London, 1890

Dearest Michael,

My expeditions have exceeded my expectations and created ideologies bursting with color in my imagination. Watching the seasons unfold in different places on the earth has served me an unfathomable pile of inspiration I utilize gratefully while hunched over my typewriter when the sun is settling on the horizon. Copious amounts of tea have been consumed — some I don't think are available back in New York. A tea exploration has unfolded in the midst of my travels and I find it quite entertaining how it came about without my intention. You'd be surprised by the variety, and perhaps I'll send over a shipment once I'm capable of it.

I've fabricated universes smearing over the filth I've come across and yet it all maintains a realistic aspect brandishing a perfect division between a frivolous dreamer and a skeptic too straight-edged to indulge in fantasy. I fear my horizons haven't broadened enough to appeal to the daring portions of the crowd thirsting for something far more vicious, beyond reality's comprehension . . . I long to create a world of chilling horrors that make the shadows swirl ominously from the corner of one's eye. Far fetched, it seems, but I am as determined as any stubborn man racing in the direction of his dreams. I've been given the miracle of living out mine, and it's within my every hope that you'll be able to continue accomplishing yours while I'm away, brother.

I'm set off to London to stay at the most curious Gothic residence. From what I've heard, they are hospitable, giving away their home as a temporary place to reside in if it is desired by eyes seeking shelter. I am in need of somewhere to stay once I step off the ship sailing across this cavernous ocean. I wrote to the lady of the house who is called Danielle Boulet to ask for permission to stay while taking inspiration from her home, to which she responded in kind with her consent along with that of her companions running the household along with her. There are four in total, the remaining number with identities that are a mystery to me, but I do hope we'll get along splendidly. I've been informed the house will be entirely reserved so I may have peace while writing, a kindness I appreciate abundantly. I plan to reside there for no more than two months at best.

I hope you and Lady Alicia are faring well back home. How is everything? Have you decided to have a child, or will you wait for our father's business to be placed in your hands? A family is a responsibility that should also be a blessed privilege. Always keep that in mind.

Best regards, Gerard.

——

The grime in London was far from ideal for the fantastical wonders of an artist's imagination, especially a weaver of worlds, but there was something dreadfully intriguing about the state of it while gliding down the streets in a carriage that trembled afoot. The sky churned with rich tones of gray brewing a storm saturating the earth in the telltale scent of rain carrying over chilling breezes fluttering across the sordid ground. It was a blessing masking the underlying putrid scent. Seagulls hoarsely cried out while circling over the rows of housing centers and divided homes lessening in pristine condition the further one traveled down the stone streets, past the yellow street lamps casting an eerie glow over the sullen tones the weather painted every surface in. The plums of sunrise had passed hours prior and one would hope for the breakthrough of golden sunlight, only to find it was a feeble attempt coaxing a fiery orb to part the clouds stirring with a quiet rumble in the sky. Brick and stone sealed over the foundations of towering homes, windows opened for maidens to air out laundry like the whipping flags of surrender bathed in white. Bakers settled out in front of shops to sell their products beside those selling valuable fruits being peered at by the wealthier groups passing by.

Poverty was evident in the wandering citizens hobbling along the sidelines drenched in filth, searching for their prayers to be answered if their sanity hadn't disintegrated by a great portion. The atmosphere of their salvaged longing darkened the more pleasant scenery such as the waters laying beyond the grounds, the fine structures of gargoyles guarding courthouses and lavish buildings feeling out of place in the square they took residence in. There was a sorrowful sway to the march of unlucky people wandering aimlessly in search of shelter, food, any signs of mercy if anyone would be kind enough not to shoo them in the opposite direction so disrespectfully. Gerard's first instinct was to turn away from the garish reality spreading misery through specific parts of London as it unleashed a great curl of hurting through his chest, but as the carriage hobbled to a steady halt in front of a shop where Gerard sought to purchase a gift to express his gratitude to the owners of the manor he'd be staying in, he stepped out of the carriage to find a quivering mother and her child curled up beside the shop's window, covering in a film of grime and tattered clothing barely clinging to their gaunt skin pulled tight over prominent bones that shouldn't have poked through so alarmingly. The cold undoubtedly seeped through the tears in their clothes they attempted to burrow in.

