The guards are caught clueless, struggling to find a reply, but one does head into the house seeking the Lord so I find no need to complain.

We have to wait only a few minutes with the remaining guard who fails to find any words that might be appropriate. The lord, father to the murderer, meets my gaze deeply unsettled by something.

“Do I not recall you from last evening?” He asks, “With the reeve?”

“That is so. I was embroiled in that mess by happenstance,” I say, explaining little as I can and moving the topic a more useful direction.

“I’m sure that you know of my recent family circumstances... I wish to escape my uncle’s machinations. He would have me make marriage oaths with my cousin, a boy of few years.”

“You come to our house for protection?” The lesser lord asks. “Then you will have it. I must apologise for delaying you at our gates, that was quite awful of me.”

He leads me into the house, as Henry stays behind. There is no need for him any longer, and to keep him would only add unnecessary risk.

“Your man?” The lord asks, looking back towards him.

“A man who was brother to a servant of mine. He’s one of only a few I could trust to bring me here,” I say in way of explanation.

“You needn’t worry about any of that anymore. I’ll see to it that you see no poor treatment, my son might like to play around at times, but he knows when to take people seriously.”

“I’m already asking favours of you, I wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to make assumptions of you or your family,” I say entering the foyer. The essence of fear hangs heavy in the air, born from an effigy made from the flesh of my victim sitting in the soil not a few metres from the door.

Widening my attention I can sense the others nearby, tainting the atmosphere with vigorous terror. The servants around us echo the same emotion, building upon itself over and again until the air is slick with the oily taste of dread.

I restrain my bliss, walking into the dining room where the others are already seated, the meal just finished.

“Should I have the cooks warm up something?”

“No, I’ve already eaten, thank you,” I say acting as a proper and gentle lady while suppressing my hunger. The fear in the air only whets my appetite for blood, but I am not some overeager child demanding my meal be prepared early.

“Then let us make introductions,” he says, introducing me to his family with all the proper dignity of a nobleman, here he has a pair of sons, a daughter, and a wife. I take them in within a few moments.

The two sons are close, and already jeering one another with soft-spoken jokes at the expense of the other’s honour. Neither seems to much mind.

The daughter has sharp blue eyes, and lips as thin as a knife’s blade. She smells of soft soaps and lavender, accented with the sweet scent of blood. Her clear eyes watch mine with much the same cold scrutiny that I direct at her.

The mother, meanwhile, is a sow of great proportions. She does not have the dignity of a noble and has failed to keep her body within the margins of noble propriety. She seems, instead, like a rich merchant fat with the riches of success.

While she smells of cooked meats, she does not carry the taste of blood that the others here seem to. Perhaps she is not as heavily involved with the cruelties of her family?

We’ll see how the evening progresses, perhaps I’m wrong.

The formalities of introductions continue for a while longer and I reply by rote, as I investigate the house through my other senses.

The air is thick with blood and the foul stench of human waste, it carries the faint echoes of a desperate young man pleading for someone to fight, to not give in. The echoes come from the basement below us.

The servants are busy, not once letting down their guards, though they seem rather unmoved by all the strangeness of everything surrounding us.

My palette, already stoked, is now nigh unbearable to restrain.

This whole family is foul, but even so, I’m sure their blood will still be sweet at the end of the night.

With introductions done and remnants from their dinner taken away, we retreat to the parlour. A warm fire crackles in the fireplace, spreading warmth into the wide room, even if the heat can’t unravel the frost gripping my heart. Here, so close to the walls of the house where my cursed effigies have been placed, the air tastes of lingering dread. It hangs particularly heavy over the wide glass windows.

I tug at the shadows just outside and feel them respond to my call with an eagerness I’ve never felt before. I ready the darkness to act at my call. Slowly, gently, I must seed the fear into my prey.

“May I ask... have they found the killer?” The lord asks in a whisper, his eyes moving across the windows in suspicion.

“The monster? No, they haven’t found it yet, and I don’t think that they will.” My voice rings hollow in my own ears, the vibrations shaking my frosted heart. Fear among nobles is often a subtle thing. A blink, a glance to the corner of the room, or a slight shift in position.

“Monster?” the murderer boy asks, burning with interest.

“Oh, most certainly. It was not human,” I answer. “It closed us off from the world. The doors wouldn’t work anymore no matter how we pushed and pulled. The windows were covered in darkness, and entirely unbreakable.

“It preyed upon us, but like trapped mice in a bucket we turned against each other. We were made turn against each other. With one look, he could enrapture a mind. A brother kills a sister, a mother her son. We weren’t just killed, we were ruined.”

The crackling fire alone makes sound in this hollow room, but should I listen closely, I can hear pounding heartbeats. My lies settle in nicely, but I need something a little more.

“The windows...” the murderous son whispers, turning all eyes to the glass window, but there’s nothing there. I was able to move the shadows back into hiding before they could all see it.

“They were dark, like she described.” The boy tries to justify himself but his father quickly turns on him.

“Enough boy, I’ll not have you lying to my face!” The lord exudes a deep terror, but he fights it off with rage. It is a flimsy shield, cracking by the time he turns back towards me.

“Pardon my outburst,” he says bowing only slightly. “Perhaps it would be best to rest for the evening.”

“Perhaps...” I agree demurely.

“I’ll have a servant take you to our guest room,” He says, waving a maid nearer.

This young woman is at least well trained, and interestingly she’s far more resistant to my effigies than the nobles living here. She is fast on her feet and leads me away properly.

“Young woman,” I address the maid when we are far enough from the nobles, “I fear that tonight will be a rather dark night.”

“My lady?” she asks cautiously.

“Nothing, nothing,” I say. “Just, perhaps find somewhere to hide. I fear that the tragedy which took my family will strike once more this evening.”

Fear bubbles to the surface of her soul, even though her face remains frozen stiff.

She says nothing more as she leads me to my room.