The House
I tried very hard to find someone to make a banner for me, but since this story has been in production since FQF and I've had several rejections and one 'okay' with a failure to provide said banner, I'm going to have to make it myself >.> any suggestions on awesome banner making?
Summary: Gustav has inherited a mansion from a distant relative he never knew existed. It's a strange but beautiful house which he wouldn't mind at all owning. The one problem is that the will stipulates that before he can claim it as his own he needs to live there for 3 months with the two mysterious twin housekeepers who currently hold the OED definition of creepy. Prompt by subtlemagic .
Rated: NC-17
Warning: Language, and in later chapters, gore, torture, and blood
Pairing: Gustav/OFC, Bill/Tom
Disclaimer: The events herein are for entertainment purposes only and no offense is ever meant.
This story is for my dear friend Isabelle.
One bill, two bill, three bill, four
I give them all but they want more
Call my phone, knock on my door
Take the rugs right off the floor
Take my watches, take my rings
I don’t need expensive things
Take my TV, take my couch
Here against the wall I’ll slouch
Empty room, a case of beer
Take it all, just leave me here
The Beginning:
The man behind the desk shuffled his papers, deliberately dancing his eyes around so as not to meet Gustav’s face. He opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a file, frowned, and placed it back before pulling out another and tightening his lips. The chime of the clock called five pm, pulling him from his thoughts as he finally selected a file and shuffled a few more papers, his gaze falling on Gustav’s nametag. He cleared his throat.
“Shafer,” he said clearly, as if continuing a conversation he’d not been avoiding for the past twenty minutes. “You might be wondering why I called you in my office.”
Gustav wiped his sweaty palms on the knees of his black slacks. “Well, sir, I thought it - it might have something to do with the test results.”
The test results - the scores he’d been waiting for since last week, the numbers that would define his worth as an employee for this company - the very exam that would determine his eligibility for promotion to Senior Manager. Erin would be pleased, she’d only been dogging him about their bank account for the past --
The man cleared his throat again and Gustav jumped a bit. He rifled through what appeared to be the entire contents of Gustav’s file once more before separating a solitary paper and passing it across the wide oak desk to his employee. He sat back in his plush leather chair and steepled his fingers, glancing occasionally at the telephone as Gustav read over his score.
He kept his eye on the blinking lights on his phone - each indicating a line in use by his secretaries, each bright red flash signifying a money sign, another bill in his wallet, the smooth blood coursing through his company’s veins to line his pocket. Like a well-kept body, his branch of the business was fluid, healthy, growing. But what had the man on the phone said not an hour ago? Certain positions in the company were likened to blockages in the collective vessels and must be sacrificed for the sake of the body.
One for the sake of all.
He risked a glance at Shafer, who was reading so quickly his eyes were blurred, a broad grin on his face. He waited for the young man’s brown eyes to meet his own, then quickly resumed his watch of the telephone. “As you can see…” He adjusted himself in his chair, wishing to seat himself higher, but the soft leather had conformed to the contours of his body over the decade he’d burrowed into it. He succeeded in only nestling himself further into the fabric, wasting a further few moments rustling Gustav’s file in front of his face. “As you can see, your test scores are phenomenal. I do believe you have the highest record of the past seven years, Shafer.” He held out his hand across the desktop and twitched his fingers. Gustav gave him the test paper, still smiling happily. “However…”
Gustav’s grin faltered. He’d been the top scorer of the past seven years! There should be no ‘However…’ Yet, here he sat, wiping his once-again moist hands on his dress pants, waiting for the man behind the massive desk to finish replacing the papers in the filing cabinet and continue. However…
The telephone rang and the man seized it at once, his double chin waggling furiously as he spoke rapidly into the receiver. “Yes, yes, hello. Yes. Yes, sir. Yes. No. Right now, yes, sir. Okay.” The man pressed a wide button and placed the telephone back on the hook; a voice came from the speaker, permeating the nervous atmosphere in the room. The man in the chair kept his fat fingers mere inches from the handset.
“Gustav Shafer,” the voice spoke imperiously, and Gustav leaned forward eagerly. This must be the VP himself, calling to congratulate me on my promotion! he thought, suppressing the childish glee welling in his stomach. “As I’ve been informed, you have received the top marks in our placement exam. Usually this would ensure an associate being chosen for advancement within the company. However - ”
Again with the “However…” Gustav wrinkled his brow in irritation and smoothed the pressed lines of his slacks. The corpulent man was staring at the telephone as if enraptured; he reminded Gustav of a loyal dog gazing at his master. Maybe his tongue would roll out of his fat cheeks…
“ - I have reviewed several key documents pertaining to our accounting and records department and I’m sorry to say that we will not be able to promote you at this time. Furthermore - ”
Gustav felt a blow to his chest; his heart had surely skipped a beat. Did he say he hadn’t earned this promotion? Gustav sat on the edge of his chair, a nearly mirror image of the man across the desk, placing his hands on the oak finish and waiting for the telephone voice to resume.
“ - I am also calling personally to inform you of your release. We commend you on your spotless record with our corporation, but the time has come for our business to take a new route, and the Board of Directors has found no need for your position. We will, of course, be offering you a handsome severance package. We have forwarded your personal files to your lawyer, I believe his name is Mr. Gaines. You will find the items from your office waiting for you at the secretary’s desk, and Gustav: we wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”
The dial tone came abruptly as the man on the other end hung up without saying goodbye. Gustav felt light-headed, trying to sort through everything that had just happened. “Did he just… Am I… Am I fired?”
The man looked around nervously, leaning back into his chair with a squish. “Well, I offer you my condolences, Mr. Shafer. You’ve been an excellent employee from the start, but - ”
“But now I’m fired?” Gustav stood and snapped his fingers. “Just like that? It’s over? I’ve been with this company for years! I built my life around my career - I have several thousand dollars in the corporation’s retirement fund! What did I do? Why?”
“Well…” The man quivered his lips, darting his eyes around for an excuse, landing on the telephone. “You heard the Head of the Board… He said they don’t need… there’s no room for…”
“I’m an accountant! There are a dozen other associates in my department that could have been cut for much less than my record! I don’t… He could have offered me another position! I can’t afford to be… I have a child on the way! How will I pay my bills?”
“Well… Well, I… The Head mentioned a severance package… Perhaps you ought to go down and speak to your lawyer…” He made a show of shuffling through another stack of papers on his desk, disappearing behind a sheaf of charts and graphs.
Gustav growled low in his throat, the sound unintentional but the perfect sum of his anger and frustration. He was being dismissed by being ignored at the height of his ire. He slammed his hand down on the desk next to the abhorrent telephone and the man peeked over the edge of a pie chart.