Gerard met the eyes of the mother across from him. The sea breeze played with the wisps of his dark hair, bitingly cold. The scent of freshly baked bread carried over to him, and as he glanced over his shoulder, a bakery was in sight, putting out new loaves of bread amongst other goods that would fill the stomachs of whoever purchased them. Gerard turned back to the mother and her child huddled up together by the window. Without further question, Gerard reached into his pocket to curl his fingers around a decent handful of shillings and gold coins. He made fine profit as a professional writer, a known one, specifically. The sadness yanking at his heart inspired him to walk up to the skeletal people sat on the stone ground. The mother's first instinct was to encircle her child and tug him towards her chest protectively, but Gerard disarmingly waved with his free hand, offering a tilted smile informing them that he meant no harm. He uncurled his fingers to hold out the shining shillings to the woman who was far too young to be with a small child on the streets. He held them out to her, much to her shock.

"There's a bakery across from here, good lady. Perhaps this will keep you and your child fed for a bit." Gerard softly murmured to her, catching the wide eyes of the child who tugged his mother's sleeve. "If they give you trouble and I'm still here, I would like to know. I'll purchase what you need myself."

Gerard bent down and placed the shillings in the wooden cup beside her, barren of any tokens. The streets were rather busy that day; Gerard's jaw clicked to notice no soul took a second glance while passing by.

"Thank you," The woman gently sobbed, clinging to her child. "Thank you."

"No words of thanks are needed. May you find peace, good lady." Gerard bid them ado, and continued towards the shop, glancing over his shoulder now and then to see the small family gratefully stagger towards the bakery for a meal. He made sure they purchased their items without being heckled and was relieved to find the baker offered them kindness in return for their gracious payment.

With a basket of sweets and flowers now settled in his lap, Gerard looked out the carriage window to find the glass being flecked in raindrops gradually starting an upcoming shower. A trace of a smile guided its way to his lips as he recalled being a child and twirling in the rain beside his brother much to the disapproval of his mother who chastised them for risking catching their death in the middle of winter. It all came benevolently, and their lessons were handed to them when they contracted a miserable cold for two weeks, forcing them to be spoon-fed the most foul tasting remedies while taking as much bed rest as possible. The only thing Gerard didn't have any complaints over in the midst of suffering an illness was the surplus of rich stews and broths given to him at dinner by the cooks working in their kitchen, the finer teas served at lunch he greedily gulped up as an affinity for flavored teas arose in him at an early age. Gerard's mother always scolded him for not minding his table manners, but a child was hardly able to help themselves, not that adulthood did much to reconstruct his habits.

The scent of rose and strawberry tea floated like an evanescent phantom underneath Gerard's nose while gazing out at the beginning of the storm, rocking along with the carriage approaching his destination. Gerard snuck a puff pastry out from the wicker basket delicately veiled in a lace print fabric draping over the top to conceal the surprise inside. He supposed unsuspecting hosts wouldn't be missing one treat from the pile. Gerard harbored a sweet tooth that counted as a curse as he softened a bit around his middle area in the winter when treats were at their finest, but he couldn't resist the heavenly scent wafting under his nostrils, and he graciously dug into the pastry. He wiped away lingering crumbs from the flaky layers cascading onto his coat. He tucked the edges of the draping fabric underneath the basket so he wouldn't be tempted to easily sneak his hand inside again.

