Welcome and thank you! I can only assume that the reason you're on the second chapter is that you liked the first one (or need a ton of material to really rip into me with during your review) In either case thank you for taking the time to read my work. This chapter will introduce you and Mia to the Prince's household. Also a few more clues will be dropped about the pottery. I hope you enjoy this chapter even more then you did the previous one.
Blood on Antiques: A Tale of Detroit
Part the Second: Down The Rabbit Hole
Mia woke with a start, she was in a car driving down a tree lined lane. She lifted her head and looked into the smiling face of Steven Kleist, his lips curled upwards as she slowly sat up. "I trust you slept well?" His voice was warm and cultured, it floated and danced through the air to caress her skin. She shivered slightly at the pure pleasure of it, in her chest her heart began a quick staccato of beats.
"Wh...where?" Her voice seemed groggy and confused. She blinked her eyes and tried to get her bearings. Steven kept smiling as he gracefully picked up a small Styrofoam cup and offered it to her.
"We are en route to my estate, we should arrive in a few moments." Mia groaned and gripped her head, it felt as though every aspect of her mind had been tossed about wildly. She just now seemed to recall how Mr. Kleist had invited her to come to his home, how Fiona and Dr. Hibbert had encouraged her to go. How even Mrs. Tintagel had seemed to think it a marvelous idea. Mia rubbed her temples softly.
"Oh...yes, I knew that. I'm sorry, I just feel very....odd."
"Forget about it, no insult taken. Here, drink this. It will make you feel better." Mia nodded thankfully and took the offered cup. She sniffed at the dark liquid and smiled to herself. Dear man, he'd gotten her coffee. She sipped at it a few times, the rich warm flavors filling her mouth and clearing her head of fog.
"Thank you," she finally managed. "I'm sorry, I really can't believe I just slipped off like that."
"No apologies necessary, I totally understand what too much devotion and too little sleep can lead to." Mia blushed slightly and nodded her head. Steven smiled as he turned and motioned out the window. "Ah, here we are. Ms. Chasten, may I welcome you to my humble home." Mia leaned close to her window as she looked at the massive building. It was large enough to probably hold hundreds easily. Towers rose elegantly from it, and a vast and lush garden lawn stretched out before it. They drove along a gravel lined path that swept elegantly through the lawn before finally settling before the grand wooden entryway.
"My word," Mia gasped, "it's amazing."
"I thought you'd like it," said Steven with a contented grin. "My great great grandfather had it shipped over from Germany piece by piece."
"Amazing, how much restoration?"
"Limited, we try to maintain the original structure as much as possible." Mia grinned widely as the car drove closer to the huge building.
"And this, this shall be your room," said Steven as he wheeled her inside. Mia's eyes widened in surprise. The room was huge, far too large for her to ever find a use for all the space. A four poster bed sat to one side, nearby was a massive wardrobe dresser and settee set before a mirror and makeup table. Mia shook her head in surprise, between this and the restoration room she now had a larger area to work in then she had ever had at Tintagel Antiques. She still recalled her awe at her first sight of the work area he had set up next to her room. Itcontained a massive collection of tools. Mia's jaw had dropped in surprise as she looked at the large assortment of restoration devices. The room was perhaps even better stocked then her workroom. Her mind snapped back to the present as she realized Steven was talking to her. "I trust you will be comfortable here."
"I think I'll manage..."
"I'm afraid I must leave you now, I have much business to attend to. When I return we shall see about getting you started on my collection. Feel free to explore the house, I have already alerted my servants to your presence. However, do not head into the basement levels. I have some important items there that I'm afraid must remain confidential for the sake of my business."
And with that warning Steven kissed her hand and was gone. Mia looked around the expansive room. She was still in some mild shock at being here. It was without a doubt a great opportunity, she could probably have spent the whole week happily investigating any one room of the mansion. Also there was the pleasant possibility of a greater understanding of her feelings for Steven. But....something in the back of Mia's head suggested there was something wrong about all this, though what it was she had no idea.
Mia shook her head in awe as she investigated her room. The wardrobe was fully stocked with a wide array of clothes. She was mildly surprised that each and every one had been tailored to her exact size. She shook her head and turned to look over the large work area, it was all perfect. Every conceivable piece of gear she would ever need was present. She grinned in happy glee as she found a large assortment of textbooks and research notes tucked in a shelf near the back of the room. She wouldn't even need to worry about lack of reference materials.
Mia finally worked up her nerve and pushed her wheelchair out of her room and into the rest of the large dark house. The first few rooms she poked her head into were large and well furnished, but the furniture was covered in cloth. Apparently Steven found little use for most of the vast house. Mia wheeled over to the stairs, she pulled the lever Steven had shown her and summoned the elevator. She had been surprised to find such a modern convenience worked into the ancient building, but was pleased to have an easy way to travel between floors.
Feeling a mild pang of hunger Mia decided to concentrate her search on the kitchen. Being familiar with Germanic architecture of the period she easily located the dining room. The room was large and appeared little used. However it had obviously recently been thoroughly cleaned. She spotted the door that would be for the servants, and wheeled up to it. As she reached for the door she paused. There was an odd thump from the door, then another. Curious, and eager to find some type of life within the thus far uninhabited building, she opened the door.
