Disenchanted (4 page)

***

Casey glanced back. The old man
had gone. Smoke wafted where he'd sat.

"Why not try one of
them?" Alex pointed to a group of girls.

"They're just like every
other girl in every other town. They wear so much fake tan, if they stood still
they'd be mistaken for the Oscars statue and handed out at awards ceremonies.
Would you want one of them as your girlfriend?"

"They're like DVDs – for the
price of a drink, you can rent '
em
for one
night." He winked.

"And wake to find a clown
mask on your pillow and Godzilla sleeping beside you."

"Your little buddy will sue
you for neglect. I know you're saving yourself for me in the hope I'll suddenly
realise I love you, like in all those Rom Coms you adore, but as pretty as you
are, you're still a guy."

Casey clutched his chest and
gasped. "My heart…is…breaking." He collapsed, his forehead whacking
the table.

"Cute. Why not go to the
castle and wake Sleeping Beauty? She's from the time when chaste gentlemen were
all the rage. You could court her and impress her with your smouldering gaze
and honourable intentions." He picked up Casey's hand and graced his
knuckles with a kiss, bowing.

Casey slapped him. "I'd
rather date Sleeping Beauty than those
Oompa-Loompas
.
Least I'd know half the town hasn't visited her g spot like it's a tourist
attraction. Picking up an
STI
as a souvenir from the
gift shop."

"I'm
gonna
try the local attractions."

"Knock yourself out."

Casey waited until Alex was
occupied with the girls then snuck out. He checked his watch. Half eleven. He
started up his bike and headed back to the castle. Dark country lanes stretched
out like passages in Hell, oncoming headlights glowed like Hellhounds' eyes. He
stopped outside the gates then killed the engine. It was too quiet. Almost as
if the castle was holding its breath. He approached the gates and tugged the
ivy. It crumbled beneath his fingers, its cold ashes dusting his feet. Taking a
deep breath, he pushed the gate. It creaked open, the hinges groaning like the
tortured damned.

"That can't be good."

He slipped inside, clicking on
his torch. Brambles snagged his face. He grimaced, touching his lip. A ruby
jewel of blood glistened on his finger. The grounds were overgrown. Shadows
danced before his torch's flickering beam. He took photos then edged down the
cracked path, suddenly thinking this wasn't such a great idea and he should
fetch Alex. He shivered as night's frigid arms welcomed him in a loving
embrace, wind gracing his cheek with a whispering kiss.

The castle's windows glared like
malicious eyes, vowing revenge for trespassing on its forbidden secret. What
was probably a beautiful wild garden in the day became a spooky monsters'
playground in the night.

Snap
! He whirled around. Nothing stirred. Shaking his head, he
stepped up to the main door. He pushed it open, stumbling over rubble. His
torch skimmed the entrance. The camera's flash illuminated the castle, leaving
darkness to descend, blinding in its blackness. Silver spirits escaped his
mouth. The castle was beautiful in its decay. The crumbling walls, broken
floors and haunted sorrow only enhanced its charm.

His boots echoed on the cracked
stone floor. Weeds grew up through the fractures. Rose bushes cloaked the
windows. Through one window, the thorny branches invaded, the flowers blood red.
Rubble crunched beneath each footstep, like he was treading on a thousand
broken bones. He turned down a narrow passage, the walls scraping his jacket.
He reached the kitchen. Dust shrouded everything like a second skin. His torch
beam skimmed over something slumped over the table. He moved closer. It was a
man. He stopped dead. The man wasn't moving.

"Holy shit."

He froze, his torch beam resting
on the man's back like a target. Casey quickly lowered it then after berating
his cowardice, he entered the kitchen and took a photo. The flash acted as a
lightning bolt, exposing the castle's sordid secrets. His torch revealed a cook
collapsed on the floor by the Aga. A cauldron squatted on top of it. Three
maids were piled in the corner like discarded rubbish. He backed out and took
deep breaths. He was desperate to leave but his treacherous feet refused. He
shone his torch down the corridor. A figure lay on the floor, like a broken
marionette whose strings had been severed.