“I have worked for you since I was twenty-two years old, Jim. I worked my ass off for you, and I didn’t hear you say one word in my defense. I’m happy to be leaving such a place where I am not appreciated and you can go to hell with your desk and your papers and your fucking telephone.”
Frozen behind the desk, the man still refused to meet his eyes. Gustav shook with fury, humiliated. He stalked to the door and snarled before slamming the frosted glass behind him. “Coward!”
_____________________________________
She answered the phone on the fifth ring. “Erin?” came a small voice from the other end.
“Yeah? What?” She turned to the mirror in the bathroom and patted at her bleach blonde hair, curled into a pin-up style. Needs more hairspray. She shook the canister up and down before spraying her hair with one hand. “Hello? I can’t hear you, Gus. Where are you? What do you mean, bad news?”
Placing the can on the bathroom counter, she tugged at the waistband of her black dress, trying to hide her growing belly beneath its folds. The bump was cute, but she was starting to get stretch marks and damn if that lotion the doctor recommended wasn’t starting to give her a rash. Where the hell was Gustav with… oh. “Seriously, you have got to get out of whatever tunnel you’re in, Gus. I can’t - yeah, yeah, that’s better. Now, what were you saying?”
She half-listened while choosing a pair of black pumps to go with her outfit. The doc doesn’t understand, you can’t NOT wear high heels with a dress like this. She tugged one on and had begun to buckle the strap when she froze, her face flushed. “Say that again. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
The voice on the line hummed in her ear, monotonous and defeated. She stood, lopsided from her one shoe, and clenched her fist into a ball. “You got fired? What the fuck did you do? No, really, I don’t want to hear it. Really. I give up, Gustav. You can’t even hold down a job; how the hell do you expect to provide for a family?”
The voice rose in tempo and volume, and she flung her free high heel across the room, striking the expensive bottle of shampoo Gustav had purchased for her last birthday. The lid pop off, spraying the bathtub with lavender goo. “Whatever! I am so sick of your excuses! We’re already on a fucking tight budget, Gustav, and how am I supposed to have a baby without health insurance? You want me to pop it out in the grocery store like that one movie?” He responded quickly, prompting her to remove her other shoe and throw it into the bathtub with the other. It made a disgusting plop right into the middle of the shampoo mess. “Ha-ha, fuck you, asshole! I can’t believe I ever let you knock me up! You’re a loser - you have always been a loser!”
She grabbed a huge suitcase from the top of the bedroom closet and yanked on a drawer in her wardrobe, pulling it out of its hinges. Grabbing the underwear and socks that had up-ended, she continued to berate her boyfriend until her face was splotchy and tears ran rivulets through her perfect makeup. “No, I already said it - I’m done! It’s over! No, it’s not just this - it’s everything! Never having money, never being able to go shopping or out with my friends, living in this tiny apartment in this crappy city! No! It’s not my fucking hormones, Gustav! Don’t you get it? IT’S YOU!”
She slammed the phone shut and threw it across the room too, along with a framed photograph of their first sonogram and a nice blue vase that had belonged to Gustav’s grandmother. She screamed at the top of her lungs and started pulling her clothes down from the hangars and onto the floor.
_____________________________________
Gustav stared at his cell phone with incredulity. Erin had had temper tantrums before, but this one… definitely the cake taker. He went to push the redial button but the phone rang, playing the theme song from Star Wars and displaying a phone number he wasn’t familiar with. “Hello?”
“Gustav, my boy!” the voice nearly yelled, causing him to cringe and hastily mash the volume button on the side of the phone. Of course it was Mr. Gaines, Gustav’s very capable (and very deaf) lawyer. He’d served his family through four divorces (Father: one; Mother: three), one case of shoplifting (Erin), one destruction of private property (Erin), one very nasty parental custody battle (and possibly soon to be two), among other innumerable things. Gustav looked up to find himself standing at the entrance to the subway, anxious and not at all in the talkative mood. “How are you?”
“Not so - ”
“Well, that’s good to hear, good to hear. Listen, I’ve got something here in my office for you, son. Will you stop by on your way from work?”
“Yeah, I know, but - ”
“Excellent, excellent. I’ll have it here on my desk, waiting for you. Do try to hurry - Magdalene is making spaghetti tonight and I don’t want to be late!”
Once again, he looked down at his phone, the dial tone from an abrupt disconnection buzzing in his face. What could it hurt? He’d go by Mr. Gaines’ office and pick up his papers, giving Erin ample time to cool down and allow him to apologize. He stepped back into the subway station and presently arrived at the exit to downtown. Pushing past the crowd of disembarking passengers, he stepped into the dusky glow of nightfall and made his way to the lawyer’s office. A hand came out of nowhere, thrusting with the palm up into his face.
A beggar sat in the shadows of the alleyway between the subway station and an abandoned building. His face was heavily bandaged, but a swath of dark hair peeked from the corner of his knitted cap. “Change? Change, please?”
Gustav fished around in his pockets and pulled out a bill he’d been saving for the soda machine at work - but now that there was no more soda machine and no more work, he pressed the paper into the man’s hand and walked away. The beggar called out behind him, “May He bless you with eternal life!”
God, hah. What a joke. If He was looking down on Earth right now, He’d certainly missed sprinkling Gustav with His special miracle happy powder or what the fuck ever. As far as Gustav was concerned, God could go take a long walk off a -
He arrived at the lawyer’s door and, waving to the receptionist, made his entrance past a large sign that read: Harold Gaines - Attorney. Someone had scribbled an expletive just below the sign, and Gustav wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t been Gaines himself. A white head of hair poked around the corner and nearly head butted him in the face.
“Oh, there you are! About time! Come in, come in.” He ushered Gustav into his office and shut the door. Several photos of a large gray cat greeted him from the desk, flanking a solitary photo of an older couple in Hawaii - Gaines and his wife, Magdalene. “Have a seat, have a seat!” Gus sat politely, discreetly checking the clock on the wall. Already nearing six thirty? If he didn’t get home soon, he was certain he’d be hearing an encore of Erin’s spectacular performance.
“I’m glad I caught you, Gustav,” Gaines said, settling into his office chair. “I only received this package today and it turns out to be time sensitive! Can you imagine?” He brought forth a large mailing envelope and spread the contents on his desk for Gustav to see. “Apparently, your great uncle… what’s his name… Samuel, has passed away and seems to have left his sole inheritance to you. I’m very sorry for your loss, of course.”
“My… who?” Gustav sat forward in his chair, staring at the paper. “I didn’t know I had a great uncle anybody…”
“Well, you do… or rather, you did.” Gaines handed a large, ornate piece of paper and a glossy photograph to Gustav. “This,” he tapped the paper, “is the deed to that.” He pointed an old, gnarled finger at the picture and Gustav felt his head swim.
