by Amy Cross
"And this," Diana continues, with a hint of a sigh, "is the master of the house”.
A guy appears at my side, about my age and quite short, with a bad case of a prematurely receding hairline. He has a drink in one hand and there's something about him that I instantly dislike as he grins lecherously at me.
“Don't worry,” says the man. “My name is Astley. I'll look after you. I promised mother that I'd help you in any way necessary”. Then he mutters, under his breath: “Isn't that nice of me?”
I smile, just as Astley rather suddenly grabs my arm and leads me through to the next room.
Astley
Her flesh is so soft, I could just feast on her right now. But there'll be time for that later, and mother always says that I should learn the pleasures of delayed gratification. Well, I suppose we've got all night, and we might as well eat first. It's always good to get down to business on a full stomach, and I understand the plan well enough: while the others take care of the vampire and the old man, my job is to distract the girl and keep her away. Mother and Diana don't really care how I'm distracting her, so I might as well be upstairs in one of the bedrooms, slowly sucking the meat from her bones. Sometimes, I wonder if I perhaps have a little Criad blood in my body.
Still, Sophie's very pretty. In another life, we could perhaps have borne children together. Oh, I know that ordinarily a girl like her wouldn't give a wretch like me a second look. She can barely take her eyes away from that damned vampire. But I have certain charms, too. One day I will have money and I will have respect, just as soon as mother finally dies. Oh yes, when that happens I'll know all about delayed gratification, don't worry about me. I've been delaying my gratification for centuries; when it finally arrives, I'm planning quite a party.
As we seat ourselves for dinner, mother scurries over to me, asking about the plans. I insist that everything is fine, and I implore her to go and sit down, but she just won't stop asking. I keep my answers short, hoping that mother will take the hint and realize that she's drawing attention to us with her incessant fussing. I have no such luck, however, and she keeps asking me if I'm sure that everything is going well. Can't she just be happy? We have the vampire and his friends here now, which was always going to be the hard part. What comes next... well, that's not really our responsibility, is it? We've done our job. Now we get to sit back and watch as it all unfolds. If I could open the external doors myself, I would have done so already. But I need a human for that job...
The vampire annoys me. The last time I saw him, he was climbing from the ruins of the Cascade, having killed the ten children of Gothos and banished Twomoney's soul from the ashes. By rights, Patrick should not be allowed back in this house, yet here he is, being welcomed as an esteemed guest. How times have changed, but he still has a lot to answer for. The children were young, and it was not their fault that they had become evil at such an early age. Was there any hope for them? No, of course not. But it still must have taken a cold soul to show them Cassandra's heart, and to let them wither and die. Besides, the Cascade did not need to be destroyed. He could have left us something...
And now he walks around as if he owns Gothos, as if it's his home and the rest of us are all mere guests. I suppose he's earned the right to a certain swagger. After all, for all his crimes against this house, he did eat the ashes of the children, as penance for what he had done. We hated him back then; we would have removed his head if we'd had the chance, and cut him open to squeeze the life from his beating heart. But that was eighty, ninety years ago, and things have changed. We were scared of him once, absolutely terrified, but those days are long gone. We have had time to think, and to understand what really happened when he came here and destroyed all the vampires. Yes, it was a shocking day, and it left all of us in such a terrible state. But we learned to see the bright side, and then finally we realized what a wonderful gift we had been given. It was a gift, though, that could only ever pay off when the last vampire returned to Gothos.
And now here he is. I wonder, will the rest of the ghosts be satisfied?
Sophie
Patrick barely looks at me all night, but that's okay because I'm caught up in a whirlwind of activity. The dining table in the great hall has maybe fifty or sixty seats, and it's filled with guests. Everyone's talking loudly, clinking wine glasses together like it's the party at the end of the world, as we wait for the first course of food to arrive. I'm starving, although I'm not entirely sure I trust the food here. In fact, I'm not entirely sure I trust anything here. Gothos seems to be this huge mansion with so many people, yet there's something cold and deathly about it.
Or is it just me? Looking around the room, I see that everyone seems to be so happy, as if this is the first time any of them have been up and about for years. They're laughing like the oldest of friends, but it almost feels as if they're trying too hard to have a good time, as if they're determined to enjoy themselves while it lasts because they know that something darker is just around the corner. I imagine this is what a dinner party would be like on the eve of a war. I can't quite explain it, but there's a feeling that these people have been waiting for this party for a very long time.
“Would you like some more wine?” asks Astley, leaning toward me with a bottle in his hand, a leering smile stretched across his face.
“No,” I say, moving my glass out of his range. “Thanks”.
Astley has been stuck to me like glue all evening. He's sitting next to me and he just won't stop trying to start up a conversation, which is kind of annoying since there's something about him that gives me the creeps. Every couple of minutes he interrupts with some bland comment, and he's always trying to find an excuse to touch me, whether it's helping me to my seat or constantly trying to top up my drink.
“I don't blame you,” he says. “You don't want to get too drunk tonight. You never know what might happen”.
