Boom!
Rain fell hard atop an old decrepit manor, its rusty window panes trembling under the might of the blustering winds. The ancient oak tree swayed around the courtyard, its bestial branches scratching the nearby wooden walls, its slender green fingers leaving traces on the painted surface. The deafening thunder struck within a mile of the abode, frightening the three small children that were hunkered under an enormous dome of thick blankets elevated by wooden chairs and plush sofas. Their shrill screams echoed across the vast hall, earning a tired sigh from the willowy, fair-skinned, middle-aged woman standing outside. The woman took off her pince-nez for but a second to pinch the bridge of her sharp nose before putting it back and gracefully entering the great hall where the children where now scrambling over each other, trying and failing to be the first to reach her.
The woman gave them a fond smile as she raised her hand, her fore and middle finger stretching to its fullest, which stopped their ongoing rush towards her. "Now, now, children. That was but the storm welcoming the arrival of a new dawn. You need not fret. It won't hurt you." She soothed.
Once they had heard her explanation, the children's face fluxed with various emotions. The oldest amongst them, an eight-year-old blond girl, nodded heavily as a smug smile marked her fair face. "I told you! Besides, that weasel fellow with the badge is here to help us if needed, isn't he, Mrs. Thorrin?"
The other children were not so accepting, but that did not stop them from reluctantly nodding along. Their parents had told them to always follow the lead of the girl; she is, after all, the sole heir of the Greythorne fortune, barring, or course, the other heir of the fortune, which, if they were honest, just needed time before he died of alcohol poisoning.
Mrs. Thorrin saw the look on the other two children's faces and decided to admonish her spoiled little ward. "Now, that's not nice, Mistress Annalise. That man is a federal agent sent here to protect us--"
Bam! The newly varnished leaf doors at the front of the manor abruptly opened loudly as two figures lurched forwards, their bodies in warm embrace. The man's olive-skin suckled by the full cherry lips of the woman while his hands ran non-stop as he kneaded and caressed every desirable part of her curvaceous figure.
"Mmmh... Richard... right there... d-don't stop..." The woman's sultry moans caused blushes to appear on the children's cheeks, the youngest of the bunch, a seven-year-old dark-skinned boy, watched in extreme focus, earning a glare from Annalise and Mrs. Thorrin.
"Children, it would be prudent for your minds to head on upstairs. Ella has made the bed into your preferred shape. You can continue your little game up there." Mrs. Thorrin hurriedly addressed the children, sending them upstairs before they were further subjected to the two young adult's debauchery.
The children nodded and hurried up the staircase with the dark-skinned boy lagging behind, trying to sneak a peek at the doorway which was promptly seen by Annalise causing her to grab him by the ears and running towards her room with the boy in tow.
"How about this? You like that?" The brown-haired man named Richard inquired, his hands going deeper into her ass over her backless dress as she moaned into his ears. "Maybe we should take this upstairs--"
"I would be more than happy to assist the fine lady into your bedroom, Master Richard," Mrs. Thorrin interrupted their merry-making much to Richard's chagrin. "But, sadly, at the behest of your dear father, you are to immediately enter his study."
Richard groaned in response before kissing his woman's hands. "Well, I must go, Felicia," He then hovered his mouth in her ear, gently breathing put, tantalizing the already aroused woman. "However, there's a walk-in closet by the side of the room. On the top left-most drawer, you're going to find a little surprise."
Mrs. Thorrin cleared her throat making the woman's sultry face turn rosy in embarrassment. She then stretched her hands to lead the woman up the grand staircase. The woman followed her, swaying her full hips side to side, eliciting an impatient moan from Richard.
Richard slapped his face making his flushed face a little red. "Alright then. Let's get scolded."
●●●Main Study●●●
The blustering winds accompanied the whirls of the dark sky as it wept, raining down its might against the glass of the French windows of the Greythorne Manor's main study. A large dark wooden table bedecked with papered files and metal sculptures lie in front of the windows, overlooking the hills that runs down the town of Lisbon Valley. A large bookshelves towered over the leather chairs sat on the side of the room separated by a metal coffee table. A grandfather clock, ticking its way to midnight, further annoying the already frustrated occupants of the room. A portly olive-skinned man, although sitting, easily stood under six foot, caressed his bushy mustache as he contemplated the question of the federal agent before him. His short coiled peppery hair shuddering against the chilly breeze brought forth by the storm. He glanced at his brother, a tall muscular man whose seat hidden by the shadows of the bookshelves.
"So, do correct me if I am wrong, you are here to investigate the animal attacks on a little town girl?" The portly man asks of the lithe, fair-skinned man in a black suite, his salt-and-pepper hair fluttering against the cold winds brought forth by the opened window. "Forgive my impudence, but isn't that outside of the FBI's jurisdiction?"
