Escape (4 page)

            Tense seconds ticked by and Amelia watched another change occur between the stalemated roommates. She found it primarily in Esmeralda. Her thick hair began to steadily become more buoyant, almost thickening against her slightly hunched back. And then small items around the kitchen began to rattle. Utensils, plates, and glasses shivered. She almost expected the items to float and begin shooting towards Connor like bullets from a gun.

            Connor’s brows furrowed with indignation and a deep rumble could be heard from his throat that sounded much like the growl of a lion or wolf. Above them, the lights began to flicker and Amelia wondered if it was the doing of the vampire or the demon. The room was thick with such negative, dark energy that Amelia had a hard time clinging to her sanity as her eyes darted between the two of them, wondering who would cave first.

            Almost as suddenly as the supernatural argument began, it ended when Esmeralda let out a very controlled breath of air and her eyes faded back to their usual violet hue. The utensil stopped clattering and the lights shined solidly once more. She squared her shoulders, showing she would take her defeat proudly and sat back down at the dining table with Amelia.

            Connor’s eyes slowly changed back to normal as well, but he left them no last word before storming off into the bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

            Finally, Esmeralda turned away with irritation, back to Amelia. “Don’t worry about anything. I’m sure Sir Jedalf will able to find some way to get you home. Are you tired at all?” she asked as she gave the most convincing apologetic smile.

             Amelia was a little frazzled by the episode she had just witnessed. Were these outbursts nothing to them? She had to remind herself to breathe before answering with a subtle nod.

            “I recommend you take a nap then. I have to take one, too. That wore me out,” she said laughingly. “The spare bedroom is right down that hallway,” she pointed towards a short corridor, “And you can lay down for a while. No one will bother you. We leave in about an hour, though. I’ll come in to wake you up. And don’t worry about Connor, dear. He’s just grumpy in the mornings.”

            “Is it always morning for him?” Amelia asked sarcastically, willing to break the tension in the house and glancing back at the bedroom door timidly.

            Esmeralda laughed lyrically, but then shook her head. “No, no. He’s normally very well tempered. He got up just before we came to find you and I was giving him a hard time about getting out of bed. Like I said, don’t worry about him. He should relax later in the day.”

            The vampire rose from the table with poise, signaling that it was time to go rest for them both.

            “Oh, that’s another thing,” Amelia began as she stood up from the table with much less grace. “Is it always night time here or will the sun ever come out?”

            Esmeralda took up her empty plate and glass to place in the sink. “I don’t know what ‘sun’ you’re talking about. It’s always dark around here. But, enough of that for now. Go get some sleep.”

            Amelia nodded and treaded softly down the hall upon her unstable legs, past both of the bathrooms and into the guest bedroom to lie down for a while. The room was pleasantly decorated in a country cabin theme, reminding Amelia of the times her family used to travel up to the mountains on vacation. They hadn’t done that in years, but it was still a fond memory for her.

            Such a memory made her even more homesick. As she laid her head upon the pillow, she breathed in the musty smell of the quilt and it was an even more potent trigger. She felt her nose tingle with impending tears, but forced them back. She needed to rest. Perhaps if she went to sleep, she would wake up back home and all of this would be over.

            When Amelia had awoken from her nap, she was dismayed to find that she was not back home. She was still in the guest bedroom of Esmeralda and Connor’s home. She lay still for a while, listening for any stirring around the house. She did this often when she first woke up in the morning at home. She never heard anything because her parents had normally already left for the day.

            But in this house, she heard movement. From what she knew of the layout, it was coming from the kitchen. She thought that perhaps it was Esmeralda. Amelia presumed that Connor would still be steaming with anger in his room.

            She rose from the bed and peeked out the door to see if she could catch a glimpse of who it was. It sounded like someone was browsing the contents of the fridge, which was out of sight from where she stood.

            Amelia took the risk and tip toed down the hall into the kitchen. It wasn’t Esmeralda. Standing in front of the fridge was Connor, wearing only his jeans from earlier and eyes scanning through the shelves. One of his hands gripped the fridge door while the other had a thumb hooked through one of his belt loops. It was a pose worthy of
Play Girl
magazine.

            Before Amelia could catch herself staring, he did. His eyes were fierce, but not with anger. Her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted slightly, willing the air to flow freely, but she could feel herself choking on his gaze. She stood fixed in the cased opening between the hall and the kitchen, unable to move, unable to think. Her whole world was caught up in his striking blue eyes. She’d never seen eyes so clear and pure in color.

            “Breathe,” he commanded and her lungs obeyed. She blinked and cast her gaze down to the checkered tile floor of the kitchen. How could someone affect her this much? Was it fear? Was it his demonic powers holding sway over her? Either way, it was more frightening than anything else she had encountered yet.

            When she looked back up, she saw Connor was just feet away from her, his eyes still penetrating. Amelia half turned to retreat back to the guest bedroom when he offered out one of the water bottles that he held in his hands.

            She stared at the water bottle, not knowing what to think or do. She needed him to think for her. How stupid she felt.

            “Take it.” And she did with a trembling hand. She wished with all her might that she didn’t feel such fear and apprehension coarse through her like it did now. She wanted to show Connor she wasn’t afraid, but how could she convince him when she couldn’t convince herself.

            “Did you sleep well?”

            Esmeralda’s voice broke through Amelia’s stupor as she entered the kitchen, sliding her arms back through her jacket.

            Noticing that Connor was shirtless and she seemed to be getting clothes back on, she guessed what they must have done to make up for the argument that ensued earlier. Amelia’s cheeks grew pink at the very idea, but she quickly pushed it aside.

            “Yeah, I guess so,” she replied.

            Esmeralda gave her another gorgeous smile and nodded in gladness. “Very good. Now, we go to Sir Jedalf’s. Are you ready, Connor?” she asked as she tossed him a black shirt. He caught it and slid it on to conceal his powerful frame, even though his muscles bulged against the fabric enough that she could still see the contours of his body. Amelia quickly followed Esmeralda towards the door, passing by Connor on the way. She heard him trail behind after he grabbed his own jacket.

            The three ventured out into the streets of Flagler. Amelia had inadvertently positioned herself in the middle of Connor and Esmeralda, walking side by side.

            She could tell there was still some unresolved tension between the two of them, but Amelia couldn’t figure out what it was. They fought like a married couple, but there were no rings on either of their hands. Before she passed out from exhaustion earlier, she could hear them arguing in the main bedroom. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but it was clear that they were mad at each other. There had to be a deeper meaning to their hostilities besides the idea of letting Amelia stay with them in the event that she couldn’t find a way home. And even if it wasn’t an issue, she wasn’t sure if she was ok with the idea. If fights like that happened often, she didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

            As they walked through the town, Amelia caught sight of several creatures she had never seen before. She thought to ask her guides what the creatures were, but she didn’t want to appear rude.

            Anyone that dared to try and approach Amelia became a target for Connor’s aggression. He growled at them and bared his teeth bellicosely like a wild beast. Immediately, whatever creature had its eye on Amelia turned away to the other side of the street.

            The way he seemed so protective over her was such a contrast from how he behaved before. It was almost as if he cared now. She still clutched the half empty bottle of water in her hands, which stood as another testament to his change of heart.

            They arrived to Sir Jedalf’s mansion on the far outskirts of town. The home was hidden in a patch of woods in the middle of a weed-ridden yard. The grass towered well above Amelia’s knees, forcing her to take tall steps to create a path to the front porch.

            The mansion was a staggering four stories tall and massive. She imagined it must have contained dozens upon dozens of rooms inside. The exterior edifice was made up of rotting wood and crumbling stone blocks. Moss hung from the corners of the porch awning while vultures perched upon the sharp peeks of the roof. Shingles were missing in patches all over and she could even see exposed rafters and framing boards. Half of the shutters were hanging by a single hinge, swinging in the gentle wind that rolled through the property. Windowpanes were clouded with dust, but she could see a few candles flickering from inside.

