Thirsty, anyone?

Fawn's POV

The walk back to Alastor's house was uneventful. Many people said hello to him, and with him by my side I barely got a single glance.

Some ladies glared at me. That was about it.

I guess he really is the darling of New Orleans.

Eventually, we left the main city and got started on a quiet path through the woods. I noticed it was actually the same woods I'd woken up in, funny enough.

"You live out in the woods?" I asked curiously, my voice still sounding a bit mousy. He hummed, our arms were still looped together like we were simply taking an afternoon stroll.

"Yes indeedy I do, little darling," he chirped, "I prefer the...seclusion."

When he said that his voice took on a deeper note, and I simply nodded, deciding not to ask anymore questions.

A few more minutes and a clearing opened up, revealing a mansion that made my lips part as my eyes lifted to take it all in.

Ivy crawled up the sides of the old house, large columns adorning a grand front porch making a loud statement.

The statement being "hey, I have money."

We ascended the stairs, and I just looked around in awe at all of it.

He shoved a key into the oak door and turned it before pushing the heavy door open.

Stepping aside, he bowed and motioned me in. I smiled at that gentlemanly gesture, and took a step up and into the house.

The inside was just as nice as the outside.

Neutral colors along with warm reds adorned the sitting area. Several deer antlers lined the wall above the fireplace.

It gave off a cozy cabin vibe.

"Wow..." I breathed, not thinking. After hearing my soft expression of awe, he chuckled.

"Like it?" He asked and I looked towards him, smiling a bit more comfortably now.

"It's amazing, really gorgeous. Do you have a wife?" I asked him, looking over all the beautiful details.

He held his hands out, "no wife to be had, here, cher," he said with a shrug. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise and hummed shortly, still observing the inside of the house.

Returning my gaze to him, I couldn't help but feel just a little out of place. It felt almost like I was on a movie set-like this world is simply a stage.

But there's nothing I can do about that...so I just smiled, taking a couple steps closer to him. He placed his hands behind his back and watched me with a relaxed grin.

"Let's start over, shall we?" he asked, bending forward slightly and extending his hand to me, "my name is-"

"Alastor," I cut him off as I took his hand, grinning softly, "and it's a pleasure to meet you outside of a screen...my name is Fawn," I introduced, and he furrowed his brows.

"So, I'm guessing you're a fan...?" He asked, my hand still enveloped with his as we looked into each other's eyes.

Shaking my head, I sighed, "no...I'm not. I mean, I enjoyed the one little snippet I got to hear of your broadcast, but other than that..." my words fell off, and he looked even more confused.

Nonetheless, he lifted my hand to his lips and placed a kiss on my knuckles. This immediately made my cheeks burn up, and my lips parted before he let me go and stood back up.

I forgot I'm back in a time where chivalry was normal.

"I'm very intrigued, dear, come sit," he said, leading me toward the large leather couch. Once we were seated, he crossed his legs and rested one arm on the armrest. His other arm rested in his lap, his fingers drumming against his leg.

I observed every single little ounce of body language he was giving me. He seems nice...but he's a man. I am a woman.

We are alone.

And I don't know him.

You can see why I'm still being cautious.

However, it was easy to feel comfortable around him. His eyes haven't looked anywhere but into mine, and he hasn't laid a single finger on me other than to lead me here and shake my hand.

"So, dear, tell me..." he said, leaning forward just slightly, "what had you so spun out of shape?"

Fidgeting with my fingers, I sighed quietly and let my eyes fall to my hands in my lap.

"Well..." I started, and then flew into a long winded explanation of every single event that lead me to him.

By the time I was finished explaining, his eyes were rounded and he was frozen.

Then he started laughing.

I deflated, and my eyelids lowered as I pursed my lips in frustration.

"I told you not to laugh!" I pouted, and he chuckled a few more times before wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"Merciful lord, what has gotten into you that you think I'd believe such a thing?" He chuckled, shaking his head, "preposterous! Time travel? How silly!" He chortled, holding back more laughter.

I groaned and put my hands over my face.

"I'm telling you the truth!" I whined slightly, "could you at least try to wrap your head around it?" I asked, my hands falling back to my lap.

He hummed, using his pointer finger to rub his chin, then he held it up as if he had an idea.

"I know!" He started, then pointed at me, lowering his eyelids, "you are a fan...and you made up this silly little story just to get to me," he said, his voice taking on a sensual note, "am I right?" He purred.

Giving him a blank stare I shook my head, "no. That's not right. I just told you what happened."

He dropped that flirty façade immediately, confusion riddling his features once more.

Shrugging, he flipped his hand out before resting his head against his knuckles, "dear, I'm sorry, but I cannot just believe what you've told me blindly. For all I know you're some whack job, and you're going to filet me the moment I turn my head," he feigned fright, and I rolled my eyes at his goofy antics.

"I'm not a serial killer..." I grumbled, and then my eyes widened when I got an idea.

A smile spread across my lips and I leaned toward him, making him back up slightly and raise his eyebrow.

"What if I can prove it to you?" I said slyly, then my eyes wondered and I spotted a newspaper on the coffee table.

Snatching it, I read the date.

Perfect! Exactly a day before the man was found beaten to death in his own home.

