The Watcher

Chapter 1 - Dream House

Brett

Thick, green forest surrounded us as I navigated the moving truck through the beautiful, gently curving roads of Vermont toward our new life. My fiancé, Jess was curled up in the front seat fast asleep as she had been for the last three hours. It was an early summer morning and the sun was just starting to illuminate the tops of the trees, casting a dappled pattern on the road. Few cars had passed us since we turned off the main highway, and it felt as if the entire forest belonged to us alone.

Remote,

I thought, smiling fondly. No loud neighbors, no bothersome visitors, no pollution - just Jess and I alone on our newly purchased ten acres of grade-A Vermont forest.

"How much longer?" Jess's sleepy voice asked from beside me. I turned my head a little to watch her stretch and sit up, brushing her auburn hair away from her face.

"Little under an hour," I replied, "You should go back to sleep."

"You know when I'm up, I'm up," she said, "Besides, I feel like I've been sleeping for a year."

"Feeling rested?"

"Very."

"Excited?"

Jess looked at me and smiled that half-smile that I always swore made me fall in love with her in the first place. "So excited," she answered, "I can't wait to get there."

"Me neither," I agreed, "Anything to get out of this fucking truck."

The moving truck wasn't large - we had only needed a small one to fit the stuff from our old apartment in Boston - but I had hated driving the thing down the highway all night and was eager to return it to the rental company.

"I hear you," Jess snorted and we fell into a comfortable silence, watching the trees as they passed quickly by us.

It had been a easy decision to make the move from the busy, constant life of Boston to the slower pace of Vermont. Jess had been one year away from finishing her doctorate at U Mass and we were just about ready to start what we had always referred to as 'our real lives'. I had already earned my PhD in psychology two years prior and had been working as an adjunct at a local private college in order to pay the rent.

As soon as we had settled on a location to move to, I began searching for jobs in the area. Luck had been in our favor, because only a few months after my search began, I had an interview with a small branch of a community college in the hills of Vermont. The town - called very quaintly Summer Hill - was small and surrounded by acres upon acres of forest. It was our dream spot, and five days after the interview I had received a call telling me that the job was mine if I wanted it.

After eagerly accepting, we began the process of finding a house. Again fortune favored us, as if by divine or otherwise intervention, and we found an old farmhouse that had been foreclosed upon and on the market for the last several years. It had been an cinch to heckle the price down from asking to a very affordable amount, all with the added bonus of having the home fully furnished - a good thing considering the meager amount of items Jess and I had between us.

Six months later, Jess had successfully earned her doctorate. Two weeks after that and we were packed and ready to head to Vermont to spend the summer in blissful solitude until the school year started in the fall.

This is what true happiness feels like,

I thought fondly to myself as the GPS told me to take the next right off the main road.

And for a little while, it had been.

~*~*

Jess

Brett pulled the van off the winding side road and down a driveway that had been almost completely covered with branches.

That'll be job number two,

I thought as the foliage made scraping sounds against the metal sides of the vehicle,

Right after we get settled.

My stomach was in knots as we made our way slowly down our new driveway. It wasn't long, but it was old and dirt and filled with potholes.

Job number three,

I thought with a reassuring grin at Brett.

It had been a whirlwind of a year, and there had been more than one occasion where I had had serious doubts about moving to the middle of the woods. I still didn't have a job, and the opportunities in Summer Hill were slim to non-existent for someone with my qualifications. But Brett had been so excited, and I wanted nothing more than to be with him. So I had supported him all the way up to the front door of our new home.

It came into view suddenly, with the trees parting before a large and well-kept clearing of grass that surrounded the gorgeous, whitewashed farmhouse. Here the dirt drive began to widen until it became a gravel turnaround where they could park the truck. A grey SUV was already present and a man in a white button-up shirt and jeans was leaning against the door of the vehicle smoking a cigarette.

"That must be the realtor," Brett said as he pulled up behind the SUV and put the moving truck in park.

Taking a deep breath, I unbuckled my seatbelt and swung the door open before hopping down and stretching my cramped muscles.