The knife slashed through the air over her head. Mia squeaked in terror as she felt her hair shift from the blade whizzing past. From behind her there was a solid thud as the knife embedded in the wall. Mia looked in shock at the target hung upon the door, and the three knives already stuck into it. All at the bulls-eye. She looked up to see a young man dressed in black slacks and a white chef's apron. Long dark hair hung in wild spirals around his face as he glared at her.
"Hello," Mia ventured as she felt her heart start up again.
"You should learn to knock before coming into a room," said the young man as he walked towards her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," The man walked past her and quickly pulled the knife out of the wall. "My name is..."
"Mia Chasten, I know who you are."
"Um, yes. I'm really very sorry."
The man walked back into the kitchen, Mia followed him in slowly and shut the door. She looked around, the kitchen was large, but apparently only a small section saw any use. There was also a worn wooden table near a wall, some cards and a vase of flowers sat on it. Mia smiled, here was a spot that had been lived in, here where the servants played and joked about their day. She smiled more, she could hardly imagine Steven's servants joking about him. The knife slashed through the air, it thudded into the bulls-eye.
"Good shot," Mia offered, the young man simply walked over and pulled the knives from the board. "I don't believe we've met, what's your name?"
"You can call me Cook," he walked back to the far wall and turned back to the target.
"Hello Cook, it's nice to meet you."
"If you say so." His arm snapped out, the knife slapped into the bulls-eye. Mia couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around this man, there was something in his eyes and the way he moved. Animalistic, almost feral. It was as though he didn't belong here.
"I hope you don't mind me being here..."
"Should I," his dark eyes glared at her from under his wild dark hair, Mia shivered.
"No, I don't think so," she stammered."
"Good," another knife, another thud, another bulls-eye.
Mia was about three seconds away from giving up and just going to bed hungry when a door at the back of the kitchen opened. Two figures entered, one was a young woman, she wore a maid's outfit which highly complimented her pale blue eyes and long red hair. Mia shifted self-consciously, the woman looked like she could be a model or actress. She certainly had that statuesque noble quality about her somehow. Walking next to her came a powerfully built man. He was tall and broad shouldered, though his face did have a slightly relaxing boyish look to it. Mia knew him as one of the men who usually accompanied Steven. Both of them came up short with surprise as they spotted Mia.
"Um, hello," Mia said as she waved weakly, "I was just...um."
"You were just trying to get something to eat maybe," asked the maid with a grin.
"Yes, I'm famished."
"Well, the kitchen would be the right place to go then," chuckled the maid as she quickly dashed over to a cabinet. "I hope you're okay with some sandwiches, I'm not much of a cook."
"A sandwich sounds great," said Mia as the large man helped her over to the table.
Mia spent the next two hours with them in the kitchen. The maid's name was Phoebe, she had apparently worked for Mr. Kleist for the last three years. Mia found Phoebe to be rather likable, the young girl was well educated, and more then willing to talk about anything. The large man was more withdrawn, it took Mia the first hour just to get his name out of him. Apparently Scott and his friends were used as Mr. Kleist's aides in all matters, and he was almost never without at least two of them.
Once Mia had coaxed him out of his shell Scott proved rather likable as well. He was actually surprisingly well aquatinted with antiques, at least as far as weapons go. Mia soon had him engaged on a lively dispute concerning the pros and cons of various pole-arms. Cook remained mostly silent through the whole meal. He never sat, never ate, and offered as little response to any question as he could. He spent most of his time throwing his knives into the target hung on the door. Occasionally he would pause and simply stare at her. Mia found she had an almost immediate dislike for him. There was something about his eyes that made him appear unnatural and unhealthy. Not to mention his stares left her rather uncomfortable.
Finally Mia's eyes began to droop and Phoebe suggested she retire. Scott offered to escort her back to her room. Mia tried to ask him a bit about Mr. Kleist's job and past. However Scott instantly grew silent on the subject, he claimed to know little to nothing, Mia didn't quite believe him. Scott wished her a good nights rest and closed her door. Mia, being fully exhausted by the day, quickly pulled herself into bed and fell into a deep slumber.
"I don't like her," snarled Malachi as he crouched on top of a counter.
"That is beside the point," Steven said as he eyed his three retainers, "what did you think of her?"
"She seems educated and kind," offered Phoebe, "though I don't think she has much practical world experience."
"Agreed, Scott said, "I think she is unaware of her real purpose for being here. Though she does seem to suspect something is amiss, she questioned me about you somewhat."
"Good," Steven grinned, "I hoped to peak her curiosity somewhat."
"I don't like her." Steven turned to regard his personal assassin. Malachi glared back at him, his dark hair obscuring his features somewhat. But Steven could still spot the ember of hatred burning in the back of his eyes. He fully knew how dangerous this tool of his was. A sharp and deadly knife that could spill his blood as readily as others. Should he bend, or push back? Steven frowned at Malachi, the prince wasn't in the habit of bending for anyone.
"I trust that you shall treat her with more kindness in the future." Steven's cold gaze bored into Malachi. He watched the scowl deepen on the killer's face.
"I don't like cooking, I don't like talking, I don't like her."
"Inconsequential, I need you to keep an eye on her. Do you understand?"