Approaching the manor, Gerard was practically pressed up against the window the second he caught sight of the full trees shrouding around the curves of a cobblestone pathway for the carriages to enter through. Despite the formidable appearance of the mysterious house, the greenery was impressive, not a single branch hanging limply from the spruces nor a blade of grass yellowed in a perfectly trimmed layer spearing out under the thorny rose bushes lining what appeared to be a heavily protected greenhouse laying out beside the house. The shadows of the vegetation swirled through the windows and Gerard watched them flicker across his skin in fascination, his lips parted. He turned his head again just in time to see the parting of the green, welcoming the sight of the stone wall cladding pressed to the towers knitted together in a fine foundation in angular formations leading up to at least four stories. The gothic arch barns soared towards the sky and the arched windows wrapped in iron reminded Gerard of the lavish windows in a cathedral. All that was missing was the intricately stained glass depicting holy images. Gerard's eyes traveled over the balconies and the complex curves in the design of the iron railing.

It was beautiful in the most macabre way, cleanliness evident in the fresh paint and unscathed windows, yet an ominous feeling surrounded the manor like an invisible mist rising from the soil underneath. Gerard shivered gazing into the clear windows where he could see the fine drapes of velvet and lace pulled away yet still framing the glass to allow the light in. Already, he could envision a grotesque face fleetingly appearing behind the drapes, or a woman in a nightgown careening from the balcony after giving her body to gravity. Unsettled he was, yet stirring with inspiration, a writer's dangerous curiosity rousing deep within.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the stone staircase leading to the opening at the entrance. The means of transportation wasn't his own, but a chariot sent off by the owners of the Boulet house. The rounded entrance made of oak stained in dark colors stood high, framed in layers of ornate carvings of serpents matching the ghastly grimaces of the gargoyles looming over the steps. The irony of carvings of saints instilled in the pillars made Gerard's fingers twitch, a certain uneasiness falling over him. He stared out the carriage window sprinkled in rainwater, locking eyes with a marble saint cradling her child against her chest and sensing her spirit trapped inside the freezing stone. He only broke free from his trance when the door was pulled open by the footman going to escort Gerard towards the premises. The man patiently waited, offering hand to guide Gerard down the step.

"Thank you, sir." Gerard politely murmured and gently refused the helping hand. He stepped out into the ground, examining the pattern of checkered cobblestone dotted in rain beneath his feet. He grasped a few golden coins from the inside of his coat and placed it into the footman's coat, turning away from the surprised look he was given. Gerard was always kind to servants and employees since they worked for himself and his family his entire life due to his father being an estate owner. Their social status was highly respected and gave them great privilege. Gerard never faltered in showing gratitude towards those waiting on him, feeding him, and assuring their home was always in a perfect state of cleanliness.

"Wow," Gerard breathed, "I . . . I can barely come up with the words to describe how incredible this place is!"

"Wait until you're inside, Mr. Way. You'll find yourself enchanted."

"God, I don't believe I can get any more excited than I already am. I might collapse on the spot." Gerard tilted his grinning face up towards the rumbling sky, a raindrop splattering on his cheek and causing a bit of worry to reach him. "The storm is bound to be unyielding.You aren't forced to work outdoors in these conditions, are you? I'd hate for you to be out in the chilling rain."

"Normally no, sir. I was instructed to take my work inside after the carriage ride." The footman responded with a shake of his head, adjusting the hat shielding his head from the oncoming rain beginning to speed up. Gerard smiled approvingly.

The footman went to bring the horse to the stables in the back along with the carriage, leaving Gerard at the steps with his belongings after offering a helping hand. Gerard hesitantly wandered across them, his smile wavering under the sharp glares from the gargoyles. He approached the cast iron door knocker molded into another ghoulish face with a mouth full of jagged teeth warding off intruders. He wrapped his hand around the cool iron and knocked it thrice against the door, the sound echoing across the land. He immediately let go of it the moment his presence was made known. He suppressed another shudder and looked down at the welcoming basket in his arms, straightening his posture and clearing his throat in preparation to greet whoever answered. His father always told him to smile during introductions with closed lips unless he spoke because of the bizarre small teeth he grew in, which made him deathly self conscious over the years, and although he learned to accept their appearance, it became a habit he caught in that moment where his lips pressed together in a curving smile.

