A/N: This chapter is kinky and kind of disturbing, and you'll probably worry for my welfare after reading this. So before you do, you can skip this chapter, and I'll do a short recap at the beginning of the next one.
Happy reading :)
Jack's POV
"Well, that was awkward." I walk away without another word to the next house. I stop and stare. The house was nice, with red bricks with modern framed windows. Seems legit. I hear everyone's footsteps behind me but ignore them. I walk up the path flicking my eye left and right to get a rough image of the gardens. A few weeds but decent enough. I turn my attention back to the door...but...there isn't one. Just a door frame. I stop and turn to look back at the garden, and my eyes find a door half-buried in the ground. Yep... that's normal. I sigh and keep walking, training my eye to the door. I can see a light, but nothing else. I don't hesitate before walking through, though Hawthorne is grumbling audibly behind me.
Once I go through the door frame though, I stop dead in my tracks and my jaw drops.
It was like stepping into another world: the house had a distinct personality behind each door (or, in some cases, door frame). The first door we come across I open and walk into without knocking. Behind it is a neat room with a wooden desk and a simple bed. A woman with the coldest icy blue eyes, silvery-blonde hair tied back in a neat bun and pale, moonlike skin with high cheekbones. She sits erect, with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. She wore no costume, but a formal and old-fashioned white blouse and long black skirt. Her mouth is in a thin line. Suddenly, the room seems to drop several degrees.
"You didn't knock." Her voice is crisp, stern, and straight to the point.
"Thanks for telling me; I definitely did not know that." I snap. I stop analysing the room and glance back at her. She's staring at me with those icicle eyes. She seems like the type of person who wouldn't allow me to talk back. Whoever she is. She seems to know the others, though; they all have an air of recognition regarding the woman in front of them.
"Dearborn," Hawthorne breathed for the benefit of me, loud enough for the said person to hear. Her sharp ears had no trouble overhearing.
"It's Ms Dearborn," she replied in her clear voice.
"So?" I retort. I realise too late that maybe I should've kept my mouth shut when Hawthorne draws in an unnecessarily loud gasp and Dearborn (Ms or no Ms, I don't care) stands up and tilts her head to the side.
"Well then," she whispers fervently.
Crack!
What the hell was that?
Crack!!
It's coming from...
Crack!!!
WHAT THE FU-
Dearborn was changing, transforming...being reborn?
First, there was the cracking, then the snapping and finally the popping. I cringed at the noises, a part of me afraid of what will appear from the noises. I glance around. The others are looking at her as if this is normal.
HOW IS THIS NORMAL!?
I realise the sounds have stopped and turn my head towards Dearborn...wait, not Dearborn. Is this her costume, an ugly, wrinkly old...?
Sexy cop?
She had few resemblances with the woman standing in her place beforehand. But I would've swapped them in a heartbeat. I look down and run my eyes over her. Her feet were stuffed in black high heeled boots, which looked as if they were overflowing. The little skin I could see between the black miniskirt and the boot had veins standing at attention. A pair of handcuffs were seen reflecting the light. Her bodice was fitted and sucked in her stomach, so it looked like she was constantly holding in her breath. My eyes travel upwards....towards...
I gag. Her bust was on display. Pushed up and covered just enough so that it was legally acceptable. But it was like looking at two prunes. I looked up hurriedly and examined her face; her hair was white, and her light grey eyes were inspecting me. She licks her lips, and I see brown teeth. She puckers them.
"Damn." Her voice is scratchy, demonic. She winks at me. Is she...flirting? What the heck...
"Murgatroyd," Cadence whispers.
"It's Mrs Murgatroyd, but you," she nods to me, "can call me mistress."
"No, I'm good." Honestly, I'm scared.
"Wow, pirate, you're so sexy it's illegal." She wraps her gloved fingers around her handcuffs. I eye them. "I may need to arrest you." Someone kill me. Right now.
"I'm sexy; you can arrest me." Hawthorne moves forward, moving his hips and waving his hands in the air like he's waving off demons. He wiggles his eyebrows.
"No, I want the pirate. Anyways, what are you supposed to be, Cleopatra?" She turns to me and bites her lip. "Hey, what's your name?"
"I'm leaving, bye." I turn and walk to the door and turn to the door frame, which shows the outside garden. When I step through, though, it shifts into a prison cell, complete with a bed, washbasin, toilet and desk.
"This is where I keep the naughty kids to serve their punishments." She exaggerates every syllable. I don't turn around; I know that voice anywhere. I hear the other's footsteps, and I turn. I keep my eyes lowered to the floor. Why can't anyone just give us candy?
As if Murgatroyd read my mind, she says, "I'll give you a treat tonight." She eyes the bed and rolls her shoulders. They crack.
Crack!
Crack!!
Crack!!!
I flinch, but I don't care what happens now; anything is better.
But when I open my eyes, I see a woman, not Murgatroyd, nor Dearborn, but a woman in a flower costume. Her head was framed by the bright pink petals and arms stuffed into leaves.
"Oh, I'm so sorry for that, here..." she guides us to the front door (well– doorway). This time, it's Morrigan who recognises her.
"Rook," Morrigan whispers. Rook smiles. She's now standing inside the doorway, and we're outside on the porch. I turn and leave– I'm scarred, but Morrigan grabs my forearm. I turn my head to look at her questioningly.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she turns back to Rook. Rook nods and hands each of us candy.
"Come back soon!" she waves as Morrigan drags me away and the others follow.
I'll come back when hell freezes over.
Written: 29 October - 31 October 2021
Published: 4 November
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Deucalion Family One-Shots
FantasyA few short scenarios of life at the Hotel Deucalion. Requests are welcome!