I smile, nod, and look over at Patrick for help, but he's sitting in silence, getting talked at by other guests while, of course, remaining inscrutably silent throughout the whole meal. Still, he seems to be deliberately avoiding looking at me, as if he's embarrassed about something, or angry. Did I do something wrong? Or is he just busy? I guess his entire life doesn't revolve around me all the time.
I look further up the table and see The Lock, who's chatting away like a man reunited with old friends. He sees me looking at him, and he waves at me. I wave back. I really need to pick his brains and ask him some questions. I don't exactly trust him, at least not the way I trusted Vincent, but at least he seems willing to talk to me. I desperately need to find out what we're doing here at Gothos. There's something very unsettling about the place, and it seems like we've just turned up to a party that's being held in our honor It's odd, but although all the guests are chatting away to one another, I can't help feeling like they could all suddenly turn and stare straight at me.
“You look confused,” says Astley, butting in again.
Damn it. If he's here, I might as well use him for information.
“I am,” I say. “What's all this food for? Why are we here?”
“Well...” He looks confused. “We're here for a party, of course. Can't you tell from all the jollity and whatnot?”
“Why are we here for a party?”
“Why?” he echoes. “Well, I don't know, why does anyone have a party? We had a lot of people coming over and we thought perhaps we should make a real occasion of it”.
“And you invited Patrick and me and...” I look down the table again at The Lock. “...and him”.
“We invited old friends,” says Astley, with a patronizing tone in his voice as if he's explaining things to a child. “We told them to feel free to bring their own guests, which is exactly what Patrick has done. And I must say, I'm very glad he did”.
“Okay,” I say, realizing that Astley is turning out to be quite useful. “Where did everyone come from?”
He stares at me. “I beg your pardon?”
“W
ell, it's just that we were here earlier and there was no-one about. The whole place seemed to be completely deserted, and yet a couple of hours later it's teeming with people and a huge dinner seems to be have been prepared”. I think about it for a moment; it really doesn't make sense. “Where did all these people suddenly just come from?” I ask.
Astley seems puzzled. “I'm afraid I don't quite get you,” he says, then he turns as the person sitting on his other side takes his attention.
Waiters enter the room, carrying large metal trays with elaborate silver lids. The trays are placed at various points along the table, and the guests all look excited at the prospect of dinner being ready. Once all the trays have been put in place, the waiters remove the lids to reveal piles of small gray bones.
As I open my mouth to say something, I realize that everyone else is excitedly taking bones and starting to gnaw on them, trying to suck off the scraps of meat. I reach over and take a bone, examining it and finding it to be a little gray stub with almost no meat on it at all and just a small amount of marrow. I'm pretty sure it's not human, but whatever it is, it's completely disgusting and I'm not sure I want to be holding it. Carefully placing it on my plate, I glance over at Patrick and see that he's eating, as is The Lock. In fact, looking around the table, it becomes clear that I'm the only one who seems to have any kind of problem with this at all.
“Not hungry?” asks Astley, nudging my arm. “Me neither,” he adds, and I see that he doesn't have a bone on his plate. He smiles. “I hate this part of the meal. The grinding of all those teeth, it's like crickets chirping, except... not”.
I smile. For the first time, I'm actually slightly glad Astley is here, as he seems to be as disturbed by the whole scene as I am. At least I can ask him questions and learn more about this place. I just need to avoid being left alone with him, since I get the feeling that he's got wandering hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announces Diana, standing at the far end of the table. “The main course will be served shortly, but first I would like to invite everyone through to the portrait room to share a glass of port and usher in the new year”.
Everyone starts getting up and hurrying off, and soon Astley and I are the only ones left behind.
“New year?” I ask, confused.
“It's always new year here,” he replies. “And Christmas. And Easter. It's always every day at Gothos”. He sighs. “Birthdays aren't special at all”.
I stand up. “We should go and join them,” I say.
He stands up, but he grabs my arm. “No, we shouldn't,” he says. “Come on”. He starts walking away, trying to pull me by the arm. “Come on!” he insists as I stand my ground. “What would you rather be doing? Standing in a room with all those stuffy old farts, or exploring the house with me?”
"I don't really think that's a good idea," I reply. The last thing I want to do is go off with Astley. Then again, I guess he's harmless enough.
"Come on," he adds with a smile. "I'll answer all your questions. Anything you want to know about Gothos."
Reluctantly, I follow him through to the entrance hall, where we find a girl sitting on the steps, crying. She's wearing a maid's uniform, and when she sees us she immediately gets to her feet.
“What are you doing there?” Astley asks her.
“Nothing, sir,” she says, turning to hurry away.
“Wait!” says Astley, stopping her in her tracks. “Tell us what you're doing. Why are you crying?”
She turns to us. She's young and pretty, but like everyone else here she's very pale and looks ill. “Miss Diana sent for me,” she says, her voice trembling. “She wants me to go down the bottom of the garden”.
Astley stares at her. “And?” he asks, sounding unimpressed.
She sniffs. “Well... Sir, no-one who's ever been down the bottom of the garden has ever come back, have they?”
Astley smiles. “What's your name, girl?”
“Jessica,” she says softly.
