I hesitantly stepped into a large study of wall-to-wall bookcases and one huge fireplace. A normal-sized person could easily stand upright in the fireplace at the other end of the room. Gas-fed light washed the room in gold, bronze and browns. Wingback chairs were positioned at angles before the fireplace. Mahogany panels covered the ceiling giving the room a gloomy atmosphere. A large mahogany—or cherry—desk with ball-in-claw feet was stationed in the corner. Odors and scents ebbed and flowed conflicting with one another as I paused a few feet inside the vampire's lair. Drakulya's aura hit me first. Impressive. It was the scent—or, in this case, stench—that bowled me over. As with every vampire I've ever met they all had their individual scents. Dracula smelled of a dense musky odor of an old house, with a pungent reek of decay cloying around it. I had to hold my breath against it.
The door shut behind me with a terrible thud. © 2012Lorelei Bell