Catching Temptation (In Darkness She Fades (Book 1) (2 page)

I smile and crane my neck for a
better view of the manor. My fascination with the old house twists into dread.
I swear I just saw one of the gargoyles move. Squinting at the stone wings
darkened from the angle of the sun, I think that whoever created these beasts
possessed a good eye for detail. The gargoyle’s granite skin glistens in the
sunlight.

Passing a few rusted mailboxes
with missing numbers, we drive down the quiet street. Forest brush, giant oaks,
and maple trees cover most of the scenery. Even though the windows are up, I
can hear the leaves of the trees rustling together. Victorian houses, in
desperate need of repainting, pop in and out of sight. Many of them display
“for sale” signs. I squint into the trees near the vacant homes and notice huts
carved out of logs the size of large doghouses. Carvings of faces cover every
inch of the huts.

Weird.

Hippies must live in town. I
remember going to a carnival as a child and meeting an old hippie artist. He
carved the most amazing designs on old logs, willow branches, and even a
whale’s tooth.

Aunt Sally slows the car and
swerves onto a cracked driveway. An old Victorian-styled home looms in front of
the car. Broken windows and chipped wooden siding accentuates the poor
condition of the home. The overgrown vegetation in the yard bends with every
gust of wind.

“Here we are – home sweet home!”

My cousins and I gawk at Aunt
Sally as if she suddenly sprouted horns and a tail, while announcing her
undying love for anarchists.

“Aunt Sally, please tell me
you’re joking.”

“Yeah, Mom. What’s up with the
dump?” Daniel leans over the passenger’s seat to get a proper view. “You said
we’d be moving into a mansion. Even Dracula wouldn’t live in this house.”

“Good grief, stop complaining. I
know the outside needs some work, but the inside is beautiful, and I’m
surprised at you, Temptation. I thought you liked these kinds of houses.”

A figure lurks past the upstairs
window.

No.

Not there. Not there. I blink the
image away. “I do, but this house doesn’t feel–” An indescribable chill tickles
my shoulders. Somehow, someway, I know someone is watching me through the
sunroof. Past the dirt and grime collected on the second story window stands a
dark outline of a man. “Lock the doors!”

“Temptation!”

“Someone’s in the house. In the
upstairs window.”

“See, Mom. This house sucks.”
Daniel launches into the conversation, ignoring the fact that I just
hallucinated again. “Let’s–”

“Shut up,” shouts Aunt Sally. She
tugs the keys out of the ignition. “I’ve had enough! Everyone out of my car and
start carrying things into the house. I don’t want to hear another word from
any of you.”

“But–”

“Temptation, those windows are
covered in moss, dirt, and God knows what else; there’s no way you could see
anything through them. If you keep this up, I’ll have you tested for drugs
again. If this is a desperate attempt for attention, you need to get over it.
Everyone out of my car!”

Daniel and Nathaniel curse under
their breath while trudging out of the car. Daniel shoves my shoulder. “Way to
go, Temptation, you pissed Mom off.”

“She’s your mother, not mine.”
Thank the Gods, I’m not related her by blood. I grab my over-the-shoulder
backpack and hop out of the car. Silky hair spills down to my waist like a
broken bottle of ink flowing over sand. Raking my fingers through my hair, I
follow behind my cousins. The scent of pine carries on the light wind. As I
cross under the porch, Aunt Sally sticks an old-fashioned key into the rusted
keyhole. The dark metal around the keyhole depicts a screaming demon.

I hug myself. A few strands of
black hair sliced through my view of the door.

Aunt Sally jiggles the brass
handle. The door does not budge. With a slight bump of her thigh against the
wooden door, it squeaks open. The horrible sound mimics nails scraping against
a chalkboard. She disappears into the stale-scented house. A singular cloud
crosses over the sun, shadowing the porch and yard.

