August Intruder - Chapter 25 - Blood (Patreon)

Anais had served Vlad for the past twelve years.

He had adopted her from an orphanage when she was twelve and had raised her ever since. Her only relationship to him prior to being adopted was that he’d known her parents. And all she had to go on as proof of that was his words. Nothing else.

She knew nothing about her parents except for the fact that they’d died in an explosion. She had questions, all of which had no answers. What caused the explosion? Why were her parents in a place that exploded? Was there anyone who knew anything?

At first she’d hoped Vlad knew, but he didn’t.

He was simply an old friend who adopted his friend’s daughter.

Ever since he’d adopted her, he’d raised her as his own. She was his daughter in all but blood. She had his last name, which was odd considering they had always had the same last name. It had led to a few odd curiosities growing up but she’d never asked them.

While he saw her as a daughter and cared for her as such, she never really allowed herself develop that attachment to him. She was grateful for what he had done for her, eternally so, but she never thought of him as her father, never allowed herself to.

Her father was dead, and that was how it was going to be.

So she took herself as an employee, even if an all too important one.

At first she had gone out of her way to do as much house chores as she could when they had still been in Romania. Whenever he had to go away into some portal or the other, he would leave her with Tepes, the head butler.

When he came back, he would find her in a maid’s outfit doing a maid’s chore.

She could still remember the first day he had come home to find her working. He had been livid, pale skin had turned red, and he’d fumed at the ears. Metaphorically.

But he never raised his voice, not to her or Tepes. He’d simply taken her duster from her and sat her down in her room.

At first she’d worried she’d done something wrong. All she’d wanted to do was help out, give back for the kindness he was showing her.

After a few minutes, he’d come back to her room and squatted in front of her.

“Why, copilul meu?” he’d asked. “Did they make you do it?”

He didn’t look like he believed his own words, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d had a smile on her face and had been dancing as she cleaned.

She wasn’t stupid, though. She knew she’d missed more than a spot and Tepes was more than happy to get them without her knowledge. But she was working, giving back, and she liked it.

“No,” had been her answer.

“Then why?”

“Because you’ve been taking care of me,” she’d said, nervous and fidgeting. “I just wanted to work for my pay.”

Vlad had opened his mouth then, and closed it. He had said nothing further after that, he’d simply nodded with an odd expression, and left her room.

Tepes had come around later that day to assure her that Vlad was not angry with her, that everything was fine.

It wasn’t until a few years later that she’d discovered what the expression had been. She’d learnt it the morning after her first boyfriend had broken up with her. She’d looked at her face in the mirror before school and had just known it.

All those years ago, she had broken his heart.

From the age of twelve to the age of seventeen she worked for him as a maid, while he continued to treat her as a daughter. As time went by, they moved to a bigger house and he employed more maids.

When she was seventeen, she’d gotten her first skills and had become a Gifted. She gained the class of Weaver and Vlad had celebrated.

But to her surprise, he had not supported her registration with the Romanian government. So she went from being a maid and a daughter to playing sidekick. At least in the confines of the house.

Sometimes he would bring home things from work, and have her practice on them. As a Weaver, her skills allowed her complete control over her body as long as she figured out the correct hand gestures. Vlad said she was a type of Weaver known as a Weaver of Self.

Her class had simply called itself Weaver so she figured she could always diversify and become more than just a Weaver of Self.

According to her skills the correctly placed hand signs would weave the correct commands over her body. She could make herself more malleable physically or she could make herself as rigid and firm as the bones beneath her muscles.

She could induce her anger, pumping as much adrenaline into her system as she wanted. She could also induce other chemical emotions. But there were obviously consequences. It was like borrowing from her future self.

If she made herself too smart today, there was a high chance she would go the next day with an equally opposite IQ. If she was too strong today, she might be too weak tomorrow.

The trick was in pacing herself.

Ever since they’d moved from Romania to America, and founded a small dynasty of their own, and by ‘they’ she meant Vlad, rumors had begun spreading. If it had been about some back-door deals that had led to his rise in power, she would’ve been happy with it.

But they weren’t.

She’d seen enough speculations on the internet to know she didn’t like them. Because of his pale skin and often hollow eyes, the Americans often speculated that Vlad was a vampire.

