The Murder Of Willowstream

Ch.18. The Demons That Never Left

The sun would be high in the sky for a few more hours yet. It was still a little while until his birthday, but Alaric couldn't help but feel a slight apprehension as he stepped from the unkept road and onto the driveway of Santana manor.

It's towering height cast a daunting shadow from the early evening light. Stretching its shadowed cloak over the small portion of forest that encircled it's grounds and kept it isolated from the rest of the town.

Alaric looked pointedly at one of the immaculately kept rose bushes. Bowing slightly to more closely inspect the flower as an act to ground himself; he brushed his fingertips over the Vermillion petals, inhaling deep of it's sweetened scent that filled his nose to burst with it's captivating allure. He paused in a moment of curiosity as he spied one of the dark green leaves, protruding from the near-black stem, had browned to a crisp at it's edges.

He didn't know much of gardening. But knew it was never a bad idea to be rid of the rot, grasping the appendage between his index finger and his thumb, before plucking it from the stem. The leaf crumpled immediately once removed from it's body, and Alaric let the remains slip from his fingers. Watching them, with a small sense of want, as they were carried away on the slight summer breeze that danced with aplomb where ever it pleased.

Mr Santana would still be within his slumber at this hour. Or at least, whenever the rare fancy for sleep struck him; it would be during the day. Alaric found himself hoping that such a day like that, was for today. A sleeping father would allow him free reign to purloin through the library, uninhibited by the threat of a forthcoming death.

The thoughts of being able to attend to his business uninterrupted were immediately dashed however. As he stepped further down the winding driveway, at the very top, just before the large doors to his home, was a car parked on the gravel. It was sleek and black. With a shine to it's silver accents that seemed to sparkle even in the shade of the great house. The windows to the back half of the vehicle were blacked out, tinted to the point that even Alaric was having difficulty seeing the soft silhouettes of the car seats. The front windows were crystal clear however.

The car was not alone. At it's front, resting upon the bonnet, appeared to be a woman. Strong in frame, she was dressed in a darkened, grey, drivers outfit. Her hat rested atop the car as she stooped low to scratch behind the ears of a large black dog who's pink tongue lolled out of it's mouth as it panted against the heat of summer.

She stood to attention when she spied Alaric approaching. The warm, honey-brown, colour of her eyes seemed to glitter with almost a challenge as she bowed her head politely, and Alaric found himself smirking in response.

"I wasn't aware my father had an appointment booked in today."

"My lady thought it best to drop in unannounced. Although she usually has time for pleasantries, she specifically asked they be forgotten in matters such as this." She smiled knowingly. That was when Alaric noticed her scent. It held the expensive aroma of perfume he had no interest in naming, but there was something else hidden beneath the musky cloud of sweet things. There was a small burning recognition somewhere in the back of his mind, calling out to him, but no matter how much he thought: he could not put his finger on it. He then recognised that the scent, the strange concoction of her blood, was not entirely her own.

"And who might your lady be?"

"Mrs Santana." She said with such a finality that it hit Alaric like a tonne of bricks. He was very much trying to keep hold of his cool as he realised his mouth was agape and snapped it shut, before crossing his arms across his chest.

The woman placed a gentle, white-gloved, hand to her mouth as she failed to suppress the slight giggle. She stopped once Alaric regained his composure somewhat, taking on a stronger stance as he bolstered himself with a strengthening breath.