Prologue~ Ghost that Haunts these Halls

The past is a perfect start what really happen to ruins a families life and impact the events the cause a family fued. The cult and the humans (Cult= Vampires)

Prologue~ Ghost that Haunts these Halls

 

  I’m watching the enamel crumble into dust underneath this nail filer beneath my teeth. I'm being called a demon anyway. I walk into the light. My skin quickly burns in the naked rays of the sun. It will not heal fast either. The town’s people search for me at the daylight celebration events but I can't step foot into the light. I must surround myself with the dark. Having recently feasted gives me the balls to show up in this damnable light anyway. Everyone is shocked by my inhuman paleness and whispers of me being a member of the Cult spreads like wildfire in the gathered crowd. The accusations fly that I have robbed blood. They have become a mob, frightened for their safety because of me. I know it's all a lie. Yes, I have fangs, but not for the taking of human blood. Yet people are still dying, mysteriously drained of blood. Two pierce marks in their neck, the victims left for dead. 

It's just a natural course of events that the Cult is accused of the crimes. The Cult's response is to say the victims were attacked and slaughtered by animals. But I know that no animal is capable of this. And I know it's only a matter of time before eyes will look towards me as the committer of these awful crimes.

As I stand in the excruciating light of day my thoughts go back to the night of the dinner in the palace home of my parents. I am looking down at my reflection in the glass of red wine before me. I swallow hard. My eyes are scarlet red and my teeth look so pointed. I look at the hall's golden wall but all I can see is what I am. What is wrong with me? 

Finally I excuse myself from the boring dinner with its stuffy dinner guests. I walk down the great hall to be greeted with looks of fear and excitement among the guests milling around in the hall, as they pause when I pass, then return to their conversations as if ignoring me. I hate being the center of attention, so I'm grateful to be ignored, even if they are just pretending. 

I am the oldest of my sister and I. Camellia is loved and praised for her beauty. I am too, but the differences do not go unnoticed. I am unhealthy looking, my skin a sickly parlor with a ghostly glow that makes me appear to be haunting the halls I walk. My lips are a permanent deep rose red. My eyes are pitch-black and my hair grows so wildly that taming it becomes too much work.

 

Walking at a very slow pace, I capture every moment, knowing that soon I will be cast out of this palace. I hear my parents argue with the town’s people that I am not responsible for the horrible deaths of their neighbors. "She is born of human blood." They explain. "If she is of the Cult, as you say, you should fear for your lives for even thinking of killing her."

Camellia is sleeping during this dinner and the grown folk's talk. It is a drunken celebration for another kingdom conquered by the Romanian army. Romanians are all tyrants, but no one wants to believe me. After all, I am just a creepy girl that might as well be dead. 

"Well in due time I will be dead", I think, as my mind comes back to the present. "That is, if the sun doesn’t kill me first." I am resigned to my inevitable fate. I am tired of seeing someone that plagues my thoughts... the crimson eyes that light up my face. Why can't they see what I see in my eyes? Not anger or fear but kindness and strength. Yes, my fangs make me look the part of a monster that the town’s people eagerly rush to point accusing fingers at. If they want a monster why not point to those that walk among them every day and request payment. These are the true blood suckers, not I. These leaches surely kill, but no one recognizes that truth because death is slow and subtle, not a mercifully swift death at the hands of a vampire.

We humans all have to grow old and die. So I ponder the fact that the Cult’s leader hasn’t aged in all the years that I have known him. His family never joins him. All we know of them is the claim that his sons and daughters fought and died in the wars "for us". Yet they didn’t have time for politics and peaceful meetings? 

I surmise that Draco Winters is here just to keep up appearances. "We live in the same country", he would say. "We should all share the wealth." I could see right through his scheme. How is it that he could so successfully brainwash the simple human minds of my neighbors with his lies to get money from them to supposedly help their legacy to continue to grow? Why don't they realize they have nothing in return for their contributions? Draco pisses me off sometimes but I have to bite my tongue or I will find myself in need of a new home.

