When I wrote into the newspaper advertising my services, I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was only supposed to be giving people ‘massages’, if you catch my drift. So when a man with the voice of an angel called my number I was happy to be of service. He said his name was Eric and I told him my rate: $5 up front, and then $0.50 an hour thereafter, double on the weekends.

Of course it was never something I wanted to do, but life happens I guess. I waited for him in the bitter cold on the street corner in my nicest dress with a coat pulled tight around me. He had said his car was black, so that’s what I was searching for. But ah, when a Mercedes with white wall tires pulled up I was mighty confused, and even more so when I saw the driver. 

“Hey Sugar, you my ride-“ I stopped mid sentence. He was young and gorgeous. No more than 20 with dark hair and the most stunning blue eyes I had ever seen, though one was covered with a kind of medical eyepatch? Anyway, there was no way this was my client, “Oh, sorry! My mistake, wrong car.”

“No. I was the one who called you.” He spoke calmly. His voice had a slight accent I couldn’t quite place, but who was I to say anything.

I got in the car without any further hesitation. It wasn’t every day that I got handsome clients with fancy cars, maybe I’d get a good tip. That's what I thought anyways. However, as we drove far out of town I got a little nervous. The road was gravel and the headlights highlighted the trees on either side of us as we went. I remember hearing about some shady folks before, and I was starting to regret getting into his car so freely. Especially since he didn’t talk. 

Eventually he turned off down a narrow driveway and we arrived out the front of what appeared to be an abandoned mansion. Few lights were on in the home, so I could see from the outside that it was a big place, though it looked rundown. The steps had plants growing on them and it looked like a couple of the windows might be smashed up. 

While I had been looking at it I hadn’t noticed that he’d moved around to the passenger side door and when he opened it for me I just about jumped out of my skin. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He commented and I smiled nervously. 

“It’s okay, I don’t judge.” I assured. Everything about this was giving me all kinds of warning bells, but I ignored them all as I followed the man in. I only noticed then that he used a cane to walk, and that the right sleeve of his jacket hung empty. Maybe that was why he needed my services, though I couldn’t imagine it with that face of his. 

The old wood creaked under the weight as we stepped onto the porch, and I wondered if it was safe to be on.  Ahead the entry was a solid mahogany door with a circular rune of some kind carved into it. Similarly, the inside of the door frame had odd markings on the inner surrounds. He pushed the door open and gestured for me to go in. 

Inside the house it was dim, there was a line of salt spilled neatly along the edge of the threshold at the bottom of the door and I looked back to the car one last time. It sat in the drive silently with lights from the house reflecting off the shiny metal. Past it was nothing but dark woods and I realized that if I was going to back out, it was too late now. Though I briefly considered my chances if I ran into the forest blindly. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked dully when I hesitated. 

“Y-yep, just dandy!” I lied quickly and gave a shy smile as I stepped past him. The interior was nothing like anything I had ever seen before. There was a huge staircase just past the entryway and massive rooms off to either side. One was the kitchen and that adjoined to the dining room, while on the other side was the living room and a personal library.

There was a massive fireplace burning which made the temperature uncomfortably warm, and I had to take off my jacket. I was just a little girl from Tennessee you see, so it looked like a palace to me. However, the entire place was largely empty and covered in dust. It didn’t look at all like anyone lived here. The only piece of decor was a round rug in the center of the house.

He followed me in and I heard the door creak closed behind us, “That rug is not to be moved, you can begin in the kitchen and don’t touch the salt.” He instructed as he hung up his coat. 

 “Ah, Sugar, the kitchen isn’t exactly the most comfortable place, where’s the bed?” I asked unsurely as I leant into him. 

To further my confusion, he stepped back from me. “The bedrooms are upstairs, bathrooms are over there, and don’t open the second bedroom door on the left.” He answered without emotion.

“Right well, I do charge by the hour…” I reminded him carefully.

“And you’ll do whatever I say, correct?”

“Well, almost, I don’t do anything unprotected.” 

“That’s fine. I want you to make me something to eat.”

“Come again?” 

“Clean the kitchen. Then make dinner. Ignore the phone if it rings.” He instructed more clearly. 

“That’s not really how this works…”

“Why not? Your ad stated you would do ‘anything’ your client wanted.” He asked, looking mildly uncertain. 

“…You’ve never done this before have you?”

I thought for a moment he looked almost annoyed, “No.” He stated bluntly. 

