by Eva Alton
“My name is Clarence, and you must be Katie, the little witch?”
“Of course not,” Katie said, crossing her short, thin arms and looking offended, then pointing at three-year-old Iris, whose nose was still red from crying. “She is the little witch. I’m the big one.”
I snorted and leaned down over the screen of my phone, willing to type a reply for May so the device stopped buzzing once and for all. Sadly, the handset died in my hands with a low electric moan.
“Where can I charge my phone?” I asked, as we passed a medieval-looking sconce covered by cobwebs.
“Oh. That might be a bit... problematic,” he said, staring at the floor with despondency.
“Don’t tell me you have no electricity here.”
“Well, Julia never seemed to mind. What do you need it for?”
“I don’t know. Everything?”
Chapter 11
Alba
As soon as Clarence opened the door of my future room, a waft of stale air, reminiscent of wood polish, damp earth and mold flooded my nostrils.
“Welcome home, ladies,” he said with slightly too much enthusiasm.
The space was large, with the widest canopied bed I had ever seen standing in the middle of it. Cobwebs abounded and were so thick that they had become indistinguishable from the tulle curtains, which hung lazily from the wooden canopy. There was also a carved mahogany armoire which must have had mirrors once, although someone had torn them off, leaving just two ugly glue marks. Next to it stood a folding bureau desk, complete with a lock and a brass key. The place would have looked almost romantic if it hadn’t smelled of mildew so badly. Everything was covered in wormholes and a thick layer of dust, and heavy, black and gold drapes hung like ghostly shapes on their crooked railings over inexistent windows.
“This used to be Julia’s room. Lovely, isn’t it?” Clarence said with a nervous smile.
“Um, I guess it has potential?” I answered, mentally going through everything which needed an update. Not that I was finicky, but the place was dirty―and a bit sinister, too.
“What is that metallic door on the ceiling?” I asked, pointing at a gray rectangle on top of our heads.
“That’s the skylight I was telling you about,” Clarence explained, and he showed me the mechanism that opened it, without actually turning the handle. “It opens into a hollow lawn crypt in Saint Anne’s. You can use it at your leisure, but always remember to turn off the lights at night so nobody sees them from the outside.” Then, he handed me a small rectangular sign, which hung from a silver chain. “You can hang this warning sign on the door handle, so no vampires walk in during the day and end up having an accident.”
“What kind of accidents are we talking about? Vampires bursting into flames?” I started to laugh, but he glanced at me somberly. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, taking a hand to my chest with embarrassment. “I never paid much attention to vampire lore, and thought that part wasn’t true!”
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said, waving his hand.
“You know... one week ago, I would have taken you for a bunch of actors playing a role.”
“And what do you think now?” Clarence tilted his head with interest.
“Well... I’m not sure anymore... this show seems to be getting real.” I unlocked the mahogany bureau and ran my fingers over its well-worn surface. “I’m still waiting to wake up and discover this was just a dream... or a nightmare.”
“I’ve been expecting the same, every single night for the last two hundred years or so,” Clarence murmured, as he retrieved a stack of yellow papers from one of the drawers. “But does it matter? In the end, the world’s a stage, and we are merely players.”
“As you like it.” I smiled with recognition.
“I thought engineers only knew how to read numbers.” He beamed, seemingly pleased that I had caught the Shakespeare reference. “Dinner tonight?” he said, out of the blue. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to answer to his unanticipated invitation. “I mean, you will have to eat something, eventually. There’s a place nearby. And they might have electrical outlets.” He gestured toward my phone and laptop, which looked completely out of place in that timeworn room.
“Oh, that’s so kind of you,” I said, unsure. “But I can’t leave the children on their own.”
“There’s Francesca,” he sat next to Iris and Katie and started to do tricks with a fountain pen, making it appear and disappear up his sleeve. The girls laughed and clapped their hands with glee. “She used to be a governess for a wealthy family and would have loved to have children of her own, if she hadn’t...” he paused. “Well, you know.”
He stared at me, waiting for my answer, and his expectation made him look deceivingly innocent.
“All right then,” I nodded. “Just a quick dinner.”
“Just a quick dinner,” he repeated slowly, savoring each word. He then extended a finger to call my attention. “When you finish unpacking your luggage, Elizabeth would like to talk to you. I’ll go now and notify her of your arrival.”
After he was gone, I took a rag from the avocado green ensuite bathroom and started to dust off all the surfaces, in the hopes of removing the haunted house aura which inundated the room. Once done, I opened the skylight and a rain of dust and moss landed on my hair. Still, I welcomed the fresh air, and the rays of sun brought the worn vintage furniture back to life.
Feeling reinvigorated by the scent of summer seeping in through the window, I started to hang our few clothes in the closet. Meanwhile, the girls played with some dolls I had brought from home. Most doors and drawers were jammed due to humidity and lack of use, and I had to wrestle them open. As I finally stowed the last piece of clothing into them, I let out a deep sigh and congratulated myself for my feat: we had officially moved out and away from Mark and were about to start a new life.
I just hoped I wouldn't end up regretting this decision, just like I had mourned every single one I’d made up to that moment.
“IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE our last assistant departed, so there will be quite a lot of work for you in the beginning,” Elizabeth said, as I entered the conference room followed by my daughters. She sniffed the air around us and wrinkled her nose with disgust.
I put Iris on my lap, pushing Katie into the chair next to me and a sticker book in front of her. Hopefully, that would keep her silent for at least twelve minutes.
“We can only access the post office and the various government offices from November to February,” Elizabeth said, going straight to business. That afternoon she was wearing a floor-length emerald-green dress more appropriate for a royal ball than a corporate meeting. “That's the only time when their working hours extend beyond sunset.”
“I see,” I answered, imagining the face of a postal clerk if a raven walked in and tried to retrieve a parcel.
“We’ll ask you to sign a contract,” Elizabeth said, turning back to me. “I will define all your tasks in it.”
“Sounds good,” I said, looking forward to reading such a document. “What’s the name of your company?”
“Which one?” Elizabeth replied cryptically.
“Oh, you have more than one?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow, and Clarence snorted as he entered the room. “Okay, it doesn’t matter. Just prepare the documents, and I’ll have a look at them.”
“I must warn you, though,” Elizabeth said, leaning back in her armchair, “that the contract will be for life.”
“Excuse me?”
“What you just heard,” she said tiredly. “Till death do us part. Once you sign it, there is no turning back.”
“Or else?” I arched an eyebrow incredulously. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Hopefully, we won’t have to go to such lengths,” she answered with a shrug.
“Elizabeth likes to make things sound harsher than they really are,” Clarence said, taking a seat next to Katie and pulling a coin out of her ear. “Why would you want to leave? We have a l
ibrary, a music room, and lots of witchcraft books, too. You won’t be bored here.”
“Oh, yes, this reminds me, I should give you something,” Elizabeth said, standing up and heading toward a wide chestnut dresser. She took out an old leather-bound notebook, decorated with a buckthorn wreath in green and gold. “This was Julia’s,” she said, handing it to me. “She was never a very skilled witch, but you might find some interesting passages inside.”
I took the diary with care, fearing it might fall apart under my touch.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling the warm leather of the covers under my fingertips.
“Whatever questions you have, ask Clarence,” Elizabeth continued. “And Jean-Pierre will show you the library tomorrow. In the morning, we’ll go through our list of companies, assets and investments, and we’ll make a plan of action. I’ll also need you to buy me a few things from outside.” She shoved a very long list in front of my face. “For starters, go and get me these books.”
“These are all law books,” I said, noticing the boring and solemn sounding titles. They reminded me of Mark, and I couldn’t help but shudder: he would be home soon, and hell would break loose when he found out about my escape.
“Elizabeth loves law manuals,” Clarence drawled, almost maliciously. “Ask her anything. She knows it all. Each single article and amendment. Sadly, she also has a soft spot for bookish warmbloods, which makes shopping in bookstores too risky.”
Elizabeth growled in a low voice, but Clarence just chuckled, thoroughly unconcerned about her reaction.
“You could buy many of those online, without meeting any tempting booksellers,” I said, thinking aloud. “You wouldn’t even have to leave the catacombs.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, looking skeptic. “And how does that work exactly?”
“You could buy electronic books.” The way she pursed her lips made me suspect that she wasn’t well acquainted with modern-day technology. “You know, books with no pages. Just... tiny dots which rearrange when you press a button and form letters. You plug them into a socket and... ta-da! You get lots of sentences.”
“Sounds like witchcraft to me,” Elizabeth growled. “No. I want books with pages. And forget about electricity. That’s too dangerous and would expose us. You just go to the store and bring me normal books, the ones without dancing dots, understood?”
My shoulders slumped. “Of course. As you wish.”
FRANCESCA, THE GOVERNESS, came at eight in the evening, shortly after nightfall. When I opened the door, my mouth fell open as I gaped at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. In front of me―actually, below me, because she was one head shorter than I―stood a stunning vampire girl who must have been turned in her early twenties at most. Long locks of sunflower blonde hair were partly pinned in a neat ponytail, cascading down her back and up to her waist. She had cobalt blue eyes, and her skin was so fair that it looked surreal. Her skirt was black and long, and she had fastened her high neck ruffled blouse with a pearl brooch on the top.
“Good evening,” she said politely, studying me from head to toe with a critical eye. “My name is Francesca Belak, and you must be Alba.” A soft Italian accent made her words roll off her tongue like drops of rain.
I blinked speechlessly, dazzled by the vampire girl’s poise and looks. Standing next to such ladylike perfection made me feel like a grotesque forest troll, and I scrooched down a little.
“Can I touch your hair?” Katie said with exhilaration, and the tiny teacher, against all my expectations, sat down on the bed and offered them her wavy locks. Both children ran their fingers through her swirls of honeyed hair, exhaling with bliss.
“Hello, children,” Francesca said, her voice stern but warm. She tapped both girls on the head, “I’m Professoressa Belak, but you can call me Francesca. I brought you sandwiches from outside. Are you partial to cheese?”
