by Raven, C L
"Googly eyes? Like a fish?" He bulged his eyes whilst opening and closing his mouth.
"You don't mind if I make my move?"
"Ask if there're rooms available."
"If I play my cards right, I'll have a bed."
"I'm not sleeping in the tent alone again. That panther nearly killed me."
"It was a big house cat and it was chasing a moth, not launching a terrorist attack."
Casey made a naked sock puppet from his hand that back chatted Alex as he approached the bar. The only photos Casey found of the castle were from the outside. They were obstructed by the thorny hedge armour.
"You interested in the castle?" An old man asked, making Casey jump.
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Only stories passed down from my grandfather. Buy me a pint and I'll tell you." His voice was raspy, wafts of stale cigarette smoke permeating the air.
Casey hurried to the bar and draped himself over Alex's back. "An old man's gonna tell me about the castle."
"Did he offer to show you his puppies?"
Casey widened his eyes. "I love puppies!"
Alex laughed. "Jackass. Promise me you won't go 'til morning."
Casey brought a pint back to the old man. He sat backwards on his chair and rested his chin on his arms. The old man's chair creaked as he leaned forwards.
"Nobody knows who lived there. Some say it was a terrible ogre. Others say a nest of vampires were captured by a hunter and imprisoned in the castle to die after slaughtering everyone in this village. My grandfather swore it was home to a princess, cursed by an evil fairy."
Casey snorted. "Like Tinkerbell? What's the worst she could do? Give a mosquito bite?"
"Fairies are evil sons of bitches. Powerful, magical, deadly. Some kidnap children and replace them with changelings."
"Oh, the Tylwyth Teg."
"You know your fairies."
"My sister's obsessed with them. She swears she's a changeling and refuses to take off her glittery wings."
"Some little girls are like that."
"She's seventeen. It's getting embarrassing. She's keeping glitter companies in business."
"Over a hundred years ago, there was a king and queen, who had everything they wanted, except a child. After many years, the queen gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. They finally had an heir to rule the kingdom after their bones rotted in the ground. Living in the kingdom, were seven good fairies. The king and queen invited them to the christening party and gave them each a gift they'd always treasure."
"Premium bonds?"
"Gold caskets, with knives and forks studded with diamonds and rubies. It pays to keep fairies sweet. You don't want to anger those who can switch your baby without you ever noticing. At the christening, the guests were shown into the banqueting hall and the fairies were presented with their caskets. An ancient fairy burst into the hall, furious no place had been laid for her. The king ordered an extra place at the table, but there was no casket."
Casey smiled. "A party whistle and funny slime can't compare with jewel encrusted cutlery."
"The fairies each gave a gift to the baby princess."
"Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh?"
"The first fairy said she'd be as lovely as a flower."
"Not a Venus flytrap I hope."
"The second said she'd grow up full of sweetness and grace. The third promised she'd dance divinely."
"They haven't seen me bust moves on the dance floor." He paused. "On second thoughts, that's probably best."
Something scratched the window. Imagining it was the nails of a haggard evil fairy, Casey turned to see a small branch brushing the glass. The moon watched over the castle like the night's evil eye.
"The fourth vowed she'd sing like a nightingale and the fifth said she'd master every musical instrument."
"With those attributes she could go on Britain's Got Talent."
"The sixth one said she'd do everything to perfection. But then the spiteful fairy said she'd die when she pricked her finger on a blood red rose. The seventh fairy said instead of dying, the princess would sleep for one hundred years."
"Why not make it one day? After one hundred years everything will have changed beyond recognition. She'd need a serious leg waxing."
"The only thing that can wake her is a kiss from a king's virgin son."
"Morning breath's bad enough after one night. Imagine the stench after a hundred years." Casey fanned his nose. "This is sounding an awful lot like the Sleeping Beauty fairytale."
The old man sipped his beer. "Ancient legends didn't spring out of nowhere. Just because you don't believe something, doesn't mean it's not real. Sometimes it's people's lack of belief that keeps the legends alive."