I swipe the scent from my nose
and follow behind my cousins into the hot living room. I almost forget the dark
creatures. Almost. Textured wallpaper designs in brilliant red and gold cover
the adjoining walls. Over the fireplace, in the corners, and around the
built-in bookcases, pieces of torn wallpaper stick out. Aged furniture pokes
out from underneath white sheets layered in dust. Odd paintings of women in
elegant gowns hang on the walls. I stare hard at their faces. Their eyes look
so wild; so dangerous. I flip on the light switch. A decorative mask lays on
the fireplace mantel.

Aunt Sally hauls her thick
luggage into the kitchen, while the boys run upstairs to find the largest
bedrooms. The floorboards moan overhead. Particles of dust twinkle when falling
through the rays of sunlight penetrating the windows. Aunt Sally sneezes in the
other room. “We’ll have to clean the ceilings, too.”

I halt at the mantel. Mesmerized
by the pearl-white mask, I run my fingertips along the silky feathers. Tiny
diamonds outline the cutout eyes. “Gorgeous.”

My black fingernails grip the
mantel. Lint-like dust and a tiny spider twitch in an attempt to escape my
fingers. Lifting my filthy hand to my face, I grimace, and wipe it on my torn
jeans.

I reach for the mask, but then
halt. As I observe the mask’s unique artistry, a disturbing fact troubles me.
Not a speck of dust lies on the mask. Gently raising the mask to my eye-level,
I wonder if someone broke into the house and left it. My nervous laughter
echoes off the walls. No. Shaking my head of the stupidity of the idea, I
decide the Real Estate agent might have left it here or possibly the last
owners. The images of my stalkers resurface. Shaking my head, I growl. “Get a
grip, Temptation. Nothing’s in here. I’m starting over.”

I abandon the mask back on the
mantel and stroll into the kitchen. My coined hip scarf pings across my hips.
Mahogany cabinets, tile countertops, and modern stainless steel appliances
instantly crush my negative attitude toward the old home. An antique red stove
with gold trimming stands in the corner and adds character to the kitchen,
along with the multi-toned stone flooring.

“How do you like it?” Aunt Sally
asks, holding her hands together in a prayer-like motion against her red lips.
“I am, of course, going to have granite counter-tops installed, but the rest of
it only needs cleaning. Outside needs a little work. The broken windows will be
replaced this week. Your uncle said someone should be out this afternoon to cut
the grass.”

“That’s fast.” I amble around the
room in awe of the beauty of the ancient house. “How can you and Uncle Jack
afford this place? The outside needs some work, but most of the appliances are
worth a lot of money.”

“Actually, we were lucky.” Aunt
Sally bustles around the kitchen, opening cabinets and searching for abandoned
treasures. Her high-heels click every time she takes a step. “After your uncle
received his new position in the company, they awarded him with a small bonus,
and well...we entertained the idea of living in a small town. Not as much crime
and you’ve more of a supportive community. This house had been empty and on the
market for years and the seller wanted to get rid of it for almost any price.”

My eyebrows arch, causing the
tiny crystals, and bindi tattoo on my lower forehead to rise. “It didn’t strike
you as a little odd?”

Aunt Sally picks up an old
figurine and begins rubbing the dirt off with her thumb. “The agent assured us
it wasn’t selling because of the real estate market. I suppose they don’t get
many new townspeople often and when they do, the newcomers aren’t seeking a
huge house to settle into. A colleague at your uncle’s work said it’s a wonderful
place to raise a family.”

“Who was the colleague?”

“Alfred Blare, I believe.”

Footsteps stomp down the
staircase, causing the cameo-style paintings on the wall to shake. Daniel and
Nathaniel jump down the last few stairs and sprint into the kitchen.

“We found our rooms and they’re
awesome!”

“Wonderful!” Aunt Sally claps her
hands together. The motion reminds me of valley-girls on Hollywood reality
shows. “Why don’t you go find your room, Temptation?”

“We already found it and you’re
gonna love it.” Daniel yanks me toward the staircase.

“Joyness.” While ascending the
stairs, the railing feels sleek and wavy under my palm like the spirals on a
unicorn’s horn. At the top of the stairs, the two boys lead me into a cobweb
hallway. I cringe at the sight of twitching spiders. They dip up and down from
the ceiling, using their threads like bungee cords.