The photograph was of a large, expansive house - nearly a mansion - standing four stories tall - look at that yard - Victorian in era - is this really my house now? - and exquisitely kept. He voiced his last thought out loud. “This… he really left me a house? This is mine now? Where is it at?”
Gaines restacked the remaining paperwork in a neat pile and shrugged. “I tried looking up the address on the deed, but it shows up nothing. Absolutely nowhere. So, I’d safely assume it is where ever he wants you to be sent.” He handed over an official looking letter and Gustav read it quickly.
“It says here I have to stay there for three months before the title is turned over to my name. Why?”
“That’s quite an estate; my guess is your uncle wanted to make sure you could handle such a place. There is a vineyard on the back acres and it appears to be the means by which your great uncle amassed his wealth. Of course he would want to ensure that his legacy was well taken care of.”
Gustav nodded, excitement growing in his body. What luck! Maybe he’d take back what he said about God - and go by and give that beggar some more money while he was at it. I can’t wait to tell Erin!
“Did you see the bottom paragraph, Gustav?” Gaines asked, tapping a long finger on the parchment. “Your plane is on a time limit, apparently. I would have told you sooner, but I’ve just found out myself.”
His eyes bulged. They wanted him to leave tomorrow morning! Tomorrow morning! “I… holy… What about my bills? My apartment? My girlfriend?”
“Well, it doesn’t say anything about not taking Erin - ” he wrinkled his nose in what Gustav believed was a veiled distaste “ - so I’d imagine there’s room on a private plane for two persons. You haven’t got much time to decide, though. The letter says if you don’t board the plane tomorrow then your contract is void.”
“Are you kidding?” Gustav clutched the photograph in his hand, falling back into his seat. “This is so sudden… I - Did you know I just lost my job? Seriously, not two hours ago I was fired and Erin threatened to leave me and I just - I couldn’t think of how I’d go on about my life and now… But I have to leave tomorrow morning?”
“You could leave your information for your bills with me, Gustav. I’ll take care of everything, with your permission.”
“This is crazy!” Gustav laughed, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “I can’t believe it! It feels like all of my dreams - just, I mean - yeah! Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Harold! I’m going to do this! What have I got to lose?”
“All right, let’s go over these papers and you can fax me what I need later. Take a look at these other photographs…”
_____________________________________
“Yeah, she’s he-yah, but she ain’t gonna talk ta ya, Gustav,” Trisha, Erin’s older sister, squawked over the phone with her Fran Drescher accent. Gustav automatically gritted his teeth and massaged his temple - her high-pitched voice always gave him a headache. “I know ya’re sorry, and ya should be. I can’t believe ya went and got yaself sacked, kid. This is tha worst possible time, ya know.”
“I know, Trish. Please, just put Erin on the phone; this is really important.”
“Ya’re not the boss of me, mister. And besides, I already told ya, she don’t wanna talk ta ya. Don’t want nothin’ ta do wit’ ya. Can’t say I really blame her.”
Gustav had a mini-fit, mouthing a wordless invective at his telephone as he scrambled around the room, pulling drawers open to find his travel papers. He took a deep breath after his silent tirade and said, “Okay. Will you please just tell her that my great uncle just passed away and left me some property in his will? I’ve got to go over and check the place out tomorrow morning and I would like her to come with me. Can you do that?”
He heard a shuffling from the other end of the line and a scrabbling noise. “I’m still really mad at you, Gustav,” Erin spat as she came on the phone.
“I know, honey.” Gustav sank onto the bed and sighed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you… Will you come home now so we can talk about this?”
“No, I don’t think so. I meant what I said earlier, Gus - you can’t take care of me. I want more from my life than having to struggle to pay bills and never owning our own house - ”
“That’s what I’m calling about!” Gustav interjected. “I inherited a huge house; it has plenty of room for us and our baby and there’s a vineyard in the backyard that - ”
“Really? Where is it? Why didn’t you tell me before now?” Erin perked up, her interest piqued.
“Well, I’m not really sure where exactly it is. We have to leave tomorrow to go there and - ”
“Hold on just a minute! I’m not going anywhere tomorrow; I have a salon appointment and Friday is my mother’s birthday, you know that!”
“Erin!” Gustav ground his fists into his eyes, pushing stars into his vision. Why does she have to be so goddamn difficult all the time? “This is the chance of a lifetime. This house is incredible and paid for and has its own method for practically growing currency right in the back yard! We’re going to check it out!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you! You want me to just pack up and move? I won’t do it!” she screeched, and a loud clonk indicated that she’d probably thrown her telephone across the room again. Another scrabbling noise, and Trisha came back on the line.
“I think I told ya so, kid,” she said, the grin on her face almost verbal. “I think ya oughtta give her some time to cool down, ya know. Go and do ya thing, whateva’ it is. I’ll look after Erin.”
He picked up a shirt from the floor and saw a pile of broken glass - the vase his late grandmother had purchased from a Tibetan monk. He scooped it up in the shirt, meaning to put it together later with superglue, but he dropped it again when he saw what was underneath. She threw the sonogram picture. She threw the first photo of my child across the room and broke it.
“You do that,” he said, red clouding his eyesight as he gingerly removed the scratched photograph from its shattered frame. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Tell her to take care of my baby.”
He pressed the picture flat and placed it between two of his sweaters in a red suitcase, opened and half-packed on the bed. When his head finally stopped pounding, his eyes cleared and he rubbed at his face, reminding himself to shave before he set off on the plane tomorrow. He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into a deep puddle - someone had turned on every faucet in the room before he’d come home.
I swear to fucking God, he thought viciously as he wrenched the knobs, cutting off the flow of water. If she doesn’t end up killing me, I just might have a go at her.
_____________________________________
The late September air breezed across Gustav’s face as the driver opened the back door and stood aside to let him step out. A car had been sent to bring him to the private air strip - sleek, smooth, expensive and unmarked - the license plate had a design he’d never seen before and was sure belonged to no region of this country. Tinted windows had been placed inside the car as well as on the outer glass, and Gustav had not been able to see inside the driver’s area for the division constructed between the front and back seats, like a taxi. Not that the man operating the vehicle had spoken at all to him…
He was totally unaware of where he was.
A blindingly bright white plane sat waiting for him a hundred yards away. Silently, the driver handed Gustav his suitcases and shut the trunk, wiping dust from his gloves. He held a beckoning hand out toward the airplane.
“Thanks.” Gustav hitched his backpack around his shoulders and walked toward the plane. “Do you know how long the flight will be?”
He turned to the driver, but he had not followed him; he was climbing into the car, shutting the door, driving away, leaving Gustav alone on the tarmac.