It was a ludicrous speculation since there were no records of a vampire class ever being in existence. But she knew better than to let it go. She’d seen the things people could do in the name of fear and knew how quickly things could go out of hand.

But nothing big was yet to happen. His class was nobody’s business but his own. And even if, by some unreasonable stroke of luck, he did have a class called Vampire, so what?

He wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew him, and knew his kindness.

After she and the other maids had prepared the children’s rooms and meals, Vlad had called her to his study.

For the last few days, he’d been working in the same way he had done when they’d still been in Romania. The entire point of coming to America was to retire, to do less dangerous jobs. But he had gone back to something that looked dangerous.

So now Anais stood in Vlad’s large study waiting on him.

He stood at the center of the room with his hands clapped together in a prayerful position, covered in blood stains. He held his eyes to the ceiling and simply stood there.

“Were you able to find anything yesterday?” he asked in a low voice.

People had often described it as sensual, but she always thought of it as caring. It was the voice he used when he felt he was asking too much of her.

“No, sir.”

He winced at her answer. “I’ve told you before, Anais. You may call me Vlad when we are alone or… Dad, if you’re okay with it.”

There were other alternatives he’d suggested for her before so she chose one of them.

“My apologies, uncle.”

He took a moment to look at her before dropping his hands. “The police had nothing of any substance. I went through their files two nights ago. They’re lost, chasing the wind. Which is a good thing for us.”

“Perhaps.” Anais didn’t agree with the sentiment, but she would not refute it. “I asked the gang down in third avenue, and they said no one has come asking questions. If any of them saw anything, they aren’t saying.”

“It is not to be unexpected.” Vlad walked over to the only desk in the room, careful with his steps. He picked up a hand towel, always wet for this very occasions, and began cleaning his hands. “Low lives and thugs often have no loyalty. Mostly, money is the only thing that would pry their lips open. Did you offer them a price?”

Anais’ lips twisted in a barely restrained scowl. “No.”

She had wanted to offer them something dastardlier than money. Being around them felt wrong. They kept leering and making snide remarks, like they hadn’t seen a young woman in a maid’s costume before.

“You’re doing it again,” Vlad said

Anais composed herself as best she could, feigned ignorance. “Doing what?”

“The thing you do when you weaved too much from yourself.” He dropped the hand towel on the desk. “Were they that annoying to deal with?”

Anais bit down on her lower lip to hold her tongue. They had been nothing but filth. She’d had to weave herself into stoicism to handle them, weave her emotions into silence. It was one of the benefits of her Weaver type.

If she was being honest, she sometimes felt like a chemical weaver than a weaver of self, after all, the entire human body was just chemicals. Her skills could make her stronger or weaker, duller or smarter.

Last night she’d had to use it to silence all her emotions. It was all she could do not to kick one of the men’s teeth in.

Vlad let out a deep breath. “I see. Perhaps you would like a different task. I can always send Tepes to the thugs while you run down more civilized leads. Perhaps Julian would be a better fit.”

“No.”

Vlad’s lips quirked up in a smile. “You would rather handle thugs?”

“I would rather not have to deal with Julian.” She folded her arms in defiance, only to realize it must have come across as nothing but childish to Vlad. “I don’t trust him.”

“No one trusts Julian, Anais. He is a Romanian in America who still holds strong to his ties in Romania. He has dealings with the American government, and even they don’t trust him.”

“And we should trust him less. He could betray us.”

“Could?” Vlad chuckled. “I am an A-rank Gifted. Once upon a time, I was a Delver. And Julian… well, he’s simply human. A non-Gifted who continues to wish he could be Gifted. Believe me when I say this: He will betray us.”

Anais disliked this part of her adoptive father. He always saw the worst outcome and walked right into it.

“If he will betray us, why do we continue to do business with him?”

“Because for this task we must use every available resource we can find.”

“AT WHAT COST?!!!”

Anais bit down on her lower lip, held herself back. Her anger hadn’t even been building. It had simply come out of nowhere.

Side-effects. Vlad always said her skills—the way she used them—had side effects.

She took a step back, clasped her hands in front of her and bowed at the waist. “My apologies, uncle.”

Vlad smiled softly. “How far did you push it this time?”

Anais didn’t want to say. She didn’t like how he always kept track of how she used her skills. She was a grown woman now. There were women her age who were already full-fledged Delvers.

