It was late morning when Constance made her way to the House for her daily visit. Behind her padded little Michael on his stubby toddler feet, as usual he was happy to be visiting favorite place.
Constance loved to see her little one happy but she found it harder and harder to push aside the unease that came from having the boy there. But he was always so drawn to it. It was hard to deny him. Several times in the middle of the night, she had found him missing from his crib and after hours of frantic searching would find him running around the damned house.
"Come on my little angel." She cooed out to him. He giggled happily making her smile wider.
"You are just so perfect and beautiful," she murmured lovingly when he finally made it into the warmth of her embrace. She parted his curly blond locks from his face, and place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Come on now lets head inside."
Inside the house, she made her way to the kitchen where she found Moria wiping down the counter.
"You do realize that there is no one to clean up after," she said dryly, "or is your life so miserable and pathetic that you're cleaning up after imaginary messes now?" She added sitting on one of the stool at the central counter space, Michael seated in her lap.
Moria remained silent keeping her back to her.
Constance was unfazed by the maid's usual coldness, they'd known each other for so long it was hard to tell if they could even be called enemies still. Even though she felt no regret about putting a bullet through the whore's eye she couldn't deny a certain bond the two shared as not only women, but also as women so closely tied to this house.
"It seems the police are looking into the Harmon's disappearance again. Those morons will never give it a rest." Michael began squirming in her arms and Constance moved to settle him gently on the ground. The little boy trotted away instantly once free from her embrace.
"Normally I wouldn't care, but these two have to be the handsomest law enforcement officers I have ever seen, albeit a tad half-witted." She giggled patting her hair and adjusting her jewelry.
"Have there been any visits here?" She asked toying with one of the large pearl earrings that hung from her ears.
Moria kept her back to Constance, but there was a subtle but sudden rigidness the blonde woman noticed in the maid's frame.
"Well are you going to answer you daft tramp?" Constance brayed.
"Yes old lady Moria, why don't we answer Constance, hm?" Hayden suddenly appeared and came striding into the kitchen.
"Little Miss Pin-up here had quite the interesting guests over late last night, and you'll be as shocked as I was to discover that she did not blow either of them."
Hayden took a seat beside Constance, who shifted slightly away from her, her face colored with distaste.
"Is that so?" Constance asked coldly, her eyes staring daggers into Moria's back.
"Mhm." Answered Hayden for the silent maid. "Now you said the two police men you had at your place yesterday were quite handsome didn't you Constance?"
"I did." Constance answered the ghost begrudgingly. "One was tall with darker hair and blue eyes, I fancied him the most." She continued a small smile playing on the edges of her mouth. "The other was shorter, gruffer, but still very handsome, he had lips like a woman's and pretty green eyes. Why do you ask?"
Hayden stood from the stool and slinked over to Moria. Beside the maid, she leaned back against the counter crossing her arms.
"That's really interesting Constance, last night we also had two guys over here who fit you exact description, and they definitely weren't FBI. Isn't that right Moria?"
Moria turned to meet Constance's cold stare. "They mean to rid this house of all the spirits and whatever evil they seem to think inhabits it." She answered matter-of-factly. "I merely tried to convince them out of it. However, they seem hell-bent on their mission. It's only a matter of time before they come to permanently reside here as well." She finished and turned back to face the counter.
Hayden sneered at Moria and turned to face Constance. "Well I thought they were cute," she said walking back to stand beside the blonde woman. She picked up a plastic apple from the centerpiece, toying with it. "It'd be nice to have some more new faces—especially those faces around. Don't you think Constance?"
"Keep me out of whatever ridiculous plot it is you have in mind little girl." She responded coolly. Her eyes were still focused on Moria. The ugly whore was planning something, she could tell. "You've always been a pathetic liar." She said to the maid standing from her stool. She walked around the counter to stand beside Moria. "You may only have one useful eye, but it's enough to tell quite plainly when you're trying to be deceitful. And you can try all you want, and drag any poor innocent soul down in the process." She leaned in closer causing the maid to flinch. "The truth sweetheart is, that you're going to live out the rest of your miserable existence in this house where you belong."
Constance smirked to see Moria's eyelids flutter. Convinced she had knocked the maid out of whatever fairytale dream she was having she turned briskly and walked out of the kitchen to find Michael. She should have nothing to fear, but it would still be an inconvenience to have anyone meddling with her peace.
She found little Michael in the living room looking down at the unlit fireplace silently. "What are you up to you little devil," she cooed picking him up.
Michael began to struggle in her grasp, a crying softly, his words jumbles of toddler speak.
"Now, now sweetheart. That's enough playtime for today" Constance said sternly still trying to hold him within her grasp.
Suddenly, little Michael let out an ear-piercing scream, in front of them, a vase sitting on the mantel cracked and the unlit fireplace suddenly caught flame burning brilliantly. Startled, Constance dropped the boy who stood up unhurt and returned to staring at the now blazing hearth.
"Alright then," she said her voiced strained, "you can play around for a little while longer."
Michael remained silent and unmoving as Constance staggered to sit at a recliner. From her seat, she stared at the boy, watching the orange and yellow light of the fire dance across his young face. She felt a desperate uneasiness creeping on her, the same uneasiness that seemed her constant companion for every moment Tate had been in her life.
She had been a different woman then though, foolish and blind to how much her son had needed her, and she stood by daftly as the cruel world took the only important thing in her life.
Feeling her resolve return, she stood from her recliner and walked over to Michael crouching down beside him, She brought her hand up to stroke his blonde curls gently, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Don't you worry my little angel," she whispered into his ear. "The world might never know how special you are, but I do. I won't ever let anyone hurt you…" She turned to look at the flames too the embers mirroring the fierce determination in her eyes. "My little Tate."