Something Wiced This Way Comes

A little something spooky for the season! Hope you all enjoy :)

Something Wicked This Way Comes

© Kassandra of Knossos

The door to Wychwood Manor swung shut behind Marion, rattling against its frame until she turned to lock it, pressing a hand against the dusty lace curtain-covered window and sliding the deadbolt home. Turning around, she leaned against the oak and sighed, eyeing the mess of moving boxes laid out in front of her.

The foyer was in disarray. Marion had spent all day driving boxes of her things back and forth between the apartment to here, her new home. And now, nearly eight hours later, she was too tired to unpack anything. The fridge was empty, too. She'd just have to make do with the takeout she'd picked up on her final trip back.

Tomorrow, she thought, looking at the boxes. At the very least, she had furniture. A dining table, a couch, television stand and television, her bed and nightstand--all of that had been moved to the manor earlier in the morning, thanks to her brother. Other furniture was less important. Wychwood Manor came with its fair share of installments. Bookcases lined the walls of the living room and study, as well as the master bedroom upstairs. Two guest bedrooms already possessed beds and wardrobes, not that she had plans to sleep in the previous owners' beds.

And, perhaps to her greatest surprise, the pantry was completely outfitted with new shelving and rollout spice racks. Not that there was anything in it.

"Grocery run," Marion said to herself, adding it to the list of things she needed to do tomorrow.

In the middle of the old manor, the pantry had seemed out of place, all white shelves and steel fixtures where the rest of the house was made of dark wood and brass handles. But it didn't matter. Marion was going to strip this place near to its beams. She was on a deadline to get this place spick and span so she could turn it into a bed and breakfast within a year.

A haunted bed and breakfast.

Wychwood Manor had been on the market for a while. At the time of her walkthrough, the agent told her it'd been up for sale for nearly three months, an unprecedented time for such a large house so near to the city. So, of course, Marion had done her research.

Leaves turning in the heat of summer, the chimney smoking with no one home, creaking coming from indistinct locations throughout the house. All of this contributed to the local rumours, and all of it had simple explanations.

The trees out front were dead and had been for a long time, judging by the state of them. The previous owners were old, forgetful, and enjoyed turning in for the night by the fireplace. And the creaking was expected of any old house.

But the idea of a haunted bed and breakfast had been too good to pass up.

Drifting forward through the foyer, Marion let her fingertip trail along the balustrade of the primary staircase. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and Marion let out another sigh. Mentally, she added dusting to the list of things she'd need to do soon.

Slipping her shoes off and leaving them next to the stairs, she padded over to the dining room, dropping her takeout bag onto the table before dropping into a seat. She sagged against the back of the seat and rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in her neck. It was only nine at night, but she fully intended on going to sleep after wolfing down her meal.

Reaching for the bag, she paused when she heard something deep within the house groan. Partway through the groan, there was a metallic clunking noise and then silence. Marion grinned to herself.

"Haunted house," she said under her breath.

Unwrapping her meal, she dug in.

That old familiar, indistinct fast-food taste burst across her tongue. Her jaw tingled at the first bite, a sign she hadn't eaten in too long.

The window across from her rattled violently in its frame.

Marion coughed, almost choking on her food, her eyes narrowing on the window. The frame was old and stripped of most of its paint. No doubt the panes needed to be replaced, too. It wasn't going to be cheap fixing this place up.

Shivering, Marion noted a drop in temperature and made a mental note to check the seal on all the windows, too.

Pushing back from the dining table, she grabbed the rest of her meal and started in the direction of the staircase, intending to finish her food in bed. She wasn't usually the type to eat where she slept, but tonight could be an exception.

On the way there, her footsteps creaked across the floor. She'd leave the flooring, she thought. The creaking just added to the ambience.

When she got to the staircase, she stepped up to the first step and stopped, foot hovering above it.

It must have just been her tired mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn the creaking had gone on a second too long. Like someone else was walking behind her.

Her shoulders tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, a slow shudder rolling through her extremities to the center of her spine.

Marion shook her head and hurried up the steps, not stopping until she was in the master bedroom where she locked the door behind her.

