A Place To Call Home

Chapter One: New Arrivals

Chapter One: Visitors

She remembered dreaming, something abstract and pleasant. It was the sort of thing she would prefer returning to, rather than being left to stare with sleep-filled eyes at a ceiling she couldn't discern. Like leaves caught up on a sluggish stream, visions of a nameless happiness drifted behind her eyes, and she wondered what had inspired her to surface from something so nice when it was her habit to surface only from the unpleasant dreams. It led her foggy mind to suspect that it was something else, some outside cause, that had interrupted instead. So, she listened.

Rain pattered outside and whispered soothing secrets to the wind, which responded by sighing through the trees. The gentle susurration left little room for intense concentration, which she struggled to maintain against the weight of mental fatigue. As if reluctant to let her go, sleep beckoned at the threshold of her waking thoughts, encouraging her mind to drift aimlessly until it could reclaim them. Still, there was something that had pulled her awake; she could feel it. If she hadn't been the one to bring herself out, then ignoring the cause could be dangerous. Keeping still and taking slow, quiet breaths, she strained her ears to catch even the faintest sound above the rain, and waited.

There. A furtive shuffling near the foot of her bed accompanied by the metallic scrape of something sharp against the old oak floors, and a wet snuffling sound from above. The image of a maw filled with crimson-tipped daggers filled her mind as she inhaled involuntarily.

Feeling a familiar dread, she shifted, sitting up to turn on the light, and blinked a few times into the unrelieved darkness. Instinct drove her fingers to try it again, but consciously she knew that there was nothing to be gained by it. It was the kind of darkness that suffocated the light, that absorbed it and converted it into just another shade of itself. She knew better than to expect that the lamp would work; it was a darkness she knew quite well.

“Tir?” She also knew it wasn't Tir, but she wasn't asking if it was. She was asking where he happened to be at that moment. With the butt of her palms, she scrubbed away at the last traces of sleep clinging to her eyes.

“He is below, Mistress,” hissed a voice from above, the hint of a low, sinister growl slithering through its tone like a black current. Sarah didn't realize she'd been tensing until some of the apprehension drained away at the bleak sound of the creature's voice.

“Below. Is everything alright?”

“More have arrived, Mistress.”

“More? At this hour?” She didn't want to deal with people. She wanted to just drop back onto her pillow and sleep until the sun had at least risen to a decent level before being forced to face new people and their inevitable questions. “How many?”

“Four of them. A young family with two children.”

“Children? What the hell were they doing out at night?” Already she could feel the hint of a migraine pressing against her eyes and churning in her stomach. Pushing the blankets away, she dangled her legs over the edge of the bed and let her toes grope about for the familiar warmth of her slippers.

“Looking for trouble would be my guess,” said the voice. “But maybe I'm just projecting.”

Sarah laughed, stuffing her feet into a pair of knit slippers. “You do have that habit, T'lech, but you really have to wonder what it is if not for trouble. Please tell me there's tea waiting downstairs?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“At least there's that. Alright, then, alright. Let me make myself slightly presentable, and for God's sake, keep a low profile. They can't stay until they agree.”