Serial

12. Arrival

     Trey Curtis stood outside the door of the Swann Mansion, fidgeting nervously with his hair and jacket. He had never heard of Loretta Swann before getting his invitation, but being a young man who spent the majority of his time on the computer, he had quickly looked into Loretta Swann and her local accomplishments. His research had led to more questions than answers. He still had no idea why a wealthy old woman would invite a poor college kid to her party. If it had not had his actual name printed on the letter he received in ornate handwritten calligraphy, then he would have assumed the invitation was meant for someone else. Still, the intrigue of the invitation brought Trey to the party, and at 7:12 p.m., 12 minutes late due to the busy traffic, he stood outside the doors, still debating if he should just return to his dorm room.

      He had just gained the resolve to leave when the door swung open slowly. Trey looked in, momentarily amazed by the grandness of the house. His eyes went back to the man holding the door open, whom Trey could only assume given the surroundings and his attire that he was the butler of the estate. Trey reached a hand out and introduced himself.=, the butler took it with his own gloved hand, giving it a feeble shake but remaining silent. He then motioned for Trey to follow him. Trey looked once more back at his rusty old car, but decided it would be rude to make a run for it now and followed the butler in.

      He was led down through twisting hallways to a door with a small plaque that read "Drawing Room", and through the door into a pastel coloured room with floral sofas and full of vases with blooming flowers. The East wall of the room was covered in large windows, with dark red curtains tied back, giving a view of the large flower gardens at the back end of the estate.

      Trey looked around, still not believing he was actually invited to the party, and not seeing any other guests either.

      "Am I the first here? I thought the invitation said 7."

      "You are correct sir. The party was to begin at 7. We are still expecting some guests." The butler spoke in a soft and decrepit voice, and Trey had to listen carefully to be sure he heard him. As he was about to speak once more there was a knocking that reverberated throughout the house. "That must be another now. Please, sit."

      The butler hurried out of the room, and Trey heard a soft click as the door shut.

      The suited man hurried back down the twisting hallways, walking briskly despite his aging appearance, and once again stood in front of the great double doors of the front hall. He opened one slowly and held it wide, allowing the next guest to peer into the grandeur of the estate.

      Venice Lee stood outside waiting. Her black hair lay straight and silky down her back, and she wore a form fitting Gothic style dress. As the door opened, she couldn't help but to peer in slightly. Her face remained deadpanned, but there was a glint in her eye over the mysterious house. When the door was opened fully, she walked in proudly and with great confidence, strutting into the hall and immediately towards the large curving staircase.

     The butler, who had closed the door tightly as she passed, hurried as best he could to catch up to her, but was halted with another knock on the large wooden doors. He looked once more at the last guest, straightened his jacket, then walked with purpose back to the entrance of the house.

      Through the thick doors he could hear a muffled argument being held outside. He slowly pulled the doors open once more, revealing two men in their early thirties, talking heatedly. The light from inside illuminating their faces caused the argument to seize, and one member of the party stepped back with folded arms as his cohort held up an invitation.

      “Hi- Hello, yeah. Um… So we both got these invitations, so like we're here for the party. But I don’t know if this is the right address?” Scout pulled his invitation out of the envelope, turning it to the butler so he could verify the writing.

      “We've been expecting you. Please, follow me.” The butler turned sharply and started walking off again. Scout shrugged at Paco and followed in, carefully wiping his shoes before stepping into the property. Paco muttered a few words to himself in a prayer before he walked in as well.

      The two were led through another set of double doors, to a large room that seemed to be as tall as it was wide. The middle of the floor was open save for a giant, antique gramophone, currently playing an old, crackling record. Against the walls were a variety of cushioned chairs and small sofas, and between some of the sets were low coffee tables that held flowers, photos, and other small glittering knick-knacks. The walls had sconces that held electric candles, adding to the lighting of large hanging lights throughout the room that also appeared to be the same style of candle.

      “Please wait here. The party will begin shortly.” The butler bowed slightly then left the room, pulling the doors tightly shut behind him. Paco looked at Scout, then hurried to the doors and tried to open them.

      “They're locked. He's locked us in here. I told you this place has bad energy.”

      “It was probably an accident or something. Look at where we are, why would we be in any danger here?” Scout looked around, then sat on one of the cushy chairs against the wall.

      “Do you know who can afford nice houses like this? Drug gangs and old white people. Neither of them particularly like us.”

      Scout shrugged, and lent back in the chair. “Can't you just enjoy a nice party without being so paranoid? Maybe we won some weird lottery or something.”

      “I'm telling you man the Nahual are all over this place, and they do not like it.”

      “Oh shut up about your Na-Hooool already! I'm not one of your dumb customers! I know it's all crap.”

      Paco scoffed. “When s**t hits the fan and you're in the line of fire, don't come crying to me. First chance I get I'm getting out of this hell house. I should've never came in in the first place.”

      Scout's face turned dark and he stood up from the chair. “You know as well as I do there was no choice. We had to come here.”

      “No. You had to come here. You were in the pictures.”

      Scout sat down once more, pulling something out of his pocket and looking at it intensely.

     “But your name was on the envelope.”