Tring!
The small man in an overly large suite moved forward, his pant legs getting caught on the legs of the wooden table, bumping it and causing a small metal candle holder to fall down. "Uhm, sorry. Well, that's why I'm here Mr. Greythorne--"
"You shall address my brother as Lord Greythorne. We will not condone any disrespect, federal agent or no." The muscular man growled at the FBI agent.
"Now, now, brother. I'm sure Mr. Spears had no intention to disrespect me. Merely a case of the uninformed, are you not?" Lord Greythorne soother his brother's ever-present anger, not willing to have a family relative disgrace their name by being arrested for offending the government.
"Yeah, alright, its cool. Anyway, Lord Greythorne," The agent assented and continued, emphasizing his title. "I'm here because the FBI has a vested interest in keeping folks safe and sound. Now, I'm in your home because the Sherrif Donovan told me you had some connections to the victim."
"Well, yes. That Josephine girl was once a guest in our home, was she not Wallace?" Lord Greythorne inquired of his brother, raising a confused eyebrow at the agent.
"...Indeed, she was," Wallace answered albeit with great reluctance. "I don't suppose you think we have anything to do with her death? We are Greythornes, we need not debase ourselves with such actions."
"I don't know about that. The mortuary, though, had some interesting results. Claw marks on the woman's chest, missing heart, and there was evidence of… uhm… insemination moments before she died." He laid down his facts, his gaze travelling from Lord Greythorne to the lord's brother. He could see a slight apprehension appearing on the brother's face. Although the agent's experience in regards to his current job was less than ideal, his life before this had been thoroughly helpful. The brothers clearly had an uneasy alliance possibly brought forth by the fact that they're on the same family meaning their assets, personal or otherwise, would be unusable if even one of them were implicated in a crime.
Agent Spears' then thought of just accusing them of their crimes and killing them, but that would mean he would have to wade through a litter of their lackey's and, the agent doesn't want to go thought that gauntlet again.
Creak!
The agent's thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the opening door, his eyes locking unto the olive-skinned, black-haired, lithe man. The glassy eyes and flushed cheeks connoting his drunkenness betrayed his heavy and steady steps abound the room. Richard's entrance also gained the attention of the two men who, at the sight of his disheveled clothes and, obviously, recently slicked-back hair, glare at him.
"Boy, you're late." Lord Greystone's harsh voice ruffled not a single hair on Richard's wet hair. "There's dead girl on the outskirts of town, slashed and eaten to bits by wild animals, and you still had the galls to seek pleasure. In the midst of a storm no less." He slammed his silvered cane at the floor causing Richard to flinch before returning to his unflappable demeanor.
"Well, color me aghast. Is that why we've invited a funeral director?" Richard quipped, his brow raised as he pointed towards the federal agent. "I-I'm not a funeral director. I'm special agent Spears. Brit Neal Spears." Agent Spears introduced himself. "I'm here to investigate the death of Josephine Greene."
Richard's face slowly morphed as he guffawed, earning another glare from his father and Uncle Wallace. "Jesus fuck. Brit Neal? Spears? Oh, I'd give your mother a dime to know what she was thinking when he named you like that."
"Richard." Lord Greythorne bellowed, startling agent Spears.
"Fine, fine. What'd you want then? Josie's an old friend. Good fuck, a bit of a screamer." Richard waved his hand to his father, taking a seat at a chair near the office stable. His nonchalant attitude earned an inquisitive glance from agent Spear.
"Pretty cavalier for the death of an ex-girlfriend." Asks agent Spears, taking a notepad and a metal pen from under his suit jacket. He strutted closer to Richard as he takes a note, hands forward as if aiming to hand his pen towards Richard.
"Yes, I am. You would be too if you got bored with her whining. "Oh, my mother can't afford surgery. Oh, my brother got beaten up today." Jesus fuck, just shut up and suck me for once." Richard laughed as he mocked her with impunity. Lord Greythorne and Wallace had a look of absolute disgust as they glared at him.
Although they knew Richard's upbringing and lack of maternal care tend to have a negative on him and his attitude, his lack of empathy and general contempt had surprise both of them. Any of the Greythornes have, in their childhood, been spoon-fed proper etiquette and code of conduct regarding guests and, even, the unusual visits from law enforcements. Richard's current attitude not only disregards his teaching but can also indict the whole family if the agent decided to fully investigate them for his actions. Something, both Greythorne men was unwilling to deal with.
"So you didn't have any contact with her prior to her death?" Asked agent Spears, moving forward a bit, his metal pen now inches away from Richard's face. Richard awkwardly looked at the pen before gingerly grabbing it and pushing it back towards the agent. "Uh, no. You should ask the Rymont twins. I think they were spit roasting her after her shift." He chortled.
