"This was an excellent idea," Coral slurred. She squinted a little at the lit fireplace in front of her, the flames dancing in a way that made her head swirl. Definitely not the amount of alcohol she had consumed. There was still half a bottle of wine to finish off.
"Told you," her younger sister, Pearl, said somewhere by her elbow. They were sprawled on a blanket, a barrier that did little to soften the cold floorboards beneath. The cold didn't matter. Coral had a full belly of wine fighting the chill of the air. The fireplace let out enough heat that, with the doors closed to the formal salon, it was enough to forget vexing issues like bone chilling drafts that wafted through the dark hallways. The salon was beautifully decorated, even with moth eaten furniture. If she didn't turn her head, looking away from the back of the room, expensive, annoying issues like mouldering walls didn't matter.
Coral lifted her wine glass imperiously and sipped. The wine coated her tongue and washed away those pesky, trifling thoughts. Because she and her sister had most definitely exemplary ideas.
"And you were all worried this was a bad investment," Pearl waved her hand above her, motioning towards the intricate, cobwebby decals along the ceiling. "Just look at this place. So beautiful, so –" she floundered for a word to describe it, and failed.
Coral understood what she meant. There really wasn't a word to describe the old mansion. A gothic, five story high mansion at the end of a long road from the village. Complete with three towers and peaked roofs. Coral's more logical part of her mind did dig up 'creepy' as an apt description, but that was only in the throws of deep night and the old mansion creaked and moaned around them.
They had spent almost their whole fortune buying this place. Which wasn't really much. Their dowries combined to buy it in its entirety. Coral was sure their father was cursing their names from whatever cesspit his soul had been sent to.
She took another, deep pull from her glass. Oh yes. That was what was needed to wash away thoughts of her father and his abhorrent notions of arranged marriage. Coral was strangely thankful, in the end, for his odd mistrust of banks. It was a simple matter, really, to steal away the coin from the safe in his study. And more importantly to steal away with her sister. Early in the morning no less. She had thought the cover of night had been preferable, all cloak and dagger-esque. Instead of her carefully thought out plan to sneak away when her father's coughing fits fell silent, she had fallen asleep with Pearl huddled beside her. They had both been lulled by the warmth of another body in the blustery autumn night and a musty blanket over their heads to keep their noses warm.
It had barely mattered at all what time of the day they had crept away from their fathers little house in the middle of the city. Their father was bed-ridden with fever and had barely days to live. Her fathers house would be going to Coral's intended, as part of the dowry. She couldn't quite recall her betrothed name. Something along the lines of Silver?
Well, Coral thought smugly, he can deal with her father's rotting remains in that wretched house. She had a better, far grander home now. Well placed too, far from the city. Once he discovered that she had fled, the insult should be enough to deter him from finding her. Who would want a flighty wife?
Wife. She shuddered at the thought. No thank you. She was to young for that, though some would say that twenty ought to be well and wed. Coral wanted to be more than a wife. She wanted a bustling home, yes, but more.
What better way to have a bustling home, than to run an inn.
No one had wanted this old mansion. The locals had steered clear of it, backing away when either Pearl or herself had enquired in the local tavern. It had been sold to them cheaply, though it was against many of the ladies and gentle-sir's better judgement.
In Coral and Pearls eyes, it was a miracle. In disguise, of course. There was quite a lot to fix. Rotting floors and falling roof tiles. Odd smells coming from the upstairs attic that Coral quite frankly did not want to know what was inside. It was somehow colder in the mansion than it was outside. There was plenty to use for firewood and kindling from the small forest that lined the very high walls that encircled the estate. In fact, Pearl and herself had cleared the long drive from the elaborate gate to the house, chopping and earning blisters on their fingers.
Fallen logs took longer to clear than dried shrubs. A necessary evil, Coral thought, wincing as she felt her sore muscles. But she had slowly gotten better at chopping dead trees into smaller, more manageable pieces. Barely.
It had been a completely necessary and tedious chore, and probably the best decision. With doing so, they had managed to secure a delivery straight to their doors with this most excellent, and cheap, wine.
Yes, the mules had kicked up a fuss at the gate, their ears flicking back and stamping agitatedly while the cart-man unloaded their wares and many excellent boxes of wine. A vital necessity for running a hotel. And yes, the poor delivery chap was too frightened to partake in any conversation. He was thoroughly focused on unloading as quickly as possible, leaving naught but an odd "I beg yer pardon mistresses, but its best not to stray too long here. It's cursed land." And then he had been off like the devil himself were nipping at his heels.