But he continued to treat her like a child.

She raised her head to meet his eyes, and the kind look on his face only infuriated her more. She knew he’d done nothing wrong, her body was just paying the price of her skills. She had suppressed her emotions for a long period of time, so to balance it out, her body was over-emphasizing every little emotion.

Just a while ago she had looked at a minor like she was flirting with him. He was cute, yes, but he was also a minor.

Vlad cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to him.

“Would you like the night off?” he asked.

She would love the night off. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you, though?”

“If I leave, who will clean up the mess you’ve made? You can’t use one of the other maids, you know they’re already talking.”

Vlad waved her words aside, unbothered. “They are employees, gossiping about their employer is part of their job. Regardless, I can always have Tepes clean this place up.”

He looked about him.

The dim lights made the room look less of a mess than it was, but Anais had been here enough times to know it was worse than it looked.

“Or maybe I should clean myself,” Vlad said after a while. “I did make more of a mess than normal.” He pinched the neck of his tee and tugged it to have a look. “I even got it on my shirt.”

He let it go and looked at her. “Who’s on cleaning duty today?”

Anais didn’t have to think about it. “On nights like these, I am.”

“You look really irritated at me right now.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you just irritated or is it the skill.”

“It’s none. We have children in the house. Please, hurry and get yourself cleaned. It would not be nice if the children saw any of this.”

“Let them see.”

Despite his nonchalance he was already moving. He moved away from the desk, leaving bloodstain on the part he had rested on, and headed for the exit.

“If they see any of this, it will simply be a haunted house moment. It’ll give them more to talk about. Give them the experience of a life time.”

He passed her and she stopped him by holding on to his shirt. “Wrong door.”

“Ah.” He turned around. “It’s the other one I keep locked.”

Anais stood where she was until he was gone. He made his exit through the back door. A door she had insisted they add to the house.

Why he made the door to his study without a lock was beyond her. He said all the study had to steal were books and nothing of value, but too many maids had stumbled in here after he’d made a mess, some of them had come in while he was making the mess. And it had terrified them.

“If one of the kids see this, it’ll scar them for life,” she grumbled as she made her way to the study’s restroom.

She didn’t worry for the maids anymore. Vlad was right, all they did was gossip. A few maids had seen the sight and they were still here. At best, they stopped coming this way. At worst, they took a week or two off on sick leave, and returned.

No. Her real worry was for the kids.

She packed up a mop and filled a bucket with water. She stepped back into the study and flicked all the lights on.

There was a small stain on the edge of the large mahogany desk, blemishing its varnished surface. The towel he’d used to clean his hands looked like nothing more than a blood soaked rag, useless and to be thrown away.

She wasn’t worried about the maids. She was worried for the kids.

She wet her mop and went to work. She would be mopping for a good while. She wished he’d gotten something like a basement or a large bathroom.

That would make it easier for her to clean all the blood. But no, God forbid he make her life any easier than he always has.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that her current irritation was not his fault. He’s been nothing but amazing to you since the first day.

She knew it. She really did… But why did he always need to use so much blood.

…………………………..

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me stop for something to eat.”

“Because this was your idea.”

“But you got something to eat… and you let Eroms get something to eat.”

Melmarc sighed. If he was being honest, he didn’t really think he could stop himself from letting Eroms have something to eat. As for Delano? Well, it was just his punishment for making them roam the big house.

“How exactly are there no maids around?” Eroms asked casually.

“Because they all have a time they’re supposed to go home,” Delano answered. “And are you going to be one of those guys who always shows up on the scene with some kind of food in your hands?”

Melmarc paused to take a look at Eroms.

“Is that the drumstick from your plate?”

Eroms nodded with a full mouth.

“That was like three rooms ago.”

“Four rooms, one hallway, and a flight of stairs,” Delano corrected. “But who’s counting.”

The mansion was as large on the inside as it looked on the outside.

When Delano had finally allowed them out of their room, everyone else was practically sleeping. They’d gotten their gear—which was just three torchlights and Eroms’ bag—then he’d made them wait another fifteen to thirty minutes.

Now they strolled casually through the mansion with only their socks on. Why were they wearing socks? Because that way their steps made no sounds. Why were they strolling casually if they were snooping around? That way it would be more believable when they lied that they’d just gotten lost if anyone caught them.

