The Forbidden Door
"Come on, Blair, live a little!" Claudia's voice echoed from the bathroom, where she was currently engaged in a transformation worthy of a drag queen preparing for a lip-sync battle. "This new club is supposed to be amazing! They have a DJ flown in from Ibiza, a VIP lounge that serves champagne with edible glitter, and enough beautiful people to make your head spin."
Blair, stretched out on the couch with a dog-eared paperback, pretended to be engrossed in the story. In reality, the words swam before her eyes, blurring into meaningless ink blots. Her gaze kept drifting towards the closed door of Victor's room, her mind abuzz with unanswered questions and a growing sense of unease.
"You go have fun, darling," Blair said, forcing a smile. "I'm exhausted. All that target practice took it out of me. Besides, someone needs to stay here and guard the fort, in case a rogue fashion critic tries to steal your sequined crop top."
Claudia emerged from the bathroom, a vision of shimmering gold and strategically placed cutouts. "You wound me, Blair! My fashion sense is impeccable. But fine, suit yourself. More hotties for me, I guess." She blew Blair a kiss and sashayed out the door, leaving a trail of perfume and a faint echo of Beyoncé's "Run the World (Girls)."
Alone at last, Blair tossed the book aside, her pretense of relaxation gone. For days, she'd been trying to ignore the nagging suspicion that Victor was hiding something, something big, something… dangerous. His nocturnal habits, his aversion to normal food, the faint scent of blood she'd detected the other night… it all pointed towards a truth she wasn't ready to face.
She rose from the couch and crept towards Victor's door, her heart pounding a nervous tattoo against her ribs. Years of training had honed her instincts, and those instincts were screaming at her to run, to get as far away from this apartment as possible. But another part of her, the part that craved answers, that thrived on risk and the adrenaline rush of the unknown, urged her forward.
Hesitantly, she reached for the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. A wave of guilt washed over her, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of reckless curiosity. This was her chance to get some answers, to confirm or dispel the suspicions that had been gnawing at her peace of mind.
She pushed the door open, stepping into a room that felt both familiar and unsettlingly foreign. Heavy blackout curtains blocked out the city lights, shrouding the space in a shadowy twilight that seemed to amplify the faint scent of old books and leather that clung to the air. A single lamp cast a pool of warm light onto the antique desk in the corner, its surface cluttered with a jumble of papers, quill pens, and a worn leather-bound book that looked older than time itself.
Drawn to the desk, Blair ran her fingers lightly over the book's cracked spine. The leather was smooth and cool beneath her touch, embossed with intricate symbols that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light. She opened it carefully, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze fell upon the densely packed pages filled with handwritten text in a language she didn't recognize.
Flipping through the brittle pages, she caught glimpses of detailed illustrations – grotesque figures with fangs and glowing eyes, ritualistic symbols etched in blood, and pages upon pages of what appeared to be spells and incantations. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. This book, this collection of forbidden knowledge, confirmed her worst fears. Victor was involved in something dark, something that went far beyond the usual secrets and lies that permeated their world.
Her gaze drifted to a silver cutlery set laid out beside the book. A strange juxtaposition, she thought, considering Victor never seemed to eat anything that required utensils. The silver gleamed in the lamplight, its surface polished to a mirror sheen, and a sudden thought struck her. Silver… wasn't that supposed to be…
She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on a small wooden box tucked away in a corner of the desk. Lifting the lid, she felt a wave of icy fear wash over her. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a row of glass vials filled with a viscous, crimson liquid. The liquid pulsed with an unnatural luminescence, its color shifting and swirling in the dim light, as if it possessed a life of its own.
"What is this?" Blair whispered, her voice a shaky breath against the silence. She picked up one of the vials, holding it up to the light, her mind racing with horrifying possibilities. It looked like blood, but… different. Darker, thicker, and radiating a faint heat that made her skin tingle.
The sound of the front door opening, followed by the unmistakable click of Victor's footsteps in the hallway, shattered the silence. Panic surged through her. He was back!
She hastily replaced the vial, slamming the box shut. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a hiding place. The closet? Too obvious. Under the bed? Too cliché. Her gaze landed on the heavy velvet curtains that draped the windows, their rich fabric pooling onto the floor like a shadowy invitation.
With a silent prayer, she slipped behind the curtains, her heart hammering against her ribs, the heavy fabric muffling the sound of her ragged breaths.
Victor's footsteps grew closer, each step sending a fresh wave of fear coursing through her. He paused outside his door, and Blair held her breath, willing herself to become invisible.
"Is someone there?" His voice, low and dangerously calm, sliced through the silence.
Blair remained frozen, her back pressed against the cool glass of the window, her fingers digging into the plush velvet of the curtains. She couldn't risk making a sound, couldn't risk being discovered.
She heard him move towards the window, felt the floorboards creak beneath his weight. Her heart leaped into her throat, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone.