Everything around him was still and dark, as Crane stood at the top of the stairs, determined to discover anything he could on the little witch.
He had his head cocked to the slightly ajar door that was to his left, and stood for a while, contemplating on if he should enter. There was nothing particularly special about it, though there was the risk that the little Epi was just asleep on the other side. He stood listening for a sigh, a snore, or a spring of a bed, but there was not a single noise, so the man unapologetically proceeded to peek inside further.
He slowly pushed open the door as it softly squawked and let a cone of soft light filter out the pitch black beyond. The man, as curious as he was, did not pass the threshold as he still wasn't sure if this was Epithumia's room.
Giving his eyes time to adjust, he followed the cone of light from its brightest, at the beginning of the door, in and saw the wood floor, then the edges of a tasseled rug, and then the redwood of a bed frame.
Jonathan's eyes squinted as they strained to see further, and saw it was a half canopy bed, with a patchwork quilt as a comforter, and that no one was sleeping in it.
He grinned and sought to finally step into the room, but his eyes kept adjusting to show the dark corner that was just beyond that bed. There was a tall window, and a nightstand, but there was also a black mass that appeared to become bigger and blacker the longer he stared.
Jonathan watched it evolve into the shape of a massive humanoid. There were no defining details to its face or any outline of clothing or hair, but Crane knew it was staring him down. The cunning man's demeanor dramatically changed as the icy glare seemed to drain him of his mobilization.
The thing slowly approached, as its form glided across the floor, and issued what can only be described as a low, rumbling, growl. Jonathan felt his whole body shutter, and the electric surge, from every hair on his body standing on end, seemed to give his legs the needed charge to finally start taking steps back and away from the room.
The mass did not pursue him beyond the frame of the door, but instead let out a final growl, before the door abruptly slammed shut, seemingly on its own.
Jonathan's fear was quickly replaced with fascination, as he stood and continued to observe the door to the room. After a moment of silence, he heard the pitter-patter of bare feet on the wood as he turned to see Epithumia rushing out of the room behind him in a silk robe.
"Jonathan?!"
She grabbed his arm and pulled him further back as she had pieced enough of the situation together at finding him staring at the guest bedroom.
"Did you go in?!"
The woman frantically looked him over, as a mother would to a child that had just fallen, and he calmly stopped her hands from searching him.
"Ms. Bashem, I'm fine."
He heard her release the breath she had been holding and watched her step away and cross her arms.
The man had gone through his analysis of the situation in his head and had formed a firm understanding of several facts. Those facts being that with the question Epithumia asked him, she knew what was on the other side of that door, therefore it is supposed to be there, and it was not the demon that was hunting him. He did know, however, that even though that thing was not out to get him, it was a threat in some way, as the little witch was as white as a sheet with worry.
"Is that another one of your demons?"
Anger quickly took over her panicked face.
"Don't call him that, please, and no, he's just a wandering soul."
Jonathan's eyebrows raised at the humor that he found in hearing that.
"So, you have demons in your forest, a ghost in your house, and you yourself are a witch. Are you going to introduce me to the vampire in your attic?"
"This house doesn't have an attic."
Her expression remained serious and Jonathan found himself sighing, displeased that the joke had clearly gone over her head.
"Did you finish your toxin?"
She unskillfully changed the subject, but he left it alone as he wasn't going to press her that late into the night, or in truth that early in the morning.
"I did. It didn't take me as long as I had thought it would."
"Well, I think it would be best if you slept in my room tonight."
Jonathan immediately felt a small lump form in his throat, that he could not swallow no matter how hard he tried, and at that moment, he became hyper-aware of her silk robe.
The fabric wasn't transparent, but it was in a way luscious and it only further wrung his unease.
The witch naturally didn't recognize his change in demeanor, and before he could protest, she continued, "I will be downstairs on the couch if you need anything."
It was Jonathan's turn to find his breath, and he felt his shoulders drop as the tension left him.
"Would you like me to change the sheets for you before I go?"
"No, that won't be necessary, thank you."
She nodded understandingly, called for Drine, and left him to her room.
He didn't bother to look around, as he closed the door behind him, the search for information had lost its thrill for the night, and he had found that his exhaustion had caught up to him.
The man kicked off his shoes and plopped onto the unmade bed, letting the soft comfort drag him to sleep.
Jonathan wasn't sure of the time, as there were no digital clocks, but something told him that he had only been asleep for three hours as his head and eyes hurt from lack of rest. He didn't move, as he planned to go back to sleep, but he did glance around the dark space.
Epithumia's feminine silhouette was just in front of the window, at least that was what the doctor first thought when he saw her, but the longer he looked and the more awake he became, he could clearly see that it was not her.
The woman was a few inches taller than the witch; her hair was lighter and in a Gibson Girl fluffed style, and instead of wearing a silk robe she was sporting a long white nightgown, that touched the floor.
Before vanishing, she flashed a kind and gentle smile at Jonathan, and without a word, he dozed back off.
By morning, Jonathan woke up in the unfamiliar, large, and white canopy bed, and recalled the events of the previous night. He headed downstairs, where he was greeted warmly by Epithumia and a hearty breakfast.
There was bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, bagels, and fruit on a large plate waiting for him, and he greedily began to help himself, not remembering the last time he had had such a satisfying meal.
Upon finishing his meal, Epithumia tapped his shoulder and beckoned him to follow her to which she led him outside and around the house to the back.
She looked up to a window on the second floor, that had a long ivy trail to the ground floor that had begun to wrap around the iron of a small fence. When Jonathan followed her gaze, he briefly saw the black mass that he had encountered before, and once it disappeared, Epithumia spoke up.
"His name was Dennis Sinclair and he was not a good man. In the year of 1925, the Dunmar family, along with their youngest daughter Flossy, were resting peacefully, asleep in their beds, when Dennis targeted their home."- Epi pointed at the ivy climb – "He made his way up these vines and entered into what was then Flossy's room. Dennis then murdered everyone in the house and took what he could carry, but while he was finishing up a servant from the garden house, that's at the beginning of my driveway, was approaching to check on her masters after hearing the gunshots. Dennis figured he would simply exit the way he came while the servant entered the house, but as he did so he fell and landed on the spikes of this fence, killing himself."
As she gestured down, Jonathan saw where the iron was still bent from what he could only assume was the accident.
"The house was empty for roughly twenty years before I came along, and I've lived here ever since. Flossy is a spirit here too and I've succeeded in consoling her, but Dennis never exits that room and rarely speaks. The only thing I know is no one can be allowed to step into that bedroom."
Jonathan's early morning awakening came back to him in a haze, "I believe I've already met Flossy."
Epi chuckles and started to head back inside.
"I'm not surprised, as she is quite the social butterfly."