Hi, all!
Annabelle "You should drink more water" Hawthorne here, and I'm a thirsty bitch!
(No joke, I think it's from all the fries I ate at lunch)
I have returned yet again with the next installment of "Annabelle's mid-life crisis involves monsters and sex for some reason" and long-time readers are about to get the mother of all lore drops (this year)!
New readers, welcome! Unlike an episode of Kitchen Nightmare where the sole continuity between shows is Gordon Ramsey being a sexy bastard, this is the Horny Monsters story that started with a blowjob in a bathtub and now we're battling [redacted] in a pocket dimension where Avalon has been hidden away. If that sentence sounds silly, it's because I've crammed literally 10 books of Monster-verse lore into it! So if you like full, bingeable stories with titty scenes, start at Ch. 001 and catch up in a day or two.
Returning reader? Welcome back, you magnificent bastards! This year has been an absolute grind. I've had some IRL stuff that absolutely eats into my day-to-day, so I've been burning the candle at whatever end will actually catch on fire to make sure I'm still producing content.
Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this slow period. The summer will slow down a bit for me (it's summer break in the Hawthorne household and I'm taking some time off for family) but I should pick back up in the fall. You can always check my bio to see when I plan to post something, I keep it up-to-date and have actually stuck with it for the last year or so!
Before we begin, a huge shout out to those of you remembering to leave me stars and comments. I am constantly getting new readers who say they finally gave this story a chance because of how much enthusiasm they see from you all. I wouldn't be where I am today without you guys. Another big shoutout to my beta readers, who have had to say "What the hell is this?" more often than not. If I had to carry around a bag full of my story mistakes, it would probably weigh a few hundred pounds and make for quite the
Show and Tell
Lady Charlotte moved quickly, her skirts rustling behind. Mike said nothing, perfectly aware that he needed to remain silent while in her presence. His desire for answers was far too strong to heed the warnings in the back of his mind. If danger came, he would rely on his magic.
The corridors were long, dim, and confusing. Odd scents came from the dusty hallway and a heavy chill settled into his bones. At one point, Charlotte made him wait while she checked on a room up ahead. He made the mistake of leaning against the cold wall. It sapped away his body heat through the thin fabric of his shirt. When Lady Charlotte returned, she beckoned to him with a finger.
Mike stepped into a large sitting room with windows that overlooked the village. He went to look outside, but Charlotte held him back and pulled him through a doorway to her bedroom. Once they were inside, Charlotte turned to face him.
"We can speak freely here," she said. "This is one of the few places where I have some expectation of privacy."
"Why is that?" he asked.
"Privacy in my own room has been earned for good behavior over the years." Lady Charlotte crossed toward the other side of the room to close the curtains. "I don't want the gargoyles looking in and seeing you here."
"Can't they hear us?"
She shook her head. "These walls have been enchanted. Vincentius and his vassals require privacy of their own." Lady Charlotte knelt by her bed and pulled something from beneath. It was a large trunk, and particularly heavy based on how the wood creaked.
"What are we doing here?" he asked.
"Talking first," she said. "And then I will take you elsewhere to show you something."
Mike was about to crack a joke, but thought better of it. "Am I in danger?" he asked.
"Not from me," she replied, then considered her words. "Not currently," she added.
"What about the other vassals?"
Charlotte shook her head. "My brother, perhaps. His moods can be...dark. I am uncertain of Galahad. The years have been long, and he is no longer the man he once was. I don't know his motivations anymore." She opened the chest and frowned. "My Lord and his daughters are the worst of the lot."
"Why?"
She shook her head. "To speak much more about them may call attention upon me I do not want. If I have his attention, then my ears betray me even here."
"So what can you tell me?" Mike leaned against the nearest wall, arms crossed over his chest. He swore when the icy chill bit through his clothes and stood away from it.
"I wish to share some pieces of the puzzle in the hopes that you will fully understand what you see later this day," she said. "For the same reasons I dare not speak certain names, I do not wish to call attention to this conversation. As far as anyone is concerned, I am speaking with a servant, and--" Lady Charlotte's left eye twitched, her lips parting as if in surprise. "I will need more blue paint for next week's portrait. Also, please arrange another lunch for Mike Radley and his guests for tomorrow. I mean to impress them, so bring some of those apple pastries from the village."
Lady's Charlotte sudden change in demeanor had Mike studying her soul in an instant. A dark, spectral tendril had come through the floor, wrapped around her throat like a collar, then split apart to encircle her ears. The woman scowled, holding up a finger to her lips for silence. Realizing that Vincentius was now listening, Mike moved to the bedroom door. He opened and closed it as if a servant was leaving. That dark tendril stayed connected to Charlotte for several minutes as she sat perfectly still. Eventually, it left.
"Message received," said Mike. "No vague references about anybody important."
"Now you understand," she said. "We can speak on some things, but others will be off limits."
"How can you tell that..." Mike gestured toward the floor, then pointed at his ears.
Charlotte stared at him, her lips thinning out. "It's a dreadful feeling, really. Do you remember being a child? I barely do. But when I was little, sometimes I would stare into the shadows, convinced that something was watching me from the darkness. If I looked away, it would leap out and snatch me up. That feeling of dread that creeps up your neck and stops your heart is the same I feel when my senses have been...compromised."
There were so many other questions he wanted to ask, but knew that now wasn't the time, not if they were directly about Vincentius. Along the corners of the room, he spotted that tendril of darkness, thinned out but waiting to reconnect at a moment's notice. "Those portraits around the castle. They're yours."
She nodded, then opened the trunk. Inside were several small canvases. She took them out wordlessly, setting them around the room. Each one was a portrait of a man or woman. Some of them held apples, others held farming implements. There were a few portraits of children as well, many of them captured in mid-smile.
"When I first came to this place, I struggled to find a purpose," she said. "You see, many years ago, I was...born human." She paused and waited. The dark tendril in the ceiling had actually withdrawn. If Mike was right about how the magical link between them worked, then Vincentius was likely occupied with something else. "I was also sick quite a bit, and took up painting as a means to occupy the time."
"I read about that in Edmund's journal," Mike said. "But remember there was a time when you seemed to be doing better."
