“We will leave this place as soon as you are well. I have already found a beautiful house for us far away. I wanted it to be a surprise but now, well, now you just concentrate on getting better then we can leave this place behind.”
“Leave my family behind?” She whispered softly closing her eyes.
“Think of the good memories Emrah, when we were all great friends and your father was healthy and not prone to evil gossip from jealous workers. We will only take the good memories, when you are well, we will leave.”
But Emrah never recovered and to the shock and heartbreak of her husband, passed away a few short days later. The cruelness and conniving of her family, coupled with her delicate health was just too much for Emrah. The funeral was small, but a great spectacle with accusations hurled at Fredrick right up until the actual interment. Blinded by his pain and tears, the harsh words that were hurled at him had no effect. It was only little Etrigan that did not understand why these people were being so mean to his Papa.
As he stared down at his wife’s coffin, the dirt being poured over it, thoughts of a different life played over and over in his mind.
If only he had not been cursed by these genes coursing through his body!
If not for his genes, his wife would have not had so many miscarriages, instead they would have been born healthy children, normal children. Emrah’s family would not have withdrawn the way they did and everyone still be close, happy and normal.
Normal, what is normal? Wasn’t it enough that we were happy, the three of us? Fredrick thought holding his sons small hand by the graveside.
Maidstone did this to you Fredrick, they ruined your parent’s life and now they are ruining your life. Your son is born disfigured and now because of the ruling of the Grand Council, no plastic surgery can be performed unless it is to save a life, and even then the Grand Council has to know about it. So now they are ruining his life and any chance that he may have to live a normal life.
Fredrick wondered why the Grand Council would decree that all cosmetic surgery was banned. Yes, they had their propaganda machine sending robotic messengers to everyone’s door, “Natural you is beautiful you”. But as he thought about it more, in regards to his own past and his son, he wondered if the Grand Council knew about him escaping the mines. If you were to go in for a surgical procedure, especially an unusual one like the removal of wings, the Grand Council would be notified. Only it was not he that had wings but his son, it skipped a generation. Fredrick looked down at the little raven haired boy with deep blue eyes that clung to his hand. Etrigan feeling his father’s gaze upon him looked up at him not understanding that he had just lost his mother.
“It’s only you and I now, my little man.” Fredrick said taking his son up into his arms and walking away forever from the life he once had.
Desolation
The town of Desolation was once a quaint community of charming, pre Great War tract houses with large yards. Its name, before the Great War, had been Scottsdale, but the Grand Council found it necessary to change it to suit their needs. Desolation was the only town that was close to the Maidstone mines that had not been razed by the Grand Council. While far enough from the evil chemicals that the Grand Council said was in the mining area to be safe, people were warned to go no further than Desolation. Desolation received no grant funds for upkeep for its many roads or parks, so naturally it fell to ruin. Cracks in the roadway turned into large pot holes, roots of trees came up through the sidewalks. Many people moved away from Desolation into the other nicer cities that were being renovated during the revival after the war. There were still a hand full of people who chose to stay behind on their land. They saw no evidence of chemical contamination even though they lived so close to the Maidstone mines and they preferred their town quiet.
Fredrick had taken two trains and a carriage to get to Desolation. As he looked around the town he knew that its new name fit it well. The weather was warm as he removed his trademark grey gloves and placed them in his pocket. He had brought only one small bag that he had packed in a rush. Early February in Hartsford was still chilly, while here in Desolation, he wanted to continue to remove clothing. Making his way to what seemed to be a house turned café (or perhaps it was the other way around) Fredrick scanned the dead dry grasses left over from a harsh winter.
“Hey Buddy, can I help you?” Fredrick looked over at an older man who was sitting on the porch of the house turned café. No one had addressed him as “Buddy” before. He recognized it as a long forgotten term used to signify “friend”.
“Ah, yes good day. I was hoping to acquire a room for the night. Might there be somewhere in town where I might find suitable accommodations?” Fredrick did not shake hands with this man since he was unsure of the last time this fellow had bathed. It was obvious this town and small population were cut off from the progressive polite revolution that had overtaken the rest of the world since the war.
“Acquire? You from the bank or the Grand Council? Those people are always coming out here for something.” At the mention of the Grand Council Fredrick’s throat tightened.
“Are you okay?” The old man asked leaning forward on his chair. The old man pushed another chair in Fredrick’s direction, indicating he should sit down on it.
“Yes, thank you.” Fredrick said forgetting about the unkempt appearance of the man.
“Want some water? It ain’t tainted or anything. Here’s a secret, they say that Desolation is tainted but it’s not. We are all fine out here. We grow vegetables and our water source is fine.”
“Thank you, but no. I think I may just be a bit fatigued.” The old man sat back in his chair and cast a curious eye on Fredrick.
“I won’t ask you what you are here for, even though you talk snooty, I know you are not from the crummy council and them banks don’t come out here anymore.” Fredrick listened to him feeling lightheaded from the heat.