"Yes," growled the dark figure. Steven grinned to himself, even a knife realized it still needed the arm and hand to wield it.
"Good, I think tomorrow we shall see what we can learn about that piece of pottery."
Mia blinked her eyes slowly as she sat up in bed. She sighed and stifled a yawn as she glanced over at the amazing grandfather clock that sat in the room. She had spent quite a bit of time last night just marveling at the fine work on it. Now however her eyes were drawn with alarm to the time. "Eleven-twenty," she muttered to herself in shock. Oh geez, this wouldn't look good on her first official day of work. She reached wildly into her nearby bags and randomly grabbed some clothes out of them. She dressed quickly and then pulled herself out of bed and into her waiting wheelchair. Still trying to buckle her second shoe she wheeled quickly to the door.
"Holy sh-!" She felt the thump even as she swung the door quickly open. Her eyes widened in shock and chagrin as she wheeled out into the hallway and looked behind the door. Laying on his back and holding a nose that was starting to leak some blood was Scott. Strewn about on the floor were piles of linens and towels.
"Oh no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't..." Mia frantically tried to simultaneously help him up, pull out her handkerchief, and help pick up the dropped items. She spectacularly managed to not only fail all of these tasks, but to bop him in the nose with one hand while her other accidentally dropped her shoe over the edge of the balcony.
"Ow," let out Scott as he dropped back from her unintentional shove of the handkerchief into his nose, Mia was already staring in shock as the shoe arced away to clatter noisily onto an antique table below.
"Oh the table!" She half fell out of her chair in shock, then turned it as if she could rush down and save it from the impact. Her wheels instead got tangled in a towel. "The towels!" Mia looked up again recalling how this had started, " your nose, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Here!" This time she was very slow in offering him the small scrap of cloth, it had some blood on it already from the previous impact. Scott sat there quietly, apparently waiting to make sure she was quite done. Mia began to chew her lower lip nervously as she looked in wide eyed worry at him. "Ah, I'm really very, very, very sorry. Sorry about the door, and the shoe, and the nose, and the linens, and the-"
"Hold on one second," he muttered as he held up his hand as if to stem the verbal barrage for a few moments. He carefully scooted back from her and stood up again.
"Hey! What the hell's going on up there?" Mia's eyes widened in fear as she heard the second voice arc up from the great hall.
"Nothing Mark, Ms. Chasten just woke up," Scott said with a half grin as he looked at her tangled amongst the fallen sheets, holding a bloody handkerchief, and with one bare white socked foot sticking straight out.
"Oh, good," came the voice again, then it paused and issued a low chuckle. "Does she want her shoe back?" Mia had thought her face couldn't get much redder, she was wrong. She lowered her head and allowed some of her wild hair to drape across her crimson face.
"I think so, bring it on up." Scott finished pinching his nose and let go, he'd probably have a bruise tomorrow. "Good morning Ms. Chasten, I trust you slept well."
"Yes," she wondered if it was too late to go back to bed.
"Good, here looks like you could use a hand getting untangled."
"Um...yeah," maybe she could just crawl under her bed.
"This oughta make a good story for lunch. I bet Phoebe loves it."
"Oh, good," maybe even hide inside a pillowcase.
"Hey everybody, drop something?" Mia looked up as another of the hulking and ominous shadowy guards of Steven walked up the stairs and towards them. Mia had at first thought they almost had looked alike, but was now starting to spot differences, this one was a little shorter and slightly broader then Scott. His face also lacked some of the innocent boyish charm, though he did have an odd twinkle in his eye. So this must be Mark, in one hand he had her shoe. She winced at the black leather and wood bottomed shoe, she should have opted for some sneakers. It would have cut down on the chance of damaging the table. But she had gotten into the habit of wearing the more formal shoes when meeting clients. 'A young woman must always present herself as a lady' echoed the familiar voice of Mrs. Tintagel in her mind. 'A young woman must always present herself presentably' came the unbidden recollection of Fiona's impression of her sister.
"Good recovery job there Mark," said Scott with his flashing grin. "Do you think you can handle the princely responsibilities that come with it?" Mia blushed even further and hid her face in her hands. Forget bed, under bed, or pillow. Maybe she could just crawl into her bellybutton and disappear for good.
"What?" asked Mark in confusion.
"He's referring to the fairy tale of Cinderella," muttered Mia through her hands, "about a woman who has to live in a house and make a fool of herself to those who live there."
"Hey, hey," stammered Scott, suddenly looking worried. "I was only going so far as the shoe reference. I think you're giving me too much credit in the brains department." Mia flushed again, now she was so worked up she was pulling insults out of the air, and managing to embarrass one of the few friends she had so far in this house.
"Well she could hardly give you too little credit," muttered Mark as he knelt and slipped the shoe on. He easily buckled it on as he grinned up at her. "Hell of a first day, huh?"
"I think I'm still trying to get through the first morning," Mia glanced down at the slightly bloody cloth in her hand, then over at Scott as he was gathering up the fallen linens. "I'm really very sorry, I didn't mean to hit you, I didn't mean to insult you. The Cinderella thing, well, I'm sorry, so sorry." Mark grinned as Scott looked up worriedly and waved away her apologies.
"Relax, really. No harm done. You've got to be the most jumpy bundle of nerves I've ever seen."
"It's in my upbringing. I'm so sorry."
"You don't have to keep apologizing."
"Yeah, well, you don't have to keep forgiving me." Scott grinned at her and patted her hand reassuringly.
"Trust me, if I was going to be taken out by a worried researcher and a door I wouldn't have gotten this job. Besides, maybe you should check on that table?"
"The table!" Mia's eyes widened again as she spun her chair in a tight circle and shot off. She swung rapidly through the work area to pick up some supplies and wheeled into the elevator, spinning around even as she slid into it. "Don't worry, I'm sure that I can fix any damage so that no-" The closing doors cut off her worried explanation. Mark chuckled again and glanced over at Scott.
"You going to tell her she has her blouse on inside out?"
"I think we'll wait till after she's calmed down over the table incident," sighed Scott as he gingerly touched his broken nose.
"That one's a little ball of energy," said Mark with a shake of his head.
"You're telling me," Scott agreed with a smirk. Both he and Mark leaned over to peer down into the main hall. Mia waved worridly at them as she quickly wheeled up to the table and began to look it over. Her hands delicately dancing over the damaged wood.
"I can see why the boss was interested in her." This last statement left both men quiet. They simply watched as Mia began to croon and fuss over the table. Not only cleaning up the minor scuff she had caused, but fixing a few more notable marks that they had caused themselves a week ago during some roughhousing. They hadn't mentioned it to the boss yet, now there seemed to be no more need. Mark grinned as he nodded to Scott.
"I like her already, what say we leave the shoe incident out of our reports?"
"Deal."
"Well I understand you've already met Mark, and I know you remember Scott," chatted Phoebe as she set out some plates for the gathered staff. They had all gathered for lunch, for Mia it was going to be breakfast. "The smaller one," though Mia noted he was only small in comparison to his comrades, "is Ivan. He does most of the driving for the boss."
"Hey Ivan, nice to meet you," said Mia happily as she shook his hand. He grinned back and nodded at her.
"Just for the record I don't take doors in the face as well as some others do," the guards chuckled, Mia felt a tinge of warmth in her cheeks as she blushed again. "Don't worry, you couldn't have hurt anything important. You hit him in the head after all." More chuckles, Ivan grinned. Right, thought Mia, this was obviously the sarcastic and joking one. Scott was the too nice one. Mark was the tricky one. She glanced over at the last man, he was even bigger then the others.
"Ah, that is William," said Phoebe as she began placing sandwiches out for the group, "he isn't big on socializing. But, trust me, he's just a big teddy bear." William nodded politely at her. The big quiet one, got it. The four men sat together comfortably, their flashing smiles and laughter belying their grim jaws and broad shoulders. Mia grinned, they almost reminded her of her brothers. It was sort of nice to have the pleasantly informal meal, it helped ease some of her tensions.
"Very nice to meet all of you," she said brightly.
"Likewise," Mark said as he grabbed his sandwich, "it's not often one of the boss's friends opts to come visit with us. Much less actually ask our names!"
"Really, I guess most of Mr. Kleist's friends are from a slightly different social standing," said Mia as she looked down at her plate. "Um, not to try and sound unhappy with the meal, but where is Cook?" There was a very slight flicker of odd emotions from them, the four men all glanced at one another. Mia suspected that they perhaps shared some of her odd feelings towards the eerie man.
"Cook went out to shop for supplies," said Phoebe smoothly as she sat down next to Mia. "He'll probably be out most of the day."
"Oh," Mia tried to hide her relief. "In any case, when should I get started on my job?" Her eye lit up slightly, she felt her usual rush of energy at the thought of more work. She did rather enjoy the mystery and effort of recreating the past.
"Mr. Kleist has requested you wait for him. He wishes to discuss the work personally," said Scott.
"That's understandable, I wouldn't want a stranger pawing around in my collection. When will he be back?"
"Tonight," Mark said, "he runs a very busy schedule."
"You don't say. No wonder he had that stress attack. Can you imagine the sort of hours he must run? But, um, why aren't you guys with him. Aren't you his drivers and aides?"
"We handle the household a lot," said Scott, "besides he usually needs us to keep an eye on him more at night then now. He usually spends all of the day secure in his...office." Mia nodded happily and allowed the conversation to drift off into other topics. She couldn't help but notice that the others loosened up quite a bit when they stopped discussing Steven. She found the group rather fun, Mark proved to be the scamp she had him pegged for as he kept offering up some rather lewd jokes and innuendoes. Mia suspected Mrs. Tintagel would have dragged him off to wash his mouth out with soap. As it turned out Ivan was a gem, and actually somewhat shy around women. Mia found it quite easy to turn him against Mark, who quickly quieted down to escape the barrage of friendly abuse. Scott was polite, and kind enough not to mention anything about shoes or blouses. William remained quiet.
Finally the men wandered off to do their chores, leaving Mia and Phoebe to clear out the kitchen. Phoebe in turn took the chance to give Mia a tour of the outside of the house. Steven apparently owned the land in all directions for a fair distance, making the house more like an estate manor of old. He, of course, also turned out to own a stable of horses. Mia eyed the perfect and spirited creatures warily. Phoebe, noting her dark mood, quickly led her over to the kennel.
