I'm in Love With the Man Downstairs, Chapter 3:

Disappearances

By Darknightdestiny

Kira followed the others into the house. Once she stepped inside, she was overcome by a sudden, drastic change in atmosphere. The inside of the house was nothing like the moors outside, which vaguely reminded her of an empty cemetery. No, the inside of the house was warm and inviting.

The heat that circulated about the room was coming from a fireplace in the lobby, to the side of a small room to the left of the entrance. She had wondered where this had come from, and as soon as she'd opened her mouth to ask, her question was answered.

"The caretaker," began the guide, "has been waiting. He has been watching over the mansion ever since the renovations were complete."

"Splendid!" cried Mr. Winchester. "When will we get to meet the chap?"

"I would imagine that he is asleep. Watching over the house is a full-time job…"

"Ah," Mr. Winchester said, and furrowed his brow.

"Not to worry! You may see him wandering about…" The guide turned and winked at Kira, but no one else seemed to notice. "Either way, it's time to get you folks situated, no?"

Kira stood in the middle of her new room, and trailed her eyes up and down the walls, examining everything in her view path. An old suit of armor stood next to the door, from what era she did not know. There was a deep wine-colored carpet that ran from the door to the bed, over smooth, varnished wood floors. The smooth cream-colored walls stretched overhead, still square at the ceiling, but curved slightly in the crevices, the centerpiece overhead being a swirling culmination of that same material. As if the ceiling was flowing out, reaching down to her.

The bed was fitted with sheets that matched the cream of the walls, and covered in a thick, satin comforter the color of the carpet. Candles were hung on the walls and cast a warm glow about the space, warming her skin. A long mirror stood to one side of the room, independent from the wall on a brass stand, outlined with ionic leaflets that had been etched into the metal. A nightstand made of wood matching the floors, and the head and foot of the bed, rested in its place next to the bed, beneath the window. Sheer, transparent white curtains flowed down from underneath the wine-colored valence above the panes.

Her gaze met with, and finally rested on, a large portrait hanging above the head of the bed; she took a couple steps towards it, drawn by some inexplicable force to the image it displayed. Kira's father had kept a fair amount of art in the plantation, all of the paintings were from the eras after the disaster; most all the other art had been destroyed, but he was lucky enough to obtain a piece or two of pottery or architecture, be it as damaged as it was. But this was unlike anything she had ever seen…and it wasn't even theirs.

The portrait was of a man, and followed none of the common themes of any of the humanities that had come to pass as far back as she could remember learning. It was simple, yet stunning in its beauty, and as she looked at it, she couldn't help but feel bewitched by his presence in the room. The man had extremely delicate features, and his skin was a ghastly tone of white; His brows were thin and elegant, a deep black that accentuated the paleness of his skin, and his long hair fell down in thin strands over his face, while the majority of it cascaded down behind his back.

He was clad in a high-collared coat of black that looked from the paint marks to have been made of velvet. The coat had two gold buttons at the top of the neck, and between the left and right sides of his open collar, a white ascot hung down over a black vest, two golden chains strung from one side of the coat to the other. His hands were laid on one of his black clad legs; one hand folded over the other, his thin and fragile fingers tipped with surprisingly sharp nails, a detail that did not escape the artist. The feet were cut off from the rest of the picture, just below the knees, the high-backed and red cushioned chair draped with a long black cloth that flowed down next to his legs and down below the view of her audience.

His overall appearance was one of frailty, but his face is what truly aroused her curiosity. Slightly shadowed by the hair that fell forward, prompted by his widow's peak, she could still see the smooth skin that lay beneath the soft wisps. His cheekbones were high, and his nose was thin and spoke of stateliness. His brow was pronounced, but not overly so, and he wore a solemn expression, his eyebrows relaxed. His mouth was closed and slightly down-turned, and his chin came to a thin, almost feminine point, though it seemed proud and jutted out a small bit; the small dip beneath his lower lip carried a shadow, sunk in as if he had set his jaw back in the midst of a resigned emotion, perhaps betraying a slight overbite.

