by S. C. Lewis
I looked around the office—it was different now, in a way. The old meeting table was gone and in its place was a large desk with a cherry finish. Against the wall, there were bookshelves and a variety of books on the occult, the vastly unsolved mysteries, and that sort of hideous rot. A shiny wooden floor had replaced the carpet, and though there was no carpet now, a few cashmere rugs lay beneath the two leather chairs in front of Mr. Abuda’s desk, and underneath it.
Mr. Abuda didn’t once look up at me. Instead, he ignored me the whole time, as I stood there like a fool waiting for him to acknowledge me. Once satisfied that he had read the entire papers’ contents, he placed the pages aside, then lifted his eyes up to me. The cruel, cold, hard features of a gentleman with paralyzing eyes and an insensitive stare beckoned me from the other side of the desk.
I could see how much he resembled his Father. He had a neatly trimmed haircut, yet a portion of his long black bangs dangled over his widow’s peak, and his large black eyes were shaped like almonds, with dark, thick eyebrows arched slightly upward. His lips were full, slightly reddened, and moist, while his cheekbones sank into his face, darkening his features.
Handsomely wicked and dashing, he had modeled in Business Week, Gentleman’s Quarterly, and other such magazines as one of Houston’s richest, most successful, and handsomest available bachelors. For weeks, women called to speak with him, in hopes of setting a date with him. But for Mr. Abuda, if it wasn’t business, he had no interest in it. He had ordered all his admirers away, scolded the magazine editors for paralyzing his business, and threatened to sue for bad interpretation of character. Editors apologized and published another article, this time an article on his mother and her growing Empire. This pleased Mr. Abuda, and the editors were happy that they were capable of doing so.
“What is it?” Mr. Abuda suddenly snapped.
I stepped back; my heart skipped a beat as I gazed directly at him. The look on his face was dry, expressionless.
The full lids of his eyes dropped slightly as he curved his brows impatiently, and his eyes disappeared beneath them.
“Yes?” he pushed on, parting his moist, full lips beautifully. It made me sick that he was so attractive. I felt his eyes examine me carefully the whole time.
Mr. Abuda frightened me, simply because he was so cold and so heartless and so goddamned good at it.
“Ralph…said you wanted to see me?” I nervously answered with my voice shaking. I couldn’t help it.
Mr. Abuda frowned and sat back in his chair, thinking about the reason that he had called me in, then as if recalling he asked that I take a seat. He didn’t hesitate, and came to the point immediately.
“Did you hire a new bartender?” Mr. Abuda firmly asked, wrinkling his brow slightly up at me.
The tone of his soft voice rose.
“Why yes. I thought we could use a new bartender, since Angelo needs occasional weekends off, and no one knows how to do his job as well as he does. The other barkeep we hired only works part-time, and our full-time bar back has already given his two-weeks-notice.”
Mr. Abuda tapped his fingernail on the desk, and then pushed his work aside, almost overcome with frustration. He took a quick sip from the cup of coffee sitting on his desk, pushing back his long bangs over his adult, unblemished widow’s peak, and then glanced straight at me again.
“How am I to perform my duties if I have incompetent employees such…” I heard him say. It was a question he seemed to be asking himself, but said loud enough that I could hear it.
“May I remind you, Eric…?” Mr. Abuda scolded, leaning forward, his lips curved and the smirk that had always framed his face returning to remind me.
As Angelo had once said, he knew me. He was only using the vampire way of speech, one which inexorably transfixes me in its embrace.
“You have no authority to hire anyone without my say so.”
It seemed he hadn’t heard anything I had said. Or had no desire to begin his own perambulations of pity.
“But I do all the hiring. I always have. And I’ve never had any problems before.”
Mr. Abuda rose from his chair. I shifted on my seat nervously as he hovered over me from the other side of the desk. He was a very tall man, taller than me, taller than any man I had laid eyes on and greater than any, for that matter. His monstrous height frightened me, and only now that I sat before him did I realize how eerie and unreal his form seemed.
“When I started working in this position, I was hired to do one thing, and that was to take charge of things; in order to help keep this place active and productive. I suggest you get used to the idea of change. From now on, you must get authorization from me to hire anyone. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded, wanting to rise and leave, but he hadn’t finished with me.
“This person you hired. When is he or she…expected?” Mr. Abuda asked, walking from around his desk with his arms behind his back.
He stepped in front of the windows of the office that overlooked the foyer, and the narrowly wide antechamber of the large Cathedral, examining the interior. He was wearing a navy Armani suit with a red tie, which laid over his spreading breast flatter than a pancake. The cologne from his body smelled of Ralph Lauren’s Romance, which was his father’s most favorite fragrance.
“He will be training with Angelo this weekend, sir,” I managed to utter through quivering lips.
“Training? Time is a luxury we can’t afford, and a waste of money.” His noble form unmoving and wall-like stood with his back to me. It was one of his famous quotes, which never failed to surface. God, how I hated that quote of his.
The poetic doubt in Mr. Abuda’s voice made me shake slightly.