“I can help you with those,” a voice ghosted beside Gustav’s cheek. He jumped, startled to find a short, stocky man in a flight suit standing immediately to his left. He hadn’t seen him there before…
The man took his rolling suitcase and duffel bag, leaving Gus with only his backpack. “I will place these in the hold.”
The man he guessed was the pilot walked off, carrying Gustav’s heavy luggage in one hand like it wasn’t anything; in the other, he carried a helmet, tucked safely between his ribs and his arm. The light from the sun gleamed on the glass visor, pulling a tight, searing pain from behind Gustav’s eyes. These goddamn migraines, he thought, dropping down to a knee to pull his headache medicine from a pocket in his backpack. A bottle of water appeared in his face.
“Oh.” Gustav took the plastic bottle and unscrewed the cap, swallowing a handful of pills along with half of the bottle. “Thanks a lot.”
Snapping on his helmet, the pilot nodded and hitched a thumb at the plane. Gustav picked up his backpack and followed, boarding the small stairs to the aircraft and stumbling at the top. His feet felt heavy… his arms and… his head, too… The pilot helped him into a very comfortable seat and snapped his belt, placing his backpack in an overhead storage bin. Gustav settled deeply into his chair and watched through blurred eyes as the pilot checked him over, taking his pulse and peering into his pupils.
Slowly, so slowly… his eyelids fell… a deep sense of peace and… deep breaths… warm and…
His eyes shot open - what the fuck was going on? Another rumble and he shifted in his seat, gripping the leather padding for dear life. Sounded like crunching rocks…
Pounding, pounding in his temple… was that because of his migraine or… darkness…
He drugged me! The pilot fucking drugged me!
He bolted up, banging his head against something hard and cold. A tiny light floated by in his vision. A tiny light and… maybe another… Why is it so dark?
“It’s always dark out here,” a man’s hoarse voice spoke from gloom. He turned on the overhead light and Gustav found himself in an SUV, driving down a pitch-dark dirt road. “Of course, I can see just fine, but you might have to get used to it.” He snickered, a sound that felt dirty to Gustav, low and husky like a hyena.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Gustav rubbed at his forehead, realizing he’d knocked it against the window when he sat up. “Are you kidnapping me?”
“You ain’t no kid.” The man laughed again and Gustav leaned forward to try and see his face, but it seemed like no matter the distance, the man’s visage was a hazy, hairy mess. “I’m just taking you to the house… see?”
A golden glow was growing on the horizon, parting the darkness and lighting a tiny path on the road. The house in Harold Gaines photograph presented itself as a sparkling flame in a sea of shadows - the gigantic façade lit up the entire lawn as the SUV slowed, rolling down the windows. Beautiful, exotic plants peeked from beneath towering willow trees, several hedges sheared in the shape of children danced around a colossal spouting fountain - it seemed he didn’t have enough eyes to see everything despite opening them as wide as they would go. Gustav thought he smelled salt water, maybe from a nearby ocean, and honeysuckle and freshly mown grass and…
“Holy shit!” He snatched his head back into the car, breathing so hard as to nearly hyperventilate. “Was that a lion? There’s a lion in the yard!”
“Breathe,” the driver warned, stopping the car in the middle of the driveway. “Wouldn’t want to die when you haven’t even seen the inside yet, eh?”
“What the hell is a lion doing running around in the front yard?” Gustav peeked over the doorframe and tried to slow his frantic heart. The lion’s eyes glowed from around the corner of a hydrangea and he let out a soft rumble, staring straight at Gustav. Another set of eyes appeared to the right and Gustav’s head whipped around so fast he cricked his neck. Sitting in the shade of a drooping willow’s boughs, a black panther huffed with her mouth open, gazing at the car.
A loud noise made Gustav spin in his seat and recoil - a large vulture had landed in the open window of the backseat, clicking its talons against the metal frame. Its large wings beat a whirlwind inside the vehicle as it tried to steady itself on the too-small ledge, and Gustav gawked, horrified, as the driver took a dead rat from the bag in the front seat and threw it out his window. The vulture took off with such a force that the SUV rocked on its axles.
“Please, please,” Gustav whimpered, covering his face with his arms. “Can we go in the house, now? Please?”
“Sorry,” the driver said, pulling through the grass to make a u-turn, “but I’m not allowed go any further up the drive way. You’ll have to walk.”
“You’re joking.” Gustav gripped his seat with a squelch. “I’m not getting out of this car with those… those carnivores out there!”
“You’ll be just fine. Look, here come the caretakers now. They’ll walk with you,” the driver cackled again, “and maybe they’ll even introduce you to the lion!”
A long, thin shadow slit through the bright light of the house, casting darkness like a scar down the white rock of the drive way. It slithered its way toward the car and Gustav squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly wished he were back in his poor, rundown, bill-smothered house with his crazy girlfriend, making macaroni in the microwave and going over his finances for the seventeen time. A lion. A fucking lion. A fucking lion and a fucking panther. This is a zoo. This is insane. This is -
A slender white hand wrapped around Gustav’s forearm and his eyes flew open. A beautiful apparition hovered in his window, peering into his face. “You don’t have to be afraid,” it whispered, and his door opened. “You’re with us.”
Another pale spirit appeared at its side, lugging a suitcase and a backpack in its arms… in its arms? Gustav rubbed his eyes and looked again. It’s not a phantom… that’s a really fucking pale person.
“Oh, thank the Lord,” Gustav felt his legs go to jello as he laughed himself out of his terror. He stepped weakly onto the rocks and looked up… and up, and up… into the face of the transparently thin man he’d thought was a ghost. Coal-tinted hair framed a beautiful face that reflected the light like a moon, but when he opened his eyes, Gustav felt his stomach drop - deep, dark pits of the blackest black. Evil. Sin. Resounding fear gripped his chest.
“I’m Bill,” the man said happily, grasping Gustav’s frozen arm in a handshake. “This is my twin brother, Tom.” The man carrying the luggage waved, rustling Gustav’s backpack. His long hair was the color of the sun, pulled back tightly in a low ponytail, and he saw now that they were wearing almost identical black suits, save for the different lengths of the coat. “We are your housekeepers.” The blonde twin bore a hole into Gustav’s face with the same abyssal eyes as his brother.
“Come,” Tom commanded, turning his back on the SUV. The driver waved his arm out the window and Gustav turned to try again and see his face, but the car sped away, throwing gravel over the trio who stood in the middle of the lawn.
The lion rumbled again, heralding his new position six yards south of Gustav’s back. The meat-eating, sharp-toothed lion, or the disturbing, translucent man with the malevolent aura? He must make a selection: Stay in the yard, or proceed to the house?
