Adduné - the Vampire's Game (2 page)

“
Well,
good
,” Miranda shot out. She loved catching Reggie using the same word once too often. “You used it twice in one sentence. Is that the only word you know? You’d think the least a barrister could do is have a large vocabulary – especially with the prices you charge.”

Reginald gave Miranda a stiff-upper-lip look concealing his immense enjoyment at being in her company. He was masterful at covering his emotions and true intent. He had used his game face many times in the course of his legal profession and had an outstanding success rate in doing so. This was especially true in negotiations. Miranda’s father often told him he should quit law and become a poker player, but moving to Las Vegas never much interested Reginald. He loved living in England, loved being a barrister, and loved having Arthur Perry as a client.

Instead of giving any of that away, he once again masked his true feelings of affection for Arthur Perry’s daughter and continued on dryly instead, “As much as you would probably like this entire day spent on the subject of you, I will return to a topic of some interest to everyone else, except one very haughty young lady. Weatherly Manor once served as a hunting lodge to Henry VIII. There are stories that he and his guests saw ghosts wandering about. The structure was routed by vandals and thieves who left this noble building in shambles. It remained that way until 1729, when Mr. Cornelius Weatherly identified the grandeur in the rubble, and had the entire place restored in the Tudor styling you see today. He, his wife, and five children lived here, but within a span of less than 5 years, his entire family died, one after the other, in some horrible, mysterious way.”

Reginald watched Miranda’s harsh posturing soften. Her hands dropped and there was the slightest widening of her eyes. Reginald knew what he was saying was affecting her. Miranda didn’t like to admit it, but she was scared of these types of subjects. It was only because Reginald was well-acquainted with her that he knew about this chink in her armor. He and his wife were her godparents and had been involved in her life since the day she was born. That meant he’d been there to witness her suffering bad nightmares as a child. They were brought on from seeing the most mild of suspenseful tales on the telly. Even some fairy tales were too brutal for her to withstand. Her mother and father went to great pains to surround their lovely daughter with only cheerful stories that ended happily ever after.

Reginald could still see that frightened child in Miranda’s eyes. She hadn’t changed at all. Reginald pressed on taking full advantage of his opponent’s weakness. This joust was going to be fun.

“
What do you mean horrible? An illness?”

“
There is a tale that attributes the deaths to the plague, but no one is certain. All we know is that their coffins needed to be kept closed due to their faces contorted in permanent testament to the agony they suffered right up until the end,” Reginald blustered, lowering his voice and forcing her to crane her neck towards him. Her arms were by her side – limp and lifeless. Her mouth was very slightly parted. He had her! Now to reel her in.

“
Mr. Weatherly was broken-hearted and lived here as a recluse until he moved out, pronouncing the place
cursed
. Of course, a pronouncement like that kept those that could afford the place away. One family, the Beaterlies did eventually take the place off his hands. By that time, Weatherly was a broken man – half-crazed by grief and sorrow. Living in London, he’d long ago lost what was left of his fortune to gambling, bad investments, and the excesses of drink. The Beaterlies bought Weatherly Manor from him for a song, although they didn’t live long enough to enjoy it.”

“
Why? Don’t tell me there were more mysterious deaths afoot?”

Reginald could read people like a book – most especially this Miranda child who he now felt obligated to protect. This unnerving her was fun, but also part of a grander plan. He worried about her. She was too self-assured for her own good. Yes, her father had been that way also, but Reginald had worried less about him. Arthur Perry had entered Reginald’s life when already an adult. Since Reginald’s memories went back to her birth, he’d forever think of her as that precious baby. Then there was the fact that he took the privileged position of godfather seriously. He remembered visits where she –having just learned how to walk – tried to toddle to him. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the sounds her tiny feet made as they shakily met the ground. Her unsteadiness never stopped her from rushing to greet him with open arms and a winning smile. He’d scoop her up into his arms just before she fell over, and hold her steadfastly in his arms promising himself that he would never let anything happen to his friend’s wondrous daughter. He was making good on that oath he pledged by reminding her, in a roundabout way, that she had weaknesses. Yes, this playful banter had a deeper purpose. Reginald was attempting to expose those weaknesses to her. He was hoping against hope it would back her off and make her realize she was vulnerable to harm. He doubted seriously that she entertained such mundane thoughts as vulnerability, but maybe she should start. If she did, it would – in the end – make her indestructible. That was how Reginald saw it and how he had raised his own children. He taught them that if you knew your frailties you could cover them or fix them, but if you refused to acknowledge and accept they were there, it made you very, very fragile. Reginald thought that now about Miranda. She was very vulnerable because of her inability to recognize her shortcomings. Pushing them away didn’t make them go away. There was a difference to be learned and Reginald was attempting to teach her in a very unorthodox way because nothing else had worked.

Reginald watched Miranda’s arms come up
to her waist. It was the body language of someone trying to protect themselves. Reginald knew that she was trying to recoup her forces and recover her self-confidence with sarcasm. He’d make sure his answer didn’t comfort her in the slightest. He wanted to keep her off balance for a little while longer.

“
Yes, as a matter of fact, there were. Mr. Beaterly, his wife, and seven children died less than a year after taking up residence.”

“
But was that unusual? I mean, there were rampantly voracious diseases back then, weren’t there?” Miranda rationalized, dropping her hands to her sides once again. Her eyes went wide and her face took on a slightly frozen look. She kept pressing to gain control, but Reginald wouldn’t let go. He needed to teach her a lesson. What better way to learn than from an old friend that loved her as much as he did his own children?