The sound in my head of my teeth grinding into dust is hard to cancel out. The taste is even worse. It is bitter and disgusting. I smell the salt that comes from my body. I can't seem to taste the chicken I had drained earlier for nutrients. I can't stand the sun so I have to live off of the blood of animals. Then there's the local blood banks that the Cult said is to help the injury beyond their walls. 

I drift back again to the night of that dinner in the palace of my parents. "Kayla are you in there honey?" I hear the muffled voice of my mother on the other side of the door. 

"Yes mama." I answer her with as much calm in my voice as I can muster. 

"The guests are beginning to wonder about your sudden disappearance from the dinner table. It’s been an hour and I find you've locked yourself in the bathroom all this time. Please come back to the festivities. You are being an embarrassment." She pleads to no avail. 

She twists the knob, and then tries to forcefully open the door. "Do I have to go get your father to break the door down?" I cup my hands and begin to drink water from the running faucet. Swishing the water and swallowing disgusting bitterness makes me wretch. I grab my stomach and try to fight the urge to vomit, but I begin to vomit anyway, revealing a lot of blood and small pieces of meat, just as the door gives way to my mother's insistent shoving against it. Before I can flush the toilet my mother sees it and all the blood in my teeth as I turn to glare, open mouthed, at her. I hear her scream in terror, and I moan at her horrible discovery. Her worst nightmare has sunk in. I am the very thing she tried to explain to our accusing neighbors I was not and she is horrified at her realization. 

In seconds private body guards and my father arrive, only to gasp in horror as well at their discovery. Then Draco appears in the doorway and a smile stretches across his face. He turns and walks away, and I know from his swagger he wears a look of satisfaction on his face. I faint from the lightheadedness of an empty stomach. In some far away distance I can hear the excited voice of a man proclaiming, "This girl isn’t a girl but a demon! A blood draining demon!" 

"Please mom, don’t believe him." I hear myself pleading in my head. But I know she can't hear me and probably wouldn't believe me if she could. 

My eyes flutter open and I see my mother and father in a crowd of people looking down at me. I'm burning and all they can do is sit there and watch me like I'm some kind of spectator sport! 

Reality seems to swirl past me in frenzy as time collapses and I find myself standing in front of a tribunal of town’s people. "For the crimes of killing relentlessly, I exile you, Kayla Roseanna Taylor from these palace grounds and our town forever." A spokesperson is announcing the sentence upon me. "We will show you mercy and not kill you on sight," he continues, "but beware if we ever catch you. You must run from here and never look back." 

I look pleadingly from my mother's teary eyed face, to my father's stern cold killer face. His eyes glance at the Guillotine then back at me, as if he wishes my sentence had been death rather than banishment. My little sister begins to cry as she sees my skin darken from the burn of daylight. But I don’t want to move. I didn’t kill those town’s people. But there's no convincing them as the soldiers untie me and escort me to the palace gates. I look back and say to my family, "I love you and if you really believe these accusations you’re more misguided then I thought. I am human. I am not born with Cult blood." They seem to not care as I plead with them to believe me. My parents turn and walk away with my little sister and out of sight. 

Walking into the blinding light I begin to cry as the tribunal watch and smile that they got there retribution and supposedly their redemption from my sins of killing. The soldiers stop following me and let me walk through the empty streets of the town, as prying eyes peek from behind the draped windows of the houses of my neighbors. 

It has turned bitter cold but I am grateful for the storm clouds gathering that block the heat of the sun at last. Perhaps it will snow, and I picture myself lying frozen on the frosted earth for I am still dressed in only the gown I wore to dinner that fateful night. Everyone else has jackets and nice top hats against the bitter Romanian winter coming on. I stumble out beyond the town I once called home in the thin satin slippers that cannot possibly keep my feet warm enough, and long to be able to go back to a house I'm not welcomed at anymore, if only to get warm clothes and shoes. But I resign myself to the reality that no one else cares for my comfort, so why should I? I almost want to laugh that first I am concerned for the sunlight burning my flesh, and now I am concerned I will probably freeze to death the first night. 