“Well, the advertisement was for…” I didn’t know how to word it, I was starting to get the impression that he didn’t even know what my services were. “Never mind, I can make you something to eat then we can get to it.” 

“Good.”

He turned and disappeared upstairs leaving me to confront the kitchen. There was a phone on the wall and the sink was piled with broken and dirty dishes. The stove looked like it had caught fire at some point or another and food was left spread over the counter top. In the windowsills were more lines of salt and I nearly screamed when a bug ran over my hand. The cleaning supplies were minimal, but I made do. Admittedly I took my time cleaning and thought about how odd the situation was.

After that I made him dinner as he asked. We ate in the dining room together, he sat at one end of the long table while I sat at the other. There hadn’t been no spices of any kind in the house so it wasn’t that great, but he didn’t complain.

“So.. After dinner…”

“I’ll drive you back.” He answered nonchalantly. 

“And you don’t want anything else. You just wanted me to clean and cook for you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. 

He looked up at me from under his long lashes, “I thought we had already clarified that your ad said ‘anything I wanted’. Do you have a problem with the tasks I’ve given you?” 

“Oh, no no no, I just, it’s unusual is all.” I was used to all kinds of people, some just wanted to watch I guess. Though, he hadn’t been watching me as far as I knew. 

After that he drove me back just as he had promised. He thanked me and before I got out of the car he handed me a wad of cash. It was all hundreds, and I stared at it dumbfounded, it was more than I would make in a month.

“Are these real?” I asked skeptically, they sure looked real enough. 

“Of course they are.” 

Part of me wanted to take the money and say nothing… But, I just couldn’t. “Sugar, this is way too much.” I told him while internally kicking myself for it. 

“It’s fine. Take it. I’ll only ask that you don’t tell anyone about anything in regard to me or my estate.” 

I hesitated a moment, “How about we make this my wage for the week, and I’ll come back tomorrow. Looks like you could use some more meals and there’s plenty of cleaning to be done.” 

He deliberated for a moment, “…That would be acceptable.” He agreed finally. 

“Same time?” 

“Yes.” 

From then on it became something of a routine, he would pick me up each evening and I would spend the night cleaning and cooking. I used some of the money he’d given me to buy supplies, namely some spices and clean rags. Though I noticed on the second night that he hadn’t used any more dishes than what was left from the day before. Confused, I went to ask him about it.

He was sitting on the floor surrounded by newspapers. It was all laid out and it looked like he was connecting or arranging things in a very specific kind of way. Reading through the articles and then writing some stuff down. I watched as he paused and a slightly frustrated expression crossed his face. “That doesn’t make sense.” He muttered to himself. 

He was using his left hand for everything because his right arm was bandaged up, and when I cleared my throat to get his attention he looked up as if he had forgotten I was there. “Do you need something?”  

“Have you eaten yet today Sugar?” 

“Not yet. That’s why you’re here remember? There’s plenty to make things with in the kitchen.”

“You know you’re supposed to eat three meals a day right?” 

He looked mildly surprised by this statement but the expression was gone in an instant, “I’m fine, I’ll eat in here tonight, just bring it to me when it’s ready.” He answered calmly, returning to whatever it was that he was doing. 

“Okay then.” I didn’t argue with him.

I made dinner for that night as instructed, but you best believe I made sure to make him some meals for the following day as well. I chose to sit with him on the floor while we ate and looked over what he was working on. All the articles were terribly morbid, deaths in national parks, mysterious drownings, ‘haunted’ houses.

“You a reporter or something?” I asked curious. 

“No.” 

“A cop?” I asked more suspiciously. 

“No.” 

“A private investigator.”

“Stop asking questions.”

“Sorry Sugar.” I apologized with a laugh, “Oh, but you need to go shopping. Can’t make anything else with the ingredients you have left.” 

That caused him to hesitate, “What do I need to buy to be able to make more with what’s left?” 

I thought about it for a moment, and looked him over. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person who knew how to go shopping. After all, everything he had bought previously was an odd assortment and it was difficult to make full meals from it. “You know what, how about you take me to do the shopping for you as well.” I offered, he was certainly paying me enough to do that. I didn’t even need to work for a couple weeks if I was careful. 

“…We’ll have to go during the day then.” He commented. 

“That’s fine sugar.” 

“I thought you only came out at night.” 

That made me smile, bless him, “No Sugar.” 

