“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, trying to smother fear with bluster. I glanced around – hoping Orin left a hoe, or a hedge clipper behind, anything I could use for self-defense. Nope, neat as a pin.
“Why Keira, I’m surprised you don’t know who I am. That hurts my feelings,” he feigned, with a mocking smile as he placed his hand on his heart.
“How do you know my name?” I demanded, as I slowly continued back toward the house.
“I know a lot of things. When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you acquire all sorts of knowledge,” claimed the ghostly man.
“What did you learn by following me at the airport?”
“Enough to know things are finally in our favor.”
“What’s your creepy thing, dude? Just a LARPer asshole? Or are you a full-on stalker?”
The man laughed, a frightening, grating sound. “This is no play, dear girl. This is all real. You, me, that mutt at your side—”
“And your Halloween costume?”
There was just a hint of anger, then he returned to his hypnotic crooning. “Yes, my sorcerer’s garb. That too.” He motioned to his long robe, and then swept his arm, to encompass the entire estate. “This is all reality.”
As much as I wanted to ask if his underwear was leather too, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like not falling prey to this cretin’s plans, which I assumed included ball gags, nipple clamps, and electrical contacts.
“Get lost, and quit following me. I’m calling the police!”
He threw his head back and loosed another unsettling laugh. “No human law can protect you. Not from me.” He took another step toward me.
“How twisted are you?” I said, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice. I reached into my pocket for my cell. Shit! Where the hell is it? I had it right in here! So much for calling the police. I could feel the blood drain from my face as adrenaline directed it elsewhere.
“This is going to be easier than I thought.” His pervy chuckle was as sick as his laugh. “This will just be between you and me. Once and for all, we will resolve a grudge extending since the times of the myth.” As a seething anger animated his face, and shredded his self-control. He lunged toward me—
I shrieked as the man grabbed for me, but my furry black pal pounced, with uncanny timing and a savage growl. He sank his teeth deep into the man’s wrist, and ripped at him. The ghostly man let out a blood-curdling scream as the dog’s teeth dripped with gore, spilling onto the gravel drive. I jumped at what may have been my only chance, sprinting back for the house. The moment I reached for the doorknob, everything went black...
I sat up quickly in my bed, gasping for air. A conscious awareness filtered in. I was no longer outside in the dark. In fact, it wasn’t dark at all. It was still a bright, sun drenched day, and I was back in my grandmother’s house. Still, the remnants of this dream/vision clung to my mind. From meeting a nice doggy, to watching a savage animal attack a cloaked Mystery Man, the realism of it made me shudder, despite the lack of logic in the sequence of events. It had to be a dream, otherwise, I wouldn’t wake up in bed like nothing happened, right? Shaking my head, I decided that a hot bath might bring me back to my senses.
I rummaged in my bag and laid out clean jeans and a tee shirt, and made my way over to the ‘jacks’. I was stunned to see how beautiful the bathroom was. Whoa. It was the overgrown love child of Laura Ashley and Martha Stewart, straight out of Southern LivingMagazine. It was enormous, with a double vanity topped with a gray and white marble counters and trim, and a massive white claw-foot tub. The shower was big enough to play racquet ball under the waterfall spout heads. Orin wasn’t kidding when he said that he kept the estate in working order.
I drew a hot bath, and as I let the water run, I rummaged up some clean towels from the bathroom’s huge linen closet. Grabbing my favorite rose scented body wash from the pink clamshell, I undressed and slowly sank my travel-funky self into the big, deep tub. I forgot how nice it was to have actual soaking space. I relaxed, and took my time washing my hair and scrubbing my body, shedding the dirt and sweat from the last two days.
I looked out the window, watching puffy, white clouds drift across the blue sky. I let my mind wander and daydream about how much fun it would be if Orin decided to drop in to scrub my back. “Well, hello, handsome! Come here often? I do believe there might be some extra space, if you slip in with me for a luxurious soak,” I spoke out loud in my best Lauren Bacall-Mae West accents. As soon as I said the words out loud, it dawned on me that Orin was a scosh too big for the bathtub while I was in it. Ah, well, it was the thought that counted.
A familiar sound shattered my dreamy reverie. Sure enough, there was a crow at the window, pecking at the glass and cawing. “Come on!” I groaned. “Can’t I get a moment of privacy here?” I huffed, submerging myself entirely underwater.
When I came back up for air, the crow was still there, looking as if it wanted to have a chat. I felt his beady black eyes boring into me, like he was trying to tell me something. “What do you want?”
Not that I was expecting anything different, but the only response I got was a tilted head and a “caw.” I made a shoo-ing gesture toward the window. Apparently, birdbrain got the message, and flew away. The soft, airiness of the mood was ruined, so
