Arrival at Manor Karnstein

"Wake up," Lauren pokes you in the temple. It's very annoying, but you have to admit it's effective at waking you up. "We're here."

You open your eyes and stare out the window at the large colonial style manor. It's painted in traditional white, and surrounded by white oak and black cherry trees. A brick wall runs around the perimeter of the manor, set with wrought iron lamps. Heavy wrought iron gates bar the single entrance that you see.

"How do we get in?" Lauren asks.

"Sara didn't give me a gate code," you answer slowly.

"So, how do we get in?"

As if to answer, the gates slowly swing open.

"I guess I'm expected."

Lauren parks the car, and you climb out, grateful that there are no stairs to the manor. It's nice you have to admit, if entirely too big for just two people.

The door swings open, and a very, very beautiful woman looks at you from inside. Your mind starts turning over trying to find the right words to describe her. Her skin is... creamy, her hair... burgundy and fire, her lips are succulent, juicy and bright red, her eyes. You simply can't find words to describe them. They're green, but emerald is so... blasé.

A sharp jab to the rib from Lauren snaps you out of your reverie. "It's not polite to stare," she whispers, holding two of your bags.

You blush slightly, and steel your resolve before making your way up the stairs.

"You must be Sara, I'm John Hamilton," you say trying to shake off the fact that you just spent who knows how long staring at your new roommate.

"I am Sara, it's so nice to meet you," her voice is velvet and smoke. You could listen to that voice all day long and never get tired of it. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my cousin, Lauren."

"So nice to meet you, I'm Sara Karnstein."

Both you and Lauren freeze for a split second. That is a name you hadn't heard in a long time.

"It's nice to meet you too," Lauren smiles back, barely missing a beat. "I don't want to be rude, but where can I drop these bags. I've got a two hour drive back to Boston ahead of me and I'd like to get started as soon as possible."

"Of course, come in," Sara motions for you to follow. "I'm sorry things are a bit... Well, a complete disaster around here. It's a big house for me to manage all by myself. I could spend several days doing nothing but cleaning.

"I was going to give you the master bedroom, which is right across the hall from my own, but the stairs might be a problem."

"Nonsense," Lauren interjects before you can agree, "his doctors want him up and walking. Especially up and down stairs."

You shoot a glare of **** at your cousin.

"You'll thank me," she mouths back at you.

"Yes, the master bedroom is fine," you concede.

You and Lauren follow Sara up the stairs to the master suite. It is a big room, with a big four poster bed, and a collection of other furniture that fits the period of the house. It has enough wear to make you think that it's probably original.

"This is the master bedroom, it's exclusively yours," she adds a strange emphasis on exclusively, "but please do return it if you decide to leave. I have had several potential roommates not show up," she adds when she sees your expression. "My bedroom is that one, most of the other rooms on this floor are unused, except that one which my brother uses when he comes to visit, and the library."

"Okay John," Lauren says, dropping the last of your bags on the floor, "this is where I say hasta la vista," she gives you a hug, "Don't have too much fun. Text me every once and a while, huh?"

"Right," you halfheartedly promise. Turning to Sara you ask, "Would you show me the library?"

"Of course," she smiles. "This is my favorite room in the whole house."

She opens the oak double doors and you can see why. There are shelves of books running at last 12 feet up to the ceiling. The aisles between each shelf is just wide enough for a single person to squeeze into, but the center of the room has been made quite comfortable with large leather chairs sat around a wood fireplace.

"This is wonderful," you limp down one of the aisles admiring the diverse and exotic collection. There were books in English, German, Gaelic, Latin, Greek, Sanskrit, and a host of other languages. "I was worried that not having access to my family's library would make this harder," you admit.

"I'm glad you like it," Sara beamed, "I spend most of my time here, reading different books. Shall I show you the rest of the house?"

You nod, and follow her downstairs to the laundry, pantry, various unused entertaining rooms, and finally kitchen.

"Would you mind if I had a snack?" You ask.

"Of course not," she smiles.

You open the refrigerator and look through the various unopened packages before settling on a small block of cheese. Sara watches you from across the kitchen with interest as you dig through the dusty drawers for a knife. You set the cheese down and cut off a slice, as you do you nick your finger, drawing a small drop of blood to the surface.