The most distinct feature, though- the one that gave the vision its most supernatural quality- was his eyes. They looked wet, glazed over, and hypnotic; they seemed to follow her own, no matter how she shifted her weight as she stared into their depths. And they were of a blood red color, something completely unnatural…a bit frightening, though she couldn't deny the interest it drew from her.

She kept her eyes focused on the portrait for a while longer, unsure of how long she stood there, waiting for someone to come and drag her away from it.

"So, miss, how do you like it?"

"Hmmm?"

"Miss," said one of the guides, "how do you like your new home?"

Kira turned to face him. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize…" she trailed off.

The man smiled back at her. "The house, you do like it, yes?"

"It is beautiful," she said, unsure of whether she should be speaking directly with him. Would her father care? After a short deliberation, she ventured to ask, "Who is the man in the painting?"

The man's eyes followed her gaze to the portrait on the wall, where her eyes had been fixated for a good fifteen minutes or so. "Strange…" he said.

"What is it?"

"I do not remember seeing that painting…we had helped to renovate the building, practically rebuilt the entire thing atop of the old grounds. But I do not remember that one coming in…"

"…I have another question for you, sir, if you don't mind." She began, a bit hesitantly.

"How may I be of service?"

"Was that man…your boss, is he?" The man nodded. "Was he telling the truth? Did anything…strange happen here when you were fixing the mansion?"

He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but think that he was hiding something behind that mask of his. "The workers," he said, "they say the spirits are sleeping. But…they only say that because now we are in the clear. Back then, they were frightened out of their minds. But I wouldn't worry if I were you. I don't believe in that nonsense, and you shouldn't either. A pretty girl like you shouldn't fret!" And with that, he walked away.

Kira awoke from her sleep, feeling a cold draft run across the room over her bed. Somehow, that didn't seem right, the window being next to the bed and facing another direction…

She slipped out from under the sheets, her bare feet sliding across the velvety carpet and crossing over from the material to the hard wooden floors. Walking slowly over to the window, she noticed that it was open, but she had never remembered opening it before…

She leaned out a ways, grasping the separated panes with her fingers, ready to pull them in. Her eyes caught the glow of the moonlight dancing across the field, and she stopped what she was doing to admire the way the light, cast on the grass, made it seem like it was glowing a bright green. How strange the contrast was from the moors in front of the mansion to the softer fields from out back. Her eyes followed the light to where it disappeared in the distance, where the black sky met the brightened ground.

For a split second, she could have sworn she had seen a shape shift out in the dark, a shadow or… something. She'd heard something rustle, and then turn away. The sound had been so close to her and yet she had known it had come from afar; perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. Swiftly, she shut the window and went back to her bed.

Before falling into the inviting folds of fabric, she cast one more look in the direction of the portrait. The eyes stared down at her, glowing in the darkness. And she could also have sworn that the mouth had been in a different position than she'd seen it before…perhaps even slightly parted…

But she couldn't be sure. Unwilling to be haunted by his unyielding gaze, she closed her eyes tightly and waited for the sunrise.

When morning finally found the young woman, she was already waiting at the window, watching the horizon. She'd been plagued in the night by faint cries heard in the distance, cries she might have imagined, or that she might have subconsciously pulled from a dream. She'd been frightened enough, when in the early morning she had thought she'd heard the sound of a horse crying out. At that point, she had crawled underneath the covers and secured them around her head with her hands firmly planted in the pillow above her.

But when her room had begun to get lighter inside, she'd run to the window, hoping for a quick sunrise, and a bit curious to find out if she had missed anything important.