"C'mere Colin! That's a good doggie," laughed Phoebe. Mia watched in awe as a massive Labrador that looked like it could have torn Phoebe apart happily bounded over and nuzzled up to her. "The boss let's me take care of the dogs," said Phoebe as she hugged the massive beast affectionately. "Colin's my favorite, the others aren't so nice. Steven wanted them to be trained guard dogs y'know." Mia eyed the dark and surly crew, they looked their part.
"Why does this not surprise me," said Mia with a small grin. She looked away from the pack of dark dogs and looked again at the stables and the large mansion. "He just want's to be a lord, like back in the days of yore. I guess the position would appeal to his mindset."
"You have no idea how well," murmured Phoebe as she patted Colin firmly. The big dog grinned widely up at her as he pressed into her leg, begging for more. "Trust me, don't try to play with any of them but Colin. Some of those little blighters are downright vicious."
"Stay away from the evil dogs, check." Mia watched the dark and powerful creatures as they lurked around the kennel. Something about them reminded her of Cook, the dark and brooding looks of barely restrained rage. She decided she liked those dogs about as much as him. She looked down at Colin as the large mutt sidled up to her and planted his head into her lap. 'A young lady should never appear outdoorsy, it robs her of her mystique and elegance' Mia suspected Mrs. Tintagel would never play with a dog. She grinned at Colin and rubbed his head and ears, his large tail thumped happily on the grass. Well...what Mrs. Tintagel didn't know...
"My word," said Mia as she gently ran the dust cloth along the gilded frame of the picture.
"Do you like it?"
"It's incredible, hand carved?"
"Of course." Mia sat before a work table, dozens of exquisite pieces lay around her. She was currently working on removing the thick dust that was choking and obscuring the beauty of a late Renaissance picture frame. She smiled in soft pleasure as the gleaming wood was revealed to her. Steven sat in the corner, watching.
"How did you ever let this piece become so dusty."
"I managed to forget about it."
Mia looked up at him in shock, "you forgot about a 14th century picture frame?"
"Yes, I have so many pieces from the era."
"Mr. Kleist, you continue to surprise me."
"One does try." Mia laughed softly as she picked up some wood polish. She softly began oiling up the wood, restoring its sheen and natural glory. As she was finishing up the piece she was already eyeing the next one. An ancient Germanic broadsword, with an intact scabbard! She could only imagine how much that item would be worth. She glanced over at Steven, he still sat calmly in his chair, eyeing her intently. Unlike Cook's gaze Mia found this one strangely pleasant and reassuring.
"So tell me, what pieces did you bring to work on?"
"Hmmm?"
"From Tintagel's, you had my men pick up some pieces. The parchments, and some pottery..."
"Oh yes, I suppose I'll never find the time to work on them now."
"What are those pieces like."
"Oh my, you'd simply have to see the parchments to believe them. They're from around 1482 and are in great shape. I've restored the oils of the sheets and now they just seem to glow like liquid gold. You can still read at least 90% of the original writing and I've mixed up some inks to repair about-"
"Yes that's nice," cut in Steven, Mia quickly quieted down. She cursed to herself, she'd been about to keep talking far too much. "What about the pottery?"
"Yes, a very nice piece from a dig near Jerusalem. We haven't dated it or translated the writing, but it stands to be a very interesting item," Mia forced herself to cut off her speech before she started to ramble on about a piece again. "Why are you so intrigued by it?"
"No reason, it just caught my eye."
"Yes, I remember," she glanced up from the picture frame and glanced at him, "when you collapsed." Steven smiled gently and waved away her concerns.
"Don't worry about that, nothing but nerves and exhaustion." He stood up and brushed his finger across his lips as he watched her. Mia fidgeted nervously, unsure what he saw in her to deserve such scrutiny. "Would you do me a favor?" The words spoken so suddenly had her jumping, eager to please him and show him what she was capable of.
"Of course."
"I must go, but when I get back I'd love to know what the writing on the pot means. Would you bother translating it for me?"
"Not at all, but I'd have to abandon-"
"Think nothing of it, you have a week here after all."
And with that Steven Kleist was gone, the polished wooden door shutting silently behind him. Mia sat in her chair and stared at the door for a long time.
"You will bring the pottery," Steven half snarled at her as his eyes bored holes into her head. "You shall forget about your old friends, they told you to come. You shall do as I ask, and then you will die for me sweet Mia....you will die!"
Mia's eyes fluttered open in terror as she sat bolt upright and yelped in fear. The large and empty room sat dark around her, the broadsword gleamed on the table in front of her. She groaned and placed a hand on her face and brushed her hair back. "Just a stupid dream," she muttered, annoyed that she had actually screamed. It had just seemed so real...The door swung inward as Scott and Mark burst in, both large men holding pistols in their hands.
"What's the matter," Scott asked her as he rushed over to her. Mark kept his gaze sweeping the room. His gun swept over the dark corners of the room as his eyes peered into the shadows.
"Oh no, this is great," Mia moaned as she buried her face in embarrassment into her hands. "I just had a dream, a stupid dream!" She was shocked to find her voice raising in fear or frustration on the last few words, she could feel the tears start to swell around the edges of her eyes. Irritated she tried blinking them back, thankful she had already hidden her face.
