Bite Read Free Page A

writing inside requested the presence of Myles and Chad for an intimate gathering at eight sharp on the night of the Eve of All Saints, 31 October 1897.
    Chad had a good laugh. This had to be a joke. The Eve of All Saints, indeed. He didn’t much care for Halloween, having regurgitated one too many bags of candy corn in his formative years, but this could be something to remember. Maybe he and Myles were in for a treat.
    Myles wasn’t so sure. Chad had quite a time convincing his diffident roommate that being young was all about embracing adventure and learning how to score.
    â€˜And Myles, my man. Your score is zero.’
    On the night of the invite, they fortified themselves with whiskey and dressed in their best gladrags. They would take Chad’s car, of course. Not many bus stops where they were headed.
    Seattle’s Beacon Hill district was a neighbourhood of well-kept split-level and family-style homes, many of which were decked out for the holiday. Chad smirked at the puerile nods to spookdom. Every other house had a plastic skeleton fastened to the front door with phalanges curled round a brass knocker. And of course black paper cats pawed the occasional window – oh, so scary. Chad checked the address again and again. It didn’t feel right but something egged him on. He took an S-curve round a steep hill and finally found his mark. They were surprised to park in front of a mansion in dire need of repair.
    Myles, who had been nervously tapping his foot through the entire ride, said, ‘Look, man. There are no lights on in that creepy house and no cars parked out front. Let’s get out of here while we’re still alive. We can go to a bar, pick up some chicks.’
    â€˜That’s rich. A bar on Halloween will be packed with goth girls wearing black lipstick and cheap costumes. Nah, let’s see what this is about.’
    On closer inspection, even Chad didn’t like the look of the place. Mullioned windows were mossy with cobwebs and the porch’s warped floorboards creaked with every step. All drapes were pulled and there was no reason to expect anyone home – if you could call this devastating locus a home.
    Resolute in his entitlement to adventure, Chad knocked on the door and waited. After a full minute, Myles tugged on his friend’s sleeve and said, ‘See, it was just a prank. Let’s go!’
    Chad banged on the door more forcefully, as if he had urgent business to attend, and this time the door creaked open to reveal a voluptuous redheaded chatelaine.
    â€˜Yes? You must be the footmen hired for the party. Two birds wooed with one crumb. Excellent. Well, don’t tarry. Do come in.’
    With a grand gesture, she led the young men into the anteroom and suggested they remove their coats and shoes. The fellows obliged, not knowing what else to do.
    Myles gulped and said, ‘We received an invitation, Miss. We weren’t, like, hired or anything.’
    â€˜Ah. Perhaps you’re the Master’s menservants? My, but you chaps get better looking every year. Do stay away from my parlour maids, darlings; they hail from respectable families. I am on my own this evening, so come, follow me. Suffuse me with your charms. Oh, and do call me Adelaide as that is my name.’
    â€˜Um, where are we going?’ Myles wanted to know. Chad, for the first time in his life, was mute.
    â€˜To my chamber, of course. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. After we have our fun, I’ll see you both have a taste of the best claret or port. If you’re hungry, Cook will be happy to oblige you with cheese and sandwiches. First, we will feast on the senses, yes?’
    As if being led by a magnetic force out of their control, the two lads followed the train of their hostess’s bustle to her boudoir.
    The allure of incense replaced the fug of the anteroom and the sweet aroma was pleasing to both “menservants”.
    â€˜You boys