The Hunt

Chapter 7

Alesco:

The wooden door behind us closes with a thud. The white walls have wooden panels on the lower half. The ceiling is high and decorated with black, intricate chandeliers hanging with lit candles. The flickering light casts dancing shadows that swirl around us. The carpet is soft and thick. The hallway we have entered is sparcely furnished.

I look at Wynn and he gazes back, saying nothing. The silence is pressing. There's something else wrong, but I can't place it. Something about this place. It feels like there's something missing.

"Alesco..." The voice drifts through the house. It's familiar. Quiet and hissing. "Alesco... come..."

I shudder. A feeling I am unaccustomed to. Fear is a human emotion. Though we run from humans, we do not feel fear. We run only to preserve our lives.

There's an open doorway up ahead. There are other rooms at either side of the hallway, but they are closed, shut off from view. The voice is drifting from the open door. I sniff the air, but smell nothing. That's what's missing. I can't smell anything. I listen but I hear no sound. Not even the flickering flames.

"Do you hear anything?" I ask Wynn. No sound comes from my lips. I can feel my lips moving, but hear nothing at all. What's happening? I can't hear, I can't smell, I can't speak. The feeling of fear grows in the pit of my stomach, like twisting snakes. I reach out to Wynn and grab his arm. He looks at me and then nods his head towards the room ahead, the source of the voice. I see my fear echoed in his eyes.

"Alesco..." the hissing voice says again. "Come..."

We step forward, side by side, towards the room.

The room is square, and decorated as the hallway. It's all in perfect condition, clean and well-kept. A fire is blazing at the opposite side of the room beneath a marble mantel. A large mirror hangs above. The flickering shadows dance more intensely like a puppet show of ghostly creatures morphing and changing.

There are heavy, black curtains hanging. Two sets. I imagine there must be windows behind them but they are pulled shut and held tight, masking what lies behind.

My eyes are drawn to the armchair set in the middle of the room, against the curtained wall. It is the black of the curtains. It is thronelike and high backed.

The shape is almost is invisble, the black cloak is lost in the fabric of the chair. Only the hands give it away. They are deep ebony, only fractionally lighter then the cloak. Within the hood is nothing. I look, focusing my vision, but there's nothing there. A black hole.

"Who are you?" I say to the cloaked figure. Again, no sound escapes my mouth.

I'm trapped. It's like I'm wrapped in something. Something that is blocking my senses. My powerful, far-reaching senses. Senses I've always had. Gone. It feels like a part of me is lost, or dead.

"Alesco. Welcome." The voice says. "Come, sit."

I don't know what this creature is. The hand moves in a waving motion and a chair appears in front of it. A hard-looking, wooden chair.

I step forward, drawn to the chair, drawn to the spot by some unseen force. Wynn places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me, holding me back. From the corner of my eye I see one of the arms move again and Wynn is pushed backwards, forced to let me go. I turn, baring my fangs at the creature, ready to pounce, to attack. I step forward.

Wynn steps back to my side. His eyes are blazing, his fangs bared. We move slowly toward the creature, watchful, cautious, but otherwise blinded by our lack of senses.

The hooded robe turns slightly and I'm staring into the black hole, the abyss, the nothingness. There is no face. The snake pit in my stomach comes more alive, uncoiling tendrils of fear and spreading throughout my body.