"You must be Ron," Brett was saying from the opposite side of the van, "I'm Brett and bringing up the rear here is my fiancé, Jess."

I smiled, coming around the front of the van to shake Ron's hand while internally rolling my eyes. Business Brett was such a schmuck it almost hurt.

Ron the realtor took a long drag on his cigarette before he dropped it to the ground and put it out with the heel of his shoe - which I found exceptionally rude. But I remained quiet - nagging Jess was worse than business Brett.

"Glad to meet you folks," Ron said with a yellow-toothed grin and a strong New England accent, "You bought yourselves a real nice house here. I'm very happy for yah."

"Thanks," Brett said, "We're very excited ourselves."

"Well then let's not waste any more time," Ron said, jerking his head toward the front door of the house, "Let me give you the nickel tour and all the appropriate paperwork and get out of your hair."

Brett nodded his assent and grabbed my hand as Ron led us to the stained wooden steps that began the large wraparound porch that surrounded the house on all four sides. This had been a major selling point for Brett, whose father had wanted nothing more in life than a god damned wraparound porch, but had died before he could realize his singular dream. Admittedly I couldn't have cared less, but seeing the thing up close made me realize that Brett and his father had had a point. It was beautifully crafted, and I could already picture myself in a rocking chair with a book while a citronella candle flickered and kept the bugs away during the twilight hours of summer.

"You've got the main entrance here," Ron was saying gesturing to the double-doors that made up the front entranceway, "Another one on the side there," he pointed to our right toward the west, "And of course your back door off the kitchen."

The realtor pulled out a ring of keys and selected an old, tarnished brass one that he slipped into the equally old front door knob. Despite its age, the key turned with a satisfying

thunk

and the door swung open.

A wave of thick, musty air spilled out of the doorway and I surprised to find I actually liked the scent. It smelled comfortable...safe. I looked over at Brett to exchange a smile only to find his nose crunched up in disgust. Clearly he did not share my feelings about the old house's initial impression. Shrugging internally, I followed Ron through the doorway, finding the darkness jarring after the bright summer morning.

"Take a minute to adjust," Ron was saying as he closed the door behind us, "I've got the curtains drawn to keep the interior cool. No AC."

"Right," Brett nodded, "Still pretty cool in here though."

"Oh yes," I could see that Ron's shape was nodding excitedly, "The house holds a pretty constant temperature all year round. Has something to do with the architecture I think."

You already sold us the house,

I thought, needlessly annoyed.

Having adjusted to the new lighting, I could see that we were standing in the grand foyer. A wide staircase directly in front of the front door lead up to the second floor hallway and the rooms beyond. It, like all the bare floors of the house, was made of a dark cherry that still had considerable charm despite its age.

"This way," Ron said, leading us to the right, through a wide entranceway that fed into the living room.

White dust covers draped across various shapes of furniture strewn throughout the large room. At the front of the house long curtains masked what must have been the large picture windows so heavily advertised on Ron's real estate website. The focal point of the room, however, was the enormous fireplace and mantel that took up almost the entire eastern wall. It stood cold and barren, giving the whole place an ominous feeling that sent a small shiver down my spine.

"Isn't this gorgeous?" Brett was asking me and I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Of course it was gorgeous. It was our dream house - what could be more perfect? But my stomach was still knotted in anxiety. This was a big change for me - for both of us - and I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ron continued the tour at a brisk pace, leading us through room after room as if to prove that the hundred or so pictures Brett had demanded from him had not been doctored. In addition to the living room, there was a study, two bathrooms, a dining room, kitchen, and walk-in pantry on the first floor. Upstairs we were paraded through four bedrooms - including an impressive master suite - one more bathroom, and a small room that had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on all four walls. "The library" Brett had called it when he first glimpsed the photos of the room. In truth, it was just an extra room that someone had at one point decided to fill with books - but if Brett wanted to call it the library I wasn't about to spoil his fun.