“Why’d you stop?” Nathaniel
crosses his arms over his printed T-shirt. He rolls his head backward and
stares up at the ceiling. Hundreds of tiny eyes gleam across the ceiling and
walls. They sparkle like stars in the darkness – beautiful from far away, but
dangerous up close.

“Temptation’s afraid of spiders!
Temptation’s afraid of spiders!”

          “Shut
up.” I maneuver my body around the cobwebs. The fat spiders twiddle their
barbed legs an inch over the top of my hair.

Daniel thrusts out his arms to
try and trap me in the hall. I shove his freckled arms out of the way and hurry
to the door at the end of the hall. I wait for the boys to catch up.

Daniel opens the door and steps
inside with Nathaniel glued to his side.

I follow through the doorway and
brace myself. A click comes from behind. Light illuminates the bedroom.

“Ta-da! You get the smallest room
in the house.” Daniel retreats into hallway. Nathaniel snickers and follows
behind him. Their echoes dull.

The narrow shape of the room
makes it appear small to the eye. All the furniture is hidden beneath white
tarps. A few paintings lean against the Victorian wallpaper which is a deep
shade of red wine. Dust-bunnies collect on the floor, in the corners of the
room, and on the tarps. I sigh at the amount of work to be done. Allowing my
head to drop backward against the doorframe, I gasp. A magnificent chandelier
hangs overhead, sparkling from the rays of the artificial sunlight.

“Temptation!”

I jump at Aunt Sally’s scream.
“What?”

“Start bringing your boxes up to
your room.”

“In a minute.” A covered object,
about six feet tall, catches my eye. Arm outstretched, I tug at the cloth.
“Creepy.”

The painting portrays a grand
ballroom with hundreds of people dressed up in elaborate shades of violet,
crimson, and gold. The people wear skeletal masks.

It must be a coincidence.

In the middle of the dancers, a
man in a white mask gazes out of the painting. His skin shines like bronze and
his pool of black hair flows to his shoulders. “Hmm,” I stoop down to study his
arched smile and handsome features. “He’s kinda hot in a freaky sort of way,” I
mumble, taking note of his eyes, black as coal, shining through the mask. Maybe
it’s part of the mask.

I absorb the whole painting one
last time. It looks so Gothic. Like a morbid masquerade. Reaching for the edge
of the painting, I uproot the heavy canvas.

“Weird.” Behind the canvas is a
closed door. Wonder if this is the closet? Grasping the cool doorknob, I push,
and then grope the wall until the light switch pokes my hand.

For a moment, I forget to
breathe. A bathroom with marble floors ends at a claw-foot bathtub. Lavish
curtains shimmer in the light, even with dust and cobwebs. A decorative oval
mirror hangs above a golden sink.

I stare at my mirror image. I do
not like viewing my reflection for very long. It is too painful. Though my skin
is not as dark as moms, my features favor mom.

“Miss you, Mom.”

The lights black out.

Crap. Why is the electricity
going out?

The bedroom door squeaks. I take
a step. It slams shut, abandoning me to complete darkness. “Dammit Daniel,
can’t you leave me alone for two freakin’ minutes?” At the bathroom doorway, I
blindly ambled into my bedroom. I fumble to find the light switch. The small
bump flips up.

Nothing happens.

“Crap.”

Using the wall as my guide, I
find my bedroom door. I turn the cool knob. It will not open. “What kind of
house has the locks on the outside of the door? Those drapes must be as thick
as denim to keep the room so dark during the day.” I attempt to maneuver my way
across the room, but stub my toes against the bedpost in the process. I curse
and limp closer to the draped windows.

A pair of eyes shines in the
darkness.

A cold hand captures my scream,
while an arm seizes my waist. I never met a monster who takes on the physical
body of a man. The creatures stalk, mock, and threaten me, but they never touch
me like this except for the monster in my dreams.

The monster removes his hand from
my mouth.

“Get away from me!”

He does not heed my command. The
arm gripping my waist remains strong, but gentle.