by Luke Metcalf
“How big is the property?”
“Around eight hundred acres.”
“Wow!”
To her left the rolling hills below were dark with woods that swept down to a narrow valley at the bottom of which a stream foamed over boulders and disappeared into a grove of ancient oaks. A herd of sheep grazed on the side of a hill in the distance creating a scene of pastoral beauty. Turning around she could see that the fortifications of the castle spread out to cover the whole crown of the hill, and were now partly in a state of decay. She stared at the grandeur of the ramparts, towers and battlements. Her eyes drifted over to a shrubbery a dozen yards away and she saw that there was a dead rabbit lying under it, its throat ripped out. Emily stared at it a moment then looked at Willard. He seemed not to have noticed.
“If you would like a view of the countryside from a higher vantage point I can take you up to the ramparts,” he said.
“Uh, yeah, that would be great, thanks.”
The butler led her back inside and up the great staircase past the floor her bedroom was located on and out onto the ramparts. They extended around three sides of the edifice; the fourth was guarded by high walls and by the main gateway. Walking out onto the large terraces a big smile spread across Emily’s face.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Indeed. Your breakfast should be ready momentarily and you have a busy day ahead, so we should be returning to the dining parlor.” With that he turned and led her back inside.
“Busy day?” asked Emily as she almost ran to keep up. “What’s going on?”
“Master Keats has given instructions for you to be properly attired for dinner.”
“We’re going shopping?”
“I believe the shopping has been done for you.”
The chef not only made her an omelet, there was French toast, a bowl of fresh fruit and berries, coffee, various freshly squeezed juices and a basket of freshly baked pastries, all displayed on the finest china, crystal and silverware. Emily imagined it was like staying at a five-star resort, not that she had ever been to one. When she was finished Willard returned.
“Was everything to your liking, Miss Emily?”
“Yes, thanks, it was wonderful. I was wondering, could you show me the chapel?”
“Unfortunately I cannot, the door is always locked and that is the one room in the castle that the servants are forbidden from entering.”
“Oh, okay.” Emily’s mind was burning with curiosity as to what was in the chapel and what Mitchell was doing in there in the middle of the night.
“Now,” said Willard. “Before we get to the fitting and the hair and makeup, Master Keats has asked me to help you with any etiquette questions you may have. He wants you to feel confident to dine in the finest of company.”
“Ah, um okay.”
For the next hour Willard instructed Emily in etiquette and Emily enjoyed the thought that she could now dine with royalty and fit right in. When they were finished two impeccably dressed ladies entered the dining room.
“Miss Bliss,” said one. “My name is Alexandra and this is Kitty.”
“Hello, nice to meet you,” Emily said, standing up and shaking their hands, resisting the urge to drop a curtsy.
“Please come with us,” said Kitty. “We want to do a fitting for the gown and then get started on your hair and makeup.”
They led her back into the main room with the huge fireplace. There was a magnificent yellow gown spread out on one of the couches. It looked as if it had come from another time. Then she saw the jewelry laid out on the table in front of the gown.
“What is all this?”
“Master Keats wanted you to be properly attired for dinner.”
“Uh, okay, ummm…”
The lady named Kitty took Emily by the hand and guided her over to the gown. It was a glorious, old-fashioned-style yellow ball gown with gold hand stitching and a low neckline that accentuated her décolletage. Kitty took all Emily’s measurements and then disappeared with the gown while Alexandra took Emily upstairs into a bathroom on the second floor that was prepared like a beauty salon. She bleached and toned Emily’s hair until it was platinum blonde, then dressed it in a style of Hollywood curls, half pinned to the side. Kitty returned and got to work on her nails and makeup, creating a delicate, smoky eye and a ballet-pink lip with a dewy finish. Her nails were done light pink with a French tip. Emily felt like she was at the ultimate spa, being prepared for a marriage ceremony. As they worked she asked the two ladies what they knew about Mitchell but both said that they had been contacted and hired by Willard and had never met his Master. The gown was returned, altered to fit her exactly and she slipped it on with their help.
When they were finished they took her back downstairs to the jewelry. There was a white gold ring with a spectacular 25 carat canary diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds, a dazzling necklace with hundreds of diamonds, earrings with large canary diamonds as the centerpieces and a thick diamond bracelet.
“This can’t be real,” she said.
“Oh, I assure you all the pieces are real,” said Kitty. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Are you kidding? They’re fit for a princess.”
They helped her put on all the jewelry, then Emily noticed there were five boxes of luxury-brand shoes to pick from. She chose a pair of strappy champagne pumps that sparkled and shone. When they were finished the two ladies rolled in a heavy antique mirror.
Emily was speechless. She had been totally transformed. Her thick platinum hair cascaded down over her shoulders in glamorous waves, the gown was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and the jewels sparkled and shone. She felt like a fairy-tale princess.
Alexandra and Kitty said their goodbyes as Emily thanked them profusely.
“Wait,” she said nervously. “What do I do now?”
