Love and history

Fourth date

Amber, the lady who had terrorized Gaspar at the airport, got home and sighed when she saw the police at her house. They were running a series of investigations. Her cousins had been dying, and the cause of their deaths was very strange. One died by falling through her room’s floor upstairs to the parlor’s sitting room floor downstairs. Another died by electric shock, and these deaths only involved females.

Amber and her other surviving cousins had suspected that there was a force—a killing force—behind all these deaths, but her grandfather had refused to say a thing about it.

Amber came back to attend one of her cousins’ funerals, but as she prepared to leave, she heard that another one had just been killed. Amber frowned when she realized that she could be next in the killings. After all, she was a female and a member of the Brown family.

She greeted the police and went into the house. There she saw her aunt crying over her dead child. Amber greeted her aunt and tried to comfort her, but got no reply. No one even noticed her. She shrugged and went up the stairs.

A guy walked toward her. He was her niece’s, her oldest brother’s son.

“Grandpa wants to see you,” he said.

“My grandpa or your grandpa?”

“Your grandpa,” he said and walked away, eyes fixed on his phone.

Amber walked toward her grandfather’s room. It was a large house with many rooms. All the Browns lived there.

Amber placed a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

She went in and frowned. The room was filled with her father, her siblings, uncles, and aunties.

“Sit here,” he beckoned, patting the chair beside him.

Amber did as he said. “What’s going on?” she asked, curiosity already killing her.

Grandpa Brown started, “I want you to listen carefully. He’s back again, and this time he’s focusing on the females. He kills at sight, so wherever you go, whatever you do, do not be alone! This is a warning.”

Amber interrupted, “Why?”

“Just listen!” Her father, Alfred Brown, shushed her.

“No. Just tell me—who’s the person? What does he want and why is he killing the females in our family? What did we do to him?” Amber kept bombarding Grandpa Brown with questions.

He became so frustrated that he half-yelled, “Shut up and listen! I’ll give you all three weeks to get married and leave Texas for good.”

“And why do you think migrating will stop him from attacking us? Who the hell is this ‘he’?” Amber asked, frustration creeping onto her face.

“I can’t tell you who he is.”

“Why not? Just tell me his name.”

“Saying his name will make him appear.”

“So, we’re more than eight here. We can attack him once he appears.”

“I know you’re quirky, Amber, but that’s being stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid. I don’t know him, and I don’t know how dangerous he can be. If you tell me, I’ll do something about it.”

“He is a 1,130-year-old demon,” Grandpa Brown said, and everyone gasped except Amber, who burst out laughing.

“We’re in the 21st century, for crying out loud, not in a fantasy movie, so let’s stop all this demon talk,” Amber said, still laughing.

“It’s not funny or fantasy. It’s real, Amber. His name is… Marcucifer,” Grandpa Brown hesitated, then whispered, his voice laced with fear.

“Marcu-what?” Amber asked. She heard the name clearly but she still wanted to be sure.

“Don’t say his name three times or something bad will happen.”

A grin appeared on Amber’s face, and she called the name out loud: “Marcucifer, Marcucifer, MARCUCIFER!”

Grandpa Brown quickly dropped his head on the bed and covered it with a pillow.

“Nothing’s happening, Grandpa. You’re either exaggerating or you’ve been hallucinating. Somebody’s probably doing something to us, not a demon.” Amber said , her expression weird at her grandfather's reaction.

Then, suddenly, Amber could feel the ground shaking. It felt as though an earthquake was happening right there in the room.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked, fear gripping her. She started feeling lightheaded.

*Nashville's resident*

Mr. Nashville and Gaspar sat on the rooftop, drinking and talking.

“So, do you have a girlfriend?” Mr. Nashville interrupted Gaspar, who was telling stories about his stay in London.

“I’m sure you already guessed ‘no’—that’s why you prepared ten blind dates for me,” Gaspar replied.

Mr. Nashville smiled. “Good reasoning. You took after me, boy.”

“I know.”

“So, your first blind date is today. Don’t you want to get ready?”