The ideas were all Delano’s. And since he was the one spear-heading the operation, Melmarc couldn’t really complain about it.

If they had asked him how they should be going about it, he would’ve said something quite simple. Get downstairs, get their meals, and get back to bed.

He really, really didn’t want to go around looking for proof of the existence of what may or may not be a vampire.

“This way,” Delano nudged them. “I think I see an open door.”

“Do you also hear voices?” Melmarc asked, just because he could.

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

Melmarc and Delano froze. They turned to Eroms together.

Melmarc held his breath for some reason. It was more like his body held it for him than something he was doing on his own.

“What voices?” Delano asked.

Eroms shrugged, unbothered, then pointed down the hallway. “Someone’s talking down there.”

The hallway was well lit with pictures on the walls and a certain fanciness to it, like it belonged to royalty and not just some rich Delver. It looked like the kind of house you would expect from old money.

But staring down the path Erom’s finger showed them shifted the mood somehow. The hallways seemed to tunnel, focus on the single room with the single door held ajar.

Melmarc wasn’t the only one suddenly bothered by this because Delano’s once casual steps suddenly began to slow.

“D?”

Delano gave a full body shake, like an athlete psyching themselves up for an important event.

“I’m good,” he said. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Melmarc asked. “Because you look like you’re trying not to—”

“Door’s opening,” Eroms pointed out, and Melmarc froze.

“Quick,” Delano said suddenly, moving towards one of the doors. “Get in he—”

He ran into the door with a clatter. It was locked.

Melmarc took one look at it and groaned. “Of course it’s locked.”

He’d let them convince him to go snooping in another person’s house and now they were going to get caught. What was going to happen? Would the maid tell on them?

Was it even a maid? What if it was the owner of the place?

“It’s stopped moving,” Eroms informed them.

Delano turned on him with a frustrated expression and asked in a sharp whisper. “And why are you even giving commentary?”

“So we don’t get caught.”

“Guess what?” Delano stood up to him. “We almost got caught.”

Melmarc watched his two friends stand off and tried not to laugh. Delano was the shortest in the group. Melmarc was taller than him by at least three inches. And Eroms had almost four inches on Melmarc.

So seeing Delano stand up to Eroms when his head barely reached their friend’s shoulders was funny to watch. Eroms’ absolute lack of concern as he bit into his chicken didn’t make not laughing any easier.

Delano sighed after a while and turned back to the path. “I swear the only thing that excites him is food.”

“And horse races,” Eroms added casually.

Melmarc nodded as they started walking. “I didn’t know that.”

“A lot of things people don’t know about Eroms,” Delano said, eyeing the one unlocked door warily. “Just last week I found out he doesn’t like honey.”

Delano was rambling. It wasn’t unusual, but it clearly was tonight. He was probably trying to get his mind of whatever worry Eroms shenanigans had instilled in them moments ago.

Thanks, Melmarc thought. I’m not sure I can keep going if my legs keep shaking.

Delano took a deep breath. “Anyway, enough rambling.”

So he knew he was rambling.

They stood next to the door now, planted themselves against the wall like the cool military guys did in the movies. The only difference that they didn’t have guns, or cool looking combat uniforms, and there wasn’t some bad guy on the other side of the door.

Please don’t be a vampire, Melmarc thought.

Delano pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Just a minute. Anything could be in there, and I want to make sure I catch it on camera.”

“Of course you do,” Melmarc muttered sarcastically. “We’re already snooping around, might as well take pictures.”

With his phone ready, Delano reached for the door knob.

“It’s…” he paused. “It doesn’t turn.”

“But it’s not locked.”

Delano nodded. “Should I push it?”

Melmarc wasn’t sure what the appropriate answer should be. If it had been a few minutes ago, before Eroms had said he’d heard voices, Delano wouldn’t have been asking this question. They would’ve just walked into the one unlocked room they’d seen since they’d snuck out of theirs and just looked around.

Melmarc wasn’t sure how ready he was for that level of responsibility, so he turned to Eroms. “What do you think?”

As obliviously and uncaring as someone focused on a stick of chicken could look, Eroms shrugged. “I smell blood.”

For fuck’s sake!