The following day he picked me up and we went to the grocery store. He instructed me to pick out what I needed and before long the cart was full of food and household items. For a majority of the time he just watched without saying anything though he eventually asked, “How do you know what food to get?” 

“Mm, just experience. Didn’t your mama never teach you how to shop?” 

“No.” He shrugged. 

“Well, you just have to choose things that look good. Don’t pick any fruits with bruises, no vegetables that look wilted. Always smell your food, you can tell if it’s ripe. Oh, and don’t by any open packets or tins with dents.” 

“…How do I know what makes what?” 

“Well… We can get a cooking book.” 

“What is that?” 

“It tells you how to make meals, it’s like instructions.” I explained. Typical man didn't know a thing about the kitchen I thought. 

“Okay. I would like to get one of them then.” He agreed easily. 

He was very polite, I thought, and very odd. I took him to the butchers and he stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw them pigs hanging in the window. “No.” He said firmly. 

“Come now sugar, every man needs to eat meat.” I assured him.

“I said no.” he repeated firmly. 

I didn’t want to argue with him, but that was ridiculous. Maybe that’s why his arm and leg didn’t work right. “How do you expect to grow strong if you don’t eat meat?” I had heard that some hippy types didn’t like meat, though he didn’t strike me as one for he was far too well dressed. 

“I’m already full grown and I’m not going to argue about this. The answer is no.” he repeated in a lower tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was something dangerous about the way he said it. 

“Okay okay.” I relented. “I’ll make do without.” 

He said nothing more about it and I felt like I had crossed some kind of line. We returned to his house and I saw it for the first time in the daylight, it was magnificent. Off the edge of the drive was a black and chrome motorbike that I hadn’t noticed before in the dark. While past that there were beautiful gardens surrounding the estate. Flowers of all kinds grew and fairy rings of toadstools formed naturally around the edges. 

“Do you do all the gardening yourself?” I asked in awe. 

“No, it grows on its own.” 

I knelt down then to touch one of the bright red mushrooms, I was sure they didn’t grow here naturally, “Not even these?” I asked.

“Don’t touch them.” He warned firmly and I pulled my hand back, “Poisonous.” He mused. 

“Right. Of course all beautiful things are poisonous.” I laughed nervously. It was another rule I would need to remember. 

As the weeks passed he became my regular employment. In fact I considered him to be my ‘regular job’ now and was able to give up working on the street. Cleaning the mansion took a lot of work, there were a lot of surfaces to tend to and the windows took nearly an eternity. By the time I was done, I basically had to start all over again to maintain it. 

Eventually I got around to cleaning the library. It was an enormous room with a skylight and bookshelves so tall they had a railed ladder to help you reach the ones up the top. I didn’t recognise any of the titles but as I began to wipe down the central desk a book fell from one of the middle shelves. 

It landed with a heavy thud as if someone had thrown it and I startled. I took a moment to look around and see if perhaps someone else was in the room, but there didn’t seem to be anyone. With sunlight streaming in it hardly seemed scary to me. Just, surprising. I watched the book suspiciously for a long moment until Eric entered. 

“Did you drop something?” 

“No, just a book falling.” I laughed, moving to pick it up.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, it’s no problem Sugar. It’s just a book-” 

“I said don’t touch it.” He repeated more firmly cutting me off and I hesitated with my hand hovering over it. “Never touch any book that falls.” 

“I think I can handle picking up a book.” I tried to assure him. 

“No. If you want to remain employed here you may not touch a book that falls. Just ignore it completely, I will deal with it.” 

That was a little odd I thought, but his house, his rules. “Okay Sweetie, no problem.” I laughed easily to break the tension as I teased, “You got any other rules for me?” 

“Yes, actually. It didn’t matter before when you were only going to be here once or twice, but if this is a regular arrangement then you will need to know the rules. I’ll write them all down for you.”

“Uhh…” I said uncertain, I had only been making a joke. 

“For now, you may dust around the books, but don’t touch them with your bare skin. Also, don’t read any of them. If anymore ‘fall’, tell me immediately.”  

“You got it Sugar.” I assured.

He seemed unusually tense as he turned his attention to the fallen book. To my astonishment he reached to pick it up in his right hand. The bandages slipped slightly as he did and I saw his fingernails were in fact blackened claws. He placed the book back on the shelf carefully then set about re-bandaging his arm as he left the room. I dared not even guess what was wrong with it, I had assumed it was injured or something previously but it looked far more disturbing than that. 

