“Hello, Father,” I said, bowing my head in respect.
“See? He’s a good kid. Knows his place,” Father continued. He stepped towards me, and I held back my instinctive flinch at the coldness of his touch as he lifted my chin to gaze into my eyes. He looked at me assessingly. “You’re still afraid of me,” he acknowledged with a sigh. He dropped his hand. “If I frighten you, you will be terrified of who you’re about to meet. Just try not to piss yourself. He really hates that.”
I swallowed as icy fear raced down my spine. My fears were about to be realized, it seemed. I was about to suffer through an introduction to the Old One who lived here. I only wished I knew quite why I needed to meet him. Whatever the reason was, it had to be important or Father wouldn’t be here.
“Right, let’s get this show on the road then,” the professor said. “Kline’s waiting for us.”
Who the hell was Kline? I wondered as I followed them down the steps. I soon had my question answered, as he was standing next to the door of the storage building under the boardwalk when we reached it.
“So this is the young man chosen to take the Montgomery heir’s place,” the sharp-eyed man said. “When you called to inform me that a replacement River would be attending, I was surprised. I thought we’d have to wait for another child to be born and grow up.”
It clicked then; this was the dean. I was getting a crash course on the movers and shakers here at Hilliard, by all accounts.
“He’s more mature than he looks and knows how the Family works from his place down on the ground. He just needs the credentials and contacts as well as a bit of polish,” Father replied, looking irked. I shivered, both from the crisp autumn air blowing in from across the water as well as from fear. I hoped that the dean didn’t piss off Father enough to become his dinner. Or the Old Ones for that matter. The vacuum it would leave here at the school would complicate things even further.
The dean knocked on the wooden door. A piece of the peeling white paint fell off as he did, falling onto the sand.
“Should have some students come to repaint the place,” Father said.
The dean snorted. “They’re scared shitless of the place.” The sounds of someone or something stirring inside could be heard. “Oh good, he’s awake.” He fitted a key into the lock, turning it.
“It would serve as an excellent punishment,” Professor Lambert said, with an unpleasant smile.
The dean pushed the door open. I wasn’t surprised to hear the rusty hinges squeaking in protest. So far, this outing hit every cliche possible. Unfortunately, that didn’t make experiencing it any less hair raising, especially when I caught a glimpse of a bulky shape lurking in a dark corner. He reached up, pulling a string that dangled from the ceiling. A bare bulb flared to life, casting harsh white light into the space, revealing the shape of what appeared to be a man sat hunched over in the corner, a blanket around him. He blinked at us slowly, his flat, obsidian eyes so much like Father’s yet somehow colder and more detached. The man cocked his head at us, then stood.
“This is mine?” he hissed out, his voice sounding rough and unused.
“This is my progeny,” Father said. “He’s come to ascend.”
Ascend?
The man beckoned for me to move closer. I took a reluctant couple of steps closer. I noticed then that his hair wasn’t as short as I’d initially thought. It was wet, the brown darkened to a near black, and slicked back. If he’d worn clothes, it would have skimmed his shoulder blades. As it was, he was nude beneath the blanket.
“Taaaaaasttte,” he rasped.
“I’m afraid that for you to join the higher ranks, you’ll have to let him in. He’ll be able to communicate with you no matter where you are that way, as will I and the others in our sphere. To do that, you have to ascend, and for that, he has to taste you.”
“He’s going to feed from me?” I asked, worried in case he liked me enough to suck me dry.
“In a manner of speaking. This is more…intimate. A form of...bonding.”
The man licked his lips while perusing my frame. Oh. I had to have sex with him.
“You mean he’s going to fuck me.”
“Among other things, yes.” Father reached his hand out. “Hand me your bag. You can retrieve it in the morning from the bookshop.”
I handed it over and moved to begin disrobing, eager to get this over with. Father placed his hand on my arm to stop me.
“Just your shoes and socks. He likes to be the one taking them off.”
Okay, then, if that’s the way he wanted it. This was basically a business transaction, and he was the one paying me. Because that’s what it boiled down to. He did this, I got that — quid pro quo. I slipped off my shoes and socks and handed them to Father, who slipped them into the bag. The professor gave me a sardonic smile as he turned to leave then. Father didn’t say anything or bother to even look at me. He simply left.
“The door will be locked and no one will come to your aid should you change your mind and scream. I strongly advise you not to do that as it tends to excite his more primal nature.”
“Got it. Don’t panic or risk becoming chow.”
The dean shook his head at that and went out the door. I heard him turn the key in the lock.