“He just needs to know where everything is. But I assure you; he understands precisely how to perform the job. Training would mostly be assuring he knows where everything is on the bar.”
But that wasn’t the truth, and I knew that. Said “hired hand” had no experience at all, and my only reason for hiring him was because Angelo had begged me, and no one else had taken the job. I figured I could train him on the weekdays, while the Cathedral was not busy. But now the sounds of Mr. Abuda’s impatient voice made me doubt whether I would be able to do that without Mr. Abuda’s lecturing me later.
Mr. Abuda exhaled, and then turned to face me from where he stood. His handsome, flawless face resembled the attractive Prince of the Sarlovakk Dynasty in his mother’s novel. And I couldn’t stop thinking how the uncanny resemblance was unmistakable between the two. Yet there was a slight difference between them that was also noticeable, and that was the way they treated people. Anyone who had read her novel would see that.
Though oddly some time ago, Mr. Abuda had helped his mother promote her novel by making an appearance as her character in a private function for a magazine layout. When asked to do it again, he refused. It seemed he had matured incredibly since then, and hardly granted interviews.
“Very well then, but if your foolish decision to hire another person without my permission fails. I will hold you entirely responsible for whatever difficulties arise because of it. You can be the one to inform my mother of why her cathedral finances reflect poor numbers this quarter.”
“It won’t, sir, I promise.”
Mr. Abuda flashed a cruel smirk, and placing his hands behind his back again, turned away from me. “That is all. You may leave.”
“Yes, sir.” I rose and hurried towards the door.
“Eric, one last thing…”
I turned slightly, stopping by the entrance to look back at him.
“I advise you to get used to the idea of having me in charge. It would be very beneficial to you and the others if I were pleased with your performance come review time.”
I wanted to say something in response but didn’t as I stepped out of the small office, leaving Mr. Abuda by the window.
I left feeling slightly troubled; my time and hard work had meant nothing. I was simply part of
the entertainment, a worker with a number. The coven that had once existed with Sophia was non-existent now. Mr. Abuda’s greed and power-hungry hands had silenced the family, and neither Ramiel nor Sophia had intervened, nor stopped it in any way.
I alone could not stop things. I was no one.
2
Mother is the word for God
Seth
The lie that is known to be a lie…
I observed Eric from the other side of the office window descending the grand staircase slowly and stopped to look back. Eric’s ghostly face was painted white, and covered in a milky color. His eyes shaped like almonds were traced in dark outliner, while his lips were plain and stripped of color. A long brush of black hair draped his back and shoulders as he moved down the marble steps of the great fortress, in which his steps echoed as he descended.
Our eyes did not meet through the glass of the office; one could not see the other from the opposite side. Yet we both knew of the other’s presence from the other end, standing glaring back.
Eric descend the stairs like a floating pale banshee, reaching the bottom with a pasty thud and walking across the antechamber into a door to his left that led into the vaults.
I crossed my arms, took a breath, and held back a single laugh.
“Eric, you’ve become such a nuisance. What the hell am I going to do with you?” I announced to the empty room. A chuckle escaped my devilish laughter. “Maybe kill you.”
I spun around, to find a figure standing at the entrance of my office. My heart skipped a beat for a moment, then quickly regained my composure to challenge the form. Who was this now intruding on my time alone?
I took a step forward away from the window, alert and feeling my heart racing against my chest. The figure was covered in a silhouette by the shape of the door. I hurried a step forward, stopping dead in my tracks. It was only when I was inches away that a radiant face surged from the darkness before me. A pair of brown eyes sparkled from the shapeless blackness. I shuddered, unwilling at their presence.
A glowing seemed to glimmer from her smooth, creamy skin, as a smile greeted me and spread in delight. Only then did I realize I was staring into the beautiful face of Sophia, the Lady of the Cathedral.
Dressed in a red, long silk dress, her long brown hair draped behind her as she moved into the room. She wore no make-up, only a glossy lipstick that shimmered from her full mouth. She didn’t look a day older in comparison to the picture on my desk that had been taken when I was only ten. It was almost as though she had never aged. I never found that disturbing. It had only engrossed me the more and inspired the veil of most delicate and delectable fantasies.
I clumsily walked to her side. I felt weakened by her presence, and beckoned by her beauty. Her perfume awakened my senses, and I gazed dreamily at her. A scent of fruit lured me to her lips, and I had to shake myself awake.
She gazed at me puzzled, her small rounded face glowing in the twilight of her smile. I wanted to reach out and caress her ready cheek but, as always, refrained from doing so. Why all these restraints?
“My…Lady.” My lips quivered, losing control.
I hated the idea of the word mother. I had never thought much about it. It had never felt right. For those reasons, I couldn’t bring myself to use it any longer. There was something growing between us, a bond deeper than anyone could ever comprehend. I didn’t understand it at first, but slowly I welcomed the feelings and had come to finally accept them. We were connected in a manner beyond this reality. In my dreams, we were far more. Everything in them was coming true.
Dizzy, I balanced myself as she came closer. Her perfume affected me in far more ways than I had predicted. I was much too fragile a thing. To be near her frightened me. I was weaker than I had first realized, and I couldn’t resist her. Was it her scent what lured me, or the scent of something far primal?
