Chapter 57. Perhaps I Should Hang Your Roasted Skull on a Spike Drenched in Wolf’s Babe

Elena’s POV

That rug, that stupid old filthy rug, had seen more dancing shoes than a ballroom. It was where we twirled, everyone with everyone, the music escaping from every open window and door. Once the color of cherries, now it told an earthy tale of love and laughter, of more good times than anyone is ever promised. I watched as compelled humans replaced it with a brand new black rug which will be starting its chapter with us tonight.

The walls were scrubbed clean of dry crusty blood that has become a stain on the beige and cream colored walls. The furnace burned brighter and food ranging from baked buffalo chicken wings, peel and eat shrimp with barbecue spices, teriyaki wings, crab cakes with horseradish cream, caramelized onion dips, and fresh fruit juice and soda sat gallantly on the dining table. Humans dressed smartly in a well-tailored white shirt with pants suspenders stood by the table angles with one bread knife on one hand and a glass cup on the other.