Anyway, he handed me the list of rules that night. It read: 

1. Never bring meat into the house.
2. Always let the phone ring out. Do not answer it or use it no matter the circumstances.
3. Never open the second bedroom on the left. 
4. Ignore the books, do not touch, read, or pick up any of them no matter where they appear in the house. 
5. Don’t touch any plants in the garden, especially not the toadstools. 
6. Do not wipe away the salt. 
7. Leave the rug in the living room in its place. Never disturb, lift or move it.

His handwriting was neat cursive and I got the impression he was highly educated. Though some of the instructions seemed pointless, for example the phone never rang anyway, and the bedroom door he was referring to was locked. I couldn’t see why the salt needed to be there, it was in every windowsill and entry way, that made it very annoying to clean around. 

However, eventually the day came when the phone did ring. I had been cleaning in the hallway when I heard it and I felt the strangest urge to answer it. It was the darndest thing, like it was calling me specifically. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, yet still I found myself reaching for it. Before I could take it off the hook though Eric caught a hold of my wrist, that snapped me out of it and I looked at him with wide eyes. 

“S-Sorry Sugar. I didn’t meant to-“ 

“Quiet.” His grip was uncomfortably tight and he only let go once the phone stopped ringing. “If you can’t follow the rules, your employment will be terminated.” 

“I understand.” I said anxiously, giving a sweet smile. I didn’t want to be fired, it was the best paying job I had ever had. 

“Good.” He stated calmly as he left the room. 

It wasn’t long after that he began packing a backpack. He moved from room to room gathering his things and when he seemed ready to go he approached me. 

“I have to go and I’ll be out of town for a few days. I’ll contact you when I return.” 

“Who’s going to look after your house?” I asked quickly. 

“Why does it need looking after?” 

“You know, in case any criminal types think it’s unoccupied… I would be happy to watch it for you.” I suggested and he paused. 

“I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” 

“It wouldn’t be any trouble at all, I can use the guest room, and I’ll follow all the rules.” I insisted. 

“Fine. But I mean it, follow everything to the letter. I’ll return in a few days.”

I couldn’t contain my excitement, “Thank you Sugar! You won’t regret it.” 

“Your life is of no consequence to me. But I would prefer it if I didn’t need to clean any stains off the floorboards when I return.” He shrugged and I didn’t have an answer for such a strange comment. 

He left and I heard the motorbike take off. At first I thought I was incorrect about that, after all, how could he ride with his impairments? However when I looked out I saw that the bike was gone so I guess he found a way. I won’t lie. Having a whole mansion to myself was the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.

Now I know he said don’t answer the phone, maybe he only took business calls on it or something, but I couldn’t see any reason I shouldn’t use it. So, the first thing I did was call up my best friend. We talked for hours as I told her all about it, there didn’t seem to be any ill effects from that. Except that, the phone began to ring more often thereafter. Not that I minded, I just ignored it as I was told. 

Shortly after a book appeared on the dining table and I frowned slightly, I assumed Eric had left it out in his haste to leave, so I put it away without worrying about it. When I went to bed I walked past the second bedroom on the left and, to my astonishment, I noticed it was open slightly. Was there a draft pushing it open? Why wasn’t it locked anymore? I didn’t know, but being curious I took the opportunity to peek inside. I couldn’t see anything past the infinite darkness beyond it, and chose to close it again gently. 

The rest of the night passed uneventfully and in the morning I set about dusting the house. I found that he left out several books and I began to get suspicious when they started reappearing after I was certain that I had put them back. Spotting one again on the edge of the dining table I sighed in exasperation. Perhaps I was going crazy? 

I reached to pick it up and it fell off, landing on the floor open. Of course I was curious, wouldn’t anyone be? I took a peak at the first few lines and it read: ‘Strung out whore. No one will miss you.’  I recoiled from the book. It felt like it was directed at me and I was angry. 

“Books shouldn’t insult people.” I muttered in response, taking it up and throwing it into the fire in the living room without any hesitation. The book gave off green flames as it burned and that was satisfying to me. I don’t know why he owned a book like that anyway. 

The next night the phone rang for hours, gosh it was annoying. I stormed back down the stairs at 3am and answered it, “Stop calling!” I shouted into the receiver and heard a ‘click’ as whoever it was hung up immediately. I wondered if I would get in trouble for that. 

On the third day a storm rolled in. Rain pelted the windows and the wind howled. It must have been a particularly strong gust that blew open the kitchen window and as a result the curtains knocked over a glass which shattered against the sink below.  Because of this I didn’t notice that it also blew away the salt line as I was too busy cleaning up the glass and fighting to shut the window again. 