“The photographer will be in shortly,” said Alexandra.
“Uh, photographer?”
As the two ladies disappeared through a door Emily glanced out of one of the windows and saw that the sky had grown dark with swollen storm clouds and the wind was bending the trees with powerful gusts. Her gaze returned to her reflection in the mirror just as a man with a camera and lighting equipment entered the room.
“Hello, my name is Peter, I’m the photographer.”
Emily turned around. “Hello, nice to meet you.”
“You look spectacular,” he said as he set up his light with a reflector.
“Thanks, uh, what’s all this for?”
He looked up at the charred portrait on the wall and then at Emily. “I’ve been hired to try and recreate that portrait in a photograph, so that an artist can then paint another one. Now, would you please take a seat on that chair?”
He pointed to a large leather chair. Emily looked up at the portrait and for the first time realized that the gown she was wearing resembled what she could see of the one in the painting. He’s dressing me up to look like another girl, she thought and her heart plunged. She felt like a fool for thinking that this was all for her. She obediently sat down and the photographer arranged her position and arms.
“Who is she?” Emily asked, feeling sad, jealous and embarrassed all at the same time.
“I don’t know. I was hired to try and recreate what’s left of that painting in photographs, that’s all I know.”
“Oh. Do you know Mitchell?”
“Mr. Keats? No, I was contacted and hired by the butler, Willard.”
As he adjusted the lighting, clicked some shots and then adjusted the lighting some more, he instructed her on precisely how she should sit, where to place her hands and how high her chin should be, Emily was filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand she was horrified that Mitchell was dressing her as another girl, but at the same time she was thrilled by the experience of such a spectacular makeover. Never in a million years had she imagined looking so glamorous and beautiful and she loved it. After two hours he was finished and left t
he room.
Thunder rumbled and Emily glanced through the windows. It was now pitch dark outside between the flashes of lightning. The wind had been rising at intervals the whole afternoon and now a torrential rainstorm began. Willard entered the room and re-lit the fire, informing her that the master of the house would be in shortly before disappearing once more. A few moments later she was startled by the sound of Mitchell’s voice.
“You look wonderful. Perfect!”
Emily turned to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.
“Thanks.” She blushed. Her heart surged at the thought that he was pleased with her. It was as though she desired his approval more than anything in the world and it filled her with joy, then her smile faded. “What is this all about?” she asked. “Why are you dressing me up like whoever was in that portrait?”
“It was very precious to me,” said Mitchell walking over and reaching up to touch the edge of the frame. “I am going to hire an artist to use the photographs and what I can salvage from my memory to recreate it.”
“Who is she?”
Mitchell hesitated for a moment. “Someone I knew long ago. You really do look lovely.”
“Thanks.”
Classical music began playing from hidden speakers. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.
Emily burst out laughing and blushed, feeling goofy. Then she regained her composure, realizing this was an opportunity to be in his arms. “I’d love to,” she said.
She felt protected in his powerful embrace as he guided her effortlessly around the room. His confidence was intoxicating and the feeling that she was a fairy-tale princess with her prince once again flooded Emily. She wanted it to last forever.
“I know that this is going to sound incredibly cliché,” he said. “But you have wonderful, beautiful eyes.”
Emily laughed and blushed. “Thanks.”
Lightning flashed outside and the rain beat in torrents upon the windows.
“I noticed them the first time I saw you.”
Emily smiled, filled with joy and excitement that he was attracted to something about her. A few moments later, however, he released her.
“Come,” he said. “Dinner awaits.”
“But I thought you didn’t…”
“I don’t. I will be content to watch you eat.”
He led her into the dining room and Emily sat down in the seat of honor. Mitchell sat next to her. Only her place was set.
“What’s happening with the princess? Any luck reviving her?”
“Nothing yet. I hope it will take only a few more feedings. I expect you are eager to get home. I can have my jet fly you whenever you like. Perhaps when you have finished dinner?”
“Uh. Yeah, I mean, no, not at all, I’m not in any major rush.” Her heart plunged to see that he seemed to be fine about getting rid of her so soon.
“Oh, good then, well, just let me know.”
“Does Willard know that you are a vampire?” she whispered.
“No, none of them do. I only hired them a couple years ago to help with the upkeep as I travel a lot. Depending on how long I have to stay in this world I want this place to be well taken care of.”
“What do you mean by ‘how long you have to stay in this world?’ You’re planning on going to Magella if we find the Well? Is that why you offered to have me flown home alone? But what about the looted treasure? We have to stop them.”
“No, I’m not going to Magella and the treasure is really no concern of mine. I would love to get revenge and destroy Baelaar, but the Well is more important.”
“Then where are you going? And what do you mean you don’t care? You said yourself that they are probably going to use those trillions to create the biggest slaughter ever and enslave the survivors.”
“If you must know I’m going to Hell. I’m sorry, but that is more important.”
“What?” Emily burst out laughing.
