Chapter 6 -- Power
"
Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble."
--
John Barrymore
"-We're still short o' all the wood we'll need to get this fuck fixed." Danny beckoned Catherine over to look at the floor in the kitchen -- what of it that was left, after most of it had been ripped up, leaving gaping holes in the floor.
Since she had entered the Bed and Breakfast, the only good news that she had gotten was that the basement of the place only had some minor structural damage that would require that they just be set back an extra month, instead of the three months that they thought it would take. Everything else was just bad.
"How long will it take to get all of the wood?" Catherine asked, rubbing at her temples with her fingers. Was it possible that she felt worse than she did last night, even with the threat of rape over her head?
Danny scratched at his head and looked around at the kitchen thoughtfully. "Weather's bad."
Well, duh.
"About a week. Don't worry, though, we got other stuff we can focus on while we wait for the materials for the kitchen. 'Cause you managed to give us some idea of what ya'll are wantin' in the foyer, we can get started on that. Before we do, though, we want you to look around and point out what ya'll want done, specifically." Danny gestured vaguely out of the kitchen. "Go find George and show him what's gonna get done, an' he'll tell you if it'll work."
Catherine did just that, yelling in the echoing foyer for George. When he finally did, she was not surprised to find that he was a crotchety old man wearing paint stained work clothes.
Catherine walked from one point to the other in the the foyer, telling the man what she hoped sounded like good ideas and not complete crap. What bothered her was that no matter what she said, the man only quietly nodded, or, on occasion, grunted at what she said. Eventually, when she ran out of things to point out, she awkwardly told the old man good bye, and he walked back towards the hallway on the opposite side of the first floor, where the first floor rooms were.
Once again Catherine got the feeling that she had fulfilled what little role she played, and had been left to her own devices. To go back to the hotel room.
Although she had not wanted to, her eyes instinctively went to the staircase as she stood in the center of the foyer. The more she thought of the ring and all that it meant, the more certain that she grew that this place definitely had something to do with it all. And now...
Looking around for any of the workers, Catherine began to climb the staircase up to the second floor. As she ascended to the floor, she began to feel the gently throbbing headache behind her eyes begin to feel as though it were compressing, before it shot out where she was intently focusing -- the wall to the right of the window.
Something felt as though it had come out of her with a force that left her feeling sick. She thought that she heard something knock, softly, against the wall that she had focused on, but other than that, there was nothing else left of all of the pressure that Catherine had been gathering since she had left the hotel room.
She sighed and reflected on the way that she had been able to focus and had been able to make that penny slide off of the mini fridge earlier. Baby steps, whatever it meant.
As much as it made her stomach twist, she reflected that this recent change could only be attributed to last night. As much as that fact bothered her, she had decided, upon coming straight with herself with the fact that she now possessed some sort of mental powers, that she could try to find out how to make them stronger.
For the first time, she glanced around the corner to look up the staircase that lead up to the third floor and she walked up the stairs. A quick glance up and down the hallway showed Catherine that the only difference on the third floor from the second was that there were some rather creepy looking bed frames that were piled up on the right side of the hallway. With a glance to each new floor that she ascended, Catherine made her way up to the top floor.
As she rounded on the last flight of stairs, she found that at the top of the stairs was a closed door. A creeping feeling started somewhere at her shoulders and spread up to the skin of her scalp as she walked up the door and, hesitating for one moment, threw it open.
The inside of the loft that made up the last floor was a complete, albeit utterly abandoned and almost completely destroyed, apartment. Although she did not know it for a certainty, she felt that this place had been the home of her apparent ancestor.
No furniture was left in the room, which gave Catherine a foreboding feeling, not helped in the least by the effect of the yellowed newspaper that had been stuck to the two windows in the large living area. The place made Catherine feel as though she shouldn't have gone into it. She, somehow, did not belong here.
As she walked up to the windows due a curious part of herself, wanting to see what the view from the top floor must look like, she felt a cold chill cross her body. As she shivered and drew her coat closer to her body, she remembered the analogy about the feeling you get whenever someone or something walks across your grave.
--------------------------------------
She was pulling those newspapers loose from the windows -- the bizarre act of that fat realtor thirty years ago. He had managed to make that idiot trip on his way down the stairs, and after that, he had not returned to the Bed and Breakfast. Well, until very recently, that man had been the last person with any legitimate reason to go into the building.
Seeing her in that room -- pale and shaking from the cold and, more than likely, her body's unconscious reaction to recognizing his presence -- brought him back to older times. For a moment, he could have believed that the girl under the thick coat (she could not classify as a woman, as naïve and how full she was of false bravado) was the one who gave him life.
Then took away everything that made him feel alive.
The comparison made Him angrier than he already felt. He was well aware, as he watched her gingerly peeling those papers loose from the window glass, that he had fucked up.
The cardinal thing in the traditional sense was the process of giving semen, which their bodies turned into something new and powerful. To him, what he had done was tantamount to dangling the keys to her cell just an arm's length out of reach. Although she may not be able to do it -- and this was likely, if she was unaware of its existence -- it would be only a few more steps, if she were to have the upper hand in this.
She had gotten the best of him -- it was no real surprise to him, really, that a woman --
any
woman -- could get the upper hand on him in the midst of sex. Nothing could be done, save to prepare for the next time.
Leaning back against the door frame, He gave her body a cold sweep with his eyes, and came once again to the conclusion that the last thing he wanted was to give over power -- to
her.
One good thing to come of what happened last night was that he had gained a tether into the physical world, as she had gained a taste of Power -- and, as luck would have it, it was in this room that his ability to interact with the human realm was at its strongest.
As luck would have it.
Something dark swept across His features, as he leaned over so that he could push the opened door shut.
----------------