Pearl hiccoughed from beside Coral, pulling her from her drunken musings. "Here's to you, my darling sister," she held aloft her cup. "For being brave enough to leave some toad of a man, for a more practical and profitable occupation."
Coral blinked a couple of times to clear away images of weary donkeys from that afternoon. She doubted that this endeavour was more profitable, they had yet to have more than a few rooms in a liveable state. She gently clinked her glass against her sisters and spilling a little out of the rim.
"Now all we need to do is attract some customers."
Pearl shifted beside her, leaning against her elbows and daintily sipping from her own cup. Her butter-blonde hair falling from it's pinned updo, curling over her shoulder. She was radiant in the glow of the firelight. As pretty as a delicate flower, petal soft and gentle.
Coral herself was never able to replicate the elegant way Pearl carried herself. She was more sharp, biting – quite like cheese, she thought contemplatively as she selected a slice from a platter by her feet. If she were a cheese, perhaps she was closest to a sharp, aged Cheddar.
Unfortunately, Coral's hair just wasn't as lustrous as Pearls. She ought to spend more time on it, like her sister. Perhaps she could now, that she didn't have to scrupulously look after their wretched father. Oh, she was doing it again, souring her thoughts by thinking of her father.
"What do you suppose we should call the Inn?" Pearl wondered aloud. "Perhaps we should name it something to match this odd little village?"
It was an odd village. Settled in a deep valley, the village of Direbrook was most, well – morbid. There seemed to be a fog that clung to the houses like a mourning veil, hiding the very full cemeteries situated on both sides of the river. The Dire river, as it was so called, cut through the village, splitting it evenly. All the shops were rather ominously named. Who had decided that an appropriate name for the local apothecary should be 'The Widows Poison'? The bakery boasted its name as 'Witching Flour'.
It was as if the whole town had embraced its namesake. All the towns' shops and the only tavern almost celebrated it in an odd fixated way. It was this, more than anything, that had drawn Coral and her sister. Who would have thought to find them here, in a shadowy mansion complete with its own gargoyle upon a peeked, patched roof. She really ought to find someone to patch that hole in the roof.
On the whole, despite leaky roofs, cold floors and mouldering walls. Buying this old mansion on the outskirts of creepy Direbrook was the best decision she had in fact made.
"Perhaps we should. If we were to name it after ourselves, our sunny disposition would likely give us away."
"Give us away" Pearl said, intrigued. "What would that matter? We would certainly stand out. Even attract customers."
Coral pursed her lips. "Oh, well. I wouldn't want to upset the locals. Not when we are so new. Besides. This mansion is set among the forest, rather than the seaside. It would be rather odd to name it something like...Summer Horizons."
She sipped at her wine again, as if it was what preoccupied her. Yes, there we are, let those worrisome doubts float away with the heady scent of wine. That deep pull settled a little too heavy in her stomach. So, she nibbled at another piece of cheese while she was at it.
"I suppose you're right." Pearl said, her eyes wide and innocent. "But I do dread naming this place something so unworthy as, well. 'The Dog House'".
Stolen novel; please report.
Coral snorted most un-lady like into her cup. "I agree. We are not naming our hotel that." Oddly, it was the least gothic name in the whole village. Perhaps it was aptly named. On the late evenings that she had strayed in the village, The Dog House tavern became more raucous within the hour. It was one of the closer establishments to their hotel, so perhaps she may even come into competition. She definitely needed to sort out the cellar. Except even she feared to go into the depths below the mansion. Something felt so, well, off.
At this thought, the room felt icier and Coral tugged at the shawl across her shoulders tighter. The fire in the hearth had died, though the glowing embers were shimmering with heat. Coral would bet that none of the windows in this whole mansion were double glazed to keep out the chill.
They had already burned through the pile of logs they had collected, so it was with a resigned sigh that Coral got to her feet. The room spun.
"I think I've had a bit too much to drink."
"You've finished off the whole bottle," Pearl lifted it up and drained the last few drops into her own cup.
When had she finished that off?
Coral stepped forward, wobbling. "This floor is not level!" She mumbled as she shuffled forward in her slippers. A giggle left her as she bounced off the back of the chaise and then suddenly, she was upon the doors to the salon, clinging to the handles. They opened under her touch and she went tripping over the hem of her velvet dressing robe, found in an upper floor cupboard and only slightly moth-eaten.
