House of Vampires: The New Wife

Chapter Two

"At last," Elias said as he stood, "Brynleigh, allow me to introduce my children."

          Six young men streamed into the room, Cyrus being the standout leader in all his striking splendor. Their hair colors were largely an array of blacks and browns, save for two notable exceptions: one flaunting vibrant blue tresses, and the other ablaze with blond waves. They proceeded to settle in their designated locations around the table, with Cyrus taking the spot next to his father.

"Who is that one for?" asked the buoyant blue-haired youth, letting a provocative smirk play on his face.

Oh, please don't let him be referring to me.

"Obviously not for you, hopefully," one of the dusky-haired boys jested sarcastically.

"Enough of these antics, lads," Cyrus admonished, his eyes rolling in weary irritation.

At least someone in this house is displaying some semblance of sense.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Cyrus; you can't deny your curiosity," the blond boy prodded teasingly.

Turning towards me, Cyrus let loose a chuckle, an incredulous query hovering on his lips: "Are you kidding me?"

There goes any remaining tact. Are they not aware I'm right here?

"Ignore them," whispered my father reassuringly. "They're just in desperate need of etiquette."

I let out a discreet giggle, due to my fathers comment.

"We don't treat our guests with such discourtesy," Elias admonished sternly. "We don't want her forming a bad impression of us, right?"

"It doesn't really matter," one of the black-haired boys grouched. "She'll grow to despise us soon enough. They all invariably do."

"Who could possibly fault them?" the blonde-haired boy concurred with an insouciant shrug. "We're far from the most hospitable of hosts."

"Speak for yourself, Lawson," the blue-haired boy objected with a dismissive wave. "We are phenomenal hosts."

"Quiet down," commanded Elias, concern furrowing his brows. "We've had enough frivolous conversation for tonight. Dinner's ready."

         Immediately following was the arrival of numerous stewards, erupting from the kitchen while bearing trays laden with food piping hot from the stove. There was a culinary smorgasbord available: poultry, an assortment of vegetables such as green beans, peas, carrots, asparagus, broccoli, alongside steak, succulent salmon, creamy mashed potatoes, and a refreshing mix of salads. Now, I'd accompanied my father to a plethora of formal meals and social events, but nothing could vie with the opulence before me right now. As a firefighter who'd been lauded for wartime valor, my father was invariably the desired guest at the tables of Salem's affluent class, whether for philanthropic reasons or the allure of his company.
          Without further ado, we all got down to the business of sating our appetites. Without a shred of hesitancy, I helped myself to mashed potatoes, the mouthwatering assortment of salads, and tender chicken.
          The chicken simply dissolved delightfully on my tongue while the potatoes proved to be nothing short of grand. My father, with a slice of salmon on his dish, flashed me a contented smile.

"Not bad, eh?" he remarked.

"Not bad at all!" I agreed, still savoring the flavors in my mouth.

"Abraham!" Elias barked. "Please fill our glasses."

          Abraham nodded and started pouring a deep red wine into their glasses. I had seen red wine before; Grace's mother was infamous for her love of red wine, but never a red wine this dark. When Abraham got to my father, he switched pitchers and poured white wine into his cup, which I found strange.

"Would you like some wine, miss?" Abraham asked me.

"Oh no, sir. Water will suffice," I replied.

Abraham nodded and excused himself to fetch some water.

"What do you think of our home?" Elias asked, a smile playing on his lips. "Is it too much?"

"No, sir, it's beautiful," I replied politely.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, his smile taking an odd turn.

"How old are you?" the black-haired boy next to me asked.

"I'm eighteen," I responded.

"My, you're very young," he mused.

Young? Is he not the same age as me? He can't be older than 20 years old.

"Mark can be a bit odd," Lawson spoke up. "Just ignore him."

I giggled, and Mark rolled his eyes. "Me? Odd? Don't flatter yourself," he spat.

          Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense. Abraham appeared with another pitcher and poured a glass of water into my cup, and I couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"Thank you, Abraham," I said, flashing him a grateful smile.

But Abraham looked at me with a sense of pity in his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was because he knew something I didn't, or if it was just his natural disposition.

"Of course, miss," he replied.

Taking a sip of my drink, I suddenly felt like all eyes were on me. My father grew tense beside me, and I could sense that something was amiss. I placed my cup back down and turned to him.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.

"Yeah, kiddo," he replied, his voice strained. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

With that, he stood up and kissed my forehead. "I love you, my precious girl."

But as soon as the words left his mouth, I grew increasingly dizzy.

"I don't feel well," I muttered, looking up at him.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he reassured me before walking away.

As I swayed in my seat, my vision growing blurry, Elias fixed me with a creepy smile.

"Are you alright, Brynleigh?" he asked.

"I believe so," I responded, looking around the table for some form of aid.

"You don't look so well," Mark chimed in. "Do you have a fever?"

I shook my head, bringing a hand to my forehead in confusion.

"If you're going to throw up, avoid the table," Cyrus said nonchalantly before taking a sip of his wine.

But before I could even respond to his rude comment, my eyes slowly began to shut. A loud ringing filled my ears, and everything went black.