Grave New World

by HP Mallory

  The woman rushed past us before turning to face Jax and motioning for him to follow her. Then she darted into the room on our right. Once Greebow carried me inside, I presumed we were in a parlor or maybe even a library. Myriad books filled up one entire side of the room from floor to ceiling. There was also a large bay window, furnished with a velvet, upholstered window seat in a bright red hue. It matched a similar shade to the crimson of the floral wallpaper. Plantation shutters blocked out the sun and covered all the windows. Above them were ostentatious, black-and-gold window treatments.

  “Wait here,” the woman said as she left the room, silently closing the narrow double doors behind her. I was so taken by the expansive room and the building itself, that it never even occurred to me to identify what type of creature the woman was.

  “You might as well take a seat, because I’m not sure how long we’ll be here,” Jax said before throwing himself into one of the black velvet upholstered chairs in front of the vast slate fireplace. Greebow placed me carefully on a matching settee across from Jax before taking the chair beside him. The troll did not sit, but continued standing, probably because it took too much energy for him to sit down only to get up again.

  “You think we’re gonna actually get to meet the Darkness, boss?” the troll asked dumbly as he faced Jax, who didn’t bother looking up at him. Instead, Jax kept his attention strictly focused on his cell phone. There was no slack in his jaw.

  “I have no idea,” he answered with little interest.

  “I bid you all welcome,” a man’s voice suddenly broke the silence in the room. I couldn’t help myself and jumped as the voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Furtively glancing around the perimeter of the room, I couldn’t see or detect any speakers. When my eyes alit on the shelves of books, I didn’t see any speakers there either. I shrugged and figured the voice was probably coming to us via magic, somehow. I briefly looked at the others, only to find them just as surprised as I was.

  “Thank you,” Jax said before clearing his throat. He suddenly seemed uncomfortable, as if he weren’t sure which part of the room he should address.

  Another lapse of silence descended from the other party, and we all just looked at one another in apprehensive expectation.

  “Explain to me this: why is she dressed that way?” the voice suddenly boomed out. Anyone could sense the anger brewing in the tone of his words. No one replied, but they all looked at me, as if just noticing for the first time that my oversized T-shirt was the only thing I wore. Personally speaking, however, I was more than slightly alarmed that whomever the voice belonged to was able to see me, since as far as I could tell, there was no one else but us in the room. Then, I deduced this was probably just another example of powerful magic. Either that, or we were being captured on video.

  “Why was the fairy carried in? And more importantly, why does she appear to be wounded?” the voice inquired, its pitch rising with increasing irritation.

  “She has lost some blood, sir,” Jax started to explain in an unsteady voice.

  “What happened to her?” the voice demanded.

  “The vampire,” Jax began to reply.

  “Stand at attention whilst you address me!” the voice roared, and Jax instantaneously leapt to his feet. I noticed Jax refused to look at any of us and stared only forward, looking toward the bay window seat.

  “My deepest apologies, master,” Jax said, dropping his head in deference as he spoke. It was a role I’d never seen him play, but one that thrilled me, all the same.

  “Explain the current aggrieved state of the prisoner,” the voice said, this time more coolly.

  “The vampire nearly drained her,” Jax started to answer.

  “Only because you starved him and then placed me in the same room with him!” I yelled defensively. I was more than angry that Jax would even dare to blame Bram for something he, himself, orchestrated. “Bram would never have done that to me of his own free will!”

  Jax pierced me with a murderous expression, but I didn’t give a shit anymore. Whomever the Darkness was, he would only hear the truth from me.

  “Explain why her face is so bruised and her lip has been torn,” the voice ordered. “And why is she wearing nothing more than a man’s large T-shirt?”

  “You authorized the use of force and punishment,” Jax replied, his own voice suggesting his heretofore undisclosed anger. “I was merely following your orders, my lord.”

  “Those were in regard to the vampire only, you idiotic fool!” the voice bellowed, and we all jumped collectively in our startled response. “Your express instructions were never to harm the girl!”

  As soon as the room grew silent again, the double doors opened, revealing another woman dressed in the same maid’s uniform as the first. She entered the room, keeping her eyes fastened on me. Without sparing even the slightest glance to anyone else, she stopped walking as soon as she stood directly in front of me. Then she extended her hand, and I briefly debated as to whether or not I should take it. However, after reasoning that the Darkness seemed less keen with regard to inflicting more pain and suffering on me than Jax did, I accepted her proffered hand.

  My wings immediately began flapping underneath my T-shirt. The woman simply glanced at them and shook her head. Miraculously, my wings calmed down just as quickly as they started. I couldn’t deny my utter amazement. No one had ever been able to control my wings, and least of all, me! The maid tightened her hold on my hand, and despite all my shock and disbelief, I began to float up into the air. I tried to sense my wings, to see if they were somehow flapping again and making me airborne, but they weren’t. Whatever was lifting us at present was entirely the maid’s doing. I tried to read her but found I couldn’t even tell what type of creature she was. It was as if I were encountering a wall. Interesting …

  Regardless of my bewilderment, she continued to hold my hand, and I floated about three feet or higher off the floor. She led me out of the room and we started across the vestibule until we reached the hallway. Then she made a right and headed toward the staircase.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly. My heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was thumping against my ribs, and I was more than nervous since I didn’t know what to expect. Never mind that I wasn’t exactly dressed for combat, and obviously, in no shape to defend myself, if the need arose.