“What?!” Gaspar exclaimed in shock. “Isn’t that too early? And besides, I don’t like the word ‘marriage.’ It’s boring—having to live with one person for the rest of your life… that is, if your partner doesn’t kick the bucket like Mom did.”

Mr Nashville's expression called into a sad one. “Hey, you shouldn’t bring up sad stories during meaningful conversations.”

Gaspar sighed and looked away.

Mr. Nashville noticed his sad mood and said, “You know, Cecily is planning to get married.”

Gaspar’s eyes lit up, and he turned to his father. “Really? That child?”

“Yes, but you have to get married first. That’s why I arranged ten dates. You should at least like one out of all of them.”

Gaspar rolled his eyes as his father went back to that topic.

“I got you a suit. It’s in your room. Go get prepared. Your date is at 5 p.m.”

“Gosh!” Gaspar replied, ruffling his hair in frustration, and left.

“You’ll be meeting Sabelle Rice today. She’s beautiful!” Mr. Nashville yelled as Gaspar walked away.

*Josefina's eatery*

Gaspar sat down, all dressed up in the blue suit his father got him. He kept glancing at the door, waiting for Sabelle Rice, whom his father told him to expect.

Gaspar was already becoming impatient when he saw a lady he believed was Sabelle rushing in.

Gaspar’s face twisted in disappointment as he watched her. She delayed him, yet she wasn’t dolled up properly. She had one earring on, and the other was nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she apologized.

Like a job interview, Gaspar told her. “You’re disqualified.”

He had his next date the next day—

*Thatcher’s gummy chops*

The lady was on time, but Gaspar jumped in fear at her sight.

Like he did to the first date, he disqualified his second date and went back home.

“Why did you disqualify her?” Mr. Nashville asked.

“She was a rainbow!” Gaspar exclaimed.

“Rainbow?” Mr. Nashville frowned in confusion.

“Yes, a rainbow. She wore heavy makeup—pink on her cheeks, red and orange on her eyes, and black and red on her lips. My heart was beating so fast when I saw her. It wasn’t because of love, Dad. It was because of fear. I mean, even if she was Mother Nature, that’s no way to look like when on a date. I hope she finds someone who’ll accept her like that.”

“You’re so picky,” Mr. Nashville told his son.

“No. It’s not all about being picky. It’s about being alive. What if I wake up the next day, see her face like that, and have a heart attack?”

Mr. Nashville chuckled. He knew his son was looking for excuses to reject all his dates. “That’s okay.”

“Get prepared for your next date.”

“What?!” Gaspar’s eyes widened.

“I knew you’d find something wrong with Anita Kuhn, so I had your third date arranged soon.”

“Nooo!” Gaspar groaned in frustration.

*Willows delicaces*

Gaspar frowned as he watched the woman in front of him. She was… perfect. There was nothing wrong with her, but Gaspar kept staring at her, looking for one thing to complain about.

“Please, introduce yourself,” Gaspar told her.

“Hi. My name is Ernie Patel. I’m beautiful and bold. I’m twenty-three years young. I don’t like the word ‘old’ because it makes me sound old. My father owns many businesses, and as the only child, I’m ready to take care of the business when and if he’s dead. My mom is beautiful—they say I got my looks from her. I have four younger brothers. I know you think I’m crazy because I said ‘only child,’ but I was only kidding. I said that because I’m the only child daughter. People say I’m talkative, but I just think I express myself. What do you think?” She paused.

Gaspar, who was already feeling lightheaded as her words bombarded him, finally felt at ease after she stopped talking and said, “I think you talk a lot. Yes, you’re a talkative. You’re disqualified!”

Gaspar returned home. He complained again to his father.

“There she was, talking and talking. Dad, I asked for an introduction, and she gave me an essay that contained over 4,000 words. I almost passed out.”

“Well, she is talkative, but 4,000 words… are you sure she said up to that?”

“More than that, Dad. If I was counting, it would have been nearly 8 billion words,” Gaspar said, and Mr. Nashville laughed.

Intentionally and willingly, Gaspar stood up. “I need to get ready for my fourth date.”

For some reason, he felt good about his fourth date.

“Her name is Amber Brown. She’s a nut case!” Mr. Nashville said.