Page 30 of Pierced

I step to the front door and ring the bell. The door opens, revealing yet another attractive woman in her early thirties. This one is dressed in the smart attire of an estate manager. Most people would probably not immediately identify the woman’s smart attire as that of an estate manager, but when you’ve seen as many estate managers as I have in my time, you learn to pick them out pretty quickly.

“Mr. Chevalier,” she says, “Welcome. I’m Katherine, the sanctuary operations manager.”

Can’t put one past me. Although… “Sanctuary?”

“Myrtle will be with you shortly. Please, come in.”

She extends her hand. We shake. I wait for her to turn into a vampire bat. She doesn’t. I enter.

Inside, the castle vibe fades away into something more… elegant and refined. Her décor looks more downtown TDH penthouse than country estate. Very RH Modern with metal, geometric-inspired tables, subtle shades of gray, and couches and chairs in the next room that give the impression of being just a little too low to the ground. It’s almost like Myrtle delights in confusing people. Giving them the exact opposite of what they expect, then doing that again and again until you finally give up and stop trying to figure her out.

Down a hallway, I can see few blonde women dressed in gray uniforms exiting out the back door. “G’night, Kristy, night, Claudette, night, Melody,” says Katherine. The women all smile and wave good night in return.

I don’t know what’s got me more off kilter. The fact that nothing about this looks like anything I expected, or the fact that thus far I have seen no men wandering around here, which leads me to only one logical conclusion:

There are dead bodies in the backyard and I’m probably going to be murdered tonight.

“Um, what is this place?” I ask.

Again, Kate ignores me (Kate? Katy? Kelly? Shit.) and says, “Myrtle asked that you wait for her in the great room. You wanna follow me?”

“Sure. This all feels completely normal.”

She smiles, politely, and walks in the direction of a large room with a wall-sized painting of what I think is an abstract white tiger. I follow, obediently, supposing that’s something I should get prepared for.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks.

“No. I’m good. Thanks.” I tug at my vest out of habit and wander around the space taking in the art and decorations, all of which are similarly abstract and modern and seem to have a tiger theme, but it could just be my overactive imagination and irrational fear that Myrtle is going to morph into a man-eater tonight and I’m on the menu. I turn to ask more questions of… what’s her name… but she’s gone.

This is it. I’m here. I’m doing this crazy shit. And I have to make a choice right this second. Stay and go through with this insanity. Or risk pissing off Myrtle again, fully endowed with the understanding that if I do, she is gone. In the wind. Vapor. I will never see her again. In my gut, I know that it’s either go through with this or face the wrath of a Myrtle scorned.

I’m weighing this decision, trying to conclude what to do, when suddenly I hear something from behind me. A… meowing. Sort of. It’s more of a purr/meow/growl kind of thing. At least I was right about one thing: Myrtle is a cat person and those paintings are of tigers.

And that’s when I turn to see…

What. The fuck. Is that?

Is that…? What the…?

Is that a fucking leopard?

Jesus Christ! What the fuck is happening right now?

That’s it. I’m fucking out of here.

But as I make for the exit, another fucking leopard, or hyena, or whatever the hell it is, rounds the corner. And they start walking toward me. No. Not walking. Stalking. Holy shit, they move just like Myrtle. I’m freaking out.

Oh, my God. Myrtle’s a witch. That’s what this is. Holy shit. Maybe one of these is Myrtle! Maybe they both are! Maybe Myrtle is actually twins! Or triplets! What the fuck is happening?

And just as my head is about to spin right off my shoulders, I hear a loud crack.

I snap my neck to the left and there, standing in another doorway, is… Myrtle.

Her hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail and she’s wearing the tightest dress I’ve ever seen. Cinched at the waist to make her look like an actual hourglass, it comes to about mid-thigh. And then I can see the slightest hint of skin before black latex boots pick up the theme and run the blackness the rest of the way down to the stiletto heels that click-clack on the wooden floor.

She also has on gloves.

It’s a lot of look.