It had to be dropping below thirty degrees as the sun, still hidden by clouds, slipped behind the mountains, plunging me into a dark, cold night. My arms are bare besides the black gloves that cover them up a little past my elbows. My long curly black hair isn’t really protecting my back from the blistering wind that has picked up and is whipping at my back. The black dress, ruffled and wrinkled, its beautiful black silk covered in dust and dirt from repeatedly falling as I stumble and grope my way in the darkness, does not provide warmth for me at all.

 

All I can do as I numbly pick my way to where, I know not, is cry as I relive my truth that I hadn’t killed those people, but no one would believe me! My face is probably going to be plastered all over the newspapers and probably shown on television news to alert everyone to avoid me, I anguish. But I knew they wouldn't avoid me. I knew they would be looking for me, to throw rocks or cuss at me for something I didn’t do. 

My legs feel so weak they begin to feel like rubber. I try to keep my balance as they wobble and curve inward. I try walking flat footed but it is no use. My mind screams, "Stop, you imbecile! Just let yourself fall to the ground and die!" But I am too proud to just give up like that, though it is getting colder and I feel my tears freezing to my face. I continue to trudge on.

I finally stumble my way out of the rough terrain of open fields and onto the smooth surface of a highway. As cars whiz by me I take heart that someone will stop to see if I need a lift. Surely these travelers would not know of me yet, and take pity on me. Surely they would be able to see that I am not dressed for the weather and wonder what I am doing out here in my party frock. But something inside me knew even the pity of strangers is too good for me. I knew that soon enough 

disdainful eyes of even strangers would follow me in the days ahead from their cars as they drive by and recognize my face from the news. At times like this I wish we weren’t really connected to electronics the way we are. 

I imagine little children pointing and saying, "Daddy, it’s the vampire lady! She doesn't look like the vampires we see in movies!" I smile inwardly to think of myself as the nice version of a vampire. I occupy my mind against the cold thinking of little kids that cannot help but cheer and be ecstatic about seeing this nice version vampire lady. 

I continue walking along the highway. As I trudge along, I become annoyed about walking blind and that none of what got me here is my fault. I don’t know where to go. I just know I will keep walking until someone eventually stops me to help me or gave me a piece of their mind.

 

Time becomes vacant. Nothing matters now. I am numb and freezing. It starts to snow but I am oblivious to it falling on me. In minutes it covers the highway as my feet continue to try to walk on through the heavy slush, but it's no longer possible to do so. The coldness has frozen my toes and pain shoots through my body but at least I know the sun isn’t out to torture me too. It is over for today. I have only the long, cold, dark night to get through. I look towards the sky and watch as huge flakes fall on my face. The cold darkness and the burn of daylight, while polar opposites have both brought me agonizing pain, and I idly wonder, would they really ever be able to coexist? Dark and light I mean? 

As I stand, trying to make out through the blinding snow where I am, I think I see buildings looming in the close distance. Then the moon crept through the clouds making enough light for me to find my way into an alley, where I find boxes that will do for a make-shift shelter for the night. I curl up inside my new home and my mind wanders. "Was I really that bad?" I had seen myself being kicked out before but my visions were tweaked. My mind race to thoughts of “if I try to stop them nothing good ever comes of it or comes from them." 

I stop and gaze up. It has stopped snowing and I can see the moon without being partially obscured by clouds. I marvel at how no matter how dark the night sky it still cannot swallow up the light of the moonshine. I sit up out of my box shelter and put my back against the brick wall, resting my head down into my knees. I'm sure I will soon be asleep from sheer exhaustion until I feel the steady gaze of someone across from me, staring at me. I lift my head wearily and say, "Sorry was this spot yours ma’am?"

 

My eyes have become so accustomed to the darkness that I can actually see her clear crystal blue eyes just searching over me. Then she spoke. "Kayla why do you rest in the garbage of this alley?"

The question looms in my mind of how she knows me by name. But all I can numbly say is, "I don't know. I had nowhere else to go." The woman with the crystal blue eyes stands up to reveal that she is very tall. Her face is full of sympathy and worry as though I am her child. She is has a cover for herself, and brings me another blanket she had been sitting on. 