"Hey Mark, get back to post," said Scott as he placed his gun back into his jacket. The other guard nodded and slipped out the door, silently closing it again. Mia felt a large and strong hand gently rest on her shoulder. "It's okay, you didn't do anything to bother us. We're just usually on edge around here. Nothing to get upset about."
"I'm not upset," Mia half sobbed, "I...I just had a fright....It's nothing."
"It's the hours the boss makes people run," soothed Scott, "we all had to get used to them."
"I guess....but....oh, I just feel so stupid!" She did, her body was quaking as though it was in some insane danger. Everything in the house was seeming to make her suddenly very nervous and uneasy.
"Not a problem," continued Scott's deep and calm voice, "you want to talk about it, go get some sleep, have a bite to eat?"
"No...I still have a translation to make. I just need to calm down, I'll be okay, really." She forced herself to straighten again, lightly pressing against Scott to urge him back. He continued to look worried but did slowly step away. She wiped her face quickly and ran a hand through her hair to brush it into a less sleep disordered shape. "Really, I feel a lot better. Just jitters about being in such a strange new place I guess."
"Very well, I'll see you tomorrow then." With a silence that seemed unnatural to such a muscled beast of a man Scott slipped back out of the room. Mia sighed and rubbed her aching temples. She felt achy all over, and her mind felt like it had been hit by a hurricane. There was also a rather annoying tingle at the back of her spine, extra strange since she shouldn't even have feeling down there. She shook her head in annoyance and pulled out the pot, better to get this over with quickly. Then rest, a lot of rest.
Steven walked into his study, he paused. There was a note laying on the floor. He picked it up and smirked at the silliness of it all, like kids passing notes in class. His name was jotted across the outside of it. He unfolded it smoothly and easily read the flowing German the note was written in. Hello Steven, consider this your just reward. I was up to almost two-thirty trying to decipher ancient Hebrew, if you can't read German fluently then you can spend the morning trying to translate this. My little joke. The pot only had a simple message on it; Upon this were our sins lifted. I'm not sure what this means, but I'll get to researching it sometime tomorrow, after I've recovered, and if I find time away from restoring your collection. I'll see you then, -Mia.
"I don't like her," came the cold voice from the corner. Steven glanced up as Malachi hopped off his perch upon a desk in the corner of the room. Steven slipped the note into his pocket and turned to watch Malachi's approach. The assassin's eyes were narrowed, his hands curled in anger. Steven lifted one eyebrow as he stared at him.
"If that is all you are here to say I shall be most put out," Steven said calmly, but with a minor hint of annoyance in his voice. Malachi's stance suddenly changed, the violence seeming to fade away as if it was never there. He bowed his head slightly to Steven.
"Of course, master," came the almost mocking reply. Almost mocking...Malachi knew how not to cross that particular line. Steven allowed the near slip to pass, Malachi was too valuable to lose over such a minor transgression. "Scott wanted to make sure you knew that our dear Ms. Chasten is apparently suffering from night terrors."
"Really? Anything in particular?"
"He thinks maybe she's remembering exactly what happened that you made her forget."
"Hmmm," Steven glanced at his watch and shrugged, "no difficulty, there's time enough for a little visit tonight." Steven turned and began to head for her room.
Dr. Hibbert walked slowly up to the door. He paced around, almost rung the bell, and then began pacing again. His plan had seemed much easier to accomplish when he had been planning it out on the way over. Drat! Why did planning a plan always work out better then executing a plan? 'Plans were made to be plans' he thought with a bitter half laugh. If only he could shake that feeling of fear that Mr. Kleist had seemed to plant in him the other day. "Damn it Francis," he growled to himself, "you've dealt with religious fanatics, dictators, assorted savages, and bloody rebellions. You can handle one man." Thus resolved he pushed the doorbell. The door swung open almost immediately.
"Yes," asked the black suited wall of muscle who answered the door.
"Eh? You're William, right?"
"No sir, my name is Scott. We first met at the dig in Zaire."
"Oh yes, the sword enthusiast. I remember you now."
"That is good sir, may I help you?" Dr. Hibbert couldn't help but notice he hadn't been invited in, and Scott seemed to fill the doorway quite effectively.
"Ah, I was hoping to talk with Mia, I thought she'd like to catch up on all the excitement she's missing," Hibbert stammered. He hoped it would be enough to get him to a least check on how the poor girl was being treated.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Chasten is indisposed at the present time."
"Oh really," said Hibbert. There it was again, that sense that something wasn't right. "Could you mention to her it's me, I'm sure she'd like to talk to..."
"Miss Chasten is very busy, I cannot interrupt her. Mr. Kleist paid quite well for her time, let him have it." Hibbert scowled, something was definitely up.
"Um, drat this is embarrassing. Look, I need to ask her where she keeps the beta-hydroxide, I need it and can't seem to find..."
"She keeps her chemicals in the lower left cabinet, second shelf on the right," said Scott calmly. "They are all well labeled. I saw the beta-hydroxide there when we went in to get her things. Good day to you."
"Wa-wait!" Hibbert shoved his body as hard as he could against the door, Scott paused, apparently surprised by the bold move. Hibbert pressed his face in close as he pleaded to Scott. "I think she's in danger! Is she all right? What's going on in there?"