            As all three stepped up to the porch, the floorboards creaked under their weight from decades, or perhaps even a century, of termite abuse.

            Amelia hugged herself as chills ran up and down her spine at the sight of such a place. This house had a spooky character of its own, just as all of the townspeople.

            When they approached the massive carved door, it swung open invitingly. And, without hesitation, Esmeralda and Connor walked in as if nothing was disturbing about it. She peeked inside and saw that the interior was nothing like the outside of the house would suggest.

            The foyer was carpeted in a rich crimson spread and the walls were covered in colorful Victorian wallpaper. Wall sconces brightened the entrance hall, illuminating the dozens of portraits of unknown patriarchs.

            Amelia followed after them into the foyer and the front door slammed shut behind her with such force that Amelia let out a shriek and ran to catch up with them.

            The foyer opened up into sort of a meeting hall that was nearly five times as wide as the hall they had just come from. Paintings were still a dominant decoration, but were now joined by priceless sculptures and vases that were displayed on pedestals between the portraits. Ahead of them was the centerpiece of the room: a grand staircase with polished railings and carpeted treads leading to a landing where the stairs split off two ways towards unseen corridors on the second floor. At the top of the landing was a portrait of gargantuan size in comparison with the others. It was of a man, his chest puffed out proudly and hair the color of pure cotton, wearing a dapper suit and tie. The confident smile on his face spoke volumes and Amelia could only assume this was a likeness of Sir Jedalf.

            “Sir Jedalf? May we speak with you?” Esmeralda hollered up the stairs. Her voice seemed to reverberate through the entire house and echoed in Amelia’s ears.

            “Yeah, you home, ya old bag?” Connor called out.

            Esmeralda backhanded his gut and glowered at him.

            “What? He is an old bag. You can’t deny that,” Connor grumbled.

            Amelia couldn’t help but giggle just as an old man, clothed in a dark purple suit slid down the wooden banister from the second floor with a gleeful cry. He had a wild smile upon his wrinkled face, his white hair blowing in the wind. He landed just in front of his guests with a loud thud. Amelia could hardly believe that this was their host.

            “Sir Jedalf the Wizard, at your service,” he pronounced, bowing to his guests. His big brown eyes were bright with an eternal youthful spirit that made Amelia instantly comfortable, despite his being a wizard. His voice was rhythmic and comical, making Amelia truly smile for the first time since she had arrived in this nightmare. He was a short man in stature, which added to the hilarity of his personality.

            “What can I do for you lovely young people?”

            Esmeralda was about to open her mouth and say it, but Sir Jedalf held out his hand to stop her. “No, no. Don’t tell me…” he paused for affect. “This young lady right here is from another dimension; an alternate reality. She came here by way of a tunnel or some sort of wormhole in her basement and she has a desire to get back home… Am I right?”

            There was no way a normal man could have guessed that. Amelia was impressed. “Yes, can you help me?” she asked anxiously.

            “Hmm…” Sir Jedalf scratched his chin, full of grey, whiskers and nodded knowingly. “Yes, I believe I can. Come into my office, all of you,” he said, and then turned to waltz from the hall into a private study just behind the staircase. The three followed and Amelia took a moment to look at the subjects of the numerous paintings along the walls.

            They all resembled Sir Jedalf in a way, even the female subjects of the artwork. But as she walked, she could see their eyes follow her. It gave her chills.

            Inside the study, the walls were lined with bookcases, filled to the brim and over flowing onto the floor. The man was obviously a connoisseur of knowledge, but not one for organization.

            Sir Jedalf maneuvered his way around the clutter to reach behind his masterfully carved wooden desk that sat below a wide stained glass window. He donned a pair of metal spectacles, lit a few kerosene lamps and pulled out a great, dusty volume that scaled nearly a foot and a half in width. He opened its leather bound cover, letting it fall to the tabletop with a crash and began searching for whatever it was that he was looking for, mumbling incoherently to himself.