Katie and Iris stared at her in confusion, then cheered happily at the mention of cheese.
“Why do you have pearls in your hair?” Iris asked, tugging at the shiny white spheres Francesca had pinned all over her head.
“It makes me feel like a mermaid,” she answered in all seriousness, causing Iris to almost swoon.
“I want to be like Francesca when I grow up!” Katie said eagerly.
I said a silent prayer for her wish to never be fulfilled.
“I hear you are a witch,” Francesca said, facing me with deep interest. “Can you shift into a cat?”
“A cat? No, why would I?”
“They say witches can do that.”
“As you see, I’m a weird witch. To begin with, I didn’t even know I was one.”
“Yes, I heard you are a stray,” she said, making me cringe at the term. “You should talk to Jean-Pierre. There are a couple of things he found... you might find them useful.”
“Yes, Elizabeth told me. I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow. They also gave me Julia’s diary.”
At the mention of Julia, Francesca’s composed countenance broke down for a heartbeat. “She was a dear friend,” she said quietly. She took a deep breath and quickly put herself back together. “Almost family.”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“That was a long time ago, but thank you. I hope her diaries help you, although I’m afraid they won’t. You’ll have to search deeper if you want your ancestors’ magic back.”
Francesca sat on the floor next to the kids, rearranging the folds of her governess skirt so they lay in an almost perfect elliptical shape around her. “We’ll need a carpet here,” she pointed out, “I’m all right, but I believe the floor is too cold for human children.”
“It would be great if you could get one,” I said, throwing a phone charger into my purse. Leaving my children with a vampire sounded like a terrible idea; but the thought of Mark calling me furiously while my phone was off was even more daunting. “I heard you have experience with children?” I asked.
“I have extensive experience as a governess. You’re more than good to go.” Francesca smiled, her vampire fangs carefully tucked in and hidden behind a row of flawless, straight teeth.
“Am I really?” I leaned towards Iris and caressed her silky hair, unwilling to leave.
“I rarely drink human blood, if that’s what worries you,” she said, her eyes bright and piercing, shimmering with a sharp intellect but also full of secrets. Her voice fell to a low whisper only I could hear, “and I’d rather die a thousand deaths than drink a child’s blood.”
“How reassuring,” I said, gulping.
“It was meant to be.” Francesca held my gaze. “Your daughters smell like witches, which critically lowers the odds of any vampire bothering them. Still, if an extreme situation were to arise, I might be the only vampire in The Cloister―and possibly in the whole world―you could trust blindly with their lives.”
She pushed me gently toward the door. “Go in peace, Alba Andersson. They’re safe with me.”
“There’s another vampire here who assured me the same,” I said, remembering Clarence’s promise to protect my daughters. “Who am I supposed to believe?”
“I can imagine who it was, and the answer is―you should always trust me,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Clarence is waiting for you in the big conference room, by the way.” She paused, her marble complexion crossed by a slight frown. “He’s been standing there for an hour, in fact. Seems eager to take you out.”
“Interesting,” I said, watching her rummage in a Victorian nanny bag and take an ancient alphabet book out of it. I had almost expected a coat hanger, or a lamp.
I was just about to leave when Francesca lifted her impossibly long eyelids and looked at me with a cryptic expression.
“I think he fancies you,” she said, her voice not much louder than a whisper.
“Who, Clarence?” I babbled, wondering where that had come from. “That’s absurd. We just met a couple of days ago. I think he’s just trying to be nice.”
�
�No, I think he really does,” Francesca turned her eyes to the ceiling with impatience. “Just don't let his overly cheerful facade fool you... there’s a dark side to Clarence Auberon which very few people know.”
“And do you know it?”
Would you tell me about it? Her words intrigued me.
She shrugged lightly, her back straight as a rod. “Not my story to tell,” she said. “You’ll soon learn that everyone here has secrets. It’s what keeps us alive.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” I said slowly, and I kissed my daughters’ cheeks before leaving the room.
Chapter 12
Clarence
When Alba Andersson reached the end of the corridor, I caught the corners of her mouth curling up in a tiny, surprised smile which lasted just for the brief instant our eyes first met. She had donned one of those little black dresses most women seemed to own in this time and era and kept smoothing the myriad of wrinkles caused by transport. Modern fashion wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but I always welcomed the generous length of leg volunteered by those cookie-cutter retail garments. They made dining easier, too.
As she approached me shyly, I reminded myself that she was supposed to be our new witch and not a midnight refreshment. She walked with her handbag pressed against her chest, like she feared something, someone, or possibly the whole world. Her chestnut brown hair danced behind her, falling in a deliciously wavy mess and filling the space with the scent of grapefruit, lavender and warm-blooded heavens, turning auburn as it caught the soft candlelight of the halls.
“You look stunning,” I told her, because she did. I took one of her hands and made her twirl around herself, and she giggled. “You really do.”
She blushed, making it clear that she didn’t believe the compliment, then returned it the way modern women always did. “So do you,” she said.
I had actually made an effort not to make an effort with my wardrobe and put on a pair of corduroy pants and a simple button-down shirt. Everything very twenty-first century. And dull.
