23

E ven knowing the outcome of surviving a gunshot wound, staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, made it hard to think. They watched me as I pinned my shoulders back and scrambled through my brain to put together the events of my life so far; at least the ones that made enough sense for me to explain. I began telling pieces of a story that I had only ever written in a journal, and never expected to tell.

Koen seemed enthralled, settling down on the floor and crossing his legs to watch me in awe. The demeanor was almost childlike, and it was extremely endearing. He was handsome in a nearly indescribable way. His heart-shaped face, full cheeks, and boyish smile drew me in. His blond hair was messy and longer than the other men’s and his green eyes were bright. Unlike my own dark emerald, his reminded me of vibrant spring grasses, and sparkled with humor.

“So you’re trapped here?” The words fell off Clay’s tongue smoothly as he studied me.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“How long?” Koen’s voice was lighter with a familiar Irish lilt. Clay however, had an accent that was posh and husky. Curiously, he seemed to always talk through his teeth. Wesley barely spoke.

I tensed. “You believe me?” I asked incredulously. “How are you not…” I couldn’t find the words. Panicked, angry, confused?

There were a thousand different reactions they could have experienced during my recounting but instead each seemed to be a different kind of calm. Koen leaned forward, hopeful and helpful. Clay exuded a sophisticated curiosity that had him scribbling down my every word. Wesley was on the verge of snapping the metal barrel of his shotgun in half and, while with any other person I wouldn’t normally consider that a possibility, he may just accomplish his goals.

“We’re Hunters.”

Wesley’s accent was stern, and thick with English notes.

“Hunters?” I asked, my mind giving me images of men on horseback, chasing poor foxes with loud howling dogs close at their heels. I tried to picture Koen on horseback and could not fathom it.

His hazel eyes narrowed on me. “We kill monsters.”

His words shot the image of Agatha’s spine cracking in half and turning inside out in front of me in my memory. But she hadn’t been a monster, she’d been a victim. I was sure of that.

“Monsters? Like bears, or wolves?” I tried to understand.

He scoffed at me and shot a look over to Clay, and something unsaid seemed to pass between them in just a gaze.

“Like demons and wraiths and lycanthropes.” His voice was mocking, and then hardened. “And phantoms and poltergeists. ” He finished pointedly. “I’m sure you’re familiar.”

I nodded. “Of course, I have read novels, fictions , with the creatures. Are you saying you know them to be real?”

And you think I am one of them? I couldn’t help but think, it was written all over how he gripped his gun and watched his friends’ every move. He believed I aimed to hurt them. His eyes narrowed as he watched me think. He nodded.

“Like a fairy tale?” I asked.

“Like a nightmare,” Wesley barked.

“I’m not a monster.” I inhaled. “I’ve never caused harm to anyone.”

“Just because you say it doesn’t mean I believe you,” he responded.

Koen shook his head in disapproval from where he sat at my feet. The shoes he wore were funny. White in color but dirty with mud and flecks of blood. They were long and made of canvas that laced up the front around his ankles.

He followed my gaze and wiggled them at me. “They’re Converse,” he said like I should know what that is. “It’s a type of… never mind.” Koen looked at the other men, a twinkle in his eyes, and laughed. “C’mon, Wes, look at her. Do you really think she’s a monster?”

Wesley wasn’t amused.

“She’s not human!” He argued.

“Alright then.” I shifted and stared at my feet.

I detested being spoken about as if I were not present in the room. It had been years since I felt myself try to slide into the small mold of “wife” or “woman”, and it was alarming to me how quickly I tried to shrink myself to fit back into it.

I fidgeted with my hands in my lap as they argued, yelling back and forth about how dangerous I was without considering that I could hear them. I noticed out of the corner of my eye the crystal shards of the chandelier beginning to tremble, and I hid my smirk. The arguing was agitating the Manor. Perhaps I wouldn't have to convince them to leave for their own safety afterall, the Manor may just get fed up and expel them itself.

This is the companionship that you missed?

I could all but hear it ask.

Their voices rose higher and more heated. Hands waved comically in exaggerated motions that pointed and punctuated. The walls of the parlor shuddered around us in revulsion. They were so focused on shouting over each other that they did not even notice the corners of the paper peeling back from the walls. I began to worry slightly that it wouldn’t just change its mind and expel them, but that it may become violent… like Agatha…

I could feel my panic rise.

“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat but clearly my voice hadn’t pierced the cacophony of the men. “ Excuse me!” I shouted.

They spun to face me, Wesley’s gun at the ready and trained on me.

The floorboards groaned beneath us and a book whipped off a shelf at lightning speed, dislodging the gun from his hand.

Mine.

I felt a touch of relief knowing the Manor was protecting me, but also not enacting any violence worse than flying books at the men.

For now.

“What the hell was that?” Wesley spun on me. “You keep doing shit!” He said to me as Clay inspected the dark, elegant wallpaper.