I meekly look up at her, accepting her gift as I say, "Haven’t you heard that I am a murderous Vampire?" 

"All I see is a piteous young girl before me that needs a helping hand. You can take my hand or stay here for the winter air to kill you off." Whether she'd heard of me or not, it didn't seem to matter to her. This gift of mercy and love was like an elixir to me. It gave me strength. It gave me hope. 

Suddenly I forget about my despair. I stand up and step away from my make-shift shelter of cardboard boxes, out into the snow. This time it doesn't feel as bitter cold to me as it had felt before, when all I could focus on are my woes. 

Getting into the spirit of my sudden burst of playful energy, the kind woman gives me the blanket gift to drape over my shoulders. As we walk out of the alley, throwing snow balls at each other, I notice a sleek, black car just sitting there, idling, its headlights lighting up the glistening snow before us. Blue eyes motions for me to step into the car with her. Hesitantly I step into the back of the fancy car with its plush interior. Inside, the car is toasty warm. It must have been sitting here with the heat kicked up to the max for a while now. 

The driver seems pleased to see us both, and cheerfully addresses me. "Lady Kayla, I am glad you can join us." 

I suddenly realize that the blue eyed lady and the driver of the car have both recognize me because of my station in life so that the town's people and even those in surrounding areas would know me. Would know my royalty. 

"I am not a princess anymore." I say, with downcast eyes. "I was exile for something I didn’t do." They both look at me with such love and acceptance, despite what I just said, that I am relieved and settle back against the leather seat. What next? I'm thinking, as we drive away into the cold night.

The kind lady gently places her hand on my knee. I look into her eyes and feel as if she can look into the very depths of my soul with those crystal blue eyes of hers. Finally she speaks, as if choosing her words carefully. "We have seen great things in your future, Lady Kayla. We know you’re a watcher, but also a princess. I am a watcher, like you. We also know Draco Winter is responsible for your misfortune." 

I turn, looking out the window, to hide the spark of anger that flashes in my scarlet black eyes. There is rain streaming down the windows of the car now. A rain that would have frozen me into a Popsicle in that miserable cardboard shelter I'd made for myself in the alley. 

Without turning back to face her, I say, as I idly watch the droplets sliding down the pane, "So you knew I’d come here, huh?" 

"Actually I had to track you But you’re not that hard to find. The blood of a princess is easy to recognize on the wind, for seldom are you ever outside the palace." I am just grateful you weren't discovered, raped and killed in your vulnerable state, for evil can easily sniff you out as well." 

I suddenly feel a sickening wave of shock and realization for my true state of peril, for I hadn't even considered such possibilities, so sheltered had I been in my palace. I didn’t know whether to be offended or proud that I wasn’t a girly princess waiting for a prince to come and champion me. Perhaps I'm jaded. I don’t believe in the fairytale bull crap of "Happily Ever After" endings. There are no happy endings for me. I have known this all along. Perhaps because I am the first born and not as doted on as my baby sister, Camellia. Camellia... thoughts of my sister flooded in... how she cried for me as I stood in the light of day to receive my sentence, and my eyes fill with tears and what seemed to be a life time ago event... so surreal... so unbelievably mystifying to me.

Finally I jerk myself away from those painful memories before they overtake me. "So since I'm being called Lady Kayla, can I know you’re names?" 

"We are honored to tell you who we are," the woman who seems to be offering me a better life then the alley was offering me, responds. "I am Emerson. Whether my first or my last name, I know not for I have no other name than Emerson. I can’t remember a life before the one I have now. All I do know is I am a gypsy. We are known by Romanians as the "wandering ones". 

My eyes widen. "You mean like the people that have been known to curse others for their misdeeds? The people who can cast the Evil Eye Spell on someone?"  

Emerson smiles patiently at me. "Well yes. But what you don't understand is that we do not cast spells or curse others. The truth is, their lot in life, if it seems a cursed life to them, is their own doing. They bring their downfall upon themselves. We just recognize, with a trained eye, what is about to befall them. We might tell them about it, but not to curse them. Only to forewarn them so that they can make a different choice that will hopefully avert the consequences of their past misdeeds. Usually they are not wise enough to recognize the gift and head pall mall into their tragic destiny, blaming us for their misfortune. Hopefully you are wiser than that. My trained eyes tell me this is so." She smiles again, as she caresses my hair, smoothing its wildness under her touch.

