Chapter 1
The golden gates open without being touched, and Dad slowly pulls the car forward onto the property. Huge, lush gardens extend as far as the eye can see, filled with tall hedge labyrinths and stone benches and rows and rows of flowers. It's bright and filled with color – a stark contrast against the mansion in front of us. Five stories of dark grey stone and crimson tile rise above us, its greatness overwhelming before we've even finished coming up the driveway. A skinny tower rises from the right side of the roof, and I shiver as I see the curtain in its window move. There's no breeze today. Someone in this house has been waiting for us.
The tires crunch up the last few feet of gravel driveway, and Dad parks in front of the large double doors. Each door is inset with a stained-glass window depicting hounds and horses and men with crowns and rich colors adorning them: a hunt. A medieval hunt? The pictures don't show any prey, and as scared as I am, I wonder what they were hunting.
I wonder if they succeeded in hunting it.
"You sure you'll be alright?" Dad asks, his eyes filled with worry. I smile and kiss him on the forehead. He's already been through enough pain in the last few days. "Please don't worry. I made my decision and I'm going to stick by it."
Popping open my car door, I slam it and walk around to the backseat, opening the rear door and reaching to unbuckle Mason's carseat. Dad turns around. "I'm worried enough about you. Do you really need to bring Mason along?" I sigh. "Yeah, Dad. I need him to be with me."
I don't have the heart to tell him that I would rather have Mason here, fate unknown, than at home with Dad, who accidentally used him as a neck pillow while watching a baseball game. "The baby stays with me," I say firmly, tugging him out. "Keep the carseat, though. I'll call if I need you to come get him."
Mason, out cold, doesn't even notice when he leaves the carseat. Wisps of dark hair pop out from under his light blue cap, and his green monster footies have him wrapped up nice and cozy. Dad nods towards the trunk. "Let me grab your bags," he says, gesturing to the tiny head fast asleep on my shoulder. "Thanks. That would be great."
After hauling the two duffel bags out of the car, Dad hugs me and plants a small kiss on Mason's little blue hat. "If anything goes wrong, you call me or you run away. Or both. The deal stated that you would live here, not that he would hurt you. If he causes you or Mason any harm, the contract is broken and you two get the hell out of here, understand?" I nod. Dad's a lawyer. He made sure he knew everything about this deal before he agreed to it and he made sure the contract gave him the upper hand. Just because he owed the house owner a huge debt doesn't mean he would just abandon us to this stranger.
The front doors slowly open onto a dimly lit hallway, and a small impatient breeze whirls up outside in the direction of the door. "You were right, Dad. This is creepy," I mutter. "But let's hope for the best."
A tall, muscled man with long black hair steps out of the doorway. His black tux matches the color of his ponytail. "Welcome, miss," he says in a voice that sounds too prim and proper for his woodsman looks. "The master has been expecting you. I'll bring your luggage. Mister Conti, it is a pleasure to see you again. Rest assured these two are in capable hands." He nods at Dad in a way that is clearly dismissive, and Dad can do nothing but return to the driver's seat. "Take care of my daughter and grandson," he says in a firm tone, before sitting down and driving away.
The butler glances down at me and takes our bags. "Grandson?" he asks inquiringly. I can detect a hint of displeasure in his voice. "Yes. This is my son, Mason," I tell him sharply. "Is that a problem?"
He wrinkles his nose. "The contract specifically listed that the girl must be single." "I am single," I respond. "Mason's father is not in the picture. Besides, if your master wanted a virgin, he should have requested one. I'm single and I fit the bill. Now which way am I going?"
The butler walks into the house, and I follow, letting him lead us as the doors shut quietly behind. It takes a few seconds for me to adjust to the lights – no electricity, I realize. Only candles. Most windows are covered with dark purple drapes, letting almost no sunlight into the big corridor.
