In the penultimate years of the seventeenth century, in the town of Colere, lived a maiden of unworldly beauty. Many say she was the daughter of Aphrodite, having men enthralled by one look. But her origins were uncertain, being found on the doors of the convent as a babe. Having such a sweet temperament, the nuns took her in, calling her Isabella. She was faithful and kind, bringing joy to anyone who met her, until that day she knew the nobleman, Sir Lachlan Penndel.
He spun the most charming sonnets, eliciting the warmest of smiles from this fair maiden. She, enchanted by this man, agreed to leave all that she knew and abandoned her dearest of friends. However, this man, Sir Lachlan felt nothing but an augmented vanity, for he had caught, what no other could. But, due to his narcissism, his perceived position in society, he married another, a daughter of an earl; and in the deepest despair, Isabella leapt into a lake, to be gone forevermore.
But when death came, she was embodied by much bitterness and resentment that Heaven closed its gates; and she became a wilis. With her jilted sisters, they wreaked their revenge against the faithlessness of men. Sir Lachlan was soon entranced; and forced to dance and dance, but when it was time for him to expire; he made a pact with the devil and became a vampire. And for the next three centuries, he haunted Farfarelle satiating his thirst for blood.
The icy fingers of cold pervaded their woollen trench coats, pilfering their remaining body warmth. The naked trees swayed precariously in a spellbound saltation as they yielded to the gale's fury. The grass they treaded on was thinned and tinged with grey as though under immense stress. Only the sun's incandescence alongside the blue hue of the sky, reminded the two figures that it was summer.
"So, this is Farfarelle," drawled the male figure, "Why aren't I surprised that people go missing here?"
"Now's hardly the time for your sarcasm, Will," reproached his companion, "Forget the aesthetics and just remember the pale, talcum powdered bodies in the report."
"Yes, the mysterious disappearances of men, women and children. There are no leads?" enquired Will.
"You didn't read the report did you?" sighed his companion in exasperation. "The people go missing in the night with only visible traces of resistance left behind. Then, a fortnight later, their bodies are discovered lying upon the riverbed. Though, there is a general consensus amongst the town folk of where these people are taken, to Penndel Manor."
"What do you mean by general consensus? You're not telling me they haven't investigated the matter? We're called in to do some trivial thing that a simple inspection could solve?" demanded Will.
"Well, the thing is the town folk believe the manor is haunted by some surly spectre; and as a result will not go within three miles of the place." answered his companion.
"That's simply ridiculous! There's no such thing as ghosts, spirits and what have you…" retorted Will.
"You can not ignore the miasma of this place, I feel it and I know you do too. Besides, every myth, legend or folktale has some basis in truth." interrupted his companion
The rugged, mountainous terrain camouflaged the manor, with only the iniquity permeating off its walls, giving away the location. The render had long lost the battle against erosion; and the masonry walls had surrendered. What remained of the stain glass windows was the only indication that previous civilisation had existed. With each step forward, the two figures were able to see traces of gargoyles, flying buttresses and arches on the facade of the building. The wood of the door was infested with mould; and the knob covered in tiers of corroded silver, causing an involuntary shiver in the female figure.
"There's nothing to worry about, Ace, now go, get in…" whispered Will as he turned the door knob.
"Oh, how chivalrous of you, letting the lady encounter any possible danger first" muttered his companion, as she walked into the ever hollow darkness.
The foyer was coated in a thick layer of dust like contact covering a book, a cornucopia of cobwebs clung to the ceiling like a parasite sucking onto a host; and what was most enchanting was the suspension of dust particles, which developed a lustrous sheen and sparkled, from refracting the torchlight. The rugs had long ago disintegrated through the persistent sieges of moths and the carpet, vulnerable, due to the huge gaping holes.
"C'mon, let's go" beckoned Will, grabbing his companion by the arm.
They walked along an elongated corridor, ignoring the locked doors and unconsciously moving closer and closer towards the other, as the chill began to envelop them. A groan snapped them out of their focused reverie, compelling both into a run. They ran passed a set of stairs, into another hallway and passed five doors, until they encountered a sight, which immobilised their throbbing hearts. A woman lied, with her left arm twisted into an awkward, unnatural position, panting for breath. As they explored the nature of her injuries, the female companion gasped, as she observed the two red pin pricks on the woman's neck.
"What were you saying about, spirits, ghosts, spectres, the supernatural not existing?" quipped Ace.
"It's just a coincidence. Evidently, this psychopath wants the town folk to think there's a vampire, so that they don't come looking for him." replied Will, nervously.
"Sure, sure…" mocked Ace, as she pulled a packet of a white crystalline substance out of her bag.
"What are you doing?" asked Will, as he crouched over the woman, tending to her wounds.
"It's called a halo of salt. Apparently, no evil, debased spirit can enter the circle." she answered.
"Good. Good. My first aid kit's missing the antiseptic. Would you have any in your bag?" enquired Will.
"I think so, just let me take out my bible, silver stake and holy water." replied Ace.
In a wrinkle of time later, the air became stagnant and a bitter, numbing sensation consumed the three. A shadow appeared in the doorway, causing both Will and Ace to rise from their sitting positions. A man as pale and thin as a sheet of paper entered the room, his sable locks billowing in the squall.
"I was not aware I had two additional guests. How rude I must appear in your eyes. May I have your forgiveness and perhaps we shall proceed into the sitting room for tea?" asked the man.
"You are too kind, Sir Lachlan. However, I fear it is too late to make amends." replied Ace.
"It seems I am at a great disadvantage. You are acquainted with my name, but I do not know any of yours. May I seek an introduction?" articulated Sir Lachlan, showing his elongated canines.
"You have forgotten me, have you?" asked Ace, as she stepped out of the confines of the circle.
"Isabella…" he breathed, astounded.
"You do remember…" drawled Isabella, stepping forwards
"I am sorry" replied Sir Lachlan, remorse in his claret eyes.
"As am I," responded Isabella, as she hurled the silver stake into his heart.