Her overnight bag was on the center of her bed, essentials splayed out on the bedding. She pushed most of it over, grabbing her hairbrush and setting it on the nightstand along with her phone charger. Climbing into bed, she paused a moment to listen, heaving a sigh of relief when it was silent.

To hell with it, she thought, wrapping her food back up and setting it down on the nightstand, tucking in under the covers. She'd eat tomorrow, she'd lost her appetite. Reaching up beside her, she hit the switch above the bed, plunging the room into darkness. Squeezing her eyes tight, she willed the morning to come.

*******************************************

It was the scratching that woke her. A persistent skrch, skrch, skrch, like something sliding along the hardwood floor.

Marion shot up in her bed, comforter clutched to her chest, breath coming hard out of her lungs. Pausing, she listened. There was nothing now. Scraping her teeth over her bottom lip, she laid back down with a huff, reaching up to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. She was driving herself halfway to insanity with this house.

That's it. Tomorrow she was calling the contractor to sort everything out. She'd wanted to wait to strip the house, but she couldn't put up with the noises anymore.

Closing her eyes, Marion tried to will herself back to sleep.

Skrch. Skrch. Skrrrrrrchh.

"What the fuck?" Marion hissed, sitting up in bed and throwing her covers off. She reached for the light switch at her bedside, the overhead lights flickering to life.

The sound was muffled, like it might've been in the walls.

"If I have rats to deal with, I'm going to scream," she muttered, squinting at her surroundings.

Skrrrrrrrrrccccchhh THUNK!

Marion made a noise halfway between a gasp and a yelp, swallowing the sound.

It had sounded closer this time. Like it was in her room.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

The door to the old wardrobe across from her bed swung open and Marion screamed. Reaching over, she grappled for the hairbrush she'd left on her nightstand, clutching it tightly in front of her.

But when she peered into the wardrobe, she could see nothing.

For the next thirty seconds, all was silent.

After another uneventful thirty seconds, Marion slipped from her bed to stand, brandishing her hairbrush in front of her as she crept to the wardrobe. When she was finally standing in front of its open doors, she saw it.

A spirit board.

"Oh, hell no," she said, backpedalling until her calves hit the frame of the bed.

The spirit board was poised precariously on the edge of one shelf inside the wardrobe, ready to plummet to the hardwood floor at the slightest breeze. Marion ran a trembling hand through her hair and shuffled her feet where she was standing.

"I'm just putting you away," she said to the board, its planchette pointing at her in a way that almost felt menacing. "I'm going to close the wardrobe, and then I'm leaving, all right? I'll go sleep at my brother's, or a hotel. But you are going back where you came from."

Marion took a slow step forward and reached for the spirit board, but just before she could touch it, the wardrobe groaned and the shelving collapsed inward, the spirit board falling to the ground, planchette clattering some few feet away.

"Shit!" Marion yelped, hopping out of the way. A low whine came out of her mouth, her brows pinching together.

She just had to pick it up and put it away.

Dropping to her knees at the side of her bed, Marion reached for the planchette first. When she gripped it and nothing happened, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She was just being silly. There was no communing with the dead today. She was just tired and freaked out, and she'd be fine once she left this place and came back in the morning.

Marion dropped the planchette on the spirit board, readying to pick both up and put them back in the collapsed shelving of the wardrobe.

Skrrrch!

The planchette zipped along the surface of the spirit board.

Marion screamed again, falling over herself onto her ass and pedalling away, her breath coming out in short pants.

Skrrch! Skrch! Skrrrch!

In stark horror, Marion watched as the planchette began to spell out a word.

H -- E -- L -- L -- O

Marion scrambled back as the board began to rattle against the floor, the planchette still whipping across it in violent motions. All around her, the room seemed to shake, the windows chattering against their frames like teeth on a cold day. The lights flickered, and Marion scrambled for something--anything--she could use as a weapon. A weapon against what, exactly, she didn't know. All she knew is that there was some primal part of her that was trying to claw its way free from her skin and run.

But she was frozen, and her hairbrush had clattered to the ground to some unseen corner of the room in all her fright.