"Richard, that is unbecoming of you." Admonished his father, though it did no effect judging from Richard's nonchalant demeanor. "I apologize for his words, agent. Merely drunken musings from a man distraught from the death of an old friend."
Agent Spears reluctantly nodded. "Uh-huh, sure. Anyway, about this victim--"
"Victim? I thought it was an animal attack?" Richard interjected, a raised eyebrow marking his elated confusion.
"Coroner said it was. But I'm just making sure everything's alright. Can you please look at these?" Agent spears soothed as he gave the files with pictures to Richard. Richard furrowed his brows in contemplation, holding on to the files for a second before shrugging and opening it. The files contained detailed report of Josephine's body, including her wounds, her cause of death, which was her heart being ripped out, and the odd detail about the insemination before she died.
Pictures were also present, showcasing her naked body and the large claw marks on her chest. Richard groaned as he read the file though it stopped there, earning a renewed glance from the agent. "Huh. If I was wackjob, I'd say this was done by a werewolf."
"Hah. W-werewolf. Boy, what a drunk can think of, huh?" His musings caught the agent in surprise causing him to splutter and laugh awkwardly. "But if it was, do you know someone werewolfy?"
Lord Greythorne gave an unamused chuckle, though his eyes trained in on his brother who had sunk deeper into his chair, the shadows melding around him.
Boom!
The thunder struck yet again, this one nearer than the last. The four men stared at each other, not sure how this case would go.
Agent Spears broke the tension as he laughed, hands over his nape. "Look, are there any other person in this manor aside from us, the maid, and the children?"
"Yes. Mrs. Thorrin, lovely lady, is the governess, Elsa handles the food, Mino... he's a bit if a unsociable fool but he drives well, and--"
"My wife. Anastasia." Wallace's deep guttural voice, reminding them that he was no mere shadow. "She's upstairs. Resting."
Richard narrowed his eyes as another mischievous smile slowly crept into his face. "You have to forgive her, Agent Spears, she's a paraplegic."
"Mind your tongue, boy!" Wallace roared sending shivers to Agent Spears yet Richard merely chuckled.
Agent Spears nodded. "It's alright. My cousin Frank became a paraplegic. Tough times."
"Oh, how dreadful. How'd he become one?" Asks Richard with an almost innocent look on his face.
"Well, he was cutting a tree with a saw and next thing you know, the trees sideways and so is he." Agent Spears recounted, a wistful look on his. "Shame too. We were going to build something with it."
"Well, that's the same thing that happened to Anastasia--" Richards started.
"Richard, enough." Lord Greythorne warned but Richard did not pay no heed.
"But the crazy thing is, it wasn't exactly wood that fell on her. But it was hard!" Richard began cackling as he locked eyes with the furious Wallace. "Isn't that right, Uncle Wallace? How many naked men, was it?"
Boom!
Wallace's bellow thundered across the study as the lightning hit the manor's fence, startling the other two occupants. He then grabbed the chair's handle and rushed towards Richard who brought his hands to his face in defense, laughing all the while. Lord Greythorne quickly stood up and slammed his cane upon the hardwood floor.
Bang! Bang! Boom!
The lightning crackled nearer as Wallace and Richard tumbled around, leaving the leather chair Richard was sitting on strewn across the room. Wallace grabbed Richard by the cuff of his suit jacket and threw him towards the grandfather clock.
Bang! Clang!
A blue glint in Wallace's eye did not escape the gaze of Agent Spears as he watch Richard crash head-first into the clock, destroying the antique memorabilia. Loose screws and broken wood littered the side as Richard tried to stand up only to be pushed back down by Wallace's hairy fist.
Bang!
"That'll be enough!" Lord Greythorne stomped his cane once more, his bushy silver mustache trembling in anger- in disrespect. "This is my home and you will not behave like children."
Richard grimaced as he wiped the blood on his mouth, his cheek stinging in pain from his uncle's punch. He rubbed the blood in between his fingers and he chuckled. "Yeah, you're right, father. This is your home and the FBI are in it. So better hide your skeletons because I sure do know--"
Slap!
A sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh ringed across the room as Lord Greythorne had crossed the distance between him and his son in but a second, his hand moving on its own as it hit his son's swollen cheeks. "Get. Out."
Richard's face screamed of anger yet he dare not offend his father further. He merely glared at his uncle before striding towards the door. With one hand on the knob, he looked back and locked eyes with the federal agent. "Be seeing you, agent." He said with a smile on his face before stepping out of the room and closing the door gently.
Creak! Tack!