The door opened with a resounding creak of the hinges grinding together. It swung back slowly, the panels making it sturdier and undoubtedly heavier than other doors. Behind it stood a wistfully beautiful young lady with yellow hair piled atop of her hair, tendrils falling in ringlet curls framing her heart shaped face. Taking Gerard aback a notch was the wide black eyes gazing expectantly at Gerard when he imagined there would be rings of blue or green, perhaps walnut brown or a concoction of all colors. Her bustle dress was a shade of powder blue complimenting the porcelain tone of her skin she undoubtedly shielded from the sun to preserve the luminous paleness of it, the tartan patterns ruffled along the wide skirt, a row of satin buttons lining the snug bodice and stopping at the low line of the neck bordered in pleated lace. Her cap sleeves were webbed in the same lace, the length of the long sleeves going down to her wrists plainly until lace cuffs belled out around her hands properly placed before her.

"Good afternoon, fair lady!" Gerard respectfully bowed, removing his hat. "May I assume you are Danielle Boulet?"

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm afraid not. I'm Odette Walsh. I live in the manor with Danielle and the others." Odette opened the door all the way, adjusting her posture and beaming in a way that didn't quite reach her dark eyes, unless their pitch color fooled Gerard. She was translucently pale and a strange feeling emitted from her small lips pulling over her perfect row of teeth gleaming as blindingly as her fair hair and skin. She held out her hand to initiate a formal greeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Walsh." Gerard took her tiny hand into his own, noticing the chill present there. He kept his grip gentle but not waning so he wouldn't come across as impolite or unwelcoming of her formality. "I'm Gerard Way. Has Danielle told you I would be visiting?"

Odette's face lit up, although the widening of her grin was odd. "Yes! We have been expecting you, Mr. Way. I trust you traveled safely?"

"As safe and sound as possible. Your footman is kind, I always appreciate pleasant company over silent staff members, I feel less guilty about my chattering during introductions." Gerard chuckled. "Thank you for the transportation."

"It's our pleasure." Odette's eyes flickered over Gerard's shoulder and the smile dropped from her face. "It's raining. Please, come inside."

Gerard gathered part of his belongings and stepped inside as Odette backed away from the door, calling out to one of the servants to help with the rest of the briefcases and bags. Gerard was immediately greeted by a woman void of expression who rapidly gathered his things, being given instructions of which room to place them in. Gerard marveled over the Aubusson rug beneath his feet, but nothing prepared him for how flabbergasted he would become when he lifted his eyes to examine the manor. His eyes went to the curving staircase and the carvings in the dark wooden paneling, the towering paintings of faces unknown to him, cathedral windows allowing the light to stream inside while cradled by the finest velvet curtains. Floral decor spilled over the luxurious furniture and the petals captured the sparkle of the tinkling chandeliers hanging from the cavernous ceilings arching upwards, smattered in murals of fallen angels descending from the clouds on the backs of snarling beasts. The spines of iron interior design curled over the walls and framed the shelves stacked lavish antiques, oddities ranging from bird skulls inside glass cases and grotesque taxidermy instilled in frames.

The inside held a draft, perhaps due to the immense space barely chasing out the chill from the outdoors despite the giant mouth of a fireplace carved like the pried jaws of demonic beast burning with licking flames. Gerard jumped a bit to feel the gift basket being taken from his hands, his coat being peeled off and his hat taken, finding another servant bustling away with them in hand to take them to the room he'd be staying in while the other stood by dutifully with the welcoming basket. Gerard's artistic mind was positively storming similarly to the conditions of the weather outside, only with pure gold awaiting to be expelled through writing.

"The basket is for everyone in the house, I hope you enjoy it. Pastries are my favorite and I like to think everyone finds them irresistible." Gerard gestured to the basket absentmindedly while still being heavily distracted by his surroundings. "What a beautiful home you have! Positively mesmerizing."