"Miss Chasten will be returned in good health sir," Scott said after a pause, Hibbert spotted a flash of something on his face. Fear? Anger? Concern? Hibbert wasn't sure. "You have my word, now I suggest you leave. It's not safe here for you. Good day." This time Scott closed the door, easily shoving Hibbert back with it. Hibbert cursed as he backed away and looked up at the ominous old house. He would need to come up with a better plan, he shook his head in annoyance as he turned and started the long walk back to his car.
She thrashed and struggled in the heavy covers of the bed, the dark figure easily pinned her down. His arm felt like a lead weight on her chest, she gasped and struggled for air. Her body twisted and writhed, the figure seemed to chuckle at the sight. Fangs flashed in the dark, he leaned towards her neck, Mia screamed and screamed
And screamed as she jerked to sudden wakefulness in her room. Mia moaned miserably as she buried her face with a pillow. Welcome back to the land of the living, she thought grimly. Care to join them? The answer was yes, she slowly dragged herself out of bed and reached for the dresser. There was a note on it. She half grinned as she picked it up; Mia, I was able to manage your German. Though I must report your grammar may still need work. In any case I am glad you found things so engrossing as to stay up so late with them. I have left a set of China for you to investigate and clean. I think some of it was supposedly Ming, some Luan, and some...others. I apologize for not being a better judge of ancient Chinese pottery, even my talents have their limit. -Steven. P.S. I would be honored if you would join me for dinner in the dining hall tonight at six.
Mia set the note down, her mind a swirling blur of thoughts. Tonight at six? She glanced at the clock and winced when she noticed it read half-past one. These hours were definitely ripping her sleep schedule to pieces. She promised herself to try to get to bed at a semi-normal hour tonight. Tonight....at six, he had signed Steven, a date of sorts, why couldn't he tell Ming from Luan, what should she wear? She blinked her eyes and groaned at the mental overload. She was always in the habit of trying to get too much done if she didn't pace herself. First things first.
They had set the shower up to accommodate her. She sat under the pounding droplets, trying to focus her mind more clearly on all she should still get done. For a moment she contemplated calling Fiona and asking what was proper attire for a first date, with an employer, at his house. She vaguely suspected that if Mrs. Tintagel knew she'd have a coronary then and there. This in itself almost had her call, she chuckled as she dried herself and contemplated her limited wardrobe. She was finally forced to settle for the same long skirt, dark stockings, white blouse ensemble she had worn when he had come to first buy the chalice. She didn't have anything else that even marginally passed as proper evening wear.
She then wheeled over to her workroom, sure enough the pottery was there. She easily identified the Luan by checking for the classic crinkled green finish look. Though one of them she immediately discounted as not being thin enough to possibly be authentic. The others could wait. She then looked over the Ming pieces with a flashlight, checking to see if the light shining through came out white or beige. The whites were placed into the fakes, the beige were put into the good pile. She had just started to organize the unknowns by likely eras when there was a quiet cough from the doorway. The flashlight she had been toying with flipped out of her surprised fingers to clatter noisily to the floor, she nervously blushed.
"Dinner is served Madame," said Mark with a grin. "I see you kept a good grip on the pottery."
"I guess it's habit," said Mia as she gently set the piece down. "Even surprised I know enough not to drop it."
"A firm solid grip is important," said Mark with a grin. "Good hands job you have I guess." Mia looked up at him through some loose trails of hair and shook her head in bemused mirth at his antics.
"Did anyone ever tell you the difference between growing up and growing bigger?"
"Ouch," said Mark in mock agony as she wheeled out towards him. He grinned as he looked her up and down. "Course I ain't the one running around in a schoolgirl's uniform. Very nice look," he added with a wink. Mia only shook her head again as she followed him out of the room. She looked up at the tall shape of Scott who was waiting by the door.
"You should do something to reign this fruitcake in," she said with a sigh.
"Ooooh, Scott's going to slice me to ribbons with his rapier wit. Give him a break Mia, Scott don't do jokes. It makes his head hurt." Scott glanced in annoyance at Mark, who waved his hands up to deter any anger. "Just calls them as I sees them."
"Oh will you two get over it," sighed Mia from the elevator. Scott shook his head and stepped inside. Mark was still smirking as he started forward, Mia hit the close door button, they slid shut before he had made it. "Stairs may not be a huge form of payback. But I takes them as I gets them," she said in a fairly close impression of Mark's voice and hand motions. Scott grinned.
"Not too bad."
"Hmm, looks like your nose healed up quick." Scott reached up and brushed his nose as the doors opened. It did indeed look to be in good shape, not even minor swelling.
"I guess I'm just lucky enough to be a quick healer," he said slowly.
"Good for you." Scott escorted her across the hall and towards the dining room. "So tell me, is this going to be a dinner of sandwiches or is Cook actually going to cook?"
"I guess you'll find out soon," said Scott as he opened the door for her. Mia grinned one last time as she watched Mark come hopping down the steps, looking like he couldn't decide if he should laugh or curse at her joke. She glanced into the dining room and her smile disappeared in a flash. It was replaced by an odd shocked look. The room was brightly lit by dozens of brilliantly gleaming candles. A rather exquisite feast was laid out carefully on the table. It looked like it could easily feed the whole household, but there was only one chair. Steven Kleist was standing near it, he smiled at her as she entered.