The sunrise at the mansion was not unlike any other sunrise, and Kira was a bit disappointed. However, she was even more disappointed to find her father and Carter already below her window, taking a walk in the fields. This meant only one thing; the women in the house were left alone, and that would probably lead to an unbearable amount of lessons from her teacher, a woman whom she had begun to believe had adopted breaking the spirit of young girls as her favorite leisure activity.

Unwilling to have any part in it, Kira quickly dressed herself and began sneaking around the house.

She wandered down the stairs, careful as she snuck by Madame Kroisse's room, not wanting to draw attention to herself. It was like she wasn't supposed to wander around without some purpose, an unspoken rule that she hadn't quite learned to follow. She tiptoed all about the house after that, trying to find something of interest.

She hadn't found much, only some artwork, most of it her own father's, brought over on the ship. There were a few more suits of armor, a tall grandfather clock, and one of the hallways was lined with several mirrors, all of a separate shape and design. She huffed in disappointment and started to make her way back up the stairs, resigned to the idea that she would not find anything of special interest within these new walls.

Kira stopped suddenly at the top of the staircase, realizing that she hadn't even bothered to explore the east wing of the house. A familiar glint appeared in her eyes, and she hurriedly made her way into the first room on her right.

Kira stood before the wall, unsure of what to do with this new bit of information. She glided her fingers down the stones, a strange and uniform break appearing in the materials used. It was as if an old fireplace had been held there, and then sealed up for some unknown reason. This perplexed her in more ways than one; she was curious as to why anyone would feel the need to seal up a furnace.

She knocked on the stones once with her fist, listening for any difference in tone. But the wall was made of stone, so all she received from her efforts was a sharp pain in her hand that made her draw back and return to useless staring. She let out a sigh of disappointment and leaned against the wall in her frustration…

And fell backwards.

Picking herself up from the ground, Kira found herself behind the wall, and lying on the top step of a large stairwell. The spiraling case was lit by small torches on the wall and stretched down about fifty feet or so. All of this was unexpected to Kira, but one thing she did realize; if there were lights, then that meant that someone else had already known about this place.

"Master Winchester!" a frantic voice called. Peter Winchester turned his head and craned to see where the voice was coming from.

"Father," said Carter, "isn't that one of our guides?"

A man came running out of the front of the house, towards father and son, gasping for air. He slumped over upon meeting them and held himself up with his hands on his knees, panting from exhaustion.

"Sirs," he began, "your new workers have been spotted on the horizon. We have made our preparations to leave, but…" he drew in some more air, "we cannot find Williams anywhere."

"Williams is missing?" asked Mr. Winchester. It seemed that Williams, the lead guide from the night before, had vanished into thin air.

"We've looked everywhere for him, and he cannot be found."

"The property is quite enormous…" said Carter.

"Yes, but there is more," continued the man. "There was a messenger, from the mountains. It seems that a few of the men had disappeared in the night, after they had made their camp on the cliffs. They had sent this man ahead on his horse, to inform us of the dangers…I would not stay here if I were you."

"Ghost stories, again?" chuckled Mr. Winchester. "Honestly, you men must stop this nonsense. They must have fallen off of the cliffs in the dark. That is the only explanation, other than a wild animal carried them off."

The man straightened himself, eyes wide. "Suit yourselves. But I will not stay here any longer. Bretton does not believe the stories either, but we are taking him as well. If you truly wish to stay…then by all means, do. But there is no way that you will ever be able to cultivate a city here. Not when you cannot even convince anyone to come around."

The man walked away quickly, and Carter turned to his father.

"Do you suppose everyone will be alright staying here?"

"Of course!" said Peter. "There is no such thing as a ghost. Don't tell me you believe this madness!"

"No, it's just that I don't wish to stay anywhere where someone would have us believe that there is such a thing."

"Oh?"

"Father…I'm going to go back to the house and check up on Kira."

"Very well, then. And, Carter?"

"Yes, Father?"

"Don't tell her of these recent events." He frowned. "She has a habit of believing in these sorts of things and concocting her own crazy stories with that wild imagination of hers. I don't want her getting carried away. We're here because we have a job to do."

