Lucy sat bolt up right in the chair, her chest heaving. She had fallen asleep in the chair.
Hicks looked at her from the other chair. "You alright?"
She breathed slower. "Yeah."
Lucy looked into the fire place at the burning wood. "Vampires." She stated.
Hicks gave her a grim look. Lucy stood and looked out the window by the front door. It was pitch black outside, making two glowing yellow orbs stand out. She let out a gasp, only to realise that it was the reflection of two lit candles in the room on the table.
Hicks walked over to her. "What's the matter?"
She looked at him. "I thought I saw something." She whispered.
Hicks looked at the window and saw what she saw. "You thought you saw him didn't you?"
Lucy looked at the floor.
Hicks wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into his chest. His sent filled her nose. Sweat, dirt, booze and the faint aroma of after shave. Unlike the smell that still haunted her. Sweat, dirt, death and blood.
Lucy closed her eyes and returned the hug.
He'll never get you ever again." Hick promised. "I won't let him."
The moment was interrupted and a scruffy looking man burst in through the door.
"Sheriff, we need your help. A drunken brawl has turned into a drunken war!"
Hicks pulled away. "I'll be right there, go ahead without me."
The man nodded and ran from the house.
Before he left, Hicks looked her in the eye and smiled. A small shiver ran through her and nothing more. He gave her a kiss and followed the man.
Lucy walked to the fireplace mantle and looked into the fire. She frowned, when Hicks looked her in the eye, she had felt a moment of excitement that had quickly died as soon as it came. Was that it? Wasn't she supposed to feel more then that? She shook her head and looked towards the window. The two yellow orbs glanced back.
She shook her head harder; he was haunting her, playing with her mind. Even in death he toyed with her.
She looked at the mantle, on it sat a wide brimmed black hat. His hat. She picked it up and looked at it.
Hicks had kept it, claiming it was going to be his reminder of how close he was to losing her. It reminded her also. Reminded of her terror, his eyes, pain, his smirk, the smell, his pointed teeth, her dead family, his Face.
She closed her eyes against the memories, but she couldn't. His face was like a scar on her brain, the image burned into her conscience, strong jaw, unshaven face, his bright yellow eyes
Lucy held the hat by its brim in-between her forefinger and her thumb, lightly rubbing the coarse fabric.
Thinking of when he had kidnapped her. She closed her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she could almost remember exactly what had happened.
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. For a minuet she thought she saw two bright yellow eyes in the dark, but she blinked and they were gone.
As she placed the hat back on the mantel she realized something.
She had a sudden craving for Roast Duck