Love Sucks

You Should Know Better - Chapter Six

"Haven't you ever known someone rejected by a lover, who, consumed by rage and jealousy, never lets go? They look on from a distance, unseen but boiling inside. The emotion never seems to tire, this hatred mixed with intense obsession, even with a kind of twisted love."

Scott Westerfeld, Peeps

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The fire licked at the air, creating flickering shadows against the walls. Chilled, Abbi soaked up the heat like moisture into soil.

Nathaniel had completely disappeared once she had returned to the mansion. She remembered his butler, a feeble looking old man, attending the door. He assisted her to Nathaniel's bedroom, gotten Abbi something to eat, and allowed her to read one of the many novels in the shelves. Then promptly left, leaving her to boil in her own self-deprecating thoughts.

Abbi stared at Idylls of the King by Alfred Tennyson, an old novel she'd selected at random, feeling her eyes already start to lull. The sun had set quickly, moving down the horizon to disappear behind the twinkling Californian skyline. Orange and red clouds were replaced by dark ones, making Nathaniel's bedroom more omniscient than it had before.

While the old Victorian furniture and tall ceilings looked creepy at this time of night, the flames wrestling in the hearth were relaxing. A part of her couldn't help but think how much more relaxing it would be if Nathaniel were here with her, holding her in his arms. But a greater portion was more relieved than anything that he was not here.

The book felt heavy in her hands like she was clutching an anchor. Before Abbi managed to somehow drop it, she set the thing on Nathaniel's cluttered desk, and lumbered toward his bed.

There was a knock against the door before she had the chance to sit down. Instead of waiting on Abigail, the butler had already swung the door open, a stern expression on his face. At the sight of him amidst the shadows, Abbi briefly wondered if he was human or vampire.

Its not that the old man was pretty or anything, but he wasn't wrinkled and weak-looking like the average senior citizen. With white hair tufting from his pale head and salty green eyes, he was thin but not bony, pale but not white, and even so, held an air of mystery wherever he went.

"Madame ..." He greeted quietly, his voice dead-pan, "I have prepared your bath, and sleeping garments."

Abbi frowned. She wasn't used to being waited on, especially by an elder.

"Um, Yes. Of course." She sounded awkward, biting the inside of her cheek. "Which bathroom do I use, again?"

He almost seemed to smile, before it was gone in a flash. The butler nodded, his gloved hand directing to the dark hallway.

"I can show you the way, Miss?" He offered. Abbi taking a second to watch the hallway with anxiety, bobbed her head, then met him at the door. The Butler gave her a watery smile and then darted into the corridor. Because the darkness was so thick, Abbi could barely see his outline in front of her and when he stopped, she bumped into his surprisingly firm shoulder.

"Here you are, Miss Worthington." He said, opening a familiar door, the one to the bathroom she'd always used. When he flicked the lights on, the washroom flooded with light. It was so bright that it spilled into the hallway, allowing Abigail to actually see in the dimness.

"Thank you ...?" Abbi trailed off. She couldn't remember if he'd told her his name or not, but the fact that she couldn't recall made her cheeks turn pink.

He seemed to catch on, though, and much to Abigail's fortune didn't seem offended at all. "My name is Jeffery, Miss. Hopefully everything is to your liking, Master Drake would not be pleased otherwise."