Dark Desire

The house had been waiting for her. She knew it the moment the door opened of its own accord and the candles, every one of them, leaned gently toward her as she passed.

"You should be afraid of me," he said. "Everyone else is." "I know," she answered. "That's the part that worries me."

Two centuries he had stood at that window. Two centuries of watching the road. And then, on an ordinary Tuesday evening, she had simply walked up it, as if she had always meant to.