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A crack of lightning illuminates the craggy cobblestone path before you for a split second. The wind nearly whips you off your feet but you trudge on regardless. You pull the hood of your jacket further down in some futile attempt to block out the blistering rain. It seems that everything around you is determined to halt your quest, but you continue anyway.
You know what’s at stake here – you can’t afford to turn back now.
The lights and water in your neighborhood were knocked out weeks ago by another storm. The mayor, despite many, many promises, has yet to fix any of it. You’re sick of stumbling around in the dark looking for a candle, you’re sick of having to waste money you don’t have on water bottles, and you’re sick of waiting for someone else to do something about it.
You come to a screeching halt when you run face-first into a stony surface. You fumble through your pockets for a torch, and when you light it, you are greeted with the snarling face of a grotesque. It takes everything you have in you to keep your footing.
You clutch the stone banister as you feel your way up the stairs – judging by the dark shape before you, you must be close to your goal.
After what seems like an eternity you finally make it to the imposing mahogany doors of the manor.
You suck in a shaky breath.
You lift a fist to knock.
You blink.
Another crack of lightning illuminates the sky. This time you see velvet burgundy carpet under your feet, the glint of a crystal chandelier, and the vast gaping openness of an entrance hall.
“Now what’s a little thing like you doing so far from home?” A smooth lilting voice cuts through the air.
You whip your head towards the source; across the room stands a russet-skinned woman, bathed in the light of a single candle. Her upturned eyes glint crimson in the glow.
“I’m looking for someone,” you say aquiver.
“Oh? Who?” Her voice pierces the silence again, this time coming right next to you. You force yourself to stay where you are.
“I heard you can help people.”
“Hm,” the woman glides by you with silent footsteps. “What makes you so certain I’m the one you’re seeking out?”
“You move like a ghost. Your eyes glow. You don’t breath.”
Her eyes glitter with mirth. “So it seems.”
“Will you help me or not?”
She picks at a ring on her finger, adorned with the effigy of a raven’s skull. “You can’t get something for nothing, as I’m sure you are aware.”
Her face appears inches from yours. “What will you offer me in return?"
You pull down your scarf and bare your neck to her.
She smiles.
Pearly white fangs peek over her full lips.