  The woman did not bother to glance back at me as she started up the stairs, still holding my hand with hers while grasping the banister with her other hand. “I am taking you to your room. There you may find a clean change of clothing and a bath, which will restore you and make you more comfortable,” she told me in a singsong voice as we reached the top of the stairs.

  “Restore me? To what?” I asked, having never heard of any bathtub that would do that, even a magical one, and growing, quite naturally, suspicious. Despite my current ease and slight relaxation, I had to remind myself that even if the Darkness was showing me some level of courtesy, I was still being held a prisoner in the home of my enemy.

  “The bath will restore your health to you, madam,” the maid tersely answered as she led me to the first door we encountered in the upstairs hallway. Stopping outside the door, the maid fished inside her pocket before she produced a skeleton key. Then, after she unlocked the door and opened it wide, she turned toward me and smiled, pulling me inside “my room.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dulcie

  The bedroom was surprisingly well appointed and featured a showy canopy bed, covered by a navy blue velvet duvet. More than half of the mattress was obscured by all the satin and silk pillows on top of it. They came in all shapes, sizes and colors, and made the bed look like a rainbow had thrown up all over it. The four floor-to-ceiling windows were also sheltered from the outside sun by plantation shutters, very similar to those in the library downstairs. Similarly, these windows also featured valences atop the shutters; this time, set in a cornflower blue with a dark stripe that matched the duvet co
ver. Hmm, so the Darkness seemed to favor a Better Homes and Gardens approach to interior design. Interesting …

  “Whoever owns this place doesn’t seem particularly fond of sunlight,” I observed as my eyes instantly settled on the copper tub in the center of the room. It was filled nearly to the top with what I assumed was ordinary water. The tub seemed so out of place, sitting in the middle of the bedroom, rather than in a bathroom, but I didn’t care enough to even comment. It was already more than clear to me that the Darkness definitely had eccentric taste, and this old, outdated house that he used at his headquarters was true to form.

  “No, madam,” the maid replied with a self-conscious giggle. She only released my hand when I was floating right above the bed. Gracefully, I drifted down onto the sumptuous mattress. Meanwhile, she went about the room, closing all of the shutters, ostensibly for my privacy and Puritan sense of modesty.

  Once she finished her task, she returned to the beautiful, gleaming tub. Dropping her elbow inside it, she tested the temperature of the water. When she looked back at me, she began to smile and even opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but the expression was instantly washed right off her face. Seconds later, her irises rolled back into her head until her eyes were completely white. It looked like she could have been having a seizure. Concerned, and at the same time appalled, I leaned forward and gripped one of the canopy railings. I attempted to hoist myself up and onto my feet as my wings fluttered to assist me. But before I could do that, she suddenly spoke.

  “I must apologize for the rough treatment you received while in the custody of Rochefort,” she said, and her voice sounded like her own but somehow, the cadence and the tone were very different—she was much more confident and commanding in her speech.

  “I … I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I replied. It took me a few seconds to catch my breath after the jolt of watching her eyes roll back in her head, and then the energy it took to attempt to stand up. I could only stare at her with incredulity, while trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Her eyes were still all white, with the colored irises rolled back into her head, but she didn’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort otherwise. As far as I could tell she didn’t, anyway …

  “I am but one person, and although I command the laws and regulations of this operation, I cannot wield my control to some of those beneath me at all times, unfortunately,” she explained.

  “Wait,” I started and I held my hand up. I wasn’t sure if she could even see me with her eyes looking as they were, but by the time that thought occurred to me, I’d already waved at her. “You’re the leader? You’re the Darkness?” I asked, motioning to her maid’s uniform with a perplexed expression on my face. I just couldn’t understand why the mind of this grandiose organization would parade in front of others like a simple maid. “But … but you’re dressed like a house servant?”

  “I can see that you are utterly confused,” she responded with a small, understanding smile. “Allow me to clarify the situation.” Then she took a deep breath that seemed more for show than anything else. “Yes, you are speaking to head of the Rebellion, I must confess. I have been dubbed the Darkness, which is an appellation I must admit I find quite fitting,” she replied. Her face and body were still in a catatonic state, and she was just standing there as still as a board; only her mouth moved. “But this, what you see, is not my true form.”

  “Then how,” I started but soon frowned. It was only then that I realized my wings had actually calmed down. They were lying placidly folded against my back. Maybe it was because I was still so weak, and my physical frailty affected my wings as well. If so, at least there was one positive feature to the situation.

  “I am able to speak through the creatures in my employ,” she interrupted. “I merely borrow their voices and bodies temporarily … and with their consent, of course.”

  “And you do that through magic, I’m guessing?”

