Repent: Gwyllomay of the Darkness (1.5) (MANUSCRIPT)

Chapter 32, Lasses and Lads

    "So, I don't really get it. What does Gwyllomay expect us to find?" Daniel's red eyes glowed, his arms out to his sides as he walked throughout the dark house.
    To his left, a set of railings carved a division in a wide foyer. 
    "A ghost of some kind." Grace twirled her hand around. 
    "Right, but, what does that even entail?" 
    "I'm pretty sure we're going to find out. Think about it. If the owner of this house from earlier looked like that, then I'm pretty sure whatever is here is going to find us before we find it." 
     Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Hm, f- fair enough- AGH!" The young drudge's body jolted. 
     "What? Daniel!" Grace whipped around, her golden locks caressing the wind around her. 
     "G- Gwyllom- may!" 
     "Hello, my two favorite people." My red eyes flashed as I held my arms out.
     "What in the world? I thought you were with the general!" Grace creased her brow. 
     "I thought I was going to be with him for quite a long time, too." I flapped my wrist about. "Yet, you know how a man's pride can be." 
     Grace curled her lips. "I... don't think I know what you mean down to a T." 
     "Brandon and I deliberated, very quickly, that I should reasonably go with you two to find the source of this spirit. You understand, Grace. You don't have any-" 
      Grace's shoulders rose some as her nostrils widened. "I figured as much. So, does that mean you don't trust me like you said you did?" 
      I furrowed my brow, my focal gaze falling to the dark brick. Around us, iridescent strokes of broad concrete constructed the floor. Some feet behind me stood a door, its knob bronze. Railings of white stretched out from the walls. I found myself planted in a darkened, yet wide, area. General Brandon's aura hissed merely one floor above me. 
      "What do you- Oh." I put a hand in my pocket. "Grace, it's not that. If I had my total way with things, I'd have sent you and Daniel off to deal with this while the general and I kept that possessed-man from people. It was his idea, yet, which compelled me to return to you two." 
      "Haha. General Brandon's lookin' out for you. Damn, that guy really is crushing on you!" Daniel nodded.
      Grace rolled her eyes. "There's absolutely no surprises there. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that his flirtations on me were always... more than just creepy assertions of a commander's dominance over his female underlings." 
      Daniel's eyes widened, his neck tilting back. "What do you mean 'anyone with half a brain'? Isn't that - like - kinda rude to stroke victims?" 
    "Whoa, that's topical. Easy on the 'stroke jokes'." I put my hands out. 
    "Pffft. Different strokes for different folks, I guess." Daniel shrugged. 
     I cleared my throat while biting my bottom lip. "Holy-actual-shit, Daniel." 
     Grace put her hands to her hips, her tongue gliding behind her closed lips. "Anyways, Gwyllomay, you know you didn't have to agree with Brandon's orders, right? You're not a member of Temple, and, also, you're the-" 
      "Yeah, that's correct. Nonetheless, a part of me didn't want you to get too far from my reach." My eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. "Mhmhmhm. Make of that what you will." 
      "There are quite a few interpretations I could make of that, vampyre."  
      That haughty flicking of her  eye, just now, makes me weak in the knees. Hah! Her figure, thick yet firm, rounded itself out like a juicy, crescent moon. What I wouldn't give to bend her over, lacing my fingers between hers, and- 
      "Guys!" Daniel hopped, his hand grazing my sleeve. 
      "Huh- Oh, whoa!" Grace stepped back, her back bumping into my sternum. 
      Smirking, I looked over the French woman's head. 
      How delicious, we finally get to meet the main course of all of this trouble. 
      In front of us hung an apparition, its outline glowing like a verdant star. 
      "You... need to get out," A woman, her teeth cracked and lined, shook her limbs. "this instant. The living do not belong here." 
      "Ghosts... are fuckin' real?" Daniel hopped on one leg, for some idiotic reason I'm sure, away to the rear of me. 