She continues to speak in low tones to me as the car drives on into the night. "We are not bad people but people who have fallen prey to their own bad outcomes turn to betray us after we bless them with the truth they seek. They call us conspirators and witches, but we help them out anyway. We awaken them to a world that they haven't before been able to see. Most of the time our kind efforts are wasted on their small minds. Minds that believe that everyone has someone out there plotting and planning to ruin their happiness, rather than believing that they can be the most blessed soul, who is safe and loved. They do not reach out and grab this better destiny that awaits them." 

I look into her face as she speaks, mesmerized by her ice blue eyes that seem to be telling the story of betrayal and loyalty. "So loyal driver what’s your name?" 

He looks back briefly, then turns and seems to scan the landscape before us, even though it is so dark that all that can be seen is the road that the headlights shine on far enough ahead to drive. Finally he clears his throat to give his answer. "Well I am Spider. I weave the webs we live. I am the weaver and reader of your life's web as well."  

I hide my shock at something I had not expected to hear by saying non-challantly, "Spider webs? Yeah I am a reader of this Life Web story of mine. But it isn't turning out the way I read it once upon a time ago."

Spider continues, as if he had expected to hear what I had said. "I know everything about you and who you will be with your death and all. For truly you have died to that life you were so unjustly thrust from." Then he laughed and I sat back in my seat to think... wondering, is it really possible for someone to know all about me? Did Spider really weave my fate and since I had not brought it upon myself, is weaving me a better fate? 

The car ride seems like forever. The sky is getting light and I see we are out of the city and driving now in a rural setting surrounded by trees, until my view is obscured by a thick fog. When we finally stop I can see an enormous house through the hazy mist, with creepy oil lit lamps swaying from side to side as the wind blows and playfully tosses them about. 

I smile as I imagine the house to be haunted. Eagerly I step out of the car and can hardly wait to ascend the steps of the front porch. But first I slowly whirl around, taking in my surroundings, and Emerson looks pleased to see the joy on my face.

I hear the crackle of tires on gravel and realize that Spider is driving away, leaving Emerson and I standing in front of the dark and foreboding house.

Foreboding or not, I want to bound up the steps with excitement, but Emerson placed a gentle restraining hand on my shoulder. I look quizzically up into her face. "You must not enter here as if you are a familiar and welcome. You must allow the house to welcome you first. Here let us approach the porch steps with caution." 

Tentatively I step forward, placing my hand on the wooden railing, its paint peeling off in my hand. I notice there are relics stacked all around on the porch. Some relics seem eerily familiar to me, while others seem like a piece to a puzzle that's been lost. 

I carefully place my foot on the first step. Then I hear the house almost growling as I place my other foot on the second step. Emerson takes my hand in hers. The porch steps chatter and shake and I start to look up at Emerson for reassurance, when a woman with silver eyes appears on the porch in front of us.

"This is Veronica." Emerson introduces. "Veronica, this is Lady Kayla. She will be our guest, if the house accepts her.

Slowly, Emerson and I begin to ascend the steps. I'm expecting, I don't know what, but the chatter and clatter has ceased and all seems calm, as we approach the door. Emerson smiles at me, and Veronica says, "He must really like you." 

"Who likes me?" I puzzle. 

"Well the house of course." Emerson says with obvious satisfaction.

"More specifically, Dante our guardian." Veronica interjects. Then her silvery eyes glitter as she continues, "He is a cat now. He was an ancient warrior that became a cat and that cat was infused into our lovely house here." 

"My goodness," I'm thinking. "Things just get weirder and weirder!" Then I ask, "Why did he become infused with the house?" 

"Well it made a promise to his best friend to protect the gypsies no matter what even if it meant his death. This best friend was also a cat. Well I suppose I should be more correct and say the best friend was a saber toothed tiger. Of course you know they are extinct... saber toothed tigers, I mean, but not magical ones, of course. So the legacy he left to us is our guardian protector, his cat friend, whom he infused into this house, making it a safe haven for us eternally." 