“I will tell you this though. There are nothing but ghosts out here. We folk who still live in these houses that are falling down around our ears can deal with the ghosts, but you’re an outsider an’ the way you are looking, well they might just get the better of you.”
“Ghosts you say?” Fredrick said trying to rouse himself but the truth of the matter was the warm weather and this environment was becoming more mentally taxing then he had imagined.
“Not real ghosts, I don’t believe in ‘em, the good Book says in Ecclesiastes 9:10, once you die you are asleep, that’s it. What I mean is memories, memories of what really happened here.”
“That is precisely why I came here. I have some old ghosts I have to work out myself.” The old man nodded and stood up, his ancient stiff overalls remaining creased as he did.
“Then you can stay here as long as you like, while you work through them.”
“Thank you, I can pay you in advance if you wish.” Fredrick said still attempting to get a handle on the lightheaded feeling. He reached in to his breast pocket to take out his payment card, but the old timer waved it away.
“I can’t process that. The last time I used money was when it came in paper form and had pictures of dead men on it. You can stay here for free. I have a spare bedroom, nothing fancy, but you’re welcome to it. Truth be told, when I saw you step out of that carriage I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
“When you saw me?” Fredrick asked. A veil went over the old man’s eyes and Fredrick thought he would not speak anymore about it but he did.
“A friend I used to know, a long time ago. He died in a mining accident, then his wife just up and disappeared. Left the house in the middle of the night. If he would have had a son, he would have looked just like you, same eyes, but they didn’t have any children. Good thing too, since the war broke out. Anyhow enough of that, come in here and see your digs.”
Fredrick had felt his heart beating faster as the old man spoke. He knew that he was speaking of his father and his mother. He followed the man in to his house and was led in to a spare be
droom. He knew that there was really nothing more the old man could tell him. Fredrick knew well the town’s history and of course the hidden history of the Maidstone mines. He had come here to finally do what he should have done years ago. Thinking back to yesterday morning when he left Westwind, seeing Claren’s confused face he knew that something had to change. He was sorry he had not told Etrigan goodbye but he knew Etrigan’s stubborn nature would not have let Fredrick leave so easily without an explanation. But how could Fredrick explain something that he has tried to shield Etrigan from all his life?
After he had moved away with Etrigan to Westwind, he devoted his life to the child. Still grieving his wife, he spent the next few years with their child. Sparing no expense in an attempt to make him a well adjusted child. Of course it was to no avail since Etrigan was so isolated from others he could never become well adjusted. When Fredrick realized that Etrigan would never have a normal life, never marry and have his own children, a seed, small black and hard began to form in Fredrick’s mind. Eventually this seed grew bigger and moved into Fredrick’s heart. This seed was a hate so strong it began to overtake his every waking moment.
He began to constantly think of revenge against Maidstone Industries and the people who were responsible. As he watched his son mature and draw away from him, Fredrick did not blame him, but Maidstone and the Maidstone family. He tried to explain to Etrigan why he had wings but only briefly told him the family history, careful not to betray too much to his young son.
He did not want Etrigan to be consumed with hate as he himself was. Therefore he kept much of the past hidden. He knew that the Maidstone family could not have acted alone in their wicked dealings, since such an operation would have had to involve the Grand Council’s approval, but for now he chose to zero in on the Maidstone family. Through his research, as he plotted revenge, he was drawn to one person time and time again, Claren’s grandfather. He was disgusted that he was touted as such a righteous person that donated so much of his fortune for the good of the world. Those ill gotten gains were obtained by lives, the lives of the miners. When he found out that Claren’s grandfather had already been dead several years, he felt defeated again. But hate and revenge have a way of reviving and he chose instead to look at Claren’s parents.
Fredrick had set himself up in a brownstone close to Claren’s aunt after obtaining information on the family. He wanted to become close to the family to be able to bring it down from within. What the private investigators failed to tell him was that this aunt was not on friendly terms with the Maidstones, so he found himself back at the beginning again. He continued to uphold a dialog with the aunt, until she gradually became more ill. He had offered to have her stay on with him at the brownstone, but she had told him her niece, Claren Maidstone, was coming to look after her. The intrigued Fredrick grew curious to see what the youngest Maidstone looked like. He once stayed hidden in the shadows across the street watching Claren from afar. He finally felt like he was getting somewhere. After the death of Claren’s aunt, Fredrick investigated Claren and her family more. Despite himself, he seemed to be drawn to this small family and continued to wrestle with his feelings. As he watched the family, he saw a regular visitor to the home, Kurten Wandsworth, which he quickly engaged as an information gatherer.
He found Kurten quite disagreeable and loathed to use him for information while he decided on his next move. The deaths of Claren’s parents were quite unexpected and Fredrick found himself at a shocking impasse. Since coming into contact with Claren’s family, there had already been three deaths. Was Fredrick, by his very thoughts of revenge, responsible? Had somehow his hateful thoughts gone out in to the cosmos and carried out the plans that lay deep in his heart? He was crushed with guilt as he attended the funeral of Claren’s parents from afar. He saw the slight girl tremble as she wore a brave mask. He thought of his own parents and being left without them. Fredrick acted impulsively and went to find Claren, but she had already fled, her reputation now being ruined in the papers by the mayor of St. Marhen, Kurten Wandsworth’s father.