     "Mhmhmhm. MWAHAHAHA! I absolutely must give to you an apology. You see, my graceful poltergeist, we shan't be exiting these grounds." I grabbed the collar of my ivory blazer, using my free hand to caress my hair. 
     "How... dare you!" 
      Daniel gulped. "Gwyllomay, should we just do what she says? She looks angry! Old lady is angry. Old lady is very, very ang-" 
     "Shut up, I'm sure he has a plan." Grace contracted the muscles in her right arm. 
     "Um! Like what?" 
     "Something! I don't know." 
     "It's not very good that you don't know, you know. A good man should tell you these things! Good man tells you his feelings, yeah?" 
     "You say that like we're dating or something!" 
     "I mean, Gwyll does keep a lot of things to himself." 
     "He's not particularly unjustified for doing so. He's... a really old guy." 
     "Hmph. I don't know. I wish he told us more stuff. I mean, I'm still icky over the fact that I've been friends with him for a number of years and only just recently found out he's, like, a vampyre." 
      "That's understandable. Just- Ugh. I do, sincerely, hope that Gwyllomay has a plan." 
      "Me too, sis." 
      "GET... OUT!"
      Hm, what a funny, little thing. "And why should we leave these premises? What is it that mortals possess which makes them unworthy of being here? Is there some sort of exclusive club being hosted in this cellar that would hinder the well-being of a human? There was, after all, a man who just shot himself earlier because, I believe, a quality of your despotistic essence took him over." 
     The woman's teeth chattered, her limbs still convulsing. "'Despotistic' isn't a word, and you are no mortal." 
     My lips perked. "And you are no ghost." 
     Daniel flailed his arm up. "Wait! That dude shot himself? The man who invited us in originally was spiritually overpowered to harm his own body? I mean, accordin' to what you're saying. What was he even doing with a gun? I thought England had some pretty hefty gun-control laws!" The fangs in his mouth, as he spoke, acted as bright beacons in this dark basement. 
       My eyes focused on the tremoring ghost. "Hmph! Gun, schmun. And, my, my, it seems that you, Ms. Ghost, have figured me out. Mhmhmhm! You know, I have to admit that I've not spent my time looking in a dictionary for the last 300 or so years. It has been indeed to the fallible ends of my indulgent persona, you see. Languages adapt throughout time, their syntax and phrases constantly growing or shrinking at an alarming rate. Since I have not decided to gaze the day away in a book of grammar and spelling, that is to be considered a fault of my own, yes. However, with all due respect to your ghostly self, I find it amazing for humans to partake in such a quickly paced activity."
        "'Quickly paced activity'?" 
         "Truly, these organisms are always evolving. Always, always, always impressing the likes of us vampyres. And yet, it's to the very natures of evolution that we sanguine creatures must be appreciative of as well. Hmhmhm. You see, us vampyres evolved from a species of creature long, long ago. In the time when kingdoms were numerous and empires were scarce. The fey. The faeries. The free-spirited banshees. And you look like something that they would've spat out. You're no inherent ghost, a spirit which has plopped out of some dead body and who possesses revenge and hunger for the living. No, you are something which the faeries have created." 
      "You... a 'Polidorian Fairy', have really come to stop what I plan to do with this house, haven't you?" 
       "You could say that. It is, indeed, something to those ends, my dearest fey." 
       "So, wait! Again. If this crazy woman isn't actually a ghost, then what is she?" Daniel's lips quivered. "And... Gwyllomay, you can't just go around sayin' 'gun-schmun' like that."
    "Hm, guilty as charged. I'll think of a more elegant rhyme to concoct for the future, would that appease you? Perhaps something akin to 'wine-dine' or 'honey-funny'? Ah, nevertheless, this apparition's opaque transparency amuses me. Ms. Ghost, my friend Daniel here brings up a very good point. What is your real 'sub-type'?" I licked my lips. "I thought you were a 'seelenmorph', but-" 
      "Those who created me- They call me something strange to the likes of the average person. I... am a Laven Spirit."