Indistinct voices filled the void. The fire hissed and spat like a furious dragon. The clock on the wall above Casey's head ticked loudly.
"The king ordered every red rose in the kingdom to be destroyed. However when the princess was twenty one, they brought her on holiday to this castle. While she was exploring the garden in the dark, she pricked her finger and collapsed. The king and queen put her in a coffin to protect her from the sunlight and left. The seventh fairy created a thorny hedge around the castle so no-one could disturb her rest. Others say the hedge protects the sleeping vampires from sunlight and when someone breaks their curse, they'll wake to wreak havoc on the town that entombed them in the castle."
"Has anyone broken in to see if it's true?"
"A few local boys have tried but they can't get past the hedge."
"Let me guess – they're not virgins." Casey grinned.
"Tonight is the hundred year anniversary."
The fire gave a furious roar then died. Casey looked out the window. The castle was shrouded by the night's midnight veil. It called to him, begging him to break down its defences and explore its blackened heart.
***
Casey glanced back. The old man had gone. Smoke wafted where he'd sat.
"Why not try one of them?" Alex pointed to a group of girls.
"They're just like every other girl in every other town. They wear so much fake tan, if they stood still they'd be mistaken for the Oscars statue and handed out at awards ceremonies. Would you want one of them as your girlfriend?"
"They're like DVDs – for the price of a drink, you can rent 'em for one night." He winked.
"And wake to find a clown mask on your pillow and Godzilla sleeping beside you."
"Your little buddy will sue you for neglect. I know you're saving yourself for me in the hope I'll suddenly realise I love you, like in all those Rom Coms you adore, but as pretty as you are, you're still a guy."
Casey clutched his chest and gasped. "My heart…is…breaking." He collapsed, his forehead whacking the table.
"Cute. Why not go to the castle and wake Sleeping Beauty? She's from the time when chaste gentlemen were all the rage. You could court her and impress her with your smouldering gaze and honourable intentions." He picked up Casey's hand and graced his knuckles with a kiss, bowing.
Casey slapped him. "I'd rather date Sleeping Beauty than those Oompa-Loompas. Least I'd know half the town hasn't visited her g spot like it's a tourist attraction. Picking up an STI as a souvenir from the gift shop."
"I'm gonna try the local attractions."
"Knock yourself out."
Casey waited until Alex was occupied with the girls then snuck out. He checked his watch. Half eleven. He started up his bike and headed back to the castle. Dark country lanes stretched out like passages in Hell, oncoming headlights glowed like Hellhounds' eyes. He stopped outside the gates then killed the engine. It was too quiet. Almost as if the castle was holding its breath. He approached the gates and tugged the ivy. It crumbled beneath his fingers, its cold ashes dusting his feet. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the gate. It creaked open, the hinges groaning like the tortured damned.
"That can't be good."
He slipped inside, clicking on his torch. Brambles sna
gged his face. He grimaced, touching his lip. A ruby jewel of blood glistened on his finger. The grounds were overgrown. Shadows danced before his torch's flickering beam. He took photos then edged down the cracked path, suddenly thinking this wasn't such a great idea and he should fetch Alex. He shivered as night's frigid arms welcomed him in a loving embrace, wind gracing his cheek with a whispering kiss.
The castle's windows glared like malicious eyes, vowing revenge for trespassing on its forbidden secret. What was probably a beautiful wild garden in the day became a spooky monsters' playground in the night.
Snap! He whirled around. Nothing stirred. Shaking his head, he stepped up to the main door. He pushed it open, stumbling over rubble. His torch skimmed the entrance. The camera's flash illuminated the castle, leaving darkness to descend, blinding in its blackness. Silver spirits escaped his mouth. The castle was beautiful in its decay. The crumbling walls, broken floors and haunted sorrow only enhanced its charm.
