The Warp and The Weft

Chapter Thirteen: An Unexpected Call - Matthew

The side of his leather shoe split along its seams as Matthew ripped around the final twist of the spiral staircase. He gave a fluid jump on the last steps as he twisted his body to lay his now barefoot on the wall of the stone doorway. Following through with his momentum, he sprung off the doorway causing the stone to split and fracture as he all but flew down the hallway and into his office, almost taring the door from its hinges.

Moving like a blur, he bolted for the door and moved through the courtyard towards the main gate of the castle. He grabbed the iron grid of the portcullis and threw it up with a single hand to catch on the latch above, not feeling the nigh seven-hundred-kilogram weight of the metal grate. Opening the final doorway, he braced his core to be struck with a weapon as he gouged his fingers into lethal claws, ready to defend his home.

His ears pricked from behind as he threw open the door, he recognised the gate of his son and Marthe behind him and unleashed an instinctual growl deep in his chest, warning them to keep back. The two creatures froze and Philip even backtracked slightly as Matthew moved his head and eyes in each direction, his neck moving unnaturally fast.

No one was before him, though someone was here only moments ago.

He focuses his eyes easily on the far side of the moat as a figure the size of a small man rode through between the trees on a bright orange bicycle. All the while he was drawing in scents of the area picking up on the key attributes of the individual to just invade his land.

Human. Male. Sixteen, maybe Seventeen. Anxious, but not fearful. He recognised the scent as it was familiar to that of a Pharmacist in Dournazac. His son, perhaps?

Matthew's head was flooded with information as he sorted out the facts and came to the conclusion there was no threat, though he ground his teeth at such a blatant invasion of privacy. His nose flared once more as he picked up on a much fainter scent, he looked down to see a lock of hair tied with a string that was attached to a small yellow-squared sticky note. He leant down and picked it up with long, dextrous fingers.

Je vous en supplies. I beg of you. Matthew read the note as he caught the notes of the lock of hair.

Human. Female. Young child, maybe seven or eight. The scent was similar, a sister.

He turned the lock over and over, understanding dawning on what this invasion truly was. He lowered his shoulders and let out the breath he didn't realise he had held since the beginning. At the relaxation of his body, Matthew felt the change mirrored in his son and Marthe, the young man shifting from foot to foot, an easy tell of anxiety.

By this time, the three were accompanied by the two young Witches from the kitchen as well as Matthew's newest ward. Giving one final scan of the area, he turned on his heel, pulling the door closed after him. Marthe quickly stepped forward and pulled on a chain just inside one of the guardposts on either side of the portcullis. The chain rattled in her hand before Matthew raised his.

"It's alright," He said to the ample Vampire, "It can stay up, Diana will be returning shortly and in the meantime, I suspect the children will wish to use the gate rather than jump from the walls."

Marthe nodded and sunk silently into the passage behind the guardpost, disappearing into the interior of the keep. Philip stepped forward, curiosity evident in his eyes which were glued to the lock of hair Matthew held with care. The wind picked up slightly and Philip's distinctive scent of Cherry blossoms and Oak leaves filled Matthew's nose, touched with the prick of spark evident in all great Witches.

"You saw someone?" He asked tentatively, his eyes darting over Matthew's shoulder to the now-closed doors.

"Yes," Matthew said, lifting up the hair and note to eye level, "A Human teenager, I suspect he came to place this at the doorstep before fleeing."