The Hauntings

Chapter 12

Elizabeth hurtles back and forth, gathering up her things, as the time for Scarlett to pick her up in the hired car, is drawing closer and she isn't even half prepared for the trip to Scotland. 

Her suitcase filled with all her stage clothes is slumped near the door but her travel bag lays wide open on the kitchen counter, the contents spewing out. Elizabeth stuffs all her home comforts in; joggers, bag of jelly beans, woolly jumpers, iPod, chargers and anything else she can think of to shove into the bag.  

Elizabeth sprints up the stairs into the room skidding slightly, on the shiny wooden floor, grabbing her lyric book and the bottle of Paracetamol. The pill bottle slips from her hand, in her haste to rush downstairs. It clatters to the floor and rolls to the end of the room. 

Elizabeth groans in exasperation and scampers to pick it up. But then a tanned hand reaches out, scooping it up and offering it to her. 

"Here you go." 

"Thanks." Elizabeth automatically replies, grateful.

Now she just has the toiletries left.

After a few seconds she looks up startled. There should not have been a hand to give her the Paracetamol. In fact there shouldn't have been anyone in her room. She lets go of a scream in realisation.  

"Oh be quiet! Don't be so melodramatic, Lizzy." Francis snaps.

As if he has control over her vocal controls, she is silenced. She instead is left gawping at the invader. What the hell is he doing here? If he thinks she is going to kill herself today, well, he will be bitterly disappointed, she has other appointments arranged today. No time for dying, unnecessarily. 

But as her eyes find his dark ones, she notices a movement next to him. Elizabeth gasps in further fright. 

The man, if you can even call it that, has such pale skin, a thin translucent layer that just manages to stretch over his blood vessels. It appears, as if all of him is kept together by a single membrane.The thought crosses Elizabeth, that he must live in agony trying to avoid anything sharp, so not to get slashed, leading to the inevitable spewing out of the rest of his insides.

His eyes are piercing, grey bulbs that pop out of his face, which Elizabeth can not look at, for more than a couple of seconds. But what she is most attracted to, is that smile on his snake like face. It holds teeth that are sharpened to transparency at the points, every single teeth is like this, pointy triangles. 

Elizabeth, lets out another yelp in alarm, scrabbling backwards. Falling in her haste to get away from the monster, she whacks her head against the hard floor. The two men peer down at her with predatory smiles, spinning around her rapidly. She blinks the carousel away and grips onto the post of her bed, forcing herself to not pass out. .

"Oh..Oh my God! What is that?" She can only muster a very high pitched squeak.

"What does it look like? It's a vampire of course." Francis gleefully replies still standing in the same position. He is holding the Paracetamol bottle at his side, which she has dropped once again.

The monstrosity standing in her room, is nothing what she imagines a vampire to look like; the tormented soul, the doleful eyes, the only one pair of fangs are completely absent. In fact this one has a  pedophilic smile on his face, his head is tilted to one side listening to something. The only thing relative to what the books and movies depict a vampire to resemble, is the packed muscle on him. 

France glances sideways at his companion, as he realises that he is not saying his introductions. 

"Derek stop being so pervy and listening to her heart beat." He nudges him out of his trance, in a little annoyance.