Pearl let out a bell like chuckle behind her, carefully carrying her glass of wine like they were on a viciously rocking ship.
"Where are you going. You know I can't stand being left alone in this place. It's too. Mmhmm. Too much," Pearl said.
"Yes," Coral agreed. "It is much, and it's cold. I'm getting some more firewood."
"Oh, good."
They linked arms and together made their careful way down the dark hallway. Shadows moved, and Coral diligently disregarded them. She was drunk. In houses like these, it would be expected to have odd shadows cast about the rooms, with moon light refracting off odd shapes and glass.
Besides, she couldn't show fear in front of her younger sister. She was responsible for Pearl now. She would not show fear of shadows. There were much scarier things in the world than that. Like arranged marriages. Another involuntary shiver ran down her spine at that thought. Pearl pressed closer to her.
Together, they found the lantern by the kitchen door. Coral quickly lit it, and Pearl collected the wicker basket and gathered her own pale pink dressing gown about her arms, so it didn't drag in the dirt. Coral copied her after a moments pause. She didn't like sleeping with a collection of leaves and twigs caught about her legs.
From within her pocket, Coral produced the large ring of keys and squinted in the dark to find the right one for the back door to the garden.
There were still broken windows, and the whole of the east wing needed the wall repaired, but she felt safer somehow, locking themselves in from the forest without. Even if something could break in through an open window.
The keys clattered as Coral inspected, tried, and failed to find the right one. Pearl was adjusting her hair in the reflection in the window when she paused.
"Coral. Did you see that?" She asked.
"Hmm?" The key slid into the lock, and it clicked satisfyingly. "Found it."
"Something moved out there," Pearl said, a shiver of fear entering her voice.
Coral collected the lantern and wrapped an arm through her sister's. "It's probably an owl or something. Don't worry. We'll only be a few minutes." She assured her.
She pushed the door open, with some difficulty as the hinges were stiff with age. Then together they practically tumbled down the three steps and on to the cobbled back courtyard. The pile of logs was stacked near the greenhouse, an outbuilding clad in curling ironwork and remarkably un-shattered glass.
"I'll be sure to collect wood during the day next," she told Pearl. Though, she would not get to enjoy the beauty of all the moonflowers that lined the paths.
Movement caught her attention and she turned her head to look out across the overgrown garden beds, past the fence line. Out in amongst the forest. Coral's toe connected hard with a dislodged stone and she winced.
She had seen large, solid shapes too fast to be discernible . More substantial than the shadows from the darkened halls. She lifted the lantern higher in the hope that the light spilled further. It did little but settle the fear in her.
What did it matter? Coral thought, lightly. Shadows couldn't hurt them. So it was with a grin that she walked, further from the mansion and into the night with her sister clasping her arm just a little too tightly.
"Coral," Pearl whispered. "I can hear something."
Coral could hear barely anything other than the rustle of her slippers and, -oh how the world swayed. Deliciously freeing, it was.
The greenhouse only just a few more paces. Which was odd, now that she thought about it. It felt closer somehow. Then Coral heard it too. Shuffling, by what couldn't be mistaken as animal feet. A rumbling growl from afar. Oh, perhaps there were wolves in the forest.
Coral let out a nervous laugh. "The fences around the mansion are solid. And the gate was fixed last week. I made sure to shut it this evening. Nothing is getting in here, not unless it has opposable thumbs and can read the welcome sign."
Pearl hadn't asked. She said all of this for her own assurance just as much for her sister, who was much more prone to fear than Coral herself.
Rather more hurriedly, they made it to the greenhouse. Pearl set her basket down, reaching for the thinner of the logs first.
"Ouch," she snatched her hand back. "I think I've got a splinter. Ow, yes."
"Your hands are like butter, everything sticks to them," Coral told her, taking her hand. She squinted in the lamplight to find the damage. "Look, you're even bleeding."
Pearl tsked, then froze.
The sound of growling had broken out even louder now. This time coming from the front of the property. It was awfully close. The snarls were violently angry, making the hair stand up on the back of Corals neck. She let go of Pearls hand and scrabbled for whatever firewood she could get. Wolves or no, she was not going back into that frigid house without ample wood to beat back the chill.
With the basket stocked, she handed the lamp to her sister, and took up the basket in her arms. "Lets get inside, quickly."
