The Vampire's Maid

Part 5. The Vampire's Maid

Obeying his orders to stay away from him, I scurried away from his room. His face when I'd mentioned him being a vampire still haunted my mind. He was a vampire, he was conceited and he was temperamental. So why did I feel sorry for him?

I headed down to the wide entrance hall. It looked much larger and brighter when lit by the morning sunlight rather than the eerie candle light. I contemplated just walking out of the open front doors and running away. The fact that the doors were open though made a feeling of depression sink inside me. If the security was so lax, did this mean that the house was in the middle of nowhere and therefore no point in putting locks on the door? Or did it mean that even if I did manage to escape the vampires would hunt me down until they found me? Neither prospect was inviting.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted me that I had a companion. I swivelled my head quickly in time to see Goliath gliding silently down the wooden staircase. Once again his aura hit me and a chill ran through my blood. His head was held high, his pale hand trailing after him and his eyes were focused straight ahead.

Hoping that he hadn't seen me I dashed into the shadows behind the staircases and waited, staring at the paintings of Goliath's ancestors to pass time. All along the mahogany panelled walls an endless run of hand painted faces hung in identical frames broken only by a rather noticeable gap just large enough to hold another painting. The paintings seemed to run in chronological order from 'Helena Sancruor, 1309-1402' all the way to 'Dezabel. E. Sancruor, 1896-1989', both of their eyes staring out of the frames forlornly. The gap was just before Dezabel's portrait and I wondered who had disgraced the family enough to be removed from the wall.

I peered out of the shadows towards Goliath's thin back. He appeared to be waiting for someone by the way he was peering out towards the driveway. Not wanting to risk sneaking past him I slipped through a small, dusty doorway which I hadn't noticed before. A thin stone staircase led into the darkness and on instinct I followed it.

Reaching the shadowy bottom of the stairs I saw yellow light seeping under one of the two doorways at the bottom. A familiar voice was floating through it.

"Hey, don't mind if I steal one of these do you?" Joe was asking someone.

"Stealing is bad. No?" The Italian, I think her name was Abriella, replied.

I pushed open the door and a comfortable, bright scene met my eyes. Old fashioned kitchen utensils were scattered on every one of the clean surfaces all clustered around a glowing fireplace. Joe was leaning against the oven with a chocolate brownie in his hand. A pretty, tanned girl was facing him with a disapproving look on her face.

"It's a brownie, Abriella. Not exactly the biggest crime of the century."

A red head, the girl with the confident voice, was attempting to explain that what Joe was doing wasn't really worthy of a disapproving look.

"Hey there Lizzy. You don't mind me calling you that do you? Actually, your answer's not relevant as I'm going to call you that anyway." Joe grinned.

"Hi." I attempted to smile as the two girls looked towards me.

"Oh, so you're Elizabeth." The red head stated with obvious interest. "I'm June."

"You like a brownie?" Abriella asked politely.

I took one, suddenly aware that I hadn't eaten since yesterday. The gooey chocolate spread deliciously over my tongue and whilst I was occupied Joe began to talk.

"Oh, so you offer Lizzy a brownie but when I take one you act like I'm Jack the Ripper."

"Yup." Abriella smiled broadly.