As she cheerfully rattles on her story, she must have felt my growing concern. "Saber toothed tigers!" And she sees the shock that is clearly on my face, as if I might be meeting up with one of those magical creatures at any moment.

Emerson steps forward to interrupt. "Let’s see if he truly likes you shall we?" She said. She sweeps her hand out in front of her in an obvious gesture that I should try opening the front door. 

I take in a long, slow breath, and then gingerly reach for the knob, appearing fearless, but my heart is thumping so loud I'm sure both Veronica and Emerson can hear it, and my face is beading up with sweat. 

Suddenly the house shingles start moving and clattering so loudly that I begin to giggle because it sounds like a drum roll, as if to announce someone of great importance approaches. This thought, along with my own laughter, sends a jolt of courage though my body and then I don’t hesitate to grab the knob and give it a firm twist.

The house seemed to calm down. Then, without warning, let out a pain felt screech! I jump back, startled, covering my eyes and turning into the safety of Emerson's arms. 

The walls are jolting, convulsing, as if something is trying to eject itself out of the house. I put my hands on my head and step behind Emerson. "What did I do wrong?" I silently scream inside my head. Then the oil lit flames in the lamps, still dancing in the wind, bounce from blues flames to purple. A deadly silence descends. "What next?!" I shudder. And it isn't long before my silent question is answered as the front door is flung wide open.

The three of us step inside and Veronica and Emerson seem pleased. I calm myself and say, "So, Emerson, if you see everything, why do you remain in the rural of our country?"

"Lady Kayla..."

I interrupt... "Please. Just call me Kayla. I am less then you are right now, for I owe you a lot more than I can ever pay." 

"As you wish," she says, with a slight nod of formal respect, then adds, "Fair enough." She continues, as she walks about the room, lighting candles that cast a dim and eerie light. 

"We live here because the Cult still needs us and the humans don’t want us..."

"The Cult?!" I shrink back in disbelief, then gather myself up from my surprise and recover with, "Didn't you say you are a Gypsy?" 

"Yes, but Gypsies are as much an outcast to society as the Cult is, though they brazenly walk your city streets and live among you in disguise. We choose not to veil ourselves in that way, so we live in the magic of these woods that is always shrouded by fog, where not many people can find us and carry out their evil intentions against us. The fog is actually magical as well, causing those who hunt us to shift and turn, getting lost every time unless they have good intentions. Then those who seek us have no trouble finding us. Then there are people like you, who don't know to seek us out, so we must seek you out ourselves, which is what we have done. We were saddened by what befell you, for you did not deserve it. But gladdened at the same time, for now you are free to come into our fold of magic, which is your true destiny." She paused, and almost seemed to sadden. Then she continued, "But I must tell you that The Cult is immune to the magic of the fog and woods for they don’t have hearts that beat like ours, so we are vulnerable to them." 

 As she walked about the room, speaking her explanations, my attention is grabbed by something I see in the darkness beyond the room we are in. Scarlet red eyes at my thigh level that seemed to be moving closer to us. As it creeps closer I see it is a gigantic cat. In the golden glow of the candle flames, I can see the magnificent creature. The cat appears to be made of wood, coated with a glossy sheen of some sort. There are also leaves and branches from the surrounding woods made into part of its fur. As the cat crept ever closer I saw that it looked confused and sleepy, like we may have awakened it from a catnap and it might be grumpy because of its sleep being disturbed. I cautiously step behind Emerson just as it gets into position and jumps on me. I hit the floor hard and it is on top of me purring! Looking into its jeweled eyes, I begin to scratch its sides. Its fur has the strange texture of little fibers that tickle my skin. I stretch just enough to slide from beneath this purring pile of wood. Then I see several smaller cats made of stone. They are watching me and the large cat of wood. All I can do is stare back at them, not knowing what to expect next.

Emerson has a pleased, but curious look on her face as she says, "This house must really love you." 

I look at her and then at the cats. "Why is that?" I ask, puzzled, but somehow excited too. 

