Chapter 1

“Adam Bentley. My, how you have grown.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Adam carefully walked onto the hardwood floor, his unfitting shoes crunching underneath him. The sound made the greeter wince in disgust. Adam could smell the strong scent of lavender, as if the room were drenched in essential oils, giving a greasy feeling. There was practically no noise besides Adam’s breathing; even the greeter suspired silently. The checkered, diamond pattern of the spruce wood floors crawled along most of the first floor, shiny and obviously recently waxed, making Adam feel bad for walking on it.

He glanced to the side table almost directly next to the door. A family picture could be seen, a green frame enclosing the evocative image. All the people were smiling. Well, most of them. Each of the people wore sweaters, a red, sewn letter on every front.

“I’m Aaron Eusford, a pleasure to meet you,” the greeter said, hesitantly extending out a hand for a shake. Adam took it.

“Nice to meet you, too, sir. You have a very nice house. I like the family picture, a very big family you have,” Adam responded, attempting to make eye contact with Aaron but quickly withdrawing. Aaron seemed to have a very intimidating presence to the boy.

“Some would say too big,” he muttered. Aaron sourly smiled and stopped contact with the orphan’s hand, overly and rapidly hand-sanitizing. The strong almost-tequila scent was still overpowered by the lavender.

Aaron puts his hand-sanitizer away into his pocket. His shoes clacked gently against the floor as he took a closer look at the boy; Adam took a step back. Aaron flashed a small smile (it was very obviously fake). His teeth for a brief moment were shown and his canines were seen. Vampires.

“Are you a vampire?” Adam asked, his grip on his backpack tightened. Aaron stood up straight, his frame much taller than Adam which now makes him intimidated. Aaron nodded, his tongue grazing the tips of his teeth, his eyes burning holes into Adam. “Like Dracula?”

“Do not compare me to Dracula.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“He is a myth based off of Vlad the Impaler in the 15th century. He would dine with the bodies of his enemies and taste their blood as if it were fresh wine. I am real, where blood and wine both have the same effect: they both make me drunk, both delicacies,” Aaron said, his face never changing throughout any word but rather his mouth just moving ever so slightly. Adam just nodded, he didn’t know what else to do. His eyes were drawn again towards the salient family picture. Aaron couldn’t be seen easily in the picture, his black hair blending in with several other people. How mysterious.

Aaron turned around and began to walk to the kitchen; he moved so swiftly and gently yet so fast and unsettlingly. Adam followed, his back slouched because of the weight of his backpack. His eyes glazed over every part of the kitchen, the cupboards, the marble counters, the kitchen island, everything was so..clean. Nothing like Adam was used to.

“I knew your father, did you know that?” Aaron said, his back turned to the orphan as he grabbed a mug from the top shelf. The words “The World’s Best Dad” were painted on it, but “world’s” and “best” were scribbled on in Sharpie.

“You knew my dad? I mean, he was big and all but I didn’t think his name would cross over this far,” Adam responded. Aaron nodded and began to brew coffee in the fanciest coffee pot Adam had ever seen. The taller man nodded and watched as the liquid began to form. The awkward silence made the room feel pressurized.

“He was the CEO that died in the fire, right? Who doesn’t know him?” the man said, Adam’s lips became a thin line. Aaron was blunt, and Adam didn’t know how much he liked that. “His name was everywhere in the paper for a long time, I mean, the rest of your family was there too, but it was obvious they only cared about you and your father.”

Adam’s back straightened as his body tensed even more. What could this guy know about his family? Although Adam had no room to talk, all he remembered was what was in the paper about the Bentleys, no memories actually being with them. All he remembered was fire and blood, and that’s not the best representation of a family. Still, borderline insulting his family made him feel uncomfortable and underhanded.

“My dad was cool,” was all Adam could say, louder than his regular speaking voice. Aaron’s eyebrow raised. His coffee was now poured into the humorous mug as steam emitted from it.

“Thank you for sharing. I asked if you wanted something to drink.”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Good, I wasn’t going to get anything.”

The orphan stared in embarrassment, his face showing nothing but uncomfortableness. He was starting to question how much he wanted to actually be in a family if this was what it was like; him wanting to be back at the orphanage until he became an adult really gave him a feel of unfamiliarity. He’s never wanted to stay at the orphanage but does he really want to spend his life with Aaron as an adopted dad?

The wind blew outside so hard it made a whistle against the window. There was an uncannily off feeling in the structure. “Here are the basic rules. There are..definitely more..but they aren’t as important. Breakfast is served at 8:00 AM. Lunch is served at 12:30 PM. Dinner is served at 6:00 PM. If you are not present at the exact time, you are not eating the meal. Without warning that you will not be on time, I repeat: you will not eat the meal,” Aaron explained, never looking at Adam. His crimson eyes instead inspected a large shelf of books. His pale finger ran along the spine of each of the dusty novels. They looked as if they hadn’t been read in years yet the shelf looked recently dusted. The colors on the books were faded: grayish-blue supposed to be royal, burgundy supposed to be red, it was unsettling. The smell of must filled Adam’s nose. His eyes wandered around the small area Aaron was in. It seemed disgustingly decayed. Things were freshly cleaned before he came, Adam could tell, but everything was still moldered in a way. Old furniture, not up to modern standards. Even the walls felt contaminated with 1920s trauma.