He kept the same distance from both parties as he walked up the path, the panther joining the lion padding in his footsteps.
Summary: Gustav has inherited a mansion from a distant relative he never knew existed. It's a strange but beautiful house which he wouldn't mind at all owning. The one problem is that the will stipulates that before he can claim it as his own he needs to live there for 3 months with the two mysterious twin housekeepers who currently hold the OED definition of creepy. Prompt by subtlemagic .
Rated: NC-17
Warning: Language, and in later chapters, gore, torture, and blood
Pairing: Gustav/OFC, Bill/Tom
Disclaimer: The events herein are for entertainment purposes only and no offense is ever meant.
This story is for my dear friend Isabelle.
One bill, two bill, three bill, four
I give them all but they want more
Call my phone, knock on my door
Take the rugs right off the floor
Take my watches, take my rings
I don’t need expensive things
Take my TV, take my couch
Here against the wall I’ll slouch
Empty room, a case of beer
Take it all, just leave me here
The Beginning:
The man behind the desk shuffled his papers, deliberately dancing his eyes around so as not to meet Gustav’s face. He opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a file, frowned, and placed it back before pulling out another and tightening his lips. The chime of the clock called five pm, pulling him from his thoughts as he finally selected a file and shuffled a few more papers, his gaze falling on Gustav’s nametag. He cleared his throat.
“Shafer,” he said clearly, as if continuing a conversation he’d not been avoiding for the past twenty minutes. “You might be wondering why I called you in my office.”
Gustav wiped his sweaty palms on the knees of his black slacks. “Well, sir, I thought it - it might have something to do with the test results.”
The test results - the scores he’d been waiting for since last week, the numbers that would define his worth as an employee for this company - the very exam that would determine his eligibility for promotion to Senior Manager. Erin would be pleased, she’d only been dogging him about their bank account for the past --
The man cleared his throat again and Gustav jumped a bit. He rifled through what appeared to be the entire contents of Gustav’s file once more before separating a solitary paper and passing it across the wide oak desk to his employee. He sat back in his plush leather chair and steepled his fingers, glancing occasionally at the telephone as Gustav read over his score.
He kept his eye on the blinking lights on his phone - each indicating a line in use by his secretaries, each bright red flash signifying a money sign, another bill in his wallet, the smooth blood coursing through his company’s veins to line his pocket. Like a well-kept body, his branch of the business was fluid, healthy, growing. But what had the man on the phone said not an hour ago? Certain positions in the company were likened to blockages in the collective vessels and must be sacrificed for the sake of the body.
One for the sake of all.
He risked a glance at Shafer, who was reading so quickly his eyes were blurred, a broad grin on his face. He waited for the young man’s brown eyes to meet his own, then quickly resumed his watch of the telephone. “As you can see…” He adjusted himself in his chair, wishing to seat himself higher, but the soft leather had conformed to the contours of his body over the decade he’d burrowed into it. He succeeded in only nestling himself further into the fabric, wasting a further few moments rustling Gustav’s file in front of his face. “As you can see, your test scores are phenomenal. I do believe you have the highest record of the past seven years, Shafer.” He held out his hand across the desktop and twitched his fingers. Gustav gave him the test paper, still smiling happily. “However…”
Gustav’s grin faltered. He’d been the top scorer of the past seven years! There should be no ‘However…’ Yet, here he sat, wiping his once-again moist hands on his dress pants, waiting for the man behind the massive desk to finish replacing the papers in the filing cabinet and continue. However…
The telephone rang and the man seized it at once, his double chin waggling furiously as he spoke rapidly into the receiver. “Yes, yes, hello. Yes. Yes, sir. Yes. No. Right now, yes, sir. Okay.” The man pressed a wide button and placed the telephone back on the hook; a voice came from the speaker, permeating the nervous atmosphere in the room. The man in the chair kept his fat fingers mere inches from the handset.
“Gustav Shafer,” the voice spoke imperiously, and Gustav leaned forward eagerly. This must be the VP himself, calling to congratulate me on my promotion! he thought, suppressing the childish glee welling in his stomach. “As I’ve been informed, you have received the top marks in our placement exam. Usually this would ensure an associate being chosen for advancement within the company. However - ”
Again with the “However…” Gustav wrinkled his brow in irritation and smoothed the pressed lines of his slacks. The corpulent man was staring at the telephone as if enraptured; he reminded Gustav of a loyal dog gazing at his master. Maybe his tongue would roll out of his fat cheeks…
“ - I have reviewed several key documents pertaining to our accounting and records department and I’m sorry to say that we will not be able to promote you at this time. Furthermore - ”
Gustav felt a blow to his chest; his heart had surely skipped a beat. Did he say he hadn’t earned this promotion? Gustav sat on the edge of his chair, a nearly mirror image of the man across the desk, placing his hands on the oak finish and waiting for the telephone voice to resume.
“ - I am also calling personally to inform you of your release. We commend you on your spotless record with our corporation, but the time has come for our business to take a new route, and the Board of Directors has found no need for your position. We will, of course, be offering you a handsome severance package. We have forwarded your personal files to your lawyer, I believe his name is Mr. Gaines. You will find the items from your office waiting for you at the secretary’s desk, and Gustav: we wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”
The dial tone came abruptly as the man on the other end hung up without saying goodbye. Gustav felt light-headed, trying to sort through everything that had just happened. “Did he just… Am I… Am I fired?”
The man looked around nervously, leaning back into his chair with a squish. “Well, I offer you my condolences, Mr. Shafer. You’ve been an excellent employee from the start, but - ”
“But now I’m fired?” Gustav stood and snapped his fingers. “Just like that? It’s over? I’ve been with this company for years! I built my life around my career - I have several thousand dollars in the corporation’s retirement fund! What did I do? Why?”
“Well…” The man quivered his lips, darting his eyes around for an excuse, landing on the telephone. “You heard the Head of the Board… He said they don’t need… there’s no room for…”
“I’m an accountant! There are a dozen other associates in my department that could have been cut for much less than my record! I don’t… He could have offered me another position! I can’t afford to be… I have a child on the way! How will I pay my bills?”
“Well… Well, I… The Head mentioned a severance package… Perhaps you ought to go down and speak to your lawyer…” He made a show of shuffling through another stack of papers on his desk, disappearing behind a sheaf of charts and graphs.
Gustav growled low in his throat, the sound unintentional but the perfect sum of his anger and frustration. He was being dismissed by being ignored at the height of his ire. He slammed his hand down on the desk next to the abhorrent telephone and the man peeked over the edge of a pie chart.
“I have worked for you since I was twenty-two years old, Jim. I worked my ass off for you, and I didn’t hear you say one word in my defense. I’m happy to be leaving such a place where I am not appreciated and you can go to hell with your desk and your papers and your fucking telephone.”