“Make whatever choice you make,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “It matters not. All roads lead to the grave.”
Mitchell stared at her evenly and her laughter faded. She felt a chill run through her. She opened her mouth to speak just as Willard entered the room with a silver pot containing soup. He carefully ladled it into the bowl at Emily’s place.
“Lobster bisque,” he announced.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Emily sat looking at Mitchell for a moment as the thunderstorm raged outside. A million questions were racing around in her head. She wondered if she should tell him of her dreams but was afraid to let him know that she was possessed by a demon. Then again what if he’s a demon worshipper? she wondered with a shiver.
“Please eat,” Mitchell said.
She picked up her spoon and tried her soup. “Mmmmm that is soooo good! What do you mean you are going to Hell?”
“I am going to use the Well of Many Worlds to travel to the nine planes of Hell and the Abyss if necessary.”
“But why?”
“That’s a long and complicated story. I’d rather talk about other things.”
“I saw you last night.” She glanced up nervously, wondering how he would react. He didn’t seem concerned so she continued. “I heard noises coming from the chapel so I got up and then I saw you come upstairs covered in blood. What were you doing in the chapel?”
“I was in the chapel but afterwards I went outside to hunt. When you saw me I had just returned.”
“You killed a rabbit.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I saw it outside today.”
“Yes, enough blood to keep me alive, but I must do some real hunting again soon or I will start to grow weak.”
“What were you doing in the chapel? May I see it?”
“No, that is off limits. Tell me about yourself. Tell me more about your magical training.”
“Well, Mercurios appeared one night and told me I was from another world and my parents were wizards and then he gave me this pendant.” She held up the chest on the chain around her neck.
“It’s a magical chest that grows into a big chest. It had my mother’s spell book in it as well as a Skull of Monster Summoning, a Sphere of Protection, a Ring of Teleportation and a Wand of Lightning.”
“Can I see them?”
“Sure.” Emily put down her spoon.
“Hold on,” said Mitchell, standing up and walking toward the kitchen door. “I’m going to send Willard home.”
Mitchell went into the kitchen. Emily heard some muffled conversation as she continued to eat her soup. A flash of light and a crash of thunder outside startled her. The storm was raging. Mitchell came back into the dining room and sat down.
“We are now alone.”
The thought that she had Mitchell all to herself sent thrills of pleasure and desire through her. “I’ll show you the chest, but first you have to tell me who the girl in the picture is.”
Mitchell stared intently at her and she could see that his glorious emerald eyes were tortured and flashing crimson.
“Do you believe in true love?” he asked.
A lightning bolt struck near the castle and was instantly followed by a deafening crack of thunder.
“I-I guess so.”
“Her name was Marigold. She was the most beautiful, radiant woman in all the kingdoms of the world.”
Emily flushed with jealousy and she clutched her spoon tightly.
“She was like an angel,” continued Mitchell, his eyes glazing over as he stared off into space, lost in memories. “Everyone loved her. She was kind, smart, witty, tender and beautiful, the most beautiful woman in creation. It would be impossible to meet her and not love her. She was so gentle and lovely… insightful. But she also had such a fun, adventurous side, so much spirit, passion, such a love of life. We used to climb trees together by the river, or pick berries and lie about in the long g
rass talking and joking for hours. Or sneak out at night and go for walks in the meadows, picking wild flowers by moonlight, or sitting by the river and looking at the stars. She was always filled with joy and wonder at the beauty and majesty of nature, and she held in her spirit a wild and free naturalness. Every time she entered a room, everywhere she went, everyone would turn their heads and even the dourest of countenances would brighten. She created beautiful gardens, danced upon the dew as the sun rose, and walked the fields barefoot in moonbeams. She was a light of pure loveliness. No matter how bleak and gray the world seemed, just her presence would fill it with color and beauty and magic and splendor.”
The more he spoke the more Emily burned with jealousy and the more she hated herself for it.
“From the moment we met it was obsession,” he continued, “As though we had always been lovers. The more time we spent together the more we wanted; it was a hunger for each other that could never be satiated, increasing with every feast. A few months after we met, Marigold came to me the day before All Hallows Eve, Halloween. She told me that any blood oath sworn under a full moon on All Hallows Eve, when the barriers between this world and the world of magic were at their weakest, would last forever and that year it was a full moon. I guess she was right. I often think, with most people love burns brightly at first but eventually fades, but not with me. Just as my body became frozen in time when I was turned into a vampire, eternally young, so did my love for Marigold. It burns just as brightly inside me now as it did all those years ago, an eternal flame that will continue on until the end of time.”
He looked at Emily for a moment then stared off into space, his eyes growing distant.
“And so will the pain of her loss. The horrors we see in life haunt our steps all the way to our graves, clinging to us like a chilling mist.” He looked at Emily again. “They change the colors of the world, leaving it forever darkened.”
“Was, uh… Was she your wife?” she asked, trying to look and sound casual, putting another spoonful of the hot, creamy soup into her mouth.