The black-haired man interrupts my train of thought. "My name is Gaston. I am the master's personal butler and the mansion's head of staff. There are ten servants in this fine household, so if you need anything please do not hesitate to ask one of us." "You don't look like a butler," I comment, and he nods. "I suppose not. But it's good practice for acting school." He grins slyly at me, and I realize that he doesn't look more than twenty. "This job is paying your way through college, isn't it?" I ask.
He nods. "Yep. Fooled you with the attitude back there, didn't I? The pay here is ridiculously good. At this rate I might be able to buy my way into Broadway without going to school." He points down the hallway. "Make a left at the end of the hall and go in the second door on your right. Knock first, just to be safe." He smiles at me. "I was serious. There are ten servants here, so if you need anything just let one of us know. We're pretty tight-knit so we'll find a way for someone to get you what you need."
I smile. "Thank you," I say, offering a clumsy fake curtsy. He bows in return, flawless despite the bags in each hand. "Good luck. Dinner is at 7," he tells me before walking away up a flight of stairs.
I groan inwardly. Stairs. In a five-story house, there's got to be a lot of them.
As I turn the corner, the door Gaston told me about creaks open, leaking a stripe of golden light into the hall. From the other side of the door, I can hear rough breathing and the click of…claws? A floorboard creaks under me, and the small noise inside stops. My heart stops, then leaps at a rapidfire pace. The person who wanted the contract is human, right? Animals can't talk. Animals can't sign contracts.
But humans don't have claws that click against the floor.
Summoning up my courage, I knock quietly on the door, and a gruff voice commands, "Enter."
Juggling Mason in my arms, I nudge the door further open with my shoulder and slip inside the room. A warm fire burns in a large stone hearth, its chimney reaching to the ceiling at least twenty feet above. A rich red carpet covers the center of the room, edged by dark grey tile. Two large armchairs rest in front of the fire, with a small wooden table in between. The walls are covered with large portraits, some even life-sized, and several burning candelabras. And there, seated before the fireplace, waits a large, humanistic creature. Almost human, and yet…
He turns around to face me, rising to his feet. His dark cape swirls around him, casting him into shadow. Fangs protrude from his upper lip and his hands, though human, curve into dark claws. He approaches, rising at about six and a half feet – huge, to my 5'4''. I should feel afraid. I should want to run screaming. I should want to call my father and haul both my ass and my son's ass back to safety. But I don't.
A dark blue mask stretches from his hairline to the top of his mouth, the perfect shade to make his head blend into the wall behind him. His lips are pale pink, the skin around his mouth pale white, but spattered with pale speckles of stubble. He bows, revealing curly light brown hair beyond the top of the mask. "Welcome, my dear," he murmurs, his voice rumbling out of his chest. It is warm, smooth, but not gentle – almost like an espresso that didn't get enough sugar to be regular coffee.
I brush my hair out of my eyes. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr…" "Erik," he tells me. "Please, call me Erik." I raise my eyebrow. "Um…shouldn't I call you by your last name? I'm your…" I purse my lips looking for the right word. "…tenant. We're not intimate or whatever."
He frowns. "I don't have a last name. My parents didn't give me one." I nod. "Right. Erik it is then."
Mason shuffles in my arms, gurgling and blinking sleepily, and I bob him up and down gently. "Uh-oh. Somebody's waking up, and he's going to be hungry." Erik looks at me, then nods. "Of course. The kitchen is right down the hall. I'm sure Lydia has some milk in the icebox…" "No," I interrupt. "I'm his mom. I have to feed him."
Below the mask, Erik's cheeks flame red as recognition dawns on him. "Of course. Your father mentioned that you had a son. I had hoped he was a little…older." "Sorry to disappoint you, but Mason is only ten months old," I tell him. Mason looks up at me, now definitely awake, and glances around curiously. He squeals and grabs at my collar, yanking hard at my hair. "Any moment now," I say through gritted teeth, and Erik nods. "Right this way," he mutters as he gestures towards the hall. We exit the parlor (that's what Erik called it) and climb three flights of carpeted stairs before arriving at a set of white double doors decorated with gold patterns. "This will be your room while you're here," he says, pushing the doors open. "There's a smaller adjoining room where your son may sleep."