"Thank you, Mr. Way. We take pride in our home and we appreciate your gift immensely." Odette gratefully unfolded the fabric covering the basket and peered inside with a beam. "Our sweet young one will love these baked goods. Thank you again."

"It's my pleasure. You have a child?" Gerard dragged his eyes away from the architecture to glance curiously at Odette.

"Not quite a child, but he is the youngest of all of us." Odette said with a bit of caution contrasting the warmth of her previous tone, dark eyes darting over Gerard. "Do you have children, Mr. Way?"

"Oh, no, I do not. I have yet to marry, surprisingly, since most men at 23 find themselves married." Gerard chuckled disarmingly as a protective instinct came forward in Odette. "But I hope to have my own someday. They have such a broad imagination like myself and I'd imagine my own kin would be just as artistic."

"Those daydreams do cause trouble some days. Although he isn't such a child anymore, the lady of the house spoils him like one." Odette gestured to the female servant holding out the basket. "Take this to the kitchen, Emily. Please, set up for tea, dear. We ought to get acquainted with Mr. Way now that he's here."

Emily nodded with a smile and scurried away to complete her tasks. Gerard watched her disappear behind the swinging door to the kitchen area far from the front of the household and glanced around again, entranced by the decor and the overall aesthetic already containing a mysterious aura crawling deeply under his skin in the most enthralling and eerie way. His eyes captured a shadow gliding down the top of the stairs, giving him a fright until the shadow was engulfed by the warmth of the nearby candles the lower it descended.

The shadow took the shape of a woman dressed in a gown of olive green, coiled curls the color of chestnuts dipped in honey swaying near the fitted waist of the gown embroidered in elegant black thread curling out all the way to the bustle skirt encompassing around her in folds of silky material. Narrow sleeves tight at the lower half of her arms and belled at the top cinched in her brought Gerard's eyes to hands loosely held together in front of her. The way the candlelight bathed her portrait-perfect beauty illuminated her oddly, making it appear as though she flickered in and out of view, fragile flutters of butterfly wings for the rhythm. She glided like a film of fog rolling across the dampened earth in the budding morning after a fatal storm beyond the graveyards mourning the unknown.

"My servants just informed me that you've arrived. Pardon me for not being the first to greet you, Mr. Way." It was clear that the woman was none other than Danielle Boulet; she spoke in a clear voice ringing out with authority, boldness that was considered improper for women, but Gerard always admired when a woman never allowed social status to belittle her power as a being.

"No apologies are needed, Miss Boulet. I've only been here for a moment." Gerard reassured Danielle as she reached the end of the steps, floating towards him.

The curve of Danielle's smile gave the same ethereal darkness she emitted naturally by her looks; pale, bathed in dark colors, mysterious shadows under pensive forest green eyes complimenting the tone of her gown. Her beauty was that of a doll possessing a sinister spirit inside, but nonetheless, her kindness and manners had not abandoned her. She intimidated Gerard greatly with her gaze alone, and he couldn't exactly pinpoint what was so overpowering about Danielle Boulet.

"Greetings, Gerard Way. We're delighted to have you here." Danielle held out her hand which Gerard took, finding the same frigidness he discovered in Odette's hand.

"I'm delighted to be here." Gerard shook her hand respectfully. "This home of yours, it's marvelous, and I've only taken a few steps inside."

"You're too kind." Danielle smoothly slid her hand away and curled it loosely around the peridot brooch nestled into the fabric at her chest. "I assume my servants have carried your things to your room?"

"They've been helpful. Emily is boiling the water for tea." Odette quietly interjected.

Danielle only inclined her head slightly in her direction to acknowledge her. Her eyes were intent on Gerard. "Invite the others for tea, Odette."

"And our young one?" Again, mentioning a young one so vaguely that it intrigued Gerard.

"No," Danielle said smoothly, nearly sharply, finally darting a look at Odette. "We've only just completed our violin lessons. Let him rest."