Several things happened next. One of the lights popped, making the room go dim. At the same time, the window unstuck, slamming down and locking into place on its own. The floor shook harder than before until finally, in one swift movement, the board and planchette lifted from the hardwood and flew into the wall opposite Marion, the board cracking down the middle.

A groan echoed from deep within the house, somehow more sinister than any furnace had the right to be. Then laughter, low and entrancing, coming from somewhere within the room, somehow all around Marion and right in front of her.

The final light popped above her head, plunging her into darkness, just as everything stopped. It was suddenly silent, everything still as Marion breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. She hadn't managed to grab anything, and her hands felt increasingly vulnerable on the cold hardwood floor. She felt like something might snatch them at any moment and pull her across the room.

Laughter.

Quiet, languid, feminine, sinister.

In front of Marion, the floor started to glow. Faint and red, casting grim shadows at the edges of her vision. It was like a film darkroom, impossible to see anything, all the while seeing everything your mind could come up with in the absence.

Echoing laughter sounded in front of Marion again, this time clearer, and as she watched the floor, the glow began to grow brighter. Shocked still, she watched as something began to push its way up from the floorboards, shedding that same dim red glow as it did.

At first, she saw the top of a horned head, face tilted down, hair obscuring its features. Then a hand broke free, slamming against the floor dangerously close to Marion's foot. A shoulder next, as the creature struggled to push itself up and out of the floor, as if it were stuck in glue. Another hand, another shoulder, and the creature pushed itself until it was up to its waist above the floor.

It was then that Marion noted the creature was naked, long hair obscuring most of them, but even so, it was impossible to hide the generous curves still rising out from Marion's floorboards.

More laughter, clearer this time, emanating from where the creature's mouth must have been. A knee popped free, and then with one final solid push, the creature broke free in its entirety, kneeled on the floor in front of her, still shedding that red glow. Her horns twisted up from her forehead, a tail sweeping the ground in languid motions behind her.

With a slow roll of her shoulders, the creature hummed and tilted her head up to look at Marion. Marion had to hold in a gasp. The face looking back at her wasn't human--not entirely. With six dark eyes and a smile full of sharpened teeth, the creature looked up at Marion with a considering gaze.

"You're new," she said, husky voice hissing out from between her pointed teeth.

"It's been a while since I've had anyone new."

"What are you?" Marion asked, finally finding her voice. She was shaking, though she tried to hide it, tensing her legs to quell it.

The creature tilted her head, some of her hair falling away from her chest in a motion that was almost hypnotizing. "That's rude, don't you think? You should have started by asking my name."

Marion said nothing, trying to push herself harder against the wall, like she might be able to push out the other side the way the woman in front of her had pushed out of her floor.

Sighing, the woman pushed a bit of hair behind her horns and rolled her shoulders, looking around the room. "I like what you've done with the place. What is that, Ikea? Does Ikea still exist? I've lost all sense of time, I'm afraid."

"What are you?" Marion asked again.

"Tch." The woman clicked her tongue. "That's the wrong question again."

Marion pursed her lips. She was still scared, but now she was annoyed, too.

"What's your name?" she tried.

The woman smiled, her lower two eyes nearly closing with the expression while the others curved up happily. "That's better. My name is Sylvenne. And I'm a spirit, of sorts."

"You're not keen on giving answers, are you?" Marion said, narrowing her eyes.

Sylvenne tossed her hair. "Don't get snippy with me. You're the one that called me here." She cocked her head. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, but Marion could've sworn her gaze had turned mischievous. "Why did you call me here?"

"What are you talking about?" Marion asked.

Sylvenne bent low to the ground and started to crawl toward Marion, her tail whipping behind her like a cat ready to play with its prey. "People only call me here for one reason. But it's been years since I've gotten the attention I need. Do you know what years of neglect does to a succubus?"

Marion's eyes widened and she pedalled away from Sylvenne, pushing along the wall until she hit the corner of the room. "Stop," she said. "Stay there."

Sylvenne, to her surprise, stopped. She tilted her head again, this time in confusion. "You don't want to play?"

Marion blinked, her mind filling with thoughts she most certainly shouldn't have been having right there and then. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around your existence," she said.

