Page 4 of Red Lace Manor
The hall was just as cold and poorly lit as the bedroom, and the walls were lined with old paintings. The kind with the eyes that followed you. I tried not to look at them directly, as they were fucking creepy to say the least. But, I could almostfeelthem watching me.
Instead, I focused on Reaper as I trailed behind him like a ghost. The hem of my robe whispered across the floor as we descended the spiral staircase.
“Hold the railing,Little Light, I wouldn’t want to see you fall,” he commanded, whilenotholding the fucking railing.
“... Are you talking to me?” Maybe there were others in this house. Perhaps the ghosts that obviously haunted the fucking paintings, and maybe he was somewhat protective over them.
Reaper didn’t laugh, but I could feel the amusement in his silence.
“Of course, you’re theonlylight in this place.” He spoke as if this was as plain as day.
Begrudgingly, I gripped the railing. Not because I wanted to listen to what was likely a serial killer, but because the idea of tumbling down the seemingly endless steps without at leastgetting some answers seemed like a shitty way to go. The wood was smooth, not even a hint of a splinter, which made the situation even more surreal.
Eventually, we came upon a set of metal doors. The front was decorated in thorns–not roses–and there wasn’t a handle in sight. This didn’t stop Reaper though. He approached the door and raised a hand before rhythmically knocking six times. At the last beat, the metal seemed to move on its own. I jumped as warm light spilled out from the room. I squinted and shielded my eyes, not realizing how dark the rest of our trek had been until now.
Once my eyes adjusted, Reaper motioned for me to enter, and I did.
In the center of the room was an impossibly long dining table. There was no cloth, allowing the brilliantly shined wood to be on full display. High-backed chairs draped in black velvet flanked the table, and the flickering glow from the candelabras caused the silverware to gleam.
A sick feeling pooled in my stomach as I noticed the three men at the table.
None of them looked at me–or maybe they did–the masks made it almostimpossibleto tell.
The biggest one wore antlers. And not like the cute kind that went with slutty deer costumes. Real bleached ones that likely belonged to an animal far larger than I cared to see. The rest of the mask was bone. Some of it had likely worn away from use, leaving it jagged in some spots. The man’s mouth was completely exposed, and I studied his stubbled jaw. He had a scar running across his top lip.
Across from him sat someone in a Jester’s get up, complete with hat and bells and collar. His mask was painted like a black and white clown, and for some reason, I thought he was scarier than the bone man.
And, at the far end sat someone draped in black robes. The sheer mass of their clothing made it impossible to tell if they were man or woman, and their mask did little to solve the mystery. It was made of white porcelain and had absolutely no discerning features other than the golden tears streaming down its cheeks.
My saliva thickened, and I froze. It felt as though I’d walked in on something I had no business being a part of.
“Sit.” Reaper glided to the table, pulling out the empty seat beside Bone man.
My chest shuddered, and my body moved without the permission of my brain. My heart smacked against my ribs with the force of a sledgehammer at a construction zone, and I silently prayed they couldn’t hear it.
I sat stiffly, and Reaper pushed me in before occupying the empty seat on my other side. Thankfully, he placed himself between me and the clown.
“Gentleman,” Reaper started, reaching into the bounty in the middle of the table and retrieving a bottle of wine. “This is Lux. She is our guest for the evening.”
Reaper uncorked the bottle before pouring the thick red liquid in his glass, and then in mine. It seemed thicker than most wines, and that made me trust itlessthan I should, which was impressive, considering the situation.
Bone man grunted in acknowledgement as he grabbed a crusty roll and block of cheese from the feast. The clown tipped his head, leaving the bells decorating his hat to jingle, and the third one… Actually, I wasn’t even sure if they were breathing.
My voice had vanished, leaving me to stare in abject horror as the men slowly turned to face me, as if they were lions and I was a tasty-looking zebra.
“Guestis an interesting choice.” An almost unhinged laugh flitted through the clown's words, and I cringed at the sound.“I prefertoy. Something for us to play with and discard once itbreaks.”
Reaper passed me a glass of wine, and I didn’t touch it.
He sighed, the lenses of his mask fogging up as he did.
“Until she agrees to the game, she isnothingmore than a guest.” He sounded almost exhausted by this description.
Despite his mouth being covered, Reaper lifted his glass, rolling the stem between his fingers.
“Nobodyeverturns down the game.” Bone man’s voice was deep and raspy, decorated with the same unplaceable accent as Reaper.
Something in the low timbre snapped me to my senses.
