NB: If you haven't already, please do check out the UPDATED Prologue here (don't forget to upvote, it's still open!): https://steemit.com/writing/@penny-rose/rose-garden-sanatorium-prologue-updated

Chapter 1

Martha

The doors swung open suddenly making Martha jump. Her cup of tea splashed all over her white blouse and dull grey skirt. She was standing in one of the rooms off the White Drawing Room at Number Ten Downing Street, one of the nineteen State Rooms in the building, when he bounded in. A tall, dark haired and magnificently handsome man.

She had never seen such confidence in anyone before, the man strode in with such authority that she wasn’t sure if he had more right to be there than the Prime Minister himself. Accompanied with his confidence, came a sense of power and intrigue that sent shivers down Martha’s spine.

She realised that she had never seen this man before, normally she was good at recognising people who come through Number Ten Downing Street, which was the current home of the man she worked for; the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

The newcomer wore a black peacoat with the collar up, a simple grey scarf tucked underneath to hide his neck from a cold that Martha wasn’t sure currently existed this time of year, supplemented with a pair of simple dark blue jeans and black shoes to match his look. Although Martha wasn’t sure what look he was going for – if he was indeed going for a particular look. People who walked through this office usually had either the; ‘I’m an important person’ or the ‘I’m a rich person with a large bank balance’ look. The newcomer was hard to read.

Aside from his attire, he appeared younger than most of the people that walked through the hall. He had short black stubble framing his sharp masculine facial-features handsomely. His dark short hair looked windswept and interesting. Martha certainly thought he was interesting, but she also had a horrible feeling he was trouble. How did he even get in?

"David in?" he asked, as he waltzed passed her as she held her now empty cup of tea in one hand and her work phone in the other. Both currently forgotten about as she watched in shock as the man bound towards the double doors on the other side. He gave her a smile, finding her reaction amusing.

“Y-you can’t g-go in there!” she stuttered, her confidence gone and she started to visibly shake.

She looked around for the security guards. ‘Where are they?’ she thought, ignoring the wetness on her chest as the tea soaked through her clothes.

“No?” he stopped and turned around, the double doors only a foot away from behind him. He raised an eyebrow at her, holding his handsome yet devilish smile.

“No,” she said with more confidence, but then added; “Un-unless you h-have an appointment?” Although she doubted he did, it was late at night. The only reason she was there was because a meeting was overrunning.

The man walked up to her and stared into Martha’s brown tired eyes, she felt suddenly inferior than him. He was much taller than she was and towered above her. Plus, her simple loosely fitted grey suit, greying brown hair with natural fuzzy curls and her slightly wrinkly and round face was no match to him.

“And what if I don’t have an appointment?” he breathed, determinedly.

The woman wobbled on her feet and silently wished there were more seats at Number Ten. She swallowed nervously and stared back into his piercing blue eyes. “Then I w-will have t-to call security.”

"You could try, but they're all unconscious," he smirked, then walked away. Without another moment's hesitation he bounded through the big double doors to where the Prime Minister was holding a meeting.

The secretary stood wordlessly, her mouth slightly agape in awe. After a few seconds, she rushed out of the room towards the main staircase and peered over the ornament black and dark wooden banister to see one of the security team was led face down next to the large world globe at the bottom and gasped in horror.

---

Belphegor

"David!" Belphegor bellowed, his hands wide open as he bounded into the beautiful White Drawing Room. The room was too elaborate for his taste, white walls with gold decorations, gold trims on the high ceiling, gold frames around the paintings, even the sofas near the fireplace and the extravagant chandeliers hanging heavily from the ceiling were gold. The only thing not gold was the large rug in the middle of the floor which was red with a few splashes of blue in with the fleur de lis. There was probably more money in this building than there had gone into running the whole of London.

The Prime Minister, who was standing and talking to a balding man in a chair opposite him, span round to see Belphegor stride up to him confidently. Belphegor even heard the Parliamentary Private Secretary, Martha, rush in behind him.

David was a young Prime Minister, taking up the position confidently only last year – much to the dismay of many of the Members of Parliament in the opposing parties who disagreed that David was fit for the position. David was in his late thirties’, described to be a ‘young-hip Prime Minister’ by a local newspaper recently, a short man with a square face, although attractive in a boyish way. He was in the process of holding a private meeting with his Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs; MP John Didcot.