"Well, it's easy. I'm bound to this house. I have been for centuries. You used the planchette and called me here," Sylvenne said.

"That really doesn't explain anything for me," Marion said. "Why are you bound to this house? What does calling you here do? And where did your clothes go?"

Sylvenne grinned. "Well, that last one's easy. Clothes just get in the way of fu--"

"Woah! All right. Okay, maybe that one was obvious."

Sylvenne blew out a breath. "I was going to say fun. Are you always so much of a prude?"

"I am not a prude."

"It's fine if you are. There's nothing wrong with being modest, you know. Just because I've got my tits out doesn't mean you need to do the same."

Marion frowned. "That's...surprisingly progressive of you."

"Why wouldn't I be okay with modesty?" she challenged.

Marion shook her head and raised her hands. "Okay, no. See, that? That isn't helpful. We're getting way off track. I wanted to know why you're bound to this house, and what calling you here even does."

Sylvenne sighed and drew herself up into a sitting position. "It's so boring, though. But fine. I'm bound to this house because I died in it some centuries ago. Somewhere along the way to purgatory, I got stuck here instead, and I've been bound here as a succubus and spirit of the house ever since."

"How does that happen? Who decides you're meant to be a succubus and not some other type of spirit?" Marion questioned.

Sylvenne smoothed her hands down her body. "Maybe I decided for myself, did you think of that?"

Marion followed the path Sylvenne's hands had taken, skimming over her breasts, down her stomach, to the crease where her thigh met her torso, where her hand was currently resting. Despite herself, Marion swallowed thickly. Had it gotten warmer in her room? The back of her neck felt hot, her mouth suddenly dry.

"You didn't answer my other question," Marion rasped, clearing her throat.

"Hm, what was it again?" Sylvenne asked, batting her lashes. "This floor is really comfy, by the way. I'd almost forgotten how nice this place was. Really just makes you want to stretch out."

Marion's eyes shot up to the ceiling when Sylvenne suddenly leaned back on her hands, arching her back like a lazy cat and stretching her legs out in front of her, bending one at the knee while the other swept out in an arc. Marion felt her face getting warm, her throat working at the brief glimpse she'd gotten of Sylvenne's inner thighs.

"What does calling you here mean?" Marion repeated for a third time.

"How much do you know about succubae?" Sylvenne asked instead.

Marion's brows drew together. "I know they're supposed to be demons that feed off of having sex with humans."

"More or less, yes."

From the corner of her eye, Marion could see Sylvenne moving again, leaning forward, the curves of her body moving in a way that was impossibly hard not to watch.

"We feed off of human sexual energy. For the succubae not attached to dwellings, it's a necessity. Feed or transform into a revenant. For me, though, it's not like that. I'm not a flesh and blood demon, you see. I'm a spirit of one, bound to this house. If the house were to go, then I might be in trouble. But so long as it's standing..." She shrugged. "Calling me just means waking me up. It means fun."

"Fun," Marion repeated. "You're a ghost?"

Sylvenne made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "That's all you got out of that? Really?"

"This is a lot for me," Marion said. "Most of me still wants to run away."

"Most of you? I'm offended. Or I would be, if you weren't lying."

"I'm not lying," Marion said, even as her palms began to sweat.

"I can feel the heat coming off of you from here. You poor, lonely thing. You didn't even know what you were doing when you touched that planchette, did you?" Her voice was like a purr. A moment later, Marion felt a warm hand on her ankle, sliding up toward her calf.

And she couldn't even deny how good it felt.

Marion blinked quickly and licked her lips, fighting the urge to clench her thighs together at the sudden wetness that pooled there. "How do I know you're not in my head? Or that you're just doing this because you have to?"

"Tch. Would I feel this good if I was in your head?" Her hand slid higher up on Marion's leg, near to her thigh. "And trust me, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to. Pleasure is part of my nature, threaded through every fibre of my being."

Marion ran a hand through her hair, pulling at the ends. "I don't know what to do here," she admitted. It was strange, but she felt calmer now. It was almost like Sylvenne's presence had its own calming qualities. Every word that came out of her mouth was spoken in a near hypnotic cadence, and Marion felt all of her earlier fears melting away.