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Abbey Grey was walking down the hallway towards the bedroom of mr and mrs Saturday. In her arms she held a yawning baby with caramel coloured skin and black tufts of curly and white hair. He was wearing a yellow onesie with orange accents and little foodies attached.
“Yes i know, you’re tired aren’t you, Zak?” The black haired woman cooed in a British accent, “We’re almost there.”
And indeed the bedroom door handle was already in arms reach. She adjusted the little boy in her arms, which earned her a whine. She quietly apologized, and reached for the door handle.
It opened smoothly and she stepped inside. The room itself was spacious but it never felt grand, it felt homey and lived in. House plants decorated the room, the furniture was mostly made out of warm coloured wood originating from different cultures, the walls were red and had a modern touch.
Abbey made her way across the room, next to the double bed stood a crib, modern compared to the other furniture displayed. She gently layed the boy in it, placed his small dinosaur plushie next to him and tucked him in.
It didn’t take long for the boy to travel to dreamland, he really was tired. Abbey stroked his small head, leaned over and gave him a forehead kiss before she made her way to the door.
Then suddenly the door handle started to move, mr and mrs Saturday should not be back already, so Abbey was on her guard.
When the door opened she was ready to to defend herself and the little boy sleeping behind her. But she didn’t got the chance, a white hand threw a small sphere, it flew through the door opening, it let out a pollen of some sort.
The pollen spread across the room and Abbey started to feel dissoriented, the world started feeling blurry and her body heavy. ‘Must have been some sort of sedative’, she thought.
She tried to fight the effects but it was a losing battle, her legs felt like lead and it would only be a matter of time before she would completely succumb to the effects.
When she fell on her knees a shadow was cast on her, she looked up and saw a hunched over figure in pitch black wearing a light blue cloak looming over her. His face was obsecured with a white mask but you could see the amusement in his eyes.
“You’re quite the persistent one, madame.”
Argost, Argost was here?! She tried to stand up but her motor functions were failing her. Abbey heard him chuckle at her.
“Oh please, keep trying, i do so love when they struggle.”
She would have loved to punch him, but she couldn’t hold on to consciousness much longer. It seemed Argost noticed that too.
“Sweet dreams, madame.”
“N-no…” she slurred. The creep will soon be alone with the son of mr and mrs Saturday… Who knows what he will do to Zak.
With that horrible thought everything turned to black.
Argost looked down at the slumped woman with satisfaction.
“Now that’s taken care of, it’s time to get back to important matters.”
He stepped gracefully over the woman and started looking for the key to his destiny, Argost first layed his eyes on the big wooden cabinet before the bed and crouched down. He opened the doors, but he was only met with selfmade ointments in containers from different sizes. Not giving up Argost decided to thoroughly look for hidden compartments, but he was met with nothing, it seemed it was just an ordinary piece of furniture. Argost let out a quiet growl in frustration.
He stood back up and checked the wardrobe closet next, there he actually did find a hidden compartment but it only storaged weapons.
Out of desperation Argost started to look into the big potted plants, but when he didn’t find it either he broke one of the pots with his claws. Thanks to the strong sedative nobody woke up from the noise, or so he thought. He suddenly heard sniffles.
Argost turned his head in suprise and saw that the sound came from the crib placed next to the bed.
He walked over intrigued. The pollen of the papaver somniferum should have knocked every human who inhaled it out cold.
Argost loomed over the crib in curiousity. While doing research on the Saturdays he found out that six months ago the happily married couple became parents of a little boy, but it was dubbed as trivial information.
Argost reached out his hand to touch the boys cheek, he seemed afraid but he Didn’t move away. He conjectured that the infant was still under it’s pollen effects but to a lesser extent for an unknown reason.
“Well aren’t you a peculiar specimen,” the hand that touched the boy’s cheek traveled down to the infant’s throat, he squeezed, “Oh how tragic it would be to come home from a rendez-vous amoureux to your precious boy dead in his cradle.
Argost was angry, he looked for years for the Kur stone and when he finally got his hands on it those Saturdays dared to meddle with his destiny. Argost wanted the happily married couple regret ever crossing him. And what better way than to take their only child from them, that boy’s death will be their undoing.
Hmm… maybe not death, Argost amended. Maybe just the boy.
He let go of the boys throat, leaving behind a hand print. The poor thing was coughing, tears prickling it’s eyes, struggling to get in air.
What if he raised the child, trained him and when he’s old enough let him lose on his dear parents. The idea spoke to him like a siren song.
Having reached a conclusion, he grabbed the paralysed distraught child in his arms, it made the tears multiply in the boys eyes. Argost paid it no mind.
Argost reached in his cloak for a compact Mongolian Death Worm Venom sphere, he threw one at the bedroom window which made the glass melt instantly. He jumped through the window and into the night, a haunting cackle leaving his throat.