“Mother,” I reluctantly corrected myself, observing frown lines of disappointment displayed upon her gentle face. She had a sweet, flawless face, almost angelic and childlike in appearance.
I parted my lips, dazed and under her spell. I bent forward to place a single kiss upon her cheek. My heart throbbed and erupted with desire. I pulled away a step back.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” I examined her with curiosity; she was such an innocent beauty.
My eyes could not resist the inviting textures of her lovely skin. She took a breath and I watched as she exhaled.
“Do I need a reason to see you, darling?” she answered with a sweet smile.
Her youthful appearance fooled others, but never me; she acted like a wiser person but appeared the sweet age of a younger girl one would see among the high school halls.
“No…of course not…” I bit my lips as the word left my mouth in a whispered to faint to hear, but I dared not say it out loud again.
The sounds of breathing and heavy moans echoed beyond a place I kept secret, a woman with red hair lay beneath me as I came down over her. Her face, I could not clearly see at first, but as I neared it became clear and I came…Sophia!
She wanted me, and I knew it. In one swift moment she drew me in. Did she even know it? This woman…in my dreams?
I reached forward as the image left my thoughts and held her to me. She wrapped her arms around me and held me in the same manner.
I need you, my mind repeated, I need you just as much as you need me…
I felt the firmness of her body as she squeezed me close and exhaled. The same woman was now staring down at me as she neared the side of my bed. In my dreams, I could never see her face, only when she near. This time she mounted me, and I saw her face…
“Is something troubling you?” she asked.
I fought my orgasm, the image of her beneath me penetrated my thoughts so cruelly. I desperately tried to resist, but the more I did. The more I felt it drew me in, there was no escaping the desires, or the idea that something else was in control, something divine, or something powerful beyond my comprehension.
“Nothing to concern yourself with…I must just be overworked.” My lips trembled.
No, that’s not the truth. I love you. I want you.
I moved aside; the discomfort was drawing us apart. She gazed at me as I turned to smile at her, extending my hand as I did to assure her everything was well.
A light sheen of sweat dampened my brow as I rewarded her with a grin. She took my hand and I helped her over to a seat near my desk. She seemed to shake a slight bit.
I walked around the chair where she sat, to stand next to the desk, and observed her like a lost puppy.
Sophia met my gaze briefly. She looked frozen in time regarding her age. In fact, she looked my age.
“I just wanted to come in here and tell you that your father is returning soon. He called earlier in the morning,” Sophia managed to say, stumbling upon her words.
“So, the call earlier…that was him?”
I was aware of the call. I had heard his voice at the other end. I meant to speak, but Sophia’s voice answered before I could. Instead of putting the phone down, I listened.
I miss you, he said. I love you…. The very words I wanted to say myself. I knew that I felt the same way.
I wanted to express those same desires, those same feelings. My lips had parted and had begun to speak. But for whatever reason, I said nothing…silence.
“Why didn’t you want to talk to him?” asked Sophia softly, gazing over at me.
Had she sensed my dislike for the man?
“He asked about you…”
Had she heard me on the other end? I thought, thinking back on that morning when I had softly put the phone down. Then, I’d dropped back on the bed, unable to resist grabbing a part of myself to entertain the desires I felt. There was no other way to satisfy the demons and the lust eating at me.
“Did he? Is that the reason of your visit, to lecture me regarding my quarrels and behavior with the man?”
“Seth, please. Where is all
this coming from? You know he loves you. Why all this animosity?” Sophia lowered her head, knowing how untrue those words now sounded to her. They were all unrehearsed.
I didn’t understand it myself. What I felt for him, the anger that had started to emerge at a slow ascend. I felt betrayed, and rage from somewhere in my heart, far more with the idea that he possessed something I desired. I felt I had failed, and that he had a part in my failure. It was because of him that I had lost what I wanted so much.
“We’ve never been close.” It was all I could say in my defense. It was all she might be able to understand. His absence perhaps…as a father. He was always away…But of course there was more, more that she couldn’t understand more than I could understand fully, but felt.
I saw the sadness in her eyes. I felt bad for being the one to place it there. For her, I would make an exception. So, I swallowed my pride for her sake, and knelt in front of her, taking her hands into mine.
I love you, I whispered…forgive me. I’ve been having dreams…of a past- a meaningful past- that I have not yet put together. But it has something to do with us. We are unique in some way; we are one in another plain. We were once in love. I don’t know what happened to us. But I can feel it, can you? All this around us, this—this is the fantasy….
“Forgive me,” I said instead.
“Will you talk to him when he returns?”
She lifted her face up. I kissed her hand, she looked naively at me. Sophia’s brown eyes sparkled brightly full of innocence. An image of the red-haired woman surfaced in my mind again to provoke desire and stir the lust.
“I will talk with him. I promise,” I answered. I was paralyzed, fixed lifelessly on her.
I kissed her hand again and gave her a warm smile.
I stood as she rose, and kissed my cheek. I wrapped my arms around her. Her touch felt devilish and made me keenly excited. I restrained.