Realizing that he risked exposure, Fredrick decided to pull back and hope that his ad would draw Claren to him. It was a long shot but it was the only one he had available to him. She was a fugitive on the run and no one had the slightest idea of where she would turn up. When she finally did turn up at his door, he was happy to find her safe and only wanted to protect her, but in his darkest moments a voice of long ago would whisper to him of revenge. He now had the only living relative of the Maidstone empire in his home. Like a man wrestling with an actual physical foe, Fredrick fought with his personal demons and desire for revenge. One moment, finding good in Claren and seeing that she was incapable of doing harm to anyone, the next comparing her to her grandfather who was renowned for his good works yet responsible for so much pain. He wanted more time with Claren there in North Alcott, to find out who she really was before proceeding. He was a man that was forever plagued with doubts.
When the harsh sunlight broke in to his room in the old home in Desolation, Fredrick winced. It was almost as it was all those years ago when he had come out of the mines. He had to wait hours in pain at the entrance before his eyes semi adjusted to the bright light. Now he felt searing pain in his head. He felt in some masochistic way that he deserved the pain. Dressing quickly without checking his appearance he began his hike to the tunnel exit where he had first stepped out into sunlight.
Secrets
Claren lay in her bed wanting to cry, but her tears would not come. She felt horrified that Etrigan thought she was only brought to Westwind to be his paid companion. She knew that he would not believe her, that she was victim of circumstance and had no intention of ever hurting him. He had been the one bright spot for her since coming to Westwind. While she was grateful to Mr. Lowood for taking her in, his moodiness always made her feel off balance. With Etrigan, he was what you saw, straight forward and honest. He did not want her there at first and was a scoundrel but something had changed. Her feelings for him had grown to the point where she realized she did care what he thought of her. She did not want him to think she was only a opportunist, living off of his father in exchange for…for what?
I wanted, no, needed a friend and Etrigan was there for me. He may have not wanted me in the beginning, but I think he may need me a little now.
Naza lay by her side with a worried look on her face as only a faithful pet can display.
When she heard the knocking at the front door she sat upright.
“Please do not let it be him again.” Claren whispered hoping it was not Kurten, her stomach automatically clenching into a knot. Naza jumped off the bed and sniffed the bottom of the bedroom door. Claren heard Etrigan come out of his room and walk down the hallway. When Naza looked back at Claren, indicating she wanted to go out to investigate with her winged friend, Claren shook her head.
“No, I think it’s best we stay in our room Naza. So many things are happening. Mr. Lowood has left, Kurten has shown up here and Etrigan…” Claren’s voice broke, “Etrigan hates me I think.” Naza padded over to the fireplace which remained unlit and flopped down in a resigned manner. Claren walked to her window to see what she could spy, but only managed to see the shiny top of a black carriage. Kurten, she knew had arrived on a single horse, so perhaps it was not him. She heard voices downstairs but could not make out who they belonged to or what they were saying. Burning with curiosity she removed her shoes and let herself out of her bedroom. After closing the door quietly so that Naza could not follow her, she slid her stockinged feet on the polished wood floor just to the edge of the staircase.
Horace and Dekker were in the foyer speaking excitedly to Etrigan. Etrigan wore a confused look on his face, his wings held in close to his body.
“I don’t understand what you two are saying.” Etrigan said to his companions. Dekker pointed to Horace.
“I’m only getting a sense of it myself, you need him to explain it to you.”
“What
I am asking you Etrigan is, how do you know Claren? Is she really your cousin, by blood or marriage?” Etrigan had been unaware of the lie that had been perpetuated by his father that Claren was his relation.
“No, she is no relative of mine.” He answered flatly.
“Then how do you know her?”
“Through my father, he brought her here one day last year. Does this have something to do with that Kurten fellow coming here today?” Etrigan asked. Dekker and Horace looked at each other bewildered.
“No, I don’t know who that is. Listen Etrigan, have you no idea of why then, your father brought Claren here to Westwind?” Horace asked.
“No, aside from what my father and Claren herself told me.”
“Etrigan, I’ve found out some rather disturbing news. I do not wish to cast your father in a bad light at all, I only wish to understand his motives for bringing Claren here.” Claren watched as a dark shadow fell over Etrigan’s face.
“It seems I can answer this one question for you then. She was brought here to be my paid friend, perhaps akin to a mail order bride of yesteryear. The very thought of it is revolting to me and I no longer wish to speak of it.” Etrigan said angrily, his wings now moving back and forth methodically. Claren pressed herself closer to the wall remorsefully watching Etrigan’s anger.
His Black Wings Page 24
