"Come in lad, come in."
The old man's voice was slightly raspy, yet smooth as silk. It sliced through the air like a dagger, yet it was soothing and dream-like. It had a rough edge, like a smooth chocolate cake with a hard coating o icing to top it off.
Andrew froze. Should he approach the man? he didn't seem threatening, just...eerie. Definitely eerie, there was no doubt about that. How had the man even heard him? Perhaps he had seen his shadow in the window, or heard the manic laughter of that crazy old Beggar woman.
He didn't know.
The man was beckoning him forward, a small smile playing on his wrinkled face.
What was he going to do?
Surely, it would be rude to walk away now. Besides, this may be the only chance he would ever have of meeting the love of his life!
Wait, can she be the love of my life? he found himself feeling a little foolish now. You've never even met her, Andrew! he scolded in thought.
But that could change if you stop being such a chicken and follow the fellow! he told himself, silently battling his thoughts. And so he followed, obediently and silently stepping through the threshold that was the glossy mahogany door of 253 Willow Way.
He found himself in some sort of Hallway. The walls were made of stone, and the only light came from a single burning candle. The man, who he guessed must be Victor Thyme, lead him down the Hallway, pushing open a creaky wooden door.
Now he was in a biger room, some sort of sitting room. The carpet was black, and the walls a dark green. Upon one of the walls, there was a pucture of a nun. Her skin was an ashy grey, and her head covered in a black cloak. Her eyes were dull and sunken. The picture was faded but he could still see the tears that stained her cheeks, still see the melancholy expression on her face.
"Sit down, lad, sit down."
It was the man's voice again. Andrew shakily collapsed into one of the black chairs, Victor sitting opposite him.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Sir. I was looking for Hyde park and - "
"You were looking for Hyde park, you say?" the man was looking right at him now, beedy black eyes boring straight into his.
"Yes, Sir," he responded politely, tone quiet and just slightly more timid than it usually came out. "It's embarrassing for an explorer to loose his barings, bt, well, there you are..."
"An explorer?"
"Yes, Sir," Andrew nodded, looking down at his cut hands.
"An explorer must know the ways of the world. Must be practised in the ways of the world. Would you say that you are practised, boy?"
"Sir..." he was confused now, but he could tell hwere this was going. He was uncomortable now, nervously shifting his weight from his right foot to his left. He watched as the man approached a bookshelf, tracing several books with his hands as he began to murmur something about Gaishas and Japan. He was only half listening, as he could hear his heart pounding.
Then, something caught his attention.
"I have them all here. Drawings of them. Everythin you've ever dreamed of doing..." he paused. "With a woman."
His tone was accusing, dark.
"Would you like to see"
"I think there's been some mistake," Andrew rose to leave. The man's icy gaze stopped him in his tracks.
"I think not," his voice was bitter, threatening. "You gandered at my ward, Belladonna! You gandered at her. Yes, Sir, you gandered!"
"I meant no harm..." Andrew found himselff protesting, againt his better judgement.
"Your meaning to me is immaterial," the vial Victor snapped viciously at him. Now, he was only inches away fro the young man, their noses almost touching.
"I I see your face on this, or any other neigbouring street, you'll rue the day you were born..."
It was only after Andrew had been carelessly tossed out the door like last week''s rubbish that Victor noticed the beautiful, radiant creature he had the honour of calling his ward standing on the staircase. She looked frightened. Her breathtaking face was even paler than usual, and her ice-blue eyes wide as eyes can get. Her lower lip was trembling, she looked as though she were going to cry.
"F-Father..." her voice was timid and weak. He could tell that she knew what was going on, by the guilty look on her face. e rose, waking over to her.
"Belladonna. If I were to think you encouraged that young rogue - "
"Oh, father," the young girl shook her head, luscious honeycomb curls bouncing with each elegant movement. "I hope always to be obedient to your commands."
He found a gri spreading across his old face as he reached for her, his hand 'accdentally' brushing one of her succulant breasts as he reached for her cheek.
"Dear child..." his voice was low and raspy. "How sweet you look in that gown."
Belladonna gritted her teeth, fiercely fighting the urge to cry. She knew that brush had had been no accident. He was always touching her, caressing her, in a way that a father should never caress a daughter. She did realie that they were of no blood relation, but she still thought of him as her father, for he was the only fathery figure he had. She had been calling him father ever since she was old enough to utter the word. Father had been her very first word, but now she began to wonder how he truly viewed her. Did he realy see her as a daughter, or was there something else going through his mind?
"You heard what Mr. Thyme said," It was Alister, Victor's loya apprentice. He threw Andrew roughly to the ground, watching as the young man fell down the steps and crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. "Next time, we'll have your pretty little brains spread all over the pavement."
With that, the large door slammed. Andrew was outside, and Belladonna was still trapped there with that tyrant. He felt the tears burning in his eyes, not just because of the extreme pain he was feeling right now, but because that poor girl, that could not have been anywhere over the age of siteen, was trapped in that house with those two monsters! He may be her Guardian, but he was certainly no angel.