None of what Ron showed us was new or surprising. We had been very thorough in our investigation of the house, especially since we had had no way of coming to see it in person.

Back in the foyer after the whirlwind tour, Ron shook both our hands, apologized for having to run out, ran out, came back one second later to hand over our keys and appropriate paperwork, shook our hands one more time, and then left, closing the door behind him with an ominous

click

.

"Did he seem like he was in a hurry to leave?" I asked Brett, but was met with silence.

Turning around I found that Brett was gone. A brief investigation revealed that he was in the living room, pulling dust covers off the furniture.

"Getting to work already?" I said, hands on my hips.

"You know it," Brett flashed his toothy, sexy grin that had been one of the top five things that had drawn me to him in the first place, "The sooner we get this house ready to live in the better."

"I agree," I nodded, watching as the ugliest red couch I had ever laid eyes on revealed itself from under the dust cover Brett had been working on.

"Gross," Brett chuckled, wadding up the dust cover and tossing it in an empty corner, "But it'll do for now."

He moved on to the next piece of furniture, which ended up being an inoffensive brown leather winged armchair.

"Better," I smiled softly, "This is kind of like Christmas."

"Remember what you gave me last Christmas?" Brett asked devilishly as he pulled the cover off a - you guessed it - cherry end table.

"A plane ticket to Colorado to meet your parents," I said.

"No, the other thing," Brett goaded, reveling the end table's twin.

I rolled my eyes with added exaggeration. He was of course referring to the Christmas themed lingerie I had purchased for "him" instead of any physical presents. Whatever that Christmas morning had lacked in nostalgia for opening presents Santa had left was more than made up for in some mind-blowingly amazing sex. The things he had done with his mouth that day had provided me with enough fond erotic memories to last for weeks.

"We can christen the house later, stud," I said as he approached me and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me tantalizingly close.

"How about now?" he breathed directly into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine straight to my groin.

Brett gripped me harder and rubbed the obvious bulge in his shorts against my crotch, his fingertips dipping just inside the back of my short jean shorts. I was growing warm and wet between my thighs, and I bent my head to the side, giving him access to my neck. Gentle kisses to my skin there had me instantly aching for more. Reaching around Brett's body, I let my fingers trail up the hard muscles of his back beneath his t-shirt. Even after five years of graduate school, he still had a cut, athletic body that never failed to turn me on.

With a feral growl, Brett stopped kissing my neck and guided me backward until my back hit the papered wall of the living room. He pinned me there as he kissed my lips, slowly grinding his hips against mine. I hooked my leg around his, pulling him closer, raking my nails down his back as our kisses became more frantic, feral.

Then, as suddenly as the primal heat had taken ahold of me, it was gone. I felt my blood chill as if someone had injected me with the essence of winter. I had opened my eyes for a second as Brett had kissed me, and in my periphery I saw what was unmistakably the tall, broad silhouette of a man standing outside the front entrance. It appeared to be crouched in an awkward angle, peering in through the panes of glass that bordered the double doors - watching me. Watching us.

"Stop," I hissed, kindly but firmly pushing Brett away from me so I could get a better look at our voyeur.

"What?" Brett was out of breath and confused.

I ignored him and walked quickly to the front doors. The silhouette was gone, but the man could have still been nearby. Swinging open the left door, I rushed outside and surveyed the front property.

There was no one there - just our moving truck and a few birds pecking at the grass, looking for bugs.

"Jess?" Brett asked from behind me, "What is it?" He sounded concerned.

I turned around and frowned, "It's nothing I guess."

"What did you see?"

"There was...," I faltered, not wanting to give Brett the impression that I was suddenly a paranoid. Nothing ever spooked me, but something about the isolation of this new house had me on edge. And the silhouette of the man had been so real - I could have sworn there had been someone there.

"Was what?" Brett asked, coming to me and placing a kind, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I smiled and shrugged, "Nothing. I thought I saw something but I think I'm just a little nervous is all."

Brett gave me a smile and a hug. "Don't worry," he said, "There's no one or thing that can hurt you while I'm around."

