Andrew wasn't thrilled with the dust that nearly covered his whole guest room. It wasn't because he had allergies, which by the way, he didn't, but because he would have to sleep in it. With all the money their host had, if he could afford a place like this, he would of thought the man would at least have a maid. It was clear that this mansion didn't get many visitors, and why would it? First of all, it was all the way at the top of the Hollywood Hills, and secondly, it was creepy enough from the outside that anyone who dared venture further, would have to be an idiot...or desperate for some prize money. He wondered if the rest of the guest rooms were this dusty, or if he'd gotten the short end of the stick, and next to Audry no less. A part of him wished he had brought a girl with him, if, for no other reason, than to keep her awake that night while he was screwing her. If she was going to be at war with him this whole time, he'd be at war with her too. After all, the saying rang true sometimes, "if you can't beat em', join em.'"
Little did he know that the other guests had taken it upon themselves to go exploring, while he was trying to get used to his dusty room, and prepare for dinner. He hadn't brought any formal wear, because that wasn't his style. He only wore a tux or dressy clothes at a wedding or funeral, sometimes on a date, depending on the girl. Being that these people were strangers to him, well, almost, he didn't feel he had to impress anyone, so he settled for putting some gel in his hair, running his fingers through it a few times, washing his hands in the marble bathroom, and remaining in his jeans and plain gray V-neck T-shirt. He tried to avoid Audry as he headed down to dinner, refraining from making eye contact with her, relieved that she had chosen the opposite side of the table, instead of plopping herself down near him, not that she would. While he had been a little skeptical about meeting Tom before, it was actually refreshing to find out that they both worked in medicine. Andrew couldn't help but quietly tell him about his past with Audry, and how she was still pissed because he had chosen medicine over her. Tom shook his head in disbelief, glancing over at Audry with a scoff.
Audry continued to shoot irritable glares in their direction. She could tell they were talking about her.
Andrew glanced up at the small stage every now and then, wondering when the host was going to make his appearance. He had really gone all out for this night, hadn't he?
* * *
Victor observed his handsome reflection in the mirror in his bedroom, upholstered in much the same way as the living room downstairs, with a bed fit for a king, no dust to speak of on his red satin comforter, or the black satin throw pillows that sat on top. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room, filling the room with a radiant glow, and old 18th century rugs of black and red covered the chesnut floors. He tugged at the collar of his red dress shirt, beneath his black Gucci suit, smiling smugly at his reflection. Reaching under his suit jacket, he withdrew his deadly sharp Bowie knife, letting it drag over the rapidly spinning sharpener embedded into the dresser, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips. His five guests had no idea what he had in store for them, but he'd be damned if he was going to let them all out of here alive. It was a shame that there was such a small turn out. He expected more victims, he wanted more victims, goddamn it. Perhaps more would arrive as the evening wore on, and the rain would let up. Pulling his blade away from the sharpener, he used the foot pedal to turn the machine off and slipped his knife back under his jacket.
Turning on his heels, he walked out of his bedroom and descended the staircase, taking a shortcut through the kitchen, then stepping into the dining room, crossing towards the stage and stepping up to the podium. The curious and somewhat startled looks from his guests made him smile. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm so glad you could make it. I am your host, Victor Bane, but from this moment on, you will address me only as 'Master Bane.' Welcome to Blackthorn Manor, or as I like to call it...Horror House." Suddenly, a thunder clap rolled across the foothills, nearly shaking the whole house, and causing the guests to jump in fright. "I bet you're all wondering why I invited you here this evening, and some of you are probably very nervous right now...well good, you should be." Darkness flashed in his eyes as a somber expression crossed his face, a muscle noticeably flexing in his square jaw. "I know you, all of you, a lot better than you think I do. I know your deep dark secrets. Secrets you thought were buried, secrets you never intended to share with anyone, but I know."
Andrew's eyes narrowed inquisitively, a million questions racing through his mind, his heart pounding anxiously, wondering what this guy was getting at, and what we really wanted with all of them. Horror House? A shiver danced down his spine. He wasn't liking the sound of this. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Silence!" He cried. "There will be no talking from any of you until I've finished my speech."
A scoff escaped Andrew as he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. Oh yeah, this was going to be a fun night. Not.
"You were all selected at random to join me for the next three nights, more than likely, because you thought you would obtain some prize money. I wasn't bluffing about that. My offer still stands, and you will be awarded it...assuming you survive." He chuckled sinisterly.