He found a spiral staircase,
chilly breeze swirling down to tempt him up. The stairs protested, groaning as
if in pain. Cobwebs clung to the banisters like slain ghosts. A man was
sprawled halfway up. Casey shakily shone his torch on his face, expecting to
see gruesome decomposition or metres of beard. He looked asleep, his hairless
skin ethereal under the torch's glaring eye.

"What the hell are you
doing?" He whispered to himself. "Get out. This isn't a castle, it's
a charnel house."

Something compelled him to climb.
He blamed it on being a writer. Where other people saw a creepy castle filled
with corpses, he saw a short story setting complete with characters.

He gingerly stepped over the man,
praying he didn't suddenly wake and grab his ankle like a horror film monster.
His pace quickened and he tripped over a woman at the top of the stairs. He
scrambled away, his boots loud on the floor. He took another photo then glanced
back. He was still alone. The ghosts of his footprints were visible in the
dust.

"At least I'll find my way
out. Screw Hansel and his pebbles."

In the first room he came to, a
woman was slumped over a grand dressing table, a brush clutched in her hand.
She wore a dress with a corset and billowing skirts like in period dramas his
mum loved.

"This is seriously fucked
up."

He stopped at another room
dominated by a four poster bed. Black curtains swept down like graceful wings,
concealing whatever secret lay beyond them. He edged in, his shaking fingers
parting the curtains. A polished black coffin rested in the middle of the bed.

"Oh shit. The old man was
right."

He knelt on the bed and lifted
the lid, revealing a pale young woman. The pale of vampire films, unseen in
real life since fake tan was invented. Her ebony hair was wavy. She wore a
black corset, lace gloves that reached her elbows and a long black layered
skirt with jagged hems.

"If I saw
you
in a pub I'd talk to you. Did
someone kill you all then create the legend to keep everyone away from here so
he'd get away with his crime? No. You'd all be skeletons." He shook his
head. "Why am I talking to a dead girl in a coffin?" His watch
bleeped. He glanced at it. Midnight.

He leaned over, shakily raised
his camera and took a photo. He licked his lip, wincing at the sting from the
brambles. A blood drop escaped and gently kissed her lips, leaving a scarlet
trail.

Her eyes opened.

She sat up with a gasp. Casey
fell off the bed, hitting his head.

"SHIT!"

She tried climbing out of the
coffin, slipped and landed on top of him. He screamed. She kissed his lips, her
tongue teasing the wound.

"Hey whoa. You're gorgeous
and everything, but we haven't even exchanged names."

She sat up, tossing her hair over
her shoulder. Her eyes were a captivating crimson. She kissed him again. His
stomach churned pleasurably. He entangled his fingers in her hair and kissed
her back. Her lips were soft, her tongue teasing his.

"You must marry me,"
she whispered, pulling him up and sitting on his lap.

"We've only just met. This
isn't a
fairytale
. Let's at least befriend each other
on Facebook first.
Y'know
, check out each other's
photos, flirt on our comment threads and poke each other before we jump in and
change our relationship statuses."

"How strange your speech is.
And your clothes. What is your name?"

"Casey
Kingson
."

"I'm Sapphire."

"Beautiful name. Look,
you're seriously hot, but I only came here '
cos
this
old guy in the pub told me a story about a girl pricking her finger on a blood
red rose and falling asleep for a hundred years." He paused. "Are you
hairy?"

Her eyes sparkled. "The
fairy was right! She said I could only be woken by the king's son. Who would
grace me with a virgin kiss." She tore his t-shirt and lowered her head.
Her tongue flickered over his stomach. He groaned. She smiled teasingly, her
cold lips gliding up his chest, igniting every nerve ending. He gasped, desire
blazing inside him before remembering who she was.

"
You
kissed
me
. Don't get
me wrong, I enjoyed it. I never realised a kiss could be so…arousing but you're
moving too fast. I know in your day they got married within a week but this is
my
day. Our lifespans are longer."

She kissed his neck, her nails
scratching his chest. "As I pricked my finger, she came to me. She had a
man with her. He was tall, thin, his skin white like the moon. Cold. Like the
sunlight had not kissed it for many years. I remember falling into the darkness
and pain, here," she tilted her head back, her fingers stroking her
exposed neck.