Pearl was already half shuffling, half jogging in her slippers back towards the kitchen. The clang of the iron gate, and a muffled yell pulled her up short. That was the unmistakeable sound of someone entering their property. They hadn't had the mansion long, but she was familiar enough with the sound to not mistake it.
"Surely not," she said.
A bellow, and more clanging of iron as though something hit hard against it.
"Coral, someone's in trouble. We must help them."
"I'll help us first. Get inside, quickly." She told Pearl.
"But," Pearl protested.
"Quickly!"
Together they burst through the kitchen door in a tumble of skirts and skittering firewood. Somehow Coral found herself on top of the island bench, inches from the array of pots and rusty knives she had pulled earlier to perhaps restore. Ah, a rusty knife. Woebegone was her skills in defending herself, but a rusty knife could leave a lasting impression on a would-be attacker. Or wolf. A wolf wouldn't scoff at the choice of weapon. Even drunkenly wielded.
Coral scrabbled for the hilt of the biggest knife. Oh, no that was a wooden spoon. She tried again, caught up the knife and then blinked at it a few times. Drunkenly carrying a knife was decidedly not a good idea.
"Pearl, the basket." Coral motioned at her sister, who had somehow managed to remain upright.
"What?" She squeaked.
"The basket, bring it here."
Pearl handed her the basket, almost empty now of its contents. She thrust the knife in it, then hurried down the hallway, Pearl on her heels.
"Stay in the salon, where it's safe. I'll see what the trouble is." She told Pearl. In her hurry the doors they passed creaked and opened in their wake. Her breath came out in puffs of white before her, the air was so cold.
"I- I'll not stay here without you." Pearls scared voice stammered out.
Coral did not want to risk her sister getting hurt. She opened her mouth to say as much, but a hallway table draw slid open, catching her thigh and making her stumble.
"Ow. Bloody house. I'm looking after you, that was awfully rude!" She snapped at the shadow that darkened the doors to the entrance hall. So what if it took on the shape of a tall, looming silhouette. It was a shadow! And there was someone in need at the front gate. She rushed forward, through the shadow and doors. Her skin felt like she had just taken a dip in icy water. She dug into her pocket, fishing out her keys and found the most ornate one ready to unlock the door in the entrance foyer.
From inside the room there was snatches of growls, yips, and yelling. Her fingers found the lock, and the door swung ajar, another shadowy shape standing on the other side. Pearl gasped from behind her, but Coral was not going to let shadows scare her away.
"Stop it." She snapped, then hurried down the steps. She lost a slipper, but never mind that. The person could be in serious trouble. She ran as fast as her legs allowed, tangled in her night dress and robe, basket crooked at her elbow.
There was a man half sprawled in the driveway, pale as moonlight. He had moved away from the fence line, thank goodness, from where the largest wolves Coral had ever seen. They paced back and forth, snarling and teeth pulled back in anger. She stopped short, her hand flying to her mouth. She must be very drunk. Wolves were not that big. There were so many, too many bodies moving and snapping for her to make sense of one from the other. Their eyes reflected in the lamplight that came bobbing up from behind her as Pearl came to a gasping halt.
Their growls intensified, and some even threw themselves against the gate. She was glad then, for the height of the especially tall gate. Four times her height, the same as the iron and stone fencing that surrounded the property. Nothing was getting past that.
The gate itself trembled beneath the wolves weight but held fast. Whenever a wolf met with the silver inlay of a flowering vine intertwined with the iron, they yelped and pulled back. A part of her hurt when she witnessed this. She wanted to reach out, to reassure the beasts in their frenzied haste. To calm them. They were angry, yes. She could see that with the flash of teeth and raised hackles. But there was an urgency to them that she wanted to soothe.
"Are you alright," Pearl asked.
Coral blinked away from the wolves. Where had her mind been at? Cautiously, she slipped her hand into the basket and pulled out the knife. It was rather pathetic, comparing it to the wolves snarling at the gate.
Pearl knelt down beside her, and that was when Coral realised there was a man sprawled on the ground. A breathtakingly beautiful man, with a sharp jawline and mesmerizingly dark eyes. He was also distractingly covered in a large dark stain upon his person, and it splashed across that jawline.
Pearl perched near him, her hand reaching out for the collar of his shirt. She pushed it aside and gasped at the deep puncture wounds from a wolfs bite. The man's eyes were fixated on Pearls face.
Behind them the wolves snapped, jowls pulled back, ferocious in their intent to enter the grounds. The man's eyes didn't stray from Pearls, as though the world had fallen away.