  “Precisely!” the maid responded triumphantly. Now, I could only wonder whether the Darkness possessed his own magic, or did he just employ someone else who possessed magical skills and abilities? It was an important delineation too; those who possessed their own magic were decidedly more powerful than those who did not.

  “Is what you’re doing now causing that woman any pain or discomfort?” I inquired as my eyes honed in on the maid’s eyes, whose pupils and irises remained invisible and rolled back in her head. I could only imagine the headache she might have once her body was restored to her.

  “No, no pain or discomfort,” she responded. “In general, I try to avoid hurting any of those loyal to me or my mission.”

  I wasn’t sure how to read that comment since I obviously wasn’t loyal to him or his mission, but I eventually decided to shelve it for the time being. It was far more important for me to better understand just who and what the Darkness was or represented. “So … you borrow the bodies of other people and creatures in order to avoid being seen in your true form?” I asked as I wondered what type of creature he could be. “Are you a spirit or something intangible like that?” I asked as I studied the maid with narrowed eyes. If that were the case, then the Darkness was nothing more than a specter or a disembodied ghost. Of course, it certainly necessitated that he appear by borrowing the bodies of others. Specters, in general, were not usually considered terrible threats, but I knew stories of an odd poltergeist or two who became a force for others to contend with. Nonetheless, the whole endeavor sounded very odd to me.

  “No, I am not a spirit,” the maid answered, and I could sense some amusement lacing her tone. “And, yes, the only reason I assume the form of others is to avoid being seen in my true form.”

  “Why don’t you want anyone to see you in your true form?”

  “I am afraid that is a very long and involved answer.”

  “I have plenty of time,” I said with mock conviction as I crossed my arms over my chest. If there were truly no way of escaping, (and right now, it didn’t seem there was), the next best thing I could do was gain valuable information. And as much of it as I could. Besides, I was in no rush to be reunited with Jax and his crew of deplorables. Sure, the Darkness was obviously the larger threat, but so far, I could say in all honesty that I preferred his company to that of the egomaniacal sadist downstairs.

  “Are you familiar with Machiavelli?” the maid asked, throwing me for a loop slightly.

  “Um, only in as much as I know he was a prince,” I answered with a quick shrug. “But it’s not like I collected or studied his writings at length or anything.”

  “Very good,” the maid answered quickly, and I thought to myself how odd it felt to carry on a conversation with someone that had no irises or pupils. “In Machiavelli’s book, The Prince, he presents the concept that as a leader, it is better to be feared than to be loved by your people, if you cannot be both.”

  “I remember that quote!” I replied while thinking to myself that I never realized the concept had come from Machiavelli. Not that it really mattered, but anyhoo …

  “In this instance, I must realize that it is not possible for me to be both feared and loved by my people. I am respected, yes, but I cannot be feared as well as loved,” the maid continued. “Thus, after many years of thought and self-reflection, I arrived at the conclusion that Machiavelli is absolutely correct, and it is vastly better to be feared.”

  “But why?”

  “Love is an internal, very flighty and very fickle emotion. You can practically turn it off or turn it on. Love comes and goes and comes again,” the maid explained, and I found I had no argument for her. Although I considered the love I had for Knight to be eternal and all-encompassing, I also had to recognize that such wasn’t the case for all people in romantic relationships. “Fear, on the other hand,” she continued, “is an external emotion which automatically makes it much more predictable. Whereas lovers may love each other on one day, the very next day it is always possible that they could hate each other.
Fear, however, does not vanish so easily; not if your character remains the same.” So, the Darkness relied on logic not emotion; never mind if it was Machiavelli’s logic originally. Regardless, his casual manner in discussing this subject left me feeling very concerned because it was fairly apparent that the Darkness was as cold, calculating and devoid of emotional empathy as a robot.

  “Then you consider not showing your face to those who obey your commands as nothing more than a fear tactic?” I asked, trying to clarify the intention of the Darkness to make sure I understood him fully.

  “What do you fear most?” the maid replied. “That which you can see? Or that which you cannot see?”

  “That which I cannot see,” I answered as soon as I considered it. Even in the realm of police work, the scariest situations were always those that were the most unpredictable.

  “There is a very good reason that all tales of horror take place in the darkness, rather than during the light of day. Since the dawning of mankind, the darkness is what we fear the most. It casts shadows, and it hides the truth. Darkness does not reveal its truest nature, it lies and it shields itself. The darkness is that which you cannot see, that which can harm you, and kill you even, without you ever knowing it is lurking there.”

  “So you hide your face and your true identity from your minions, because you think that causes them to fear you?”

  “Keeping my minions in a state of ignorance as to my identity and powers is elevating in itself. They never know what their leader looks like, nor where he is at a given time, not to mention what shape he can adopt. That is intimidating, no?” the maid responded. Without waiting for me to reply, she continued. “Would you not incessantly be looking over your shoulder? And would you not be much more careful in whom you choose to place your trust? Would you not work even harder if you worried that your boss could be peering over your shoulder at any given moment?”