“Well, Jessica,” says Astley, walking over and putting an arm around her. “Do you really suppose that Miss Diana would send anyone to do anything dangerous?”
Jessica sniffs again. “No,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Astley continues. “If the other girls didn't come back from the bottom of the garden, it must be because they found something that they liked so much, they decided to stay. Doesn't that make sense?”
Jessica nods.
“And wouldn't you like to know what they've found?”
She nods again. “There are lights at the bottom of the garden,” she says. “What are they?”
“I have no idea,” says Astley. “You must find out”.
“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” I say.
Astley looks up at me, seemingly annoyed.
“She doesn't!” I say. “If you don't want to go down to the bottom of the garden, don't go. Quit, you don't need to be sitting around this crumbling old place”.
“It's my job,” she says weakly.
“Find another job,” I say.
She shakes her head. “If Miss Diana tells me to go to the bottom of the garden, I'll have to go”.
“Forget Miss Diana,” says Astley. “I'm telling you to go to the bottom of the garden”. He pats her hard on the back. “Face your fears. Confront them. You'll soon find out that there's nothing to worry about”.
“Jessica!” says a voice behind me. I turn to see Diana standing in the doorway. She has a rocky old face, and she looks extremely unimpressed. “What are you doing?”
“I'm sorry, Miss Diana,” Jessica says, quickly wiping her eyes and rushing over to her mistress.
“So you should be,” Diana says, “interrupting Mr. Astley and his friend. Now come with me, I've got a job for you”.
Diana disappears back into the dining room. Jessica glances at me, her face unable to disguise her sheer terror, and she slowly follows Diana.
“What's at the bottom of the garden?” I ask Astley.
“I don't know,” he says. “Radishes? Carrots?”
I walk over to one of the large windows. In the distance, maybe a couple of hundred meters away, I can see three bright lights. They seem to be a few feet off the ground. “What are they really?” I ask.
“Oh, look, I don't know,” says Astley, sounding a little impatient. “Does it matter? You can go and take a look in the morning, when it's safer. I'm sure it's just something or nothing...”
I turn to him. “Safer? So it is dangerous?”
“That's not what I meant,” he says. “Look, it's just some old superstition, that's all. There's nothing to worry about. All that's down the bottom of the garden is... more garden. And some lights. The maids who go down there probably just get bored and run off”.
As he speaks, I spot someone outside. It's Jessica, the maid from just now. It's hard to make her out in the moonlight, but I can just about tell it's her, shuffling forward reluctantly. She glances over at the window and we make eye contact for a moment, and then she seems to make up her mind to get on with things so she starts walking quickly into the darkness. Soon she's completely vanished from sight, and all I can see are the lights, still hovering in the distance.
“You don't find that odd?” I ask Astley.
He laughs. “Do you think I have time to give serious consideration to everything in this house that I find odd? I'd go crazy, there's not enough time in the day”. He pauses. “Then again, time is one of those commodities that we have here at Gothos in abundance”.
I stare at the lights. “I want to ask her tomorrow. You know, how it went down there”.
“Sure,” says Astley. “Anyway, don't you want the grand tour of Gothos?”
I look back at the dining room. “Shouldn't we stay with the others?” I ask.
“Come on, you've seen what they're like,” Astley says. “There's a whole house to explore. Aren't you interested? Hundreds of rooms.
Hell, there are parts of this house even I've never been to before. Some people even say Gothos is haunted, you know”.
I look at him, starting to feel a little uneasy. “I can believe that,” I say. But what am I supposed to do? Hang out down here with Patrick, who seems to be deliberately ignoring me, or go and explore with Astley?
“I promise I won't bite,” says Astley, in a somewhat disarming manner. He shows me his teeth. “See? Not a vampire”. He pauses for a moment. "Or are you scared to go wandering off without Patrick?"
"I'm not scared," I reply. I take a deep breath. I know I probably shouldn't be doing this, but at the same time I figure I can handle myself just fine. "Lead on," I say eventually.
Astley
Mother is in my head again, screeching. She has no concept of personal space. All she wants to do is shout at me and tell me what I should be doing. No matter that she herself is a wreck, tossed on life's rocks and waiting only to die. No, she seems to see fit to tell me what to do, to pass judgment on my every move. The shrill old harpy really has no self-awareness.
Fortunately, I can block her when necessary. As Sophie and I climb the steps to the first floor, I concentrate on making sure that my mother's awful voice is as far from my mind as possible.
“The house was built many, many years ago,” I say as we reach the first floor balcony. “For most of its existence, it was the home of the vampire elite. It was here that the three species would come to meet, when matters arose that required their attention”.
“Three species?” she asks.
I smile. I knew this would all be new to her. Well, it's not as if dear Patrick is likely to have been filling her in on all the details, is it?
“Vampires,” I say carefully. “And werewolves. And... the others”.
“Who are the others?” she asks.
“The three species,” I say again, somewhat vaguely. “Vampires, werewolves and gods. It's all quite simple. Come on, I'll show you all the rooms”. I turn to walk away, but I realize she isn't following. “Is something wrong?” I ask.