His boots echoed on the cracked stone floor. Weeds grew up through the fractures. Rose bushes cloaked the windows. Through one window, the thorny branches invaded, the flowers blood red. Rubble crunched beneath each footstep, like he was treading on a thousand broken bones. He turned down a narrow passage, the walls scraping his jacket. He reached the kitchen. Dust shrouded everything like a second skin. His torch beam skimmed over something slumped over the table. He moved closer. It was a man. He stopped dead. The man wasn't moving.
"Holy shit."
He froze, his torch beam resting on the man's back like a target. Casey quickly lowered it then after berating his cowardice, he entered the kitchen and took a photo. The flash acted as a lightning bolt, exposing the castle's sordid secrets. His torch revealed a cook collapsed on the floor by the Aga. A cauldron squatted on top of it. Three maids were piled in the corner like discarded rubbish. He backed out and took deep breaths. He was desperate to leave but his treacherous feet refused. He shone his torch down the corridor. A figure lay on the floor, like a broken marionette whose strings had been severed.
He found a spiral staircase, chilly breeze swirling down to tempt him up. The stairs protested, groaning as if in pain. Cobwebs clung to the banisters like slain ghosts. A man was sprawled halfway up. Casey shakily shone his torch on his face, expecting to see gruesome decomposition or metres of beard. He looked asleep, his hairless skin ethereal under the torch's glaring eye.
"What the hell are you doing?" He whispered to himself. "Get out. This isn't a castle, it's a charnel house."
Something compelled him to climb. He blamed it on being a writer. Where other people saw a creepy castle filled with corpses, he saw a short story setting complete with characters.
He gingerly stepped over the man, praying he didn't suddenly wake and grab his ankle like a horror film monster. His pace quickened and he tripped over a woman at the top of the stairs. He scrambled away, his boots loud on the floor. He took another photo then glanced back. He was still alone. The ghosts of his footprints were visible in the dust.
"At least I'll find my way out. Screw Hansel and his pebbles."
In the first room he came to, a woman was slumped over a grand dressing table, a brush clutched in her hand. She wore a dress with a corset and billowing skirts like in period dramas his mum loved.
"This is seriously fucked up."
He stopped at another room dominated by a four poster bed. Black curtains swept down like graceful wings, concealing whatever secret lay beyond them. He edged in, his shaking fingers parting the curtains. A polished black coffin rested in the middle of the bed.
"Oh shit. The old man was right."
He knelt on the bed and lifted the lid, revealing a pale young woman. The pale of vampire films, unseen in real life since fake tan was invented. Her ebony hair was wavy. She wore a black corset, lace gloves that reached her elbows and a long black layered skirt with jagged hems.
"If I saw you in a pub I'd talk to you. Did someone kill you all then create the legend to keep everyone away from here so he'd get away with his crime? No. You'd all be skeletons." He shook his head. "Why am I talking to a dead girl in a coffin?" His watch bleeped. He glanced at it. Midnight.
He leaned over, shakily raised his camera and took a photo. He licked his lip, wincing at the sting from the brambles. A blood drop escaped and gently kissed her lips, leaving a scarlet trail.
Her eyes opened.
She sat up with a gasp. Casey fell off the bed, hitting his head.
"SHIT!"
She tried climbing out of the coffin, slipped and landed on top of him. He screamed. She kissed his lips, her tongue teasing the wound.
"Hey whoa. You're gorgeous and everything, but we haven't even exchanged names."
She sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes were a captivating crimson. She kissed him again. His stomach churned pleasurably. He entangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her back. Her lips were soft, her tongue teasing his.
"You must marry me," she whispered, pulling him up and sitting on his lap.
"We've only just met. This isn't a fairytale. Let's at least befriend each other on Facebook first. Y'know, check out each other's photos, flirt on our comment threads and poke each other before we jump in and change our relationship statuses."
"How strange your speech is. And your clothes. What is your name?"
"Casey Kingson."
"I'm Sapphire."
"Beautiful name. Look, you're seriously hot, but I only came here 'cos this old guy in the pub told me a story about a girl pricking her finger on a blood red rose and falling asleep for a hundred years." He paused. "Are you hairy?"