Odette nodded and continued towards the steps, glancing over her shoulder at Gerard. He met obsidian eyes glittering in the fire, a soft curve of her lips, an unexpected appeal radiating from them. Gerard swallowed hard glancing over the contrast of color on her flawless alabaster skin and watched her move with grace up the steps. A rush of blood filtered everywhere.

His attention was called back when Danielle asked, "Was traveling pleasant?"

Gerard tore his eyes away, erasing the flash of heat whipping through him. Even as a man, he never felt so compelled to drink a woman in. He swallowed harshly again and composed himself under the hard stare in Danielle's eyes despite her open expression.

"Ah-- yes, I travelled by ship." Gerard informed her. "It feels good to walk on solid ground again without the fear of plummeting into the ocean."

Danielle laughed softly. "There's no ocean to plummet into here. Shall I give you a tour?"

"I'd be glad to take a look around." Gerard ecstatically accepted the invitation to a house tour after already feeling his intrigue ensnared by the most bewitching home he'd ever step foot in.

Danielle nodded her head and led the way, beginning with the lower floor of the home before she'd eventually drift up the curving steps leading to the higher levels of the foundation. Gerard followed in stride, eyes drinking in every detail becoming a staple to the inner essence of the home and storing specific things into the writing portion of his brain to incorporate their likeliness into the piece he intended on working on as soon as he was granted time to himself. He reckoned he would be exhausted from traveling, but it was quite the opposite; if anything, he was more alive than before, dreamily conversing with Danielle as she opened up the manor he would take temporary residence in. He pinned his attention to the spacious kitchens and the dining areas, the tea cot and the music room connected to the studies with wide windows giving a view of the terrace beyond the walls. The servants quarters occupied the lower level past the staircase where they were also gifted with the consideration of luxurious rooms the same as those granted to the owners.

The upstairs quarters were occupied by five bedrooms, including Gerard's branching off into his own private restroom equipped with all the utilities required for him to freshen up before emerging. The numerous studies and the library were all fascinating in both size and decor, mesmerizing Gerard with their grotesque slopes and imagery paired with the undeniably elegant intrigue designs swallowed up by roaring shadows and chilled touches never ceasing to rise a shiver from Gerard each time his focus zeroed in on the cold wafting across his skin. There were galleries, upper level leisure rooms, a crafting and sewing room, as well as cavernous bathing and powder rooms scattered between the sleeping quarters. Antique paintings framed on the artistically paneled dark walls hung in the halls and stretched down the corridors, grazing chandelier sconces emitting a flickering light from the flames twirling dangerously on the candle wicks. Gerard's fingers delicately trailed across the braided pillars carved in dark wood, scraping gently over the image of mangled ravens cut between intervals. The way their footsteps echoed and traveled throughout the household had Gerard peeking over his shoulder numerous times, given the sensation of an unknown presence trailing after them.

Stopping in the guest bedroom, Gerard slowly walked towards his things, eyes drinking in his temporary belongings. He brushed his fingertips across the beaded and ruffled burgundy satin of the thick covers draped along the upholstered bed. A canopy of black mosquito netting trimmed in a layer of lace hovered over the cherry oak bed frame broadening the bed visually, bedposts complimenting the elegant crowning bordering the walls, the shelves, and dark moulding carefully carved into delicate folds of thorny roses. Gerard was delighted by the mountain of pillows occupying the head of the bed, including the wool blanket folded and draped across the corner in case there was a draft he couldn't chase away, although he wasn't certain if his room in particular would maintain the chill he felt in the house with a french marble fireplace situated nearby.

"Is this room to your liking?" Danielle asked Gerard to weigh his satisfaction.

"It's more than I could ever ask for." Gerard breathed thankfully, turning to beam at her. "Thank you, madame."

"It's our responsibility to make you feel at home." Danielle straightened her back, a faint smile ghosting across her lips. "The servants will tend the fire for you and provide you with fresh towels every morning, including meals and whatever you request."

"Where will I be writing?" Gerard clasped his hands together, his eyes flickering towards the briefcase containing his beloved typewriter.