I showed Alastor the paper, tossing it into his lap and pointing to the date.

"You see that? Tomorrow, the New Orleans killer is going to claim another victim-a man, beaten to death in his home...those old newspapers I told you about talked all about these killings," I said, and then crossed my arms with a smug smile.

He stared at the paper in his lap, and I could see a clear look of thought on his face. That smile he wears was a ghost of itself, and he suddenly looked at me very seriously, narrowing his eyes.

"How'd you know that?" He asked me lowly, and I tilted an eyebrow at him.

"I just told you? I read the news about it, they find him tomorrow morning, beaten to death in his own home," I explained, and he slowly folded the paper and set it on the coffee table.

"I'm calling the police." He said suddenly, standing up.

My mouth fell open, and my eyes widened.

"What?" I gasped out, "why?"

"Because you just told me that they're going to find Mark beaten in his own home tomorrow, don't you think that's just a tad bit suspicious?" He said, beginning to walk towards a table with a rotary phone on it.

I stayed sitting, and opened my mouth to retaliate and defend myself, but then I froze.

My eyes widened at something he said...a cold fear spreading through my chest, all the way to my fingertips.

"I-I never told you his name..." I stuttered softly, watching as his movements froze. His back was to me, the phone in his hand.

Then he sighed, and slowly placed the phone back onto the holder.

He turned to face me, and that smile of his suddenly lost its charm...becoming creepy in a matter of seconds.

"My, my, my..." he started slowly, facing me fully with his arms behind his back, "looks like the Fawn has a brain in her head...that's unfortunate for you, dear..." he chuckled.

My breathing became labored, the cozy house suddenly not feeling so cozy anymore. He took slow steps closer to me, and all I could do was pull myself backwards, away from him.

"It's y-you..." I stumbled over my whispered words, my back hitting the armrest of the couch.

He cornered me, and my body trembled.

How do I have the kind of luck where I get thrown back in time and I also meet one of the most violent serial killers in all of New Orleans in the same day?

His arms were still behind his back, and he stared down his nose at me.

"Well done...you figured it out!" He announced excitedly, "the first to do so, I applaud you, miss Fawn...but you realize this means you're not leaving this house, correct?" He said, leaning down towards me.

I pushed as far back into the couch as I could go. My eyes darted as I tried to find a way out of this.

I can't run.

I can't hide.

My eyes focused back onto his, and I shook my head.

"Please, I...I just want to go home," I said, my voice wavering as the fear rooted deeper and deeper.

He tsk'd and pouted, mocking me.

"Aw, dear, I can't let you do that. You're going to go run to the coppers and give me away, ending my fun," he said, and then as if a switch flipped, he was on top of me, his hand around my throat.

My eyes widened and I took his wrist in my hands, trying to pry him off of me. It was no use, he's bigger and stronger than me, and there's nothing I can do now but trust in my ability to talk my way out of this.

His knee rested on my stomach, holding me down as I squirmed against him like a bug on its back.

"You were awfully fun to talk with, cher," he started, his eyes looking psychotic, "but my secret will have to follow you to your grave, I'm afraid!"

With that my eyes widened when he pulled a knife out of his inner vest pocket, twirling it in his hands before lifting it above his head with a wide smile.

Tears pricked my eyes as I looked up at him pleadingly, pulling at his hand around my throat. He stared back at me, just holding this knife above his head as he observed me at his mercy.

"Don't give me those eyes, now..." he murmured, "how about a smile, hm?" He tilted his head and my lip quivered slightly as the first tears slipped past my lashes.

Sighing, he shrugged, "if you insist," he mumbled, rearing the knife back.

"Wait!" I blurted, making him freeze.

"I-I-I k-know you- you don't get caught!" I explained, nodding and smiling weakly at him as tears streamed from my eyes.

He rolled his eyes, "you're still doing this bit?" He grumbled, "you can drop it. I know you just did it to confront me, and good job! You confronted me!" He congratulated with a wide smile.

My eyes shut tightly and squeezed out more tears, his knee digging into my stomach beginning to hurt.

"I'm not lying!" I sobbed, "they don't catch you! N-not any time soon anyway...I-I don't know what happens after n-nineteen thirty, but I won't turn you in!" I tried to explain. My voice was weak and sounded pitiful.

Lowering the knife he looked at me with narrow eyes, keeping his hand around my throat. He isn't choking me, just holding me down, but the threat of asphyxiation is still very much there.

"Let's entertain this little idea and say you are from the future..." he mused, twirling the knife before he pointed it at me, and pressed the tip of it against my cheek.

"How do I know you're not lying?" He hissed, and I blinked, clearing the blur in my sight while simultaneously making more tears spill over my cheeks.

Shaking my head, I didn't know how else to prove it to him, "I-I just want to go home...it's not my place to mess with history...and where would I go, who would believe me?" I said, my voice still wavering slightly.

"Look at me, look at the way I'm dressed...think about who you are, who do you think they would trust more? I have no home here, I have no money..." I said, and slowly his grip around my throat loosened, "I'm just trying to get home...that's all."

His eyes looked thoughtful as he stared down at me. My nose was stuffy and my throat felt raw from sobbing-that was my last shot.

If he decides it wasn't good enough, I'm done for.