Her eyes sparkled. "The fairy was right! She said I could only be woken by the king's son. Who would grace me with a virgin kiss." She tore his t-shirt and lowered her head. Her tongue flickered over his stomach. He groaned. She smiled teasingly, her cold lips gliding up his chest, igniting every nerve ending. He gasped, desire blazing inside him before remembering who she was.
"You kissed me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it. I never realised a kiss could be so…arousing but you're moving too fast. I know in your day they got married within a week but this is my day. Our lifespans are longer."
She kissed his neck, her nails scratching his chest. "As I pricked my finger, she came to me. She had a man with her. He was tall, thin, his skin white like the moon. Cold. Like the sunlight had not kissed it for many years. I remember falling into the darkness and pain, here," she tilted her head back, her fingers stroking her exposed neck.
Casey licked his lips, fighting the urge to kiss her neck, to feel her pulse thrash beneath his lips as they teased her sensitive skin. His fingers traced the edge of her slender throat then froze. Two bite marks scarred her. She smiled. Fangs nipped her perfect lips.
"After he bit me he said it wouldn't be a kiss that awoke me from my hundred year sleep, but a single drop of virgin blood. Now we can live forever. Together."
She lunged, her fangs promising moments of pain and endless eternity. Casey punched her and shoved her off him. He leapt to his feet and ran to the door.
"It's not polite to strike a woman," she chastised.
"Sorry! I," he paused. "I'm not sorry - you're a vampire!"
She grabbed his ankle and he hit the ground, whacking his chin and biting his tongue. He spat blood as he kicked her in the face and scrambled up, slamming the door behind him and running into the room opposite. He stared at the woman sprawled over the dressing table. She sat up awkwardly. Her hand rose and mechanically brushed her hair as she stared into the grimy mirror.
He grabbed the sheet from the bed, shut the door then looped the sheet through both door pulls, tying it tightly. Sapphire slapped the door.
"Let me out. You're mine, Prince."
"I'm not a prince. I'm a writer. And I'm not the marrying type."
He ran down the passageway towards the stairs. The woman lying at the top of them moaned and started to rise. Casey jumped over her, caught his boot and ro
lled ungainly down the stairs, taking out the man who was halfway down. They hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
"Master." The man smiled, revealing rows of vicious fangs. He raised his head, his icy lips brushing Casey's neck, his tongue tasting Casey's warm flesh. Casey's skin prickled, yearning for the fatal kiss.
He forced himself to his feet and ran for the kitchen. The maids and cook turned at the sound of his footsteps. They smiled and moved towards him. Swearing, he twisted and ran back the way he'd come. The man at the bottom of the stairs had gone. He hurried down a corridor, feeling like he was trapped in a stygian labyrinth. The darkness disorientated him. His footsteps echoed, like demons were stalking him. His heart pounding, Casey burst through another door, discovering a large ballroom. The floor was littered with bodies all dressed for a dance. Suffocating silence screamed in his ears, broken only by the noise of a hundred vampires awakening from their eternal rest.
Unearthly groans from long dead lips caressed his ears. Stiff limbs moved as they remembered how to work. Their shuffling feet slipped as they staggered up, their glamorous clothes shrouded in dust. In the corner, the resurrected band began to play. Some vampires resumed their eternal dance.
"Master," they whispered, their rough voices grating his nerves.
Casey turned and saw his way blocked by the maids. They moved slowly, their limbs frozen from one hundred years of sleeping. Their eyes flashed with hunger, their thirsty lips parting, craving his blood. He pivoted and ran through the hall, upbeat music encouraging the dance of the dead. The vampires' frigid fingers stroked his skin, tearing at his clothes. He hurdled some bodies, dodged around others and dived between someone's legs. Someone grabbed him and threw him against the wall.
"You woke the mistress from her death."
"It was a mistake. She's beautiful, but I'm rather fond of daylight and solid food. In my world, the living don't marry the dead."
He was slammed into the wall again. The man leaned closer, his tongue sliding over his lethal fangs. Turning his head, Casey saw a pair of swords hanging up. He grabbed one.