"There is a study upstairs, the furthest away from the noise that may be caused on this level. It is the largest one we have."

"I can't help but notice there are many study rooms. Do you often have people like myself visiting?" Gerard was intrigued by the copious amounts of space for writers, perhaps researchers, any sort of art requiring peace and resources.

"More than you think." Danielle had a mysterious smile that tugged higher on one end than the other, fog rolling over the forest in her eyes. Gerard was compelled to capture her gaze and dig further into it with the most curious inspiration he discovered while looking at her, but she avoided eye contact after she spoke.

"Would you like some time to unwind before tea?" Danielle asked, regulating her tone.

Gerard startled a bit, glancing down at his clothes slightly disheveled from traveling and out of place in his setting. He sheepishly chuckled, running his hands through his hair that always tended to disorganize itself despite neatly brushing it out for the day. "Um, if you don't mind, I think freshening up is in order for me. I've traveled a long way, I'm a little embarrassed to seem so disheveled."

"Of course. Shall I send one of my servants over when everything is prepared?"

Gerard's intention was to answer as soon as his answer grazed his tongue, but he was struck by the most peculiar feeling drifting across his spine. Something he mistook as imminence in the beginning, but as his eyes slid around the room quickly in a state of weariness, at the doorway, his gaze settled on a single wide hazel eye peeking around the corner into the room. An unknown person inching halfway towards the entrance and shielding the rest of their body in hopes of remaining hidden, but they were still partially visible. Gerard's throat caught a gasp before it could escape, and just as quickly as it appeared, the figure yanked away from his field of vision, and clattering footsteps quickly retreated down the hallway.

The sound drew Danielle's attention who awaited his response. She narrowed her eyes and peered at the door. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes- someone was peeking in just now, unless I've gone insane and imagined it." Gerard informed her of the source of the noise. He was slightly relieved to know the strange feeling overcoming him was with reason; the sensation of being watched. He couldn't shake that it was odd, silently having a pair of eyes on him that dissipated the second he paid notice to them.

"It must have been our boy. He's . . . very curious." Danielle's expression shifted into nonchalance hiding a sharper sparkle entering her eyes darting back to Gerard. "Please, pay no mind to him. He will stay out of your way."

"I promise he'd be no pest to me if he ever decides to come around. Odette mentioned something about him before you arrived," Gerard brought up, "Is he very young?"

"Not quite." Danielle answered swiftly. She turned quickly on her heels to Gerard's surprise, facing the doorway. "The servants will summon you when tea is prepared, Mr. Way."

Gerard's mouth opened to respond, no words coming out at first, but he managed to softly respond with, "Thank you, Ms. Boulet."

Danielle gave a courteous nod before bustling out the door, shutting it behind her with a firm sound reverberating through the spacious room. Gerard stood there for a moment, puzzling over the strange behavior surrounding every mention of the boy in the household so far, raising a few suspicions before Gerard eventually squandered them. It wasn't his place to have an invasive state of mind attempting to figure out the reasons behind the mystery involving their young one. Gerard assumed it was a protective parental instinct, something he often felt in his mother during his younger years. He turned with a sigh lingering on his breath, fingers grazing the pitted velvet of the lounging chair settled at the foot of the headboard underneath the massive chandelier. He retreated to the other side of the room to gather his things to freshen up with in preparation for tea, but the sensation of a presence looming nearby couldn't be shaken.

__

Chapter one has finally arrived! I actually started working on this last year when I came up with the idea for it and it took a lot out of me to write something this big since I barely picked it up again in August. It's not quite finished but a majority is, I've been pouring my soul into this and I've felt myself grow planning a book that's primarily a horror fic, it's been so cool to work with and test out.

I hope you'll stick around to see how this pans out! Trigger warnings are added in the description which I HIGHLY suggest you look at before going any further, last time I wrote a book with heavy topics (despite adding warnings) a lot of people ignored them and yelled at me.

Until the next chapter!

-rosexo