a rival and killed him when he was only six. Harold was a full vampire.  “I was with him at the break of dawn and watched him ride off,” he said, his wide red eyes shining. 

“So where did he go?” asked Tim. 

“Where he went is none of your concern, Tim. Don't fret, he will be back,” assured Harold. 

“Don’t fret?” asked Sarah laughing. “What century is your head at? The 9O’s?” 

Rebecca joined, “More like the 80’s.” 

Anastasia’s lips curved up in a smile, she liked it when there is a little banter between her children. Maybe she wasn’t all that bad, if she could give birth to beautiful kids like these ones, maybe her enemies were the weak ones. Life was the survival of the fittest anyways, it is either be killed or kill. She looked over to where Piers sat. She was surprised he hadn’t fallen down from where he was sitting. He was eating the fried chicken they had served his food with; his mouth and ten fingers were soiled with the sauce. He was eating noisily, the children ignored him; they were used to it by now. Anastasia had never heard Tim call him dad since he turned five. Poor boy, she felt sorry for him.  

She stood up, done with dinner and moved again to the fireplace. Her eyes caught something, she picked up the hairbrush and looked closely at the handle. Her smile and any happiness she had felt during the dinner disappeared without a trace. Her anger sizzled as she saw the Kings’ logo on the brush, she picked it up and angrily threw it in the fire.  

At the sound of the brush hitting the logs of wood, the chatter in the dining room stooped. Even Piers stopped eating, he looked up at his wife’s back and saw the rigidity that was there. He knew he couldn’t afford to get her riled up more than she already was so he stood up and left quietly. The children saw him and followed his example, their mother was an unpredictable person.  

“The Kings need to be gone and they need to be gone fast,” Anastasia said to the almost empty room. 

“Yes Mother,” replied her son. He was the only child whose father she didn’t marry. She didn’t even know what he was. Morgan didn’t interact with the other children; he was as unpredictable as their mother. He was cunning, smart, clever, intelligent, all rolled into one. He was also very dangerous. His long fingers had once killed a bear, and his teeth had cut his neck to drink its blood. He was feared and he loved it that way. 

He would make mother happy; he would rid the earth of the Kings no matter how far they go.