By the third night I couldn’t sleep. The house creaked and groaned, while the weather outside did nothing to settle my nerves. It seemed that everything just went haywire the minute Eric left and I found myself anxiously waiting for him to return. I was sitting in the living room in front of the fire when the phone rang again. It was only a single ring, then it stopped. I didn’t even have the time to get up.

I listened hard for a long moment expecting it to ring again. There was silence then I thought I heard the kitchen window slide closed. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end then, surely I was just hearing things? Hesitantly I decided to get up and investigate. When I reached the kitchen I turned on the light and proceeded into the room. It was, as far as I could tell, empty. Though there were wet smears on the windowsill and bench top. I wasn’t sure how they had gotten there, but used a dry cloth to wipe up the moisture. It seemed to be water and I noticed that there were drips all over the floor as well. 

That was annoying, I must not have been paying attention when I washed up earlier and now I would need to dry the floor. Pulling my nightgown tighter around myself I went to fetch the mop and bucket from the hallway closet. I had just taken a hold of the handle when I heard a door upstairs slam shut. Was that just the wind? Or was there someone else in the house with me? My heart started to race and I held the mop like a weapon. 

“Hello? Sugar? You home?” I called nervously. No response. 

Cautiously I made my way up the stairs, the hallway above seemed to be especially dark and I took the steps very slowly one at a time. When I got to the last few I stopped, every instinct in me was telling me not to continue and so I stood frozen in place. There was a crack of thunder, blinding light illuminated the interior of the house through the windows and at the same time the power cut out.

In that instance however, I saw one thing and one thing only. Teeth. 

Standing just before me was something monstrous. Saliva dripped from its jaws in the gloom, it growled and the low sound reverberated through my ribcage. I stood there petrified, unable to fully comprehend what I had seen. Was it a figment of my imagination? I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I knew it wasn’t.

I had never been so scared before in my life. Another bolt of lightning lit up the house and I saw the creature again. It was closer now and I realized it was slowly advancing. In the next glimpse of light it was right beside my face, I heard the wet sound of its tongue extend out and felt the it’s warm breath on my face as it licked my cheek tentatively. 

It must have liked what it tasted for I saw its jaws open wide above me and I knew I was going to die. In that instant I was pulled back down the stairs and something brushed past me. There was a vicious screech and what sounded like a knife sliding through flesh. A warm liquid touched my bare feet and I instinctively stepped back. I couldn’t tell exactly what had happened until there was another flash of light. Then I saw everything. 

Blood was flowing down the stairs like a cascade from above. At the top was a hideous creature, it had a mass of teeth and its shoulders nearly touched the ceiling. Its mouth was opened wide and it writhed in place. There was the tip of something metal poking up out the top of its head and between its open jaws was Eric. I realized he had switched our places and driven a sword through its upper jaw into the skull. 

It was collapsing around him as the last of its nerves ceased functioning and he stepped aside quickly pulling the sword from it so that it crumpled into a heap in the hall. After that Eric turned to me slowly. He stepped toward me from the darkness into the light of the fire and  I saw that he was covered in blood. It dripped from the end of the blade and for the first time his right eye was uncovered. “I told you not to disturb the salt.” His tone of voice was vicious and his eye luminesced unnaturally. 

“I-I…” I stammered trying to formulate an answer but he disallowed me to continue as he spoke over the top of me. 

“I told you not to touch the phone and I warned you not to touch the books. Is there any rule you didn’t break?” He hissed. 

My mind was racing, looking at him now from before I couldn’t even believe he was the same person. He wasn’t using his cane and had no limp. His right arm was no longer bandaged and I could see there were markings up the length of his arm, while his fingertips ended in sharp claws. 

“Get. Out.” He growled.

“But- I-“

“Right now!” He shouted and I scrambled to do as I was told. 

I ran out into the storm without any hesitation, anything to get out of that house. I hurried down the drive and out onto the road, I didn’t stop until I came across a car and I begged them frantically to give me a lift. I’m sure I looked half crazed, soaked through, covered in blood and wearing no shoes… 

Of course I filed a police report and when they took me to see the house the following day I was horrified to learn that it was gone. In the place where it once stood was now nothing more than a set of steps and the door frame with strange symbols carved into it. The space beyond that was empty save for a ring of red toadstools.

More.

.xXx.