Frozen behind the desk, the man still refused to meet his eyes. Gustav shook with fury, humiliated. He stalked to the door and snarled before slamming the frosted glass behind him. “Coward!”
_____________________________________
She answered the phone on the fifth ring. “Erin?” came a small voice from the other end.
“Yeah? What?” She turned to the mirror in the bathroom and patted at her bleach blonde hair, curled into a pin-up style. Needs more hairspray. She shook the canister up and down before spraying her hair with one hand. “Hello? I can’t hear you, Gus. Where are you? What do you mean, bad news?”
Placing the can on the bathroom counter, she tugged at the waistband of her black dress, trying to hide her growing belly beneath its folds. The bump was cute, but she was starting to get stretch marks and damn if that lotion the doctor recommended wasn’t starting to give her a rash. Where the hell was Gustav with… oh. “Seriously, you have got to get out of whatever tunnel you’re in, Gus. I can’t - yeah, yeah, that’s better. Now, what were you saying?”
She half-listened while choosing a pair of black pumps to go with her outfit. The doc doesn’t understand, you can’t NOT wear high heels with a dress like this. She tugged one on and had begun to buckle the strap when she froze, her face flushed. “Say that again. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
The voice on the line hummed in her ear, monotonous and defeated. She stood, lopsided from her one shoe, and clenched her fist into a ball. “You got fired? What the fuck did you do? No, really, I don’t want to hear it. Really. I give up, Gustav. You can’t even hold down a job; how the hell do you expect to provide for a family?”
The voice rose in tempo and volume, and she flung her free high heel across the room, striking the expensive bottle of shampoo Gustav had purchased for her last birthday. The lid pop off, spraying the bathtub with lavender goo. “Whatever! I am so sick of your excuses! We’re already on a fucking tight budget, Gustav, and how am I supposed to have a baby without health insurance? You want me to pop it out in the grocery store like that one movie?” He responded quickly, prompting her to remove her other shoe and throw it into the bathtub with the other. It made a disgusting plop right into the middle of the shampoo mess. “Ha-ha, fuck you, asshole! I can’t believe I ever let you knock me up! You’re a loser - you have always been a loser!”
She grabbed a huge suitcase from the top of the bedroom closet and yanked on a drawer in her wardrobe, pulling it out of its hinges. Grabbing the underwear and socks that had up-ended, she continued to berate her boyfriend until her face was splotchy and tears ran rivulets through her perfect makeup. “No, I already said it - I’m done! It’s over! No, it’s not just this - it’s everything! Never having money, never being able to go shopping or out with my friends, living in this tiny apartment in this crappy city! No! It’s not my fucking hormones, Gustav! Don’t you get it? IT’S YOU!”
She slammed the phone shut and threw it across the room too, along with a framed photograph of their first sonogram and a nice blue vase that had belonged to Gustav’s grandmother. She screamed at the top of her lungs and started pulling her clothes down from the hangars and onto the floor.
_____________________________________
Gustav stared at his cell phone with incredulity. Erin had had temper tantrums before, but this one… definitely the cake taker. He went to push the redial button but the phone rang, playing the theme song from Star Wars and displaying a phone number he wasn’t familiar with. “Hello?”
“Gustav, my boy!” the voice nearly yelled, causing him to cringe and hastily mash the volume button on the side of the phone. Of course it was Mr. Gaines, Gustav’s very capable (and very deaf) lawyer. He’d served his family through four divorces (Father: one; Mother: three), one case of shoplifting (Erin), one destruction of private property (Erin), one very nasty parental custody battle (and possibly soon to be two), among other innumerable things. Gustav looked up to find himself standing at the entrance to the subway, anxious and not at all in the talkative mood. “How are you?”
“Not so - ”
“Well, that’s good to hear, good to hear. Listen, I’ve got something here in my office for you, son. Will you stop by on your way from work?”
“Yeah, I know, but - ”
“Excellent, excellent. I’ll have it here on my desk, waiting for you. Do try to hurry - Magdalene is making spaghetti tonight and I don’t want to be late!”
Once again, he looked down at his phone, the dial tone from an abrupt disconnection buzzing in his face. What could it hurt? He’d go by Mr. Gaines’ office and pick up his papers, giving Erin ample time to cool down and allow him to apologize. He stepped back into the subway station and presently arrived at the exit to downtown. Pushing past the crowd of disembarking passengers, he stepped into the dusky glow of nightfall and made his way to the lawyer’s office. A hand came out of nowhere, thrusting with the palm up into his face.
A beggar sat in the shadows of the alleyway between the subway station and an abandoned building. His face was heavily bandaged, but a swath of dark hair peeked from the corner of his knitted cap. “Change? Change, please?”
Gustav fished around in his pockets and pulled out a bill he’d been saving for the soda machine at work - but now that there was no more soda machine and no more work, he pressed the paper into the man’s hand and walked away. The beggar called out behind him, “May He bless you with eternal life!”
God, hah. What a joke. If He was looking down on Earth right now, He’d certainly missed sprinkling Gustav with His special miracle happy powder or what the fuck ever. As far as Gustav was concerned, God could go take a long walk off a -
He arrived at the lawyer’s door and, waving to the receptionist, made his entrance past a large sign that read: Harold Gaines - Attorney. Someone had scribbled an expletive just below the sign, and Gustav wasn’t entirely certain it hadn’t been Gaines himself. A white head of hair poked around the corner and nearly head butted him in the face.
“Oh, there you are! About time! Come in, come in.” He ushered Gustav into his office and shut the door. Several photos of a large gray cat greeted him from the desk, flanking a solitary photo of an older couple in Hawaii - Gaines and his wife, Magdalene. “Have a seat, have a seat!” Gus sat politely, discreetly checking the clock on the wall. Already nearing six thirty? If he didn’t get home soon, he was certain he’d be hearing an encore of Erin’s spectacular performance.
“I’m glad I caught you, Gustav,” Gaines said, settling into his office chair. “I only received this package today and it turns out to be time sensitive! Can you imagine?” He brought forth a large mailing envelope and spread the contents on his desk for Gustav to see. “Apparently, your great uncle… what’s his name… Samuel, has passed away and seems to have left his sole inheritance to you. I’m very sorry for your loss, of course.”
“My… who?” Gustav sat forward in his chair, staring at the paper. “I didn’t know I had a great uncle anybody…”
“Well, you do… or rather, you did.” Gaines handed a large, ornate piece of paper and a glossy photograph to Gustav. “This,” he tapped the paper, “is the deed to that.” He pointed an old, gnarled finger at the picture and Gustav felt his head swim.