"…I understand." Carter walked back towards the house.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Kira was met with a cold draft and held her arms up around her chest to try and stave off the growing chills. There was a long hallway stretched out before her, the ground rocky and uneven, most likely carved out of the rock beneath the soil on the surface. Her feet echoed with each step as she cautiously made her way down the hallway, unsure of whether or not she was allowed down there, or what would happen if she was discovered.

For some reason, she just couldn't pull herself away.

She soon came to a door on her left, and after checking the corridor for any movement, tried to push it open, but to no avail. It was shut tight, and the lock had been turned so that it was only to be opened from the inside. She noticed a pair of shackles sitting by the door in the corner of the hallway, and she began to have doubts about going any further. She raised her head and looked down to the end of the hallway where the only light below the stairwell glowed. There was a half-open door, and the soft light was emanating from the opening, beckoning her towards it. She obediently followed.

One soft hand wrapped around the doorframe, and the other pulled the door open, spilling the light into the hallway. She stepped inside the room, to see several tall objects covered with sheets, not unlike the ones she had slept on the night before. She assumed them to be furniture. Books rose along the walls, surrounding her and towering over her curious form, inviting her to partake of their contents. Sadly, she could not. She walked down the next hallway, which was also lined with books, and came out on the other end, only to receive another surprise.

Carter raced down the stairs, towards the lobby where his father now sat, reading one of his books.

"Father…" he panted.

"What is it now?"

"…Kira's missing!"

"What?!" Mr. Winchester shouted. "She's gone off wandering, hasn't she? I swear, that girl never stays in one spot, always-"

"I'm worried about her. She seemed so frightened last night…"

"Never mind that! When I do find her, and believe me, I will, she's going to get the scolding of her life!"

"…Should I tell Mother?"

"Go ahead. She will see what a great deal of worry she can cause her family. Those men, their ship has yet to come, yes? Organize a small party and go find her!"

Kira froze in place, unsure of whether or not she should make herself known, or if she should run. Ahead of her, standing behind a desk, his back facing her and his mind obviously engrossed in a book, stood a tall man with black hair. His hair was short, and from the angle at which his head was set, she could make out his jaw line and see that his fine hair shot over from his forehead in large sprays that no doubt hindered his vision.

He had a good posture, though his neck was bent over to better see the text in his hand. He wore a short, black coat, the likes of which Kira hadn't seen before; presumably it was made from the hide of an animal, she thought most likely leather. His hands were clad with gloves of the same material, and he wore long black pants, which she thought to be made of the same material as her bedspread- satin, the legs of which were tucked into tall black boots. A bit of a cream colored collar peaked out over the top of his coat, and stretched in one piece to his jaw line.

The man closed the book with a quick gesture from his one hand, and brought the other to rest at his chin for a few seconds, as if he was thoughtful about his oncoming statement.

"Miss Kira, she smells like the fields." Seemingly to himself, yet still said aloud.

He turned to face her, both arms now by his sides, the book still in his right. She let out a gasp of surprise, her cover blown wide open, as his deep brown eyes met her own blue ones.

(A/N): Now would be a good time for me to mention that Vincent appears in a few forms in this story. It's crucial to the plot, yes, and you will see why soon enough. Think Vincent as we know him, and Vincent as a Turk (which is the form he has taken at the end of this chapter)…and other forms that a vampire might take. Also…about the portrait and my leaving out the claw? I'll explain that too, it's still there…

About the strange lengths I went to describe his clothing: I'm assuming Kira doesn't know what a turtleneck is. And coats aren't usually short in the type of era I'm aiming for, and so I tried to explain it through her eyes. Forgive me for any weirdness.

Now I'm going to have to go and sketch that portrait and post it somewhere on my site so I can show you guys what I mean. I'll let you know when it's up.

Thanks for reading! Reviews make my day and are much appreciated!