Her vision cleared again in instants, she could feel the wild thumping in her chest again. Oh God, she thought, I hope this passes. I'll never be able to eat or talk if I feel so woozy all night. Steven's eyes danced as he walked over and bowed slightly before her. His hair and beard were, of course, perfect. His solid and dashing figure seemed to easily fit into the cleanly cut dark suit he wore. His only piece of jewelry was a single diamond ring on his right hand. It seemed to be easily overshadowed by his flashing smile.
"Good evening, I trust your day went well," he said as he easily guided her chair over to the table. She again had that unmistakable feeling that there was a great power within him. Of course when you considered the fact he had a stunningly brilliant mind, a vast business empire, and a quartet of hulking guards. Perhaps the feeling made more sense. Of course the guards weren't here, nobody else was here. It was just her, and just him. Mia shivered at the thought. "I hope you don't mind that we dine alone. I was planning for us to be able to discuss things," said Steven as though he had already known what she was thinking.
"Ah, ha, um, yes," she finally managed to squeak. Good going girl, she chided herself, why not just start drooling next. She half considered it, if only to see how Steven would handle it. She knew without doubt he would do so while appearing totally comfortable and smoothly polished. 'Why my dear, allow me to dab at the sparkling stars that drip like dew from your lip' She quickly stifled the laugh that rippled through her at the thought. Steven cocked an eyebrow slightly.
"Do I amuse you already? I had hardly yet begun to get up to speed." Again he flashed the smile. Mia gasped at the sight, as her heart seemed to pick up an even more frenetic pace. She felt as if her entire body had started to blush, a heat burned at the tips of her ears as she tilted her head down, allowing her hair to help hide that fact.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at...ah, I did go over the pottery," and for my next brilliant piece of conversation I'll just grunt, she thought with a groan.
"Excellent," said Steven with a laugh and a clap of his hands. "I trust things went well?" She began to describe to him all about her analysis, and soon was deep in a discussion of ancient Chinese culture and governments. She shook her head, was there anything that Mr. Kleist couldn't carry on a conversation intelligently about? He served her himself, the meal was really quite good, though she hardly recalled eating it. However she did note that he did keep refilling her wine glass, and that she kept drinking it. Probably not the best plan for someone with her tolerance for alcohol. Dr. Hibbert had once claimed he knew field mice who held their drinks better.
"I don't like her." The servants who were watching from the kitchen glanced over at Malachi as he peered through the crack in the doorway at Mia. His hands had curled up into rough claw-like shapes, and Scott swore he could even see the razor sharp talons forming from the fingernails.
"Hey play nice man," said Mark carefully. He instantly quieted and gulped nervously when Malachi glanced over at him. All four guards were decidedly dangerous and trained fighters, but they all knew what their chances would probably be against Malachi.
"I don't like this 'party', I don't like playing human, I don't like her."
"Hmm, looks like the boss still can't get her to talk about that stupid pot that got him so interested in her," cut in Ivan, eager to diffuse Malachi's growing annoyance.
"Why is he treating her so sweet," grumbled Phoebe quietly. "She could just tell him and this would all be over. Instead she keeps flirting and drinking all that damn wine he's pouring her." Scott patted Phoebe on the shoulder, well aware what was troubling her. She had been selected by Steven for her resemblance to his long dead wife. She was a private source of blood and a personal plaything for Steven's desires. Of course he had long ago bent her will to a point she was madly in love with him, thus any possible competition rubbed her the wrong way.
"Relax Phoebe, this is just business for him," Scott said quietly. Though he too kept a close eye on the meal, feeling concerned about Steven's actions as well.
"Yeah, and I don't think she's flirting," added Mark. "She just gets excited about old dusty things...Hey! Maybe that's why she digs the boss!" Phoebe and Scott glared over at him, Mark sighed and turned away. "I thought it was funny..." Meanwhile, crouching in the doorway, Malachi's lips curled back into a feral snarl as he whispered to himself.
"I don't like her."
"I'm really....elly....jelly? I think perhaps I've gone and....too....more then."
"More wine?"
"Yes please," she gushed with a wide grin. Steven promptly poured her another glass. She took a sip and giggled. "Thank you good...man...sir...boss?"
"This brand is from a farm I own in southern Germany. A very old place, but it makes some excellent wine. Don't you think?"
"Mmmmm. Wine, fine, line, vine, grapes grow on vines. Grapes make wine. Wine from vine"
"Indeed. Well it looks as though I have been perhaps a bit too liberal with the drinks."
"You could call it a ghost wine. Spirits are alcohol, so why not specters, wraiths, shades, apparitions, spooks, phantasms, haunts, haunted house. Your house is very strange.
"I had noticed," said Steven. There was something odd about his eyes now. They seemed to dance less, there wasn't so much humor in them. Now there was a....desire...hunger? Mia grinned at him and leaned in closely.
"I have a secret for you," she confided. Steven suddenly grinned, he leaned in close, he seemed quite eager. Mia smiled. "I think you are very....very, cute." She blinked a few times and kissed him gently on the nose. She felt him breathe in, and thought she heard him mutter a noise. Rather like 'Ah!' then she forgot where she was.