“Abel.”

“Adam.”

“Whichever. Do you have any questions for me?” stated Aaron. Adam’s eyes looked up at the vampire and stared back down at his hands, which were fiddling anxiously.

“Well, I’d like to learn more about the family, the people living here. Do you have a wife and children? You look young to me,” Adam responded. He was hoping flattery will get him somewhere, or at least make Aaron loosen up. However, Aaron wasn’t fazed, rather he found it humorous that the boy was even trying to have a relationship with him the first day. Even if Aaron found it entertaining, his face showed nothing but cloudy somberness. His ghost-like skin made his face stand out in the dim room more.

“There’s 14 of us living in this one home. We all collectively pay for necessities here. I want to assume there are four children living here, possibly more but at this point, I lose track of them myself. They aren’t my children though, so I don’t have to worry about them. I don’t plan on having kids with my wife. I wouldn’t want the stupidity to rub off on our offspring.”

Adam tensed uncomfortably at the word offspring. He didn’t like Aaron’s choice of words when talking about the vampire’s own family. It didn’t even sound like he cared about them. He’s almost glad his greeter isn’t having children; Adam didn’t think he would be the best of fathers.

“Kid, listen, I’d love to sit and chat but I also have no intention of spending my afternoon talking with you. I have business to attend to. Explore what you would like. Take in your new journey. Meet the people. Don’t go below the basement. That will be all from me, I will hopefully see you at dinner.” Aaron said, his last words echoing in the room as he walked off and up the flight of stairs. One of the flights of stairs. Adam let out a breath and studied the rooms. To the right of the kitchen was an entrance, its window displaying the beautiful and luscious green garden outdoors. The coffee table, although small, carried numerous things: a half-drunk coffee mug with the words “Blow Me, I’m Hot” printed against it, the cursive letters not matching the atmosphere in any way, shape, or form. Next to the mug had loads of debts and warrants unpaid, left to sit in its own pitiful shame. Pencils and crayons could be seen of all different kinds of colors yet none were ever just regular lead. Colored pictures of snakes, bugs, cars, all poorly drawn were splattered against the glass bordered with wood. There was even a snake carved into the coffee table.

“Must have an infatuation with snakes..” Adam thought. His eyes looked at the television propped above the large fireplace. He could hear the wood crackling and ash diminishing amongst the flames. He could hear the footsteps of other house members above him, very above him. He could hear his heavy breathing, still anxious about being adopted in a house of vampires. He could smell smokey wood, the dust surrounding the outer edge of the border flying around in the air. He could smell the lavender that still exposes how clean the place is. He could smell the unique aroma of wax from the pile of crayons. This was his new home.

The boy walked around to the first staircase, one of many. A fear of heights must not be accepted in this home because flights upon flights flew up to the roof. Every stair waiting to be another reason your legs cramp when you jog up them. With his head turned upwards, he gulped. Who needs a track team at school when you have hundreds of stairs just to come down and eat dinner?

Next to the stairs was a door, a bronze plate presented the words “Storage Closet”. Adam turned the doorknob, and with awe he stared in the room. Much larger than any other room he’s seen, it was like a walk-in closet. Shelves with neatly organized and titled bottles and containers were bolted tightly along the wall. There was a scent of washing materials and disinfecting wipes, mop water being added into the mix. Three brooms. Did they really need that many? Two vacuums, one looking much older and rougher than the other, which was its newly-bought hue. Six, seven, eight unlabeled white liquids in spray bottles. And too many other products to count. This wasn’t a storage closet, this was an entire shopping section.

The door closed, the Clorox smell still radiating around the entrance. Another deep breath was taken, his heart beating faster the more he explored. The Bentley mansion was very similar to this, although, definitely not as large, inside and out. For one, they had normal storage closets.

The Bentley mansion was a sight to see, another landmark in Australia to catch the glimpse of tourists. Its white walls stood tall and grand, the gate opening to any visitor that may come. James and Emma Bentley never once turned down a reason to invite their town over. They loved their town; they loved people. The accents were odd and the locals had a hard time relating to them as they were American but they still stood out as the kindest couple. And Adam couldn’t remember any of that. He couldn’t remember their voices, their laughter, their behaviors, anything. The only thing he could remember was their screams. However, in 2025, the mood completely changed, leaving everyone to wonder how Adam, the boy who survived a tragedy, came to popularity once more.