"Well, I've only seen the cats a few times and none of them peaceful, like they are now." The cat of wood was licking itself and looking up at us. She continued explaining. "These are guardian cats. They come out only when there is a threat. I've never seen them purring and peaceful, only protecting and ferocious. The last time it was to protect us from members of the Cult. He and his siblings didn't stop until they were dead. Oh, I know what you're thinking... vampires don't die. But you do know there are magical ways to kill them, and our guardian cats are magical." 

I get up off the floor and look down at the gigantic wooden cat. Its whiskers are carved lines in its large, proud face and its eye sockets are also carved in. This enormous carved cat looks very Egyptian but what really catch my attention are its jeweled eyes. They seemed to be changing colors. They had started out scarlet red... glowing in the dark. But when it sat on my chest, purring, his eyes were a soft pink. I wondered if emotion made its eyes change colors.

"Lady... I mean Kayla," Emerson corrected herself. "This is your guardian". She said simply, as if no further explanation was needed. For something made of wood it moved with no restraint and followed me as I went with Emerson up a flight of stairs and down a long hall to my room. Emerson went out of the room and softly closed the door after acquainting me with where my bathroom was. I walk out onto a balcony, shrouded in mist that seemed to lift, as I stood at the railing, looking down into a beautiful garden below, and the house didn't seem so haunted to me now. It just felt safe. It felt like I had come home. 

Suddenly I feel exhausted and decide to draw a hot tub of water for a long and needed soak to remove the grime and tear stains of my ordeal that seemed thankfully to be finally over. The wooden cat is nowhere in site, but I seem to feel its presence all around me in the walls and I feel safe as I crawl between clean, fragrant sheets and lay on the soft bed, drifting off into a deep sleep filled with strange and wonderful dreams. 

Author's Note

Edited by MsMeraid! i hope you enjoy it as much as i did.

Reviews

[sonnetmoon]

This Is a well written story. I don't know where to begin because I have so many positive things to say. Firstly I adore the description used within this chapter. I can almost picture everything you have mentioned.

Your opening line to the story already had me hooked and that is a hard thing to do. For that I congratulate you because many writers struggle to do that.

My only problem with this work of art was the formatting. I know that formatting is a daunting task, but it is important. What im trying to say is to break it up into paragraphs and to make the font slightly bigger. Other than that it was great. Please continue to write and I will read the other chapters of this story.
-sonnetmoon

[André-J-Franklin]

Thank you i always appreciate the feedback from a fellow reader. Although this is posted on this site i must inform you the book has been finished since 11/17/13. I do post the most updated verse because it's been fleshed out and edited to the max. Working on getting it published. Like the project name was called A Bullet Shot in The Winter but now it's been called Just Another Fairy tale. The sequel in the work as we speak. when you get to the 10 chapter you notice i stop posting because i didn't want the plot line to get leak and someone else would steal my work but i assure you, you're in for a wild ride.

[Shy Girl]

One question pops into my head...I thought that Vampires didn''t feel the cold?? That they didn't feel heat either...they just know that it pain they feel by the sunlight touching their skin. Their body and mind put together light=pain ?? Is it because she is born of human blood, there fore she still has a few human quirks?Okay now the story...at first I thought she was kick-a*s walking down the hallway. The way she was thinking...tough and not really caring what others thought...but then she ends up being really..actually fragile...feminine..Then the thought of being able to smell her royal blood..that was eerie..everywhere she goes they can find her..a watcher huh?? U-knee-que!! And the Spider who weaves her web..life and death along with who she's to become...he needs to tell her..or she should shake the crap out of him till he answers her...because I'd like to know what was round the bend for me if I were her :) One to the next chapter..lol I already told you I like your story..I'm just reading to catch up...Silver eyes...shifty I tell ya..just that cool presence..an air or aura of "watch out cause I'll slit your throat when you aren't paying attention" thing going on there..shifty :)

[Robbie~xoxo~]

Wow! There's no limit to your imagination... This is well written. I like how you have given life to your characters. I like Emerson...It's good to have Emerson on your side, that's for sure! Great job!