"Thanks very much," I say hurriedly as Mason tugs more urgently on my hair. Erik sighs and taps one of the little hands, and Mason stares at his claws in fascination. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the smooth, black surface, and I watch carefully to make sure he doesn't cut himself on the curved tips. Still, the claw has distracted Mason from his hunger, and I smile at Erik. "Again, thanks," I tell him.
He nods. "Dinner is at 7. I hope you will join me. Please let a servant know if there will be any delays." He walks away down the hall, his cape sweeping behind him, and from behind it looks like he's floating. I shake my head in wonder. I'm the tenant of a strange purple and blue-clad ghost guy. But it's better than him being an axe murderer.
Shutting the door, I glance around my new room. Our duffel bags have been dropped in front of a large white wardrobe, gilded with gold like the door and all the other furniture in here. I make a mental note to unpack later and turn in a slow circle. A huge vanity table with at least a dozen drawers and a large mirror, a plushy white bed covered in pillows with light lacy curtains on all sides, a fireplace, pale green carpeting, a wooden rocking chair, two regular light yellow chairs, and a smaller white door that probably leads to Mason's room. The ceiling, like the study downstairs, stretches many feet above our heads. A pair of large windows on either side of the fireplace leads to a marble balcony with a beautiful view of the garden. For once, no drapes. This room has been designed to be bright and airy, perhaps on purpose for us. I pull back the bed curtains and collapse, sitting frozen. Most of my courage has been used up, and I'm drained.
Mason resumes his hair-pulling, reminding me that yes, I'm still a mother, and no, a magic castle with a ghost will not change that fact. I pull down my shirt and let him suckle. Pulling off his cap, I run a finger through his wispy brown hair, a soft comfort against the cool attitude in the mansion. Erik and Gaston were friendly, but not overly so. I glance at the clock on the wall – about 4:00. Normally I'm coming home from school right now, Dad pulling me into an attack hug before handing me Mason, freshly delivered from his nanny. A warm family. Tears spring to my eyes as I remember Dad's bear hugs.
Mason lets out a tiny burp, indicating that he's full, and I hug him tight. I haven't lost my whole family.
Tugging my shirt back on, I pop Mason's cap back on his head. "Boop!" I say happily when it lands. I tap his tiny nose. "Boop!" Mason giggles, reaching for my fingers. "Boop!" I say again as I tap his hand.
A soft knock raps on the door. "Come on in," I call, continuing to boop Mason's face. A wispy young woman, maybe twenty, walks in, her thick blond hair hanging loosely about her face as it falls out of her bun. Her black dress is similar to Gaston's tux. "Good evening, Miss. I've been sent to tell you that the Master will be receiving a business call later and must move dinner up to six." I nod. "Sure. No problem." She curtsies and leaves again, shutting the door behind her.
We continue playing, but after a while Mason yawns. Despite his nap, dinner made him sleepy. For once he's glad to obey his five o'clock bedtime. "Come on, Mason. Let's get you ready for bed," I say gently, cradling his head as I walk over to the duffel. I change him into fuzzy red pajamas and walk into the side room.
A pale brown crib lies against the wall, with a small carousel dancing and bouncing above it. Blue elephants and purple horses turn in circles on the mobile as I lie him down and tuck him under the lavender sheets. I snap my fingers, run to his duffel bag and get his favorite stuffed animal, a little panda we got on our first trip to the zoo. I tuck it in next to him, and his hand absentmindedly pets it.
I smile. My little boy, all cozy and off to dream. I quietly shut the door – only half-closed, just to be safe – and return to my room. The clock tells me 5:15, and I crash face-first on the bed. His first day here is over, but a difficult part of mine is just about to begin.
Hello everyone! Please R&R on this story, it's been rattling around in my head for several weeks now, so as it progresses I would love to hear your opinions. This story is completely OC (minus the name Gaston but his character will be a bit different from the movie). Thanks for reading!