Deadly Nightmares (The Last Guardian, Book One)

FOUR

Warning: Chapter ends on a pretty scary note, so just be careful, y'all. Mentions of physical abuse and assault.

❁

❃

❁

THIS IS SOME BIG fucking house.

Tamara tried not to groan. She had woken up at three in the morning to catch her six o'clock flight, she'd almost got into a fist fight with her cab driver for ripping her off and she was running on nine cups of coffee.

Kilvale was a fairly big town, with a café which also worked as a restaurant. The moment she'd reached, she had been drawn by the delicious smell of grilled cheese sandwich and reached the restaurant. The kind lady had taken one look at her and demanded that she eat two sandwiches and the famous Kilvale apple pie. She would have given a third slice if Tamara hadn't vehemently refused. The town also had a bookstore and a library side by side which she thought was neat. Overall, she thought it was a quaint town having all the necessary amenities.

It hadn't been hard to locate the mansion, she'd heard from the restaurant lady that there were only two big mansions in the town, one abandoned and the other occupied by the Ferons. She'd followed the directions and reached the place, a greyish mansion with a garden.

It had a lot of windows, all closed, already suffocating her. Outside the mansion, there were big black iron gates and she had to resist the urge to swing on it like a child.

But she still couldn't help but be anxious because her experience with rich people hadn't been that good. The first few weeks were always bad. They had a poisonous tongue which killed the faint of heart with its words. At the end, of her stay, if the people hadn't been influenced by her empathy at least a bit, she'd be tired of the taunts and be a few seconds away from going berserk.

But she took a deep breath and opened the big gate and stepped in, gravel crunching under her feet. She looked down for a minute, her black eyes following the gravelly path to the door. Vampires usually had these pathways outside their homes when the war was still going on, to know if there was someone outside.

They must still believe in the old ways.

She walked towards the porch admiring the pretty gardenias, roses, hyacinths and the various other plants in the garden that were in the garden on either side of the pathway.

When she finally reached the door, she took another breath, steeling herself before pressing the switch.

She could hear some shuffling inside, and then a shout.

"Hunter, could you see who that is?" A woman said. Tamara smiled, checking out Roberta's name in her mind.

Hunter groaned. "Why?" He asked, dragging out the word.

"Because it could be the caretaker?" Dane answered. "Come on, man, don't blow this."

"Why don't you go, then? I'm really comfortable here."

After some more bickering, the door was finally opened and Tamara saw that it was Dane who finally took initiative. He was in a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, paired with grey trousers. He was taller than her by a few inches. His dark brown hair was parted on the right, a bit messy, fluffy and long but still looking perfect. His amber eyes, trying their best to be welcoming and warm, looked tired, as if he hadn't slept in some time. He was leaner than she expected him to be, but she guessed that he wasn't working out for muscles, just to keep himself fit.

"Good morning," she said with a tired smile. "I'm Tamara."

DANE FERON NODDED AND moved to the side to let her in. His eyes flit over the woman, trying not to let the exhaustion show. It had been his turn to stay up and look after the eldest and his already ruined sleep schedule had been destroyed because of that.