"Hah. Apologies for their behavior, Agent Spears, something I find myself doing ever so often." Lord Greythorne spoke after his son left, grunting as hefted his knees and sat on his chair.
Boom!
Another lightning dropped by the Valley, enlightening the room for but a brief second.
"Hey, man. Sticks and Stone." Agent Spears replied.
●●●Second Floor Hallway●●●
Tack! Tack! Tack! Creak!
Richard's loud grumbling and heavy footsteps as he crossed the hall caused Annalise's room to open, her tiny green eyes peeking between the doors. Richard stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with her before he smiled and motioned her forward which she obliged.
"What happened to your face, brother?" She whispered, her tiny doe eyes glistening the rumble of the storm.
"This? 'Tis but a scratch." He answered, quoting their favorite movie. "What about you aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
Annalise giggled a bit before sighing and placing her arms around her brother's waist, eyeing the worsening storm. "I can't sleep."
"Why?" He asks, running his hands through her golden hair that reached to her shoulder blades before following her gaze. "It's just a storm, Peachy. You're tougher than that."
"Hmmm. Don't call me that anymore." She glared at him with a pout, tightening her hug as some form of punishment.
"I'm 9 already. A teenager."
"You're 8, Annalise. Your birthday won't be for another week." He said, grabbing her by the waist and hefting her up to a carry. He grunted as he felt her weight on him, though it was worth it to him seeing her anxious face morph into something gentler.
Boom! Rumble!
The storm carried on as Richard placated her sister, carrying her across the hallway as she tattled on about her day. Although born of different mothers, the two had a rather intimate relationship. Richard sees her as the person with whom has the most potential on the family, someone who could leave this podunk town and be free, to live a life not as a Greythorne but of a woman unbound by the restraints of a family.
Annalise, on the other hand, sees her brother as the only family she ever had. Her mother had absconded off with her father's wealth after she was born and her father was busy man, so Richard, the only man left in the home, had taken care of her when he was not drinking, gallivanting, or knees-deep in woman. She was a real brother to her, someone who she can confide everything to.
'Well, not everything.' She thought as she glanced at her brother's door. With another press in her hug, Annalise gestured for him to bring him down. Richard smelled her sister's hair before gently setting her down. He smiled as he saw her tiny feet scamper off towards her bedroom.
"Hey, Annalise."
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the storm. You're tougher than that."
"I know."
"Oh, also, if you hear me scream then it's probably because she's good at her job." He quipped, gesturing towards his door and the woman inside of it.
"Eeeew."
"What? You said you're a teenager? That's what teenagers do." He chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "Hey, Annalise. I love you."
Shocked marked Annalise's face before abruptly turning away and into her room while shouting. "Love you too!"
Bang! Click!
Richard laughed and grabbed his door handle after seeing her close the door and lock it. Opening it up with a smile on his face. "Who's ready for some good Richard-ing?"
The door opened up to a vast room where a king-sized bed laid asunder, torn sheets strewn about the floor. A puddle of blood forming as the mangled corpse of his lover lie before him, her chest opened up like a fountain with her intestines throbbing. Widened eyes wet with frightful tears and broken jaw marred her beautiful face. A hole in her chest revealing her missing heart, the arteries still kept pumping blood as if going through the last vestiges of her life.
Richard's breath hitched as he gazed at her lover's form, dread creeping upon his body. His legs lurching backwards, but soon found itself unable to move further. From the reflection of the argue windows, a shadowy figure stood behind him, towering over him as the figures eyes glowed red.
A scream erupted from him, his feet lurching forward but was soon overpowered by the figures unnatural strength. The figures arm, though flesh was sickly and hairy. It launched Richards towards his closet, destroying its wooden doors. His clothes lay strewn, blood dripping from his mouth as he felt the broken wood splintering in his skin. He curled up into a ball, whispering for help yet none seemed to have heard him. The figure grabs him by the scruff of his neck and threw him once more against the post of his bed.
Bang! Crack! Boom!
The bed frame cracked against his spine, his bellow succeeded by the thunderous strike of the lightning. He pleaded for mercy to his assailant as he prayed to whoever gods were listening to forgive his past transgressions, yet it fell to deaf ears. The figure loomed over him as he crawled into his back, his eyes scrutinizing his ambusher. Hoping to at least inform the agent below him of his attacker's identity. Though his actions did not go unnoticed, the shadowy figure's lanky form bothered not with his last desperate attempt. His eyes widened, recognition on his face. Dread became acceptance as he sighed with a tired smile as if knowing his resistance was but a fool's errand.
Sebastian Archibald Richard Greythorne IV closed his blue eyes.
[Soul Extinguished]
[Activating Lazarus Protocol]
[Searching For Soul...]