Of course,

I thought, hugging my protector back,

Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

~*~*

Brett

By dinner time the first night in our new home Jess and I were almost completely unpacked. After our almost-sex earlier, I had used my frustrated energy to bring in all of our boxes while Jess unpacked them into neat piles - one for the bedroom, another for the kitchen, and a last one for the living room. We only had three room piles because until that day we had only ever had three rooms to live in.

We didn't speak much that afternoon. I could tell that Jess was still spooked by whatever she thought she had seen that morning even though she would not outwardly admit it. Chalking it up to new-life jitters, I gave her time to relax and decompress.

"Only the bed and mattress left," I announced, coming into the kitchen where Jess was boiling some pasta on the stove.

"I'll help you with that after dinner," she promised, clicking off the burner and draining the pot in the sink, "Sorry if I got paranoid earlier," she added, "I promise to make up for it."

"You better," I smiled and gave her a playful pat on the ass while she mixed in the vodka sauce. There was nothing else to eat until we went into town for groceries, but as far as I was concerned, pasta and sauce was just fine.

We sat next to each other at the old cherry table in the dining room. Everything in this house was cherry - the floors, the stairs, the trim, and every piece of wooden furniture we had come across so far. The only shift in the décor occurred in the master bedroom, where the cherry flooring appeared to be stained a brighter shade of red. Jess said it looked like blood, and I was hesitant to disagree.

There was another thing about the bedroom that I had thought on a few times throughout the day. When Ron had shown it to us, and then later when Jess and I had inspected the suite closer, a strange sensation overcame me. It had not been unlike a tiny, almost imperceptible electric charge that seemed to spring straight from the floor and flow through my body. I had discounted it at first, but when I had returned alone just a few minutes before dinner to store a few boxes of clothing in the closet the sensation had returned stronger than ever.

"Hey, babe?" I said as I speared rotini on my fork.

"Hmm?" Jess responded, her mouth full of food.

"Earlier," I said, "In the bedroom. Did you feel anything...strange?" I had no idea why I was placing so much merit in a weird feeling.

Jess frowned with her eyebrows and shook her head, "Not particularly. Those floors are a little strange but other than that..."

I nodded and then shook my head in a double gesture, "I think we might both be experiencing a little bit of nervous tension today."

Jess nodded in agreement, "To be expected. Tell you what - get that bed put together and we'll lug the mattress upstairs and work on expelling some of that tension."

I felt my groin tingle with anticipation. A chance to finish what we had started earlier was enough to make me rush through dinner and begin the heavy labor of hauling our old metal bed frame up the stairs. It was starting to get dark outside, but I had already brought the pieces from the truck inside and rested them against the front door frame so I did not have to venture out into the mysterious night. The idea of which, for some reason, sent an icy chill racing down my spine.

Gathering the pieces of the bedframe together I started up the stairs, careful not to bang the steel against the fine cherry wood. Once upstairs, it was a straight trip down a very narrow hallway to a solid black door at the end. The door was already open so I passed through with no problems despite my heavy burden.

Stepping over the threshold, I was immediately accosted by the electric sensation from before - except this time it was stronger and accompanied by a heavy, slightly nauseating feeling that made my head swim. Carefully, I laid the metal frame pieces on the blood red floor and righted myself, willing the nauseous spell to pass. It did after a few seconds, leaving only the electric vibration that appeared to be heavily centered on my groin.

A large window faced the western side of the property revealed that the light outside was fading fast and I realized that there was no light in the bedroom and I would need to get a lamp before I could begin piecing together the bed frame.

Turning around to leave and get the needed light, my heart skipped two or three beats as I was caught unawares by a shadowed figure standing in the doorway.

"Jesus!" I shouted. Whenever I got scared, I got loud, as if the volume of my voice would expel the fear from my body.

The figure, which turned out (of course) to be Jess, laughed lightly. "I'm sorry! I thought I made plenty of noise coming down the hall," she held up a bedside lamp from our apartment, "I brought you some light."