09. Temptations gone awry by Lizzie

lizzie

Randolf had been in the employ of the Masque Family at Festival Hall for about a month. The morning had been slow, like usual, soon the afternoon shift would arrive and the rest of the day would be his. The little bit of work Valora instructed him to do before she left early, claiming a sudden headache, he’d already finished. Taking a quick look around and noticing no one, the masked servant smiled to himself and slipped off towards a particular alcove in the ballroom.

The door was hidden from view, but a careful search revealed the mechanism that opened it. If he were caught back here, Randolf knew the superior wages he earned would vanish in a heartbeat. He doubted his suave good looks and silver tongue would make a difference if he were caught. But he also knew that his partner was gone and Maurice, the head day chef, was busy preparing appetizers for an intimate dinner party that had booked one of the smaller banquet rooms later in the day.

Stepping into the dim hallway, he strained his ears to hear anything, the door shut soundlessly behind him. The back of the theater was quiet, there wasn’t another troupe scheduled until the following week. Reassured that no one was lurking nearby, Randolf started towards a suite he’d discovered a few days ago. It was a spectacular room, fit for the finest actresses in Ravnglade. Rich gold and muted greens combined with the exotic Jayanti rosewood furnishings, create a warm and inviting atmosphere. That’s not what drew him though; it was the small, fully stocked bar that wasn’t watched with the hawk-like intensity of daunting Maurice.

Just a quick nip, he thought to himself. The cognac he’d discovered in here was the smoothest he’d ever sampled before. Randolf entered the room confidently and strolled to the bar. The dark-haired young man had almost finished pouring when a slight rustle sent a shaft of dread down his spine. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed his worst fear. He wasn’t alone.

A woman occupied the bed and she had just finished turning in his direction. Heartbeats lasted an eternity while he waited for her eyes to open and latch onto him accusingly or scream bloody murder. As quiet as he could, he capped the cut crystal decanter and returned the vessel to its proper place. The figure on the bed didn’t stir. No one was supposed to be here, this he knew for a fact and a sneaky suspicion crept over him. It was confirmed when his hazel eyes landed upon the pile of plain and worn clothing folded neatly on one chair.

A vagabond. Some bit of riff-raff had snuck in here and taken a warm bed for the night. The servant’s confidence returned in a rush and he picked up the snifter, enjoying the burn it created traveling down his throat to warm his stomach while he stole quietly towards the bed. She was younger than he but he scarcely glanced at her face, his eyes drawn towards the curves revealed by the wisp of beige material and lace of the camisole she wore. He missed the carefully embroidered rosebuds that decorated the undergarment lovingly.

He took another drink, growing bolder and less cautious when still she didn’t stir. Her breathing was quiet and even, unchanged even when he swept a lock of tawny hair away from the creamy flesh of her chest. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A sleeping wayfarer.” He whispered.

Studying the gentle slope of her breast while taking another sip, Randolf could almost see the rosy areola and his loins tightened in response. Another half inch and he would catch more than a glimpse. He dismissed thoughts of being caught, if anything the Masque Lords and Ladies would praise him for discovering the intruder. As his lusty nature urged him on, the masked servant moved his hand towards the thin strap that had slipped off the vulnerable stranger’s shoulder.

She must have gotten into the liquor herself, as deep as she slept. Just about to hook his finger under the bit of fabric to slide it down further to reveal the prize that was taunting him, a low, threatening growl quivered in the room. Randolf paused and adrenalin shot through his body, nervous eyes darted quickly around the darkened room, stabbing into every shadowed corner.

There was nothing. Only his overactive imagination, he reprimanded himself. The Hall did that to you from time to time. Servants whispered about ghosts and strange occurrences and he always laughed them off. He had told the willowy blonde, Valora, with suggestive leers that he knew how to drive ghosts away, which always made her blush outrageously. Shaking his head to dispel the lurid sight called up in his mind of the two of them locked in a sweaty embrace, he turned his attentions once more to the woman sleeping deeply.

Now he took the time to study her while drinking more of the fiery liquor to chase away his nervousness. There was something dark, matting down sections in the wealth of her long and wavy tawny hair but her face was almost pretty, if you liked strong cheekbones. He imagined her eyes were light, possibly blue and judging by the outline of her body covered below the ribs with a light sheet, she wasn’t nearly as tall as his blonde co-worker, Valora.

But her breasts held the firmness of youth and called to him once more. This time he moved quickly, no longer afraid of his imagination or that she would stir. Just as the rosy peak crowning her creamy flesh appeared, that hostile growl intruded again, louder and more menacing. Dread seeped into every pour on his body and called up a cold sweat. There, on the other side of the bed, was the shadowy outline of a large wolf, with its teeth barred savagely.

Randolf screamed and dropped the costly snifter. Thoughts of survival didn’t extend to the helpless woman when he bolted from the room, slamming the door to keep the wolf from pursuit.

Through all of this, Lizzie slept peacefully.