Reginald looked at Miranda and wanted to take her in his arms. Instead he unleashed more horror in her direction. He told himself she would be fine and better for having survived this ordeal. He had tried to broach the subject with her before and was scoffed away. This time he would make sure his point stuck.

“
It was highly unusual for persons of their station to be so consumed – especially two entire families. The manor went unattended and unoccupied for a number of years. The military unsuccessfully tried to use it as a residence to store munitions, but that ceased rather abruptly. The soldiers refused to sleep here. They insisted the place was haunted.”

“
And I suppose you’re going to tell me that these were all American soldiers?” Miranda teased, hoping to end this conversation. Miranda sometimes used humor to break the mood and get what she wanted. Yes, she could be as brash as anyone, but humor sometimes worked like a charm. It wouldn’t this time. Reginald saw through her defense mechanism and landed a counterpunch.

“
You can make light of it all you like, young lady, but I’m telling you the truth.”

“
Then why did you allow my father to buy the place if it’s all that evil, eh?” Miranda asked fully convinced she had trapped the old windbag in a lie. She knew that he and her father had the utmost respect for one another and was sure Reginald would never have done anything to erode that confidence.

“
Allow? Did you ever try to stop your father from doing anything? He was as stubborn as you are! He acted as though he were a bloody American! When I think about the way he would dig in his heels and refuse to listen to logic.”

“
You know perfectly well he
was
American, you old coot!” Miranda fired back. Still, she knew part of what Reginald said was true. Her father was impossible to talk into – or out of – anything. Once he had his mind made up, he went at the task with the full force of a freight train running down the tracks with brakes that didn’t work.

“
Old coot? You impudent little upstart, but what can I expect from someone that doesn’t know any better? And you’re right, he was
born
American. I can’t fault him for that although most times his sensibilities and brilliance would pass for English. That’s the reason I keep forgetting his roots were indeed in the Americas, but he had the good sense to marry an English woman. Now where was I before you rudely insulted me, ah, yes, this place being haunted. Yes, after the military stopped using it, it stayed haunted and alone until an American actress gobbled it up. She took up residence here – then went back to the states, leaving it once again abandoned.”

“
Abandoned?” Miranda said looking around at the wild, nameless vegetation surrounding her and dribbling down from the walls. “I would have never guessed.”

She assumed another protective stance – her arms crossing over her chest. Reginald knew and understood the gesture. She was keeping everything away. He knew that she thought that if she kept everything away – she’d be all right. It’s one of the reasons she hadn’t married. He knew she was wrong, but there was no talking to one so young and so cocksure of herself. He’d do his best and try.

“
Must you mock everything in that condescending tone?”

“
What is with you? You know full well that if someone else said that, you’d have said it was a fine example of dry, English wit. And as for the actress, at least she broke that curse. Nothing horrible could have happened if she moved back home.”

“
Did I say she moved?” asked Reginald without pausing long enough to give Miranda time to answer. “You simply have to learn to listen and not run that trap of yours. I said she traveled back home, but she did so in a coffin. She died less than two years after she moved into Weatherly Manor.”

“
Really? And who was this actress? Did she have a name?”

“
Of course she had a name! Everyone has a name! Even you Americans have names! Did I say she didn’t have a name?”

“
Well, then what was it?”

“
Lillian Wilds,” Reginald responded against his better judgment. He would have substituted another name, but didn’t have that many actresses who were American in his lexicon. He hoped that Miranda didn’t recognize it, as he wanted his little game to go on a while longer. One look into Miranda’s eyes told him she’d won and he’d lost. It was so like Miranda to know just the right question to ask to get herself out of a jam and climb back on the top. She had a sixth sense about things like that. An intuition. Maybe that’s why she was so frightened of certain subjects. It could be that because of her intuition, she felt things more strongly and recognized that things such as the paranormal existed.

Reginald stood ready to acquiesce and let Miranda savor her victory. She had won this round, but he wanted to make sure he won the fight.

“
Lillian Wilds?
The
Lillian Wilds?” Miranda knew of Lillian Wilds. Anyone and everyone in America did. She was a legendary actress that had starred in numerous Hollywood classics. She began laughing. Now she knew why Reginald had so valiantly tried to withhold the name of Lillian Wilds – it would have given his game away.

“
Why you are an old coot!”

Reginald stammered in that decidedly English way, emitting a series of stuttering sounds approaching outrage, but not quite. He was not the consummate actress that Lillian Wilds had been. Miranda was pleased at this turn of events.

“
I don’t know the complete history of Lillian Wilds, but I do know that she lived to be well into her eighties! I’ll bet you knew that as well, you rascal! You deliberately left her advanced age out of your little story! It would mean you were reciting hogwash! But why?” Miranda asked pressing her French manicured forefinger into her delicately pointed chin. She had it! “Reginald, if I didn’t know better I would say you were trying to scare me!”

“
Me? I? … would never … how could you think,” Reginald uttered not quite sure what to say. He had been caught – red-handed and red-tongued. He did what he would have done if in the courtroom, and that was to puff his chest out to an unnatural dimension. He waved his hands in the air wildly as if trying to convince himself of his sincerity.

Miranda noticed the over-inflation of Reginald’s chest due to an intake of air that was not released. Did he think he was a flat tire? Yes, and there was that telltale red creeping into his smooth, white English cheeks. He’d been had. She poked her fingernail into his chest trying hard to puncture and deflate his ruse.