Reaper's Word

This was probably one of the most frustrating and challenging things that Isaiah had ever done. He should be happy about it, but he wasn't. The task he'd put himself to doing had sounded simple. If not requiring a bit of thought, but it was far more than that. Several times he'd stood in the garden area and was positive that Clair was down in the studio. Yet he could not get into the door that led to that part of the house.

It seemed that she had managed to do something to the house without meaning to. He'd never run across such a thing before. He figured it was due to the fact that this part of the house was rather neglected. She had given it use.

After all the house was more than it seemed. Responded to outside stimuli, it stood to reason. It did things to defend itself and it responded to him, but it had never responded to one of the humans. Maybe it was doing this to him on purpose, fucking curses.

One time he'd managed to get into the hall simply because he'd had the thought to not obtain her. Just to see what she was doing. He'd managed to go down to the studio but could not go through the very last door that separated her from him. He could hear her speak at times. Like she understood the house was really more alive than not.

When she wasn't in the studio he could go in. Always could go to any room in that entire section as always. Any door opening for him even if it was locked. This place might be his prison but it was his home, he was part of it and always would be. You didn't get bound by magic, and bleed for a place and not be tied to it. Still, this part was not cooperating with him.

So he had to resort to trying to either catch her on the way here or someplace else. He'd returned the drawings the same day that he'd taken them. It seemed that she hadn't come down to this part of the house in days shortly after that.

However he was fascinated by her work, her depiction of things. He could stare at them for hours. Wasn't like he could go out and see a gallery. So this was fresh and different. Something new to look at and puzzle over. He felt that her work with pencil and charcoal was better than with any other form of media. He desired to simply watch her work, to see how one such as her could create such vivid and real drawings. There were some drawings now that weren't from here. Memories or thought up images.

Currently from what he'd seen, as he would look when she left the room, the house letting him in. She was working on some bizarre image. One that he thought he'd seen somewhere, in a memory or in the house somewhere. There was a gallery not far above here. If he wasn't mistaken it was an image by M.C. Escher. Stairs moving every which way.

Isaiah turned from the garden area. Waiting wasn't going to work. Annoyed and feeling like taking his anger out on something, he moved to leave the area. There was still a good week plus before the full moon and he wanted to catch her before then. Just in case she didn't make it this time.

__Clair__

Clair pinched the bridge of her nose as she stared at the door to the garden area. It wouldn't open again no matter what she tried. Sometimes this would happen and she felt that it was more of a protective measure toward her. She let her mind go and felt the reason this time. Isaiah was beyond the door.

she knew there was a staircase in the wall. Then went up.

house was alive anyways. She glanced into the hall from her passage. Here there was nothing, she felt several people

sprinted with light feet down the hall and to another set of stairs. She went to a trap door and into the wall. There she went quickly through the house elated that she had managed to get away again. She came out near where

was here. She didn't know how many were left in the house. A lot this time and it seemed that the hell hounds and Isaiah were keeping from this group a bit more. Not that she could blame them. She didn't think that druggies could taste all that good. Some it seemed

with people, had brought another group a few days later. She was confused by this. Why were they

wanted what those that keep Isaiah had, immortality. By keeping him locked here and bound to them they were immortal and would always be so. As long as Isaiah was stuck here. No wonder Isaiah was so pissed all the time. She would be too trapped against

her were crazy, occult nuts made up half. It seemed the ones who directly trapped Isaiah had wanted to get rid of

walked right up to one of the hell hounds at his request and was killed. These people were

the house and the more deadly occupants. Clair came around a corner deep in thought, and nearly ran into Beta who was walking there with his head down. She felt so stupid, she should

was standing there. Clair grabbed the door next to her and pushed going into the room as he lunged. He hit the door as she

wooden floor as he tried to catch traction. She was to the end of the hall as he was bounding up the stairs. Her worst nightmare happened as she turned the next corner. Isaiah was at the very end of the hall.

room below. Glad that she had committed so much of this time to memorizing the lay out of the house. They were

felt rather than heard Zeta in the hall to her left, unaware of

the larger

for the speed and agility of

driven from her, stop her from trying to defend herself. She curled into a ball as Zeta's nose jabbed her in the arm

She was pulling Clair with her across the room now. Clair struggled trying to free herself. Zeta stopped pulling and turned her body stepping on Clair's midsection. The weight of the animal hurt and the message

and Zeta had a very giddy and joyous air about her. Oh no, was she taking her back to Isaiah like some