Sun, Jan 18th – 11:12AM

dagan

Dagan had felt her presence in Farhmore, a light that ignited the darkness that surrounded him, called to him even while he slept the slumber of the damned. He would have left that night, as soon as he’d risen from the earth in his protected lair and followed, but important engagements kept him for several more days, although he sent a raven to watch through and learned her name. Lizzie is what she went by.

By the time he could break away, she had entered the city limits of Ravnglade. There he felt other presences, ones he’d not known existed. Bright flames that fanned his lust and hope for salvation. And males, the wretched stink of protective males. Could it be that there was a Hunter among them? The thought was unsettling.

Dagan kept his distance from the grounds she entered, even from here he could sense the strange protections, magic like he’d not encountered before. The vampire needed time to study them and create help that could enter the grounds without jeopardizing his own body.

Leaving the raven to watch the drive, he began his own hunt of the eve.
Sun, Jan 18th – 12:57AM

thorne

It seemed as though the number of guests within the Festival Hall was growing. I could not remember the last time we had a single guest, and now we had three. Two, of which, were problematic.

My thoughts drifted from one to the other; my own devices of resolution only managed to darken my mood. Left alone, I would err on the side of caution, protecting my Family’s secrets at all costs. However, this was too much to be my call; I needed to consult the others.

I found them at home in the den, discussing Rook’s miraculous recovery. Indeed, with the amount of blood I had to clean up from the floor of the Festival Hall, I was pleased to see him amongst the speaking again. Worry had clouded my thoughts on the subject of our guests, and seeing my wonderful brother again did much to help alleviate some of the strain.

Temptress was sitting on the overly large leather couch that faced the fireplace. She was coolly eloquent and stirringly beautiful as always. The golden light of the flickering flames made her skin glow. Rook was laying down, stretched out the length of the couch, his head in her lap.

Pausing by the door, I watched the pair. Rook’s hands were moving excitedly as he spoke, Temptress laughed lightly and curled his hair around her fingers. I would often catch glimpses of them like this, with them being themselves, not worrying about putting on a Masque for the public. Despite myself, my heart swelled with love, for it was the simple quiet times, without arguing and without display that they truly were happy.

Rook paused in his dramatic rendition of events, and it gave Temptress a moment to look over her shoulder. I caught sight of the bright sapphire of her lenses and she spoke, “Thorne, it is not polite to hover in the shadows.”

The moment was dispelled, so I entered the room. It was warm and comfortable, the fire in the fireplace burned away winter’s chill. “I need to ask you a simple question.”

Rook turned his head, by now I was at the arm of the couch by his feet. I could see that he was shirtless, his ivory skin unmarked by any attacks the savage might have inflicted upon him. His ankle seemed healed as well. “Sure, kid, shoot.” He said.

I folded my hands together and asked quietly, “The savage that is in the Night Room. He has made the place a mess and is not eating his food. What should I do with him?”

Rook’s eyes widened with surprise. “Shit! I forgot about him.”

How my brother could have forgotten, I’ll never understand. After all, it was the boy’s attack that sent him away to be healed. I said nothing but my eyebrows must have lifted for Rook seemed quite ashamed.

Temptress tried to betray no emotion, her jaw line tightened as she held her tongue. Our brother would have to find an appropriate solution.

Rook shook his head, “Oh, no no! We can’t keep him here against his will!”

Temptress untangled her hand from his hair, “You are suggesting we let him go? He will only try to kill you again.”

Rook’s head turned and he gazed into the flames. My sister and I shared the same thought, rid the world of the miscreant, and he would trouble us no longer. Let him go, and he would plague us until we were forced to rid the world of him. Either way, the savage would eventually end up dead. At least if we disposed of him now, we could do so discretely. But we also both knew Rook would not allow it. He had a soft spot for creatures in captivity. “Question him, Thorne. Use herbs to loosen his tongue, but eventually let him go.”

I exchanged a knowing look with my sister, her ruby red lips lengthened in a shrewd smile. “Did you say the Night Room was a mess, dear brother?”

I nodded.

Once more, Temptress’ beautiful fingers found their way into my brother’s long white locks. “I think that Rook needs to clean it.”

Rook snarled, “WHAT??!”

Temptress smiled down at her brother, “That is a very special room, My Sweet Rook, and not only have you let knowledge of its existence become revealed, but you have allowed it to be spoiled by your captive.”

Rook’s eyes narrowed, “You have to be joking!”

Temptress’ hand moved from his hair to cup his jaw lightly, and as she spoke her fingers tensed, causing the nails to dimple Rook’s neck. “I don’t joke about the Family, Rook.” Her voice took on that dangerous tone, and Rook understood.

Frowning slightly to myself, I was suddenly aware I had other questions to ask the pair. For some reason, only one of my concerns had I brought to their attention. Thinking about the young woman who might end up being the bigger danger, I quickly dismissed any further thoughts of asking my siblings about her. I knew their answers without asking. I would see to her, and deal with her if needed.

This was about The Family, nothing more.

That thought echoed in my mind as I took my leave from the pair and returned to Festival Hall.

~ Private thoughts of Thorne Masque.