Casey licked his lips, fighting
the urge to kiss her neck, to feel her pulse thrash beneath his lips as they
teased her sensitive skin. His fingers traced the edge of her slender throat
then froze. Two bite marks scarred her. She smiled. Fangs nipped her perfect
lips.

"After he bit me he said it
wouldn't be a kiss that awoke me from my hundred year sleep, but a single drop
of virgin blood. Now we can live forever. Together."

She lunged, her fangs promising
moments of pain and endless eternity. Casey punched her and shoved her off him.
He leapt to his feet and ran to the door.

"It's not polite to strike a
woman," she chastised.

"Sorry! I," he paused.
"I'm not sorry - you're a vampire!"

She grabbed his ankle and he hit
the ground, whacking his chin and biting his tongue. He spat blood as he kicked
her in the face and scrambled up, slamming the door behind him and running into
the room opposite. He stared at the woman sprawled over the dressing table. She
sat up awkwardly. Her hand rose and mechanically brushed her hair as she stared
into the grimy mirror.

He grabbed the sheet from the
bed, shut the door then looped the sheet through both door pulls, tying it
tightly. Sapphire slapped the door.

"Let me out. You're mine,
Prince."

"I'm not a prince. I'm a
writer. And I'm not the marrying type."

He ran down the passageway
towards the stairs. The woman lying at the top of them moaned and started to
rise. Casey jumped over her, caught his boot and rolled ungainly down the
stairs, taking out the man who was halfway down. They hit the ground in a
tangle of arms and legs.

"Master." The man
smiled, revealing rows of vicious fangs. He raised his head, his icy lips
brushing Casey's neck, his tongue tasting Casey's warm flesh. Casey's skin
prickled, yearning for the fatal kiss.

He forced himself to his feet and
ran for the kitchen. The maids and cook turned at the sound of his footsteps.
They smiled and moved towards him. Swearing, he twisted and ran back the way
he'd come. The man at the bottom of the stairs had gone. He hurried down a
corridor, feeling like he was trapped in a stygian labyrinth. The darkness disorientated
him. His footsteps echoed, like demons were stalking him. His heart pounding,
Casey burst through another door, discovering a large ballroom. The floor was
littered with bodies all dressed for a dance. Suffocating silence screamed in
his ears, broken only by the noise of a hundred vampires awakening from their
eternal rest.

Unearthly groans from long dead
lips caressed his ears. Stiff limbs moved as they remembered how to work. Their
shuffling feet slipped as they staggered up, their glamorous clothes shrouded
in dust. In the corner, the resurrected band began to play. Some vampires
resumed their eternal dance.

"Master," they
whispered, their rough voices grating his nerves.

Casey turned and saw his way
blocked by the maids. They moved slowly, their limbs frozen from one hundred
years of sleeping. Their eyes flashed with hunger, their thirsty lips parting,
craving his blood. He pivoted and ran through the hall, upbeat music
encouraging the dance of the dead. The vampires' frigid fingers stroked his
skin, tearing at his clothes. He hurdled some bodies, dodged around others and
dived between someone's legs. Someone grabbed him and threw him against the
wall.

"You woke the mistress from
her death."

"It was a mistake. She's
beautiful, but I'm rather fond of daylight and solid food. In my world, the
living don't marry the dead."

He was slammed into the wall
again. The man leaned closer, his tongue sliding over his lethal fangs. Turning
his head, Casey saw a pair of swords hanging up. He grabbed one.

"Come closer and I'll make
you one foot shorter."

The man bared his fangs, so Casey
pushed him away then stabbed him in the heart. The man fell to the floor. Casey
grabbed the other sword and ran. He spun out of a woman's grasp then swung his
sword, decapitating her. He snuck up behind a rising man and chopped his head
off. It didn't sail through the air like in the films but flopped to the side.
The man turned, his head dangling. Casey fought back vomit and sliced his neck
again. The head dropped with a thud then rolled. The body staggered then
crashed to the floor.

"You are our master,"
another man spoke.

"At best I'm a trespasser.
At worst, a murderer. I know I said I wanted to live here but this isn't how I
imagined it."