“It’s like…” He stopped, looking over at me with his glasses low on his nose. “It could be that the house is just old...” But the lack of conviction in his words spoke volumes .

“Clay! This is classic poltergeist shit. Pure and simple.” Wesley glared at me as I worked to control the nervous feeling that rippled through me like a wave. There was a weight to his gaze that settled against my chest. Danger in a way that was mesmerizing.

“You need to leave,” I said, finally snapping from the trance. I looked to Clay, whose arm was tucked against his body. “It’s not safe for you here.”

“You see, it even agrees,” Wesley growled and dropped to collect his weapon, turning away. “I’m going to search the house.”

“Wesley,” Koen snapped at him as he stomped from the room.

“What do you mean it’s not safe?” Clay asked when the heavy footfalls disappeared down the hall. He pulled off his glasses and shoved them into his pants pocket before closing his notebook.

I didn’t know how to answer him.

“Do you truly hunt monsters ?” I asked instead.

Koen sank on the couch beside me, tucking one of his long legs beneath him, and rested his arm over the back of the ornate settee. Heat tickled my neck under his gaze as he contemplated an appropriate answer before nodding. I kept my distance from him but could feel the curiosity blossoming in my chest at his proximity. I wanted to know more about them.

“What kind of monsters?” I looked at Clay, pursuing further.

“Are you trying to figure out if you fit into one of the boxes?” He asked me. His face was slimmer than Koen’s, angular in comparison to Koen’s softness. Full lips and piercing, almond-shaped blue eyes that looked like the gray sky before a storm trapped inside. Clay was a fox, and Koen could be described as a lion cub or a stuffed bear.

“Perhaps.” I chewed on my lip.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re a monster.” Koen tapped his finger on the couch, his smile bright when I looked back at him.

“We hunt monsters with no regard for humanity,” Clay said.

“Like the…” What was it that Wesley had called them? “...ghouls?”

It had been easy enough to pretend to go unconscious. Though it had surely been decades since I had even attempted to do such a thing. I had felt off, and could feel the Manor’s rage at my being hurt, but pretending to pass out was merely a defense tactic to eavesdrop on these unexpected guests. A way to gauge just how much danger they might be to me, or to themselves.

“Ghouls,” Koen helped, his brow raised, surely putting together the pieces; they had not been in the list of monsters Wesley had offered.

“They’re foul creatures. They feed off of brain matter.”

“And you found your way here because of that?” I asked, pinning back my shoulders to stave off the shudder that wracked through my body in disgust at the thought.

“They were…” Koen trailed off, searching for words.

“Feeding on children,” Clay finished for him.

All of this was very strange and overwhelming.

“I apologize. I must seem so rude, telling you to leave, and then interrogating you with questions.” I sighed. “I’ve been alone here for so long… I haven’t had anyone to speak to other than myself in years.” I faked a smile. “I am not always my favorite company.”

Clay’s jaw ticked and his lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded his head. “We understand,” he offered, “and I can’t speak for Wesley…” He paused.

I had a feeling no one honestly could .

“But we’re sorry for barging in.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and offered me his hand. “A proper introduction might help. I’m Clayton Dunn. The brains of the bunch.”

I stared at his hand. It had been a custom to shake hands with close friends and well known acquaintances, but Lord Cabot had been very clear that he found it improper for his Lady to be so familiar with anyone of the opposite sex .

“You shake it.” He smiled at me and his full lips transformed into a vast, cheek-splitting grin that only cemented my description of a fox.

“I know that much,” I said, extending my arm and placing my small hand in his. His was warm, and soft. I hid the small jolt of electricity that ran up my skin at the contact. “Florence Cabot.” I gave my own full name in return. His eyes were kind as he cupped our hands with his other with a reassuring pat.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance properly, Ms. Cabot.” He released my hand and looked over at his companion.

“Koen…” I turned to him, and he nodded.

“Cameron,” he finished. His hand reached out to mine immediately. The corner of his lips curling up on the left side with perhaps pride? “Wesley is my brother, adopted ,” he quickly cut in the information. “He seems rough, but he saved the both of us.”

“I see,” I said. “As overwhelming as this all is for me, it must also be for you.”

“Less overwhelming, and more curious.” Koen shrugged. His hand was still holding mine in a way that was much too familiar considering we had only just met, but was surprisingly comfortable regardless.

“We’ve dealt with many monsters, things that are hundreds of years old, but nothing so unaware of what they are?” Clay said, his eyes flickered down to Koen’s hand, still holding mine and I pulled it back to my lap, feeling a little sheepish.

“Well, I’m not a monster. I’m just me,” I said.

“Seemingly undecided by the crowd,” Clay laughed. “But I want to learn more about you. We promise that we’ll vacate your space the moment we can, given that you aren’t a threat to anyone.”

My heart raced in my chest, “And if it’s decided I am?”

Neither spoke, but a grim flicker of realization passed between them.

“Then we do our job,” Clay said, in a tone that made my blood run cold.