Foreboding

chapter 1

She was tall, elegant, with red hair and long lashes, her body curved and slim, her eyes enticing and her lips a blood red, stained. There wasn't anything human about this woman, not even the tattoos on her arms and her band merchandise she wore could make her more human, there was no hiding from him. Not his practiced, wise eyes, scanning every detail, from her sharp, pointed nails to her prominent canine teeth. But she wasn't trying to hide from him, and he knew that.

"You're looking good." He muttered, cracked lips wobbling with anxiety.

She only chuckled, her hand brushing across her face as she fixed her fringe to the side, "Can't say the same for you, old man." He had almost forgotten how brooding and sincere her voice was.

He smirked, placing his old novel down on the mahogany desk, the book was the size of the bible and appeared to be molding in some places. It wasn't well looked after and, evidently, not something that belonged to him. "Uh yes," He grunted, "Well unfortunately for me, I don't get renouncing beauty, ageless immortality," The man shrugged, "I don't have those gifts."

"Gifts?" She scoffed, stepping forward with a soft thud of her converse shoes, "Yes, it is great being forever young, however, sometimes it'd be nice to just settle down and . . . Well, settle down, you know?" She looked away from the old man's piercing eyes that watched her ever so closely, and examined the room. From it's wooden oak floorboards to the painted, high ceiling, the floors were covered in red and gold Persian rugs, and the pillars going up the twisting stairs which were guarded by black stone gargoyles. It was all very ancient and beautiful, haunting perhaps. Books upon books lined the walls surrounding the interior of this house, with the occasional historical painting of someone ancient and famous. The record player in the far corner of the room had come to a halt, stopping in the very middle as the record spun to a stop, and the tinkling of old classical music stopped, silencing the world inside this place.

"I understand." He replied a moment too late.

"You're alone here?" She asked, looking up at the stairs, her mind buzzing with ideas, what could be up there? Why would he guard upstairs with gargoyles?

"Of course." He nodded once, not looking away from her face, as if waiting for her to snap, launch at him and attack. He'd known she was all too intent upon killing him, ever since what had happened that night in London, a foreboding, that's what it was, and now she was back to kill him, was she?

"Kyle." She started in a high voice, walking around in circles, getting a view of the sitting room, "You were expecting me, weren't you?"

He cleared his throat loudly, unblocking the lump of fear in his throat, the fear he would never let her see, not even when he was dying. "I had thought you would come find me, yes." As necessary, he took a sip of his red wine, savoring the rich taste in his mouth.

She laughed then, loud, her laughter was like the mother off the Addams Family's. Her head bowed down as she laughed, her hand covering her mouth, "You think I'm going to kill you, you always have!"

"Because you have reasons to!" Kyle exclaimed, jumping up off the cracked leather couch and standing with his feet planted firmly on the ground. "You have always wanted to, I'm an old man and a fool, kill me dammit."

She rolled her eyes, a magnificent mixture of blue, green, and orange. Resting her hands on her prominent hips, she let out a sigh, "Are you at least going to offer me a seat or shall I help myself?"

The man, confused and trying not to shake, gestured for her to sit down on the armchair opposite him, right beside the fire. She did so, sitting down delicately in the cracked red leather chair, she crossed her ankles, stretching out her legs and resting her hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling, painted in rose vines, she said in her delicious, rich voice; "I'm not going to kill you, Kyle, in fact I kind of like seeing you waste away in misery, and besides, when you do die you're only going to be doing the exact same thing. Haunting this old house, the ghost of a sad werewolf-"