The Greyback Manor

Chapter four

""How did you even get in here?" I asked.  

"What were you expecting, to use garlic on me to keep me out?" he mocked. "You forget that I lived here."  

Angry, I ran at him with nothing but my bare hands, wanting to hurt him in some way. He chuckled and used his new vampire speed to get away from me. This only angered me more, so I tried again, this time opening the drawer to see if any weapons were inside. There was a gun, and I pointed it at him, but all he did was adjust his hat and cane.  

"If I were you, I would start acting scared," I said. 

My tone darkened, and I could feel my face heating up. 

“Hmm, you're very beautiful when you're angry, Clara. Go on then. I'm waiting," he responded.  

My mind and heart went to war against itself as the gun shook in my hands. I didn't want Hyde to die, but I couldn't let Jekyll kill anyone else. Not when he had already spilled so much blood and planned to take out his own family. He smirked when he noticed the sweat on my face.  

"I'm going to, and you'll leave them alone!" I cried.  

Even to my own ears, I knew that my words weren't the truth. The look on Jekyll's face made the floor spin underneath my feet, his very being staring into my soul.  

"Wow, your heart rate would be telling me everything if you weren't shaking," he responded. "Drop the gun, sweetheart. I'm not here to fight."  

"Then what do you want?" I asked.  

He grabbed the gun and motioned for it to be put down. I only agreed in hopes of finding a way to get rid of him forever.  

"It's not what I want but what you want. You weren't the only one who saw painful memories," he said.  

I gasped at his words, feeling violated that the spell used to see inside of his head worked both ways. A ton of questions of what he might have seen ran through my head. Anger swelled up in me when he dared to ask about my parent's death.  

"That's private, you blood-sucking freak," I said.  

Jekyll chuckled and picked up the old journal. He made fun of all the entries by reading them aloud in a high-pitched voice.  

"So, is going through my stuff, Clara, or do I need to teach you a lesson about that?" he asked. I didn't say anything, and he kept flipping through the yellowed pages. The dust made me sneeze at least once, but I made sure to conceal it. “Man, the guy messed up all my good quotes. You have any idea what it's like to hide behind a mask every day?”  

I turned my head away from him to shed a few tears. Of course, I knew what that was like, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I heard him drop the journal  with a loud thud.  

"You don't know anything,” I whispered. 

That was far from the truth, as I had hid behind a mask after my parents were killed. Everyone asked if I was okay, and I lied, saying I was fine when in reality I was angry. I hated whoever had killed them. I hated the officers who didn't believe me and that stupid red book.  

"I know what's in the book. Your parents did as well," he said.  

I looked at him in surprise. His cold eyes changed to a red color, the same shade of the book from the hotel. I could feel his cold gaze taunting me when I looked like I wanted to throw something at him. It would do no good of course, even less than a book, but it would make me feel better.  

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked. He gestured to a page with a picture and ripped it out of the book. I didn't have time to protest before he handed it to me and told me to listen. “You're deranged, Jekyll!" I screamed.