Chapter 5

“It was Halloween,” Jasper mused with unbridled confusion.  “I thought they were in costume.   Who knew those things were real?”

“What better time to walk in the open without fear of discovery?” Rowan said as he inspected the color and shape of Jasper’s eyes and his mouth’s interior. “You have experienced mild alterations, but nothing severe.  You still show signs of being human.”

“Alterations? In what way?” Jasper asked with concern as his fingers roamed over his facial features.  “I don’t feel like I look different.  I don’t look like a zombie, do I?”

“Would you like a mirror?” Bess asked as she moved out from behind Rowan to produce a small, hand-held mirror.  “You are still a handsome man if you must know.  The significant change that I see is the color of your eyes.  They are much darker.  In fact, they are close to being black now and, I think, more deep-set.  When you arrived, they were a light blue that bordered on grey.”

Jasper’s concerned expression froze as he eagerly grabbed the mirror from Bess’s outstretched hand.  Inspecting his face, he saw that his once pale blue-grey eyes were now a dark brown that leaned toward black.  There was a slight difference in the prominence of his brows that made his eyes appear more deep-set.  Finally, the definition of his lips had changed.  They were thinner, but the difference was so slight that he doubted most people would detect it.  He guessed that they would notice that there was something different about him without understanding what it was.

“I look a little different, but, other than the color of my eyes, not too much,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“It looks as if you are developing impalers,” Rowan explained.  “They have not dropped yet, but I expect they will soon enough.”

“What?” Jasper exclaimed with dismay.  “I’m a vampire?”

“I am still trying to determine how to describe what you are,” the vampire admitted while ignoring the distress in the man’s voice.  “You appear to have taken on werewolf traits as well.  The shift in your eyebrows tells me that.”

“What about the zombie bite?” Bess asked with open curiosity.

“That is difficult,” Rowan mused.  “His skin tone has changed, but vampires are also quite pale. The zombie bite was small and shallow.  The wounds from the werewolves were far more imposing.  I question if the zombie venom took hold like the vampire and werewolf venom did.”

“It is amazing that they do not war with each other inside his body,” Bess mused as she took hold of Jasper’s chin and pulled his face in her direction so that she could get a better look.  “Have you ever seen such a mingling of species before?”

Rowan kept his eyes on Jasper as he slowly shook his head.

“It is a first,” he softly admitted, “and a mystery.”

“Or a miracle,” Bess offered.

“Am I a werewolf or a vampire?” Jasper asked with agitation.  “Do werewolves have fangs or impalers or whatever you call them?”

“Before we get too deep in concern, let a few days pass to see what more occurs with you,” Rowan suggested.  “You have had nothing but broth and my blood since you arrived.  Would you care for a solid meal?”

“I crave meat,” Jasper said with emphasis.

“That is not a vampire trait,” Bess said with a chuckle.  “That is a human trait for sure.”

“Or a lycan trait,” Rowan said with a tinge of concern.

“What is a lycan?” Jasper asked.

“It is another word for werewolf,” Bess offered.

A low moan of despair escaped Jasper’s lips as the impact of what was happening sank in. Was he really turning into one of those creatures?  Or, worse, a mixture of both?

“Don’t zombies eat meat too?” he softly mused, more to himself than to them.

Other than feeling an unusually extreme hunger and craving for rare meat, he felt normal.  He slid his tongue over his teeth.  He could feel nothing different.  Where were the impalers that the vampire spoke of?

With Rowan making his excuses and leaving the room, he accepted the assistance of Bess’ surprisingly powerful arm to aid him in walking across the room to a table and chair.  He’d lain on that cot for so long that the sensation of sitting up felt foreign and his legs struggled to obey his command to carry him forward.

“Take it easy today,” she warned with a gentle and nurturing tone.  “You were on death’s door.  Do not expect too much from your body for a few days.  A day, at the very least.”

Jasper took in his surroundings.  It was the first time since he’d awoken in that cot that he’d had the opportunity to truly see and study the room.

The walls had a formidability that one might attribute to a fortress.  Although the interior was finished with whitewashed plaster that was covered by intricate woven tapestries of various scenes ranging from fox hunting to beautiful castles, he could see by the depth of the windows that the building was constructed of thick layers of stone.

The furnishings were of a period since past.  Even the cot that he’d lain in spoke of a long and serious history.  How many men had occupied it before him?  There were a few oversized winged back chairs that were still in excellent condition positioned opposite each other near a well-used fireplace.  Although it sported no fire at the moment, he could tell that it held one on a regular basis.

“You stare at the fireplace,” Bess observed. “Are you cold?  Do you wish for a fire?”

He vigorously shook his head.

“Where am I?” he asked with a voice that was still quite gravelly but showing signs of clearing with use.

“You are in the home of my master, Lord Rowan Jules,” she replied.

“It looks like a castle,” he said with a mixture of awe and confusion.  From what he could recall about the area, there were no castles.

“It is just that,” Bess said with pride.

“Where?” he asked with a tone that bordered on demanding.  “Where is this castle?  There is no castle anywhere in this county or the next.”

Bess chuckled.

“It would depend on what county you speak of,” she said with humor.  “I am unfamiliar with where you came from, but I know very well where you are now.  You are nestled in the Catskill Mountains just west of Monticello, New York near a little spoken of town called Honeyville.  Master Rowan had this castle built well over a century ago as a place to lay his head when he was in this country.  It is a lovely home with 44 rooms, 32 stairwells, 18 fireplaces and 21 chimneys, all hewn from hand-mixed reinforced concrete in a blend of medieval, Byzantine, and Gothic styles.  When you are feeling better, perhaps you would like a tour.”

“I was in Philadelphia,” Jasper muttered with despair.  “I belong in Philadelphia.  My work is there.  My home…”

“Your home is now here, dear man,” Bess said while placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “It would be impossible for you to return to your normal life as a human since you are no longer human.”

“No longer human?” he choked out. “What am I?”

She looked at him long and hard before saying, “As the master stated, that remains to be seen.”