The photograph was of a large, expansive house - nearly a mansion - standing four stories tall - look at that yard - Victorian in era - is this really my house now? - and exquisitely kept. He voiced his last thought out loud. “This… he really left me a house? This is mine now? Where is it at?”
Gaines restacked the remaining paperwork in a neat pile and shrugged. “I tried looking up the address on the deed, but it shows up nothing. Absolutely nowhere. So, I’d safely assume it is where ever he wants you to be sent.” He handed over an official looking letter and Gustav read it quickly.
“It says here I have to stay there for three months before the title is turned over to my name. Why?”
“That’s quite an estate; my guess is your uncle wanted to make sure you could handle such a place. There is a vineyard on the back acres and it appears to be the means by which your great uncle amassed his wealth. Of course he would want to ensure that his legacy was well taken care of.”
Gustav nodded, excitement growing in his body. What luck! Maybe he’d take back what he said about God - and go by and give that beggar some more money while he was at it. I can’t wait to tell Erin!
“Did you see the bottom paragraph, Gustav?” Gaines asked, tapping a long finger on the parchment. “Your plane is on a time limit, apparently. I would have told you sooner, but I’ve just found out myself.”
His eyes bulged. They wanted him to leave tomorrow morning! Tomorrow morning! “I… holy… What about my bills? My apartment? My girlfriend?”
“Well, it doesn’t say anything about not taking Erin - ” he wrinkled his nose in what Gustav believed was a veiled distaste “ - so I’d imagine there’s room on a private plane for two persons. You haven’t got much time to decide, though. The letter says if you don’t board the plane tomorrow then your contract is void.”
“Are you kidding?” Gustav clutched the photograph in his hand, falling back into his seat. “This is so sudden… I - Did you know I just lost my job? Seriously, not two hours ago I was fired and Erin threatened to leave me and I just - I couldn’t think of how I’d go on about my life and now… But I have to leave tomorrow morning?”
“You could leave your information for your bills with me, Gustav. I’ll take care of everything, with your permission.”
“This is crazy!” Gustav laughed, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “I can’t believe it! It feels like all of my dreams - just, I mean - yeah! Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Harold! I’m going to do this! What have I got to lose?”
“All right, let’s go over these papers and you can fax me what I need later. Take a look at these other photographs…”
_____________________________________
“Yeah, she’s he-yah, but she ain’t gonna talk ta ya, Gustav,” Trisha, Erin’s older sister, squawked over the phone with her Fran Drescher accent. Gustav automatically gritted his teeth and massaged his temple - her high-pitched voice always gave him a headache. “I know ya’re sorry, and ya should be. I can’t believe ya went and got yaself sacked, kid. This is tha worst possible time, ya know.”
“I know, Trish. Please, just put Erin on the phone; this is really important.”
“Ya’re not the boss of me, mister. And besides, I already told ya, she don’t wanna talk ta ya. Don’t want nothin’ ta do wit’ ya. Can’t say I really blame her.”
Gustav had a mini-fit, mouthing a wordless invective at his telephone as he scrambled around the room, pulling drawers open to find his travel papers. He took a deep breath after his silent tirade and said, “Okay. Will you please just tell her that my great uncle just passed away and left me some property in his will? I’ve got to go over and check the place out tomorrow morning and I would like her to come with me. Can you do that?”
He heard a shuffling from the other end of the line and a scrabbling noise. “I’m still really mad at you, Gustav,” Erin spat as she came on the phone.
“I know, honey.” Gustav sank onto the bed and sighed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you… Will you come home now so we can talk about this?”
“No, I don’t think so. I meant what I said earlier, Gus - you can’t take care of me. I want more from my life than having to struggle to pay bills and never owning our own house - ”
“That’s what I’m calling about!” Gustav interjected. “I inherited a huge house; it has plenty of room for us and our baby and there’s a vineyard in the backyard that - ”
“Really? Where is it? Why didn’t you tell me before now?” Erin perked up, her interest piqued.
“Well, I’m not really sure where exactly it is. We have to leave tomorrow to go there and - ”
“Hold on just a minute! I’m not going anywhere tomorrow; I have a salon appointment and Friday is my mother’s birthday, you know that!”
“Erin!” Gustav ground his fists into his eyes, pushing stars into his vision. Why does she have to be so goddamn difficult all the time? “This is the chance of a lifetime. This house is incredible and paid for and has its own method for practically growing currency right in the back yard! We’re going to check it out!”
“I’m not going anywhere with you! You want me to just pack up and move? I won’t do it!” she screeched, and a loud clonk indicated that she’d probably thrown her telephone across the room again. Another scrabbling noise, and Trisha came back on the line.
“I think I told ya so, kid,” she said, the grin on her face almost verbal. “I think ya oughtta give her some time to cool down, ya know. Go and do ya thing, whateva’ it is. I’ll look after Erin.”
He picked up a shirt from the floor and saw a pile of broken glass - the vase his late grandmother had purchased from a Tibetan monk. He scooped it up in the shirt, meaning to put it together later with superglue, but he dropped it again when he saw what was underneath. She threw the sonogram picture. She threw the first photo of my child across the room and broke it.
“You do that,” he said, red clouding his eyesight as he gingerly removed the scratched photograph from its shattered frame. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Tell her to take care of my baby.”
He pressed the picture flat and placed it between two of his sweaters in a red suitcase, opened and half-packed on the bed. When his head finally stopped pounding, his eyes cleared and he rubbed at his face, reminding himself to shave before he set off on the plane tomorrow. He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into a deep puddle - someone had turned on every faucet in the room before he’d come home.
I swear to fucking God, he thought viciously as he wrenched the knobs, cutting off the flow of water. If she doesn’t end up killing me, I just might have a go at her.
_____________________________________
The late September air breezed across Gustav’s face as the driver opened the back door and stood aside to let him step out. A car had been sent to bring him to the private air strip - sleek, smooth, expensive and unmarked - the license plate had a design he’d never seen before and was sure belonged to no region of this country. Tinted windows had been placed inside the car as well as on the outer glass, and Gustav had not been able to see inside the driver’s area for the division constructed between the front and back seats, like a taxi. Not that the man operating the vehicle had spoken at all to him…
He was totally unaware of where he was.
A blindingly bright white plane sat waiting for him a hundred yards away. Silently, the driver handed Gustav his suitcases and shut the trunk, wiping dust from his gloves. He held a beckoning hand out toward the airplane.
“Thanks.” Gustav hitched his backpack around his shoulders and walked toward the plane. “Do you know how long the flight will be?”
He turned to the driver, but he had not followed him; he was climbing into the car, shutting the door, driving away, leaving Gustav alone on the tarmac.
“I can help you with those,” a voice ghosted beside Gustav’s cheek. He jumped, startled to find a short, stocky man in a flight suit standing immediately to his left. He hadn’t seen him there before…
The man took his rolling suitcase and duffel bag, leaving Gus with only his backpack. “I will place these in the hold.”
The man he guessed was the pilot walked off, carrying Gustav’s heavy luggage in one hand like it wasn’t anything; in the other, he carried a helmet, tucked safely between his ribs and his arm. The light from the sun gleamed on the glass visor, pulling a tight, searing pain from behind Gustav’s eyes. These goddamn migraines, he thought, dropping down to a knee to pull his headache medicine from a pocket in his backpack. A bottle of water appeared in his face.
“Oh.” Gustav took the plastic bottle and unscrewed the cap, swallowing a handful of pills along with half of the bottle. “Thanks a lot.”
Snapping on his helmet, the pilot nodded and hitched a thumb at the plane. Gustav picked up his backpack and followed, boarding the small stairs to the aircraft and stumbling at the top. His feet felt heavy… his arms and… his head, too… The pilot helped him into a very comfortable seat and snapped his belt, placing his backpack in an overhead storage bin. Gustav settled deeply into his chair and watched through blurred eyes as the pilot checked him over, taking his pulse and peering into his pupils.
Slowly, so slowly… his eyelids fell… a deep sense of peace and… deep breaths… warm and…
His eyes shot open - what the fuck was going on? Another rumble and he shifted in his seat, gripping the leather padding for dear life. Sounded like crunching rocks…
Pounding, pounding in his temple… was that because of his migraine or… darkness…
He drugged me! The pilot fucking drugged me!
He bolted up, banging his head against something hard and cold. A tiny light floated by in his vision. A tiny light and… maybe another… Why is it so dark?
“It’s always dark out here,” a man’s hoarse voice spoke from gloom. He turned on the overhead light and Gustav found himself in an SUV, driving down a pitch-dark dirt road. “Of course, I can see just fine, but you might have to get used to it.” He snickered, a sound that felt dirty to Gustav, low and husky like a hyena.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Gustav rubbed at his forehead, realizing he’d knocked it against the window when he sat up. “Are you kidnapping me?”
“You ain’t no kid.” The man laughed again and Gustav leaned forward to try and see his face, but it seemed like no matter the distance, the man’s visage was a hazy, hairy mess. “I’m just taking you to the house… see?”
A golden glow was growing on the horizon, parting the darkness and lighting a tiny path on the road. The house in Harold Gaines photograph presented itself as a sparkling flame in a sea of shadows - the gigantic façade lit up the entire lawn as the SUV slowed, rolling down the windows. Beautiful, exotic plants peeked from beneath towering willow trees, several hedges sheared in the shape of children danced around a colossal spouting fountain - it seemed he didn’t have enough eyes to see everything despite opening them as wide as they would go. Gustav thought he smelled salt water, maybe from a nearby ocean, and honeysuckle and freshly mown grass and…
“Holy shit!” He snatched his head back into the car, breathing so hard as to nearly hyperventilate. “Was that a lion? There’s a lion in the yard!”
“Breathe,” the driver warned, stopping the car in the middle of the driveway. “Wouldn’t want to die when you haven’t even seen the inside yet, eh?”
“What the hell is a lion doing running around in the front yard?” Gustav peeked over the doorframe and tried to slow his frantic heart. The lion’s eyes glowed from around the corner of a hydrangea and he let out a soft rumble, staring straight at Gustav. Another set of eyes appeared to the right and Gustav’s head whipped around so fast he cricked his neck. Sitting in the shade of a drooping willow’s boughs, a black panther huffed with her mouth open, gazing at the car.
A loud noise made Gustav spin in his seat and recoil - a large vulture had landed in the open window of the backseat, clicking its talons against the metal frame. Its large wings beat a whirlwind inside the vehicle as it tried to steady itself on the too-small ledge, and Gustav gawked, horrified, as the driver took a dead rat from the bag in the front seat and threw it out his window. The vulture took off with such a force that the SUV rocked on its axles.
“Please, please,” Gustav whimpered, covering his face with his arms. “Can we go in the house, now? Please?”
“Sorry,” the driver said, pulling through the grass to make a u-turn, “but I’m not allowed go any further up the drive way. You’ll have to walk.”
“You’re joking.” Gustav gripped his seat with a squelch. “I’m not getting out of this car with those… those carnivores out there!”
“You’ll be just fine. Look, here come the caretakers now. They’ll walk with you,” the driver cackled again, “and maybe they’ll even introduce you to the lion!”
A long, thin shadow slit through the bright light of the house, casting darkness like a scar down the white rock of the drive way. It slithered its way toward the car and Gustav squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly wished he were back in his poor, rundown, bill-smothered house with his crazy girlfriend, making macaroni in the microwave and going over his finances for the seventeen time. A lion. A fucking lion. A fucking lion and a fucking panther. This is a zoo. This is insane. This is -
A slender white hand wrapped around Gustav’s forearm and his eyes flew open. A beautiful apparition hovered in his window, peering into his face. “You don’t have to be afraid,” it whispered, and his door opened. “You’re with us.”
Another pale spirit appeared at its side, lugging a suitcase and a backpack in its arms… in its arms? Gustav rubbed his eyes and looked again. It’s not a phantom… that’s a really fucking pale person.
“Oh, thank the Lord,” Gustav felt his legs go to jello as he laughed himself out of his terror. He stepped weakly onto the rocks and looked up… and up, and up… into the face of the transparently thin man he’d thought was a ghost. Coal-tinted hair framed a beautiful face that reflected the light like a moon, but when he opened his eyes, Gustav felt his stomach drop - deep, dark pits of the blackest black. Evil. Sin. Resounding fear gripped his chest.
“I’m Bill,” the man said happily, grasping Gustav’s frozen arm in a handshake. “This is my twin brother, Tom.” The man carrying the luggage waved, rustling Gustav’s backpack. His long hair was the color of the sun, pulled back tightly in a low ponytail, and he saw now that they were wearing almost identical black suits, save for the different lengths of the coat. “We are your housekeepers.” The blonde twin bore a hole into Gustav’s face with the same abyssal eyes as his brother.
“Come,” Tom commanded, turning his back on the SUV. The driver waved his arm out the window and Gustav turned to try again and see his face, but the car sped away, throwing gravel over the trio who stood in the middle of the lawn.
The lion rumbled again, heralding his new position six yards south of Gustav’s back. The meat-eating, sharp-toothed lion, or the disturbing, translucent man with the malevolent aura? He must make a selection: Stay in the yard, or proceed to the house?
He kept the same distance from both parties as he walked up the path, the panther joining the lion padding in his footsteps.