John Didcot was a balding middle aged man, with a heart-shaped face. He had little bags under his grey-blue eyes, which sat underneath a mess of unruly eyebrows which were currently furrowed into a frown. Unlike the Prime Minister, who was wearing a sharp black suit, Didcot was wearing a navy blue suit which looked a size too big for him and a rather long red tie that appeared to curl slightly at the end.

“Who are you?” the Prime Minister asked the newcomer, his face visibly falling and shifting into an unfamiliar nervous stare, “and how did you get in?”

Belphegor wasn't surprised that the guy didn't know him. They hadn't formally met. But he had probably been giving a file all about him when he first made it to office, there were bound to be pictures of him in there over the years, but of course humans weren't too good with remembering faces from pictures and some pictures were probably very old.
Didcot moved slowly to perch on the edge of his seat as if waiting to get up at an opportune moment if he needed to run for the exit, so Belphegor walked further into the room after grabbing an apple from a fruit bowl and stood deliberately behind him.

“I’m sure you’re aware of who I am,” Belphegor replied finally as he carefully inspected the apple in his hand and looked up at David. “My friends call me Bel.”

He was teasing them slightly; he doubted anyone in the room would recognise the name ‘Bel’, even if it was an unusual name. It was just a nickname. But he wanted to drag out this situation as long as possible. He wasn’t going to make it that easy for them. Call it punishment for the last seventy years he had to endure.

He ignored the last question, about how he got in, that one was a little trickier to explain. Although he could have just said; ‘through the front door, I have a way to open it without a key and I also knocked your security unconscious without lifting a finger,’ but one of his rules was not to expose himself for who he really was. Although he was sure telling the Prime Minister his name was allowed, especially if he didn’t recognise him, how else was he going to get him to listen to him?

“Bel?” the balding man spoke suddenly, turning around slightly to look at Belphegor as he towered behind him. “What do you want? Are you going to kill us?”

Belphegor looked down at Didcot and smiled at him. At this Didcot went to get up and rush for the exit, but Belphegor casually placed a hand on his balding head and forced him to sit back down again, without much effort.

“Don’t be silly, John. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so years ago!” Belphegor snorted.

He remembered walking passed Didcot once on the street as he made his way home. Belphegor knew Didcot, he made sure he knew all the Members of Parliament. In fact, he kept up to date with the news all around the world and he recognised Didcot easily when he passed him. He even made sure Didcot saw him as he walked deliberately close by him and smiled playfully at him. Didcot wasn't too pleased with this, giving him a rather rude comment and mentioned something about 'the youth of today'. Belphegor thought it was highly amusing since there was a large age gap, but not the way Didcot had thought.

But Didcot, not only wouldn’t know who Belphegor was by meeting him on the street, but he would never remember as well as Belphegor that they had actually met briefly. His memory was naturally less superior than Belphegor’s.

The Prime Minister stood staring at Belphegor for a few seconds before he looked over at his Parliamentary Private Secretary; Martha, who looked like she was visibly shaking. She must have seen the body of the security guard currently lying unconscious on the floor downstairs. He was alive, he wasn’t allowed to kill anyone anymore, but Martha didn’t know that. She looked at the Prime Minister and then down at the mobile phone in her hand, and then back up at the Prime Minister. “Shall I call the police?” she whispered slightly, trying to talk only to David, but Belphegor could hear her, he had better hearing than all of them in the room.

“The police?” He snorted. “Not a wise idea!” He folded his arms across his chest, looking from one person to the other, enjoying their discomfort.

“Are you going to explain who you are and what you want?” the Prime Minister tore his face away from his personal secretary and looked back at the strange man interrupting his meeting. His voice had risen angrily and authoritatively.

Belphegor looked at the Prime Minister, his smile fading and now looking serious. “My name is Belphegor, it might be in your best interest to listen to me.” He then calmly took a bite from the apple.

At this the Prime Minister’s face fell. Belphegor knew he would at least recognise the name, he was undoubtedly told about him the day he became Prime Minister. It was all in that file; Belphegor’s personal file the government had on him. He’s seen it before, it was pretty big. David probably even had a debriefing with Duncan himself, the Director General of the most secret government service there was. Belphegor wondered if he would have taken up the position if he knew about him before running for Prime Minister, his whole world would have been turned upside down upon learning about the secret world that has been hidden for decades. And one of the most fearful beings from that secret world was currently standing right in the middle of Ten Downing Street, right in front of him, looking human.

---

If you liked this, please do upvote! And feel free to resteem, I don't mind. :)
Cover image was designed by myself.