by Mike Smith
“Lucifer?” Jessica inquired, trying hard to supress a laugh, remembering the first time that she’d seen him. Lucifer seemed a very appropriate name, as she had indeed thought of him as coming from the spawn of Satan.
“His Lordship named him as such. I can’t say that I really approve,” the woman sniffed. Suddenly her eyes widened as if she had remembered something important, before attempting a very, wobbly, curtsey. “My apologies, my Lady. My name is Mary, I’m the housekeeper and cook for his Lordship.”
“Lordship?” Jessica echoed, confused.
“Why yes, Lord Greystone. Don’t you remember, my dear? The young master did mention that you’d had a bit of a fall prior to coming here. Why, you were soaking wet when you arrived. Luckily I managed to find something appropriate for you to wear, and got you right out of those wet things, before you caught your very death of cold. You must have been exhausted from all your travels; you never even stirred once, you poor thing. So I put you straight to bed, although the master insisted that I put you in his bedroom, he hadn’t warned me about any guests, so I hadn’t had a chance to make up the guest room….”
Jessica could only stare open mouthed at the housekeeper, Mary, being unable to get a word in edgeways as she followed behind. Jessica was most looking forward to meeting his Lordship.
Again.
*****
“I’m delighted that you finally decided to grace us with your presence,” Alex growled looking up from the now cold breakfast. “After all it’s now practically noon!” he exclaimed looking up, as she took a step into the brightly lit breakfast room. He could only stare at her. Why was he constantly being tortured like this? Forced to look upon her in various stages of undress? This time she was wearing a satin dressing gown that barely reached her knees, with a tantalising hint of a rose silk negligee peeking out from underneath.
“Mary,” he yelled before his errant housekeeper could make good her escape. “I thought that I ordered you to find some appropriate sleeping clothes for Lady Jessica?”
“I did as you ordered my Lord. Fortunately, I managed to find something in one of the chests, leftover from his previous Lordship. I thought it most appropriate for the Lady and luckily the fit was just about right. I’ll find her some more clothes later, while we wait for her own luggage to arrive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my Lord, I have some fresh bread in the oven and I’ll serve it shortly. Certainly the Lady could do with some. My goodness, don't they serve food where you come from?” with that she hurriedly disappeared through the doors towards the kitchen.
From Alex’s perspective, it seemed as if she was fleeing before he could continue the inquisition. Sighing, he turned back to Jessica, swallowing hard, trying not to let his gaze linger. Privately he was in complete agreement with Mary. The clothes fitted perfectly. Moulding themselves to her body, accentuating every curve. They would be perfect, perhaps for their wedding night? He could just imagine peeling them off her and had to swallow, as his mouth suddenly felt dry.
No way could he sit across a breakfast table with her dressed like that. Her eyes still sleepy, hair sticking out in all directions. He had brought her here to protect her and, at this rate, she was in far more danger from him, than anybody else.
“Please excuse Mary,” he apologised. “It’s not her fault. She didn’t have any advanced warning of your arrival and I—she, wanted to get you out of your wet clothes. Have something to eat, as you must be famished. I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but we don’t have much here. There’s water to drink, or you are welcome to some wine?” He motioned towards the two dust-covered bottles, wincing. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was trying to get her intoxicated. Pushing her gently into one of the vacant seats, he retook his seat on the other side of the table, looking at her with a worried expression, as she still hadn’t said a word.
“You shot me.”
“Yes,” Alex acknowledged, as first words went, this was not a promising start. “I would hasten to add that it was your idea.”
“I still can’t believe that you actually did it, and with a fusion pistol too. But why am I still alive?” she frowned. “I should be dead.”
“I can quite reassure you, you’ll be perfectly fine, or at least nothing that a good meal won’t cure. You’re far too thin,” he added disapprovingly, neatly side-stepping the question of what exactly he’d done, and how.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed at the hint of criticism, but let the comment pass for now. “So what happens now? Mary seems to be under the misconception that I’m here as your guest. I’m nothing of the sort. As I clearly remember refusing to go anywhere with you. That makes you a kidnapper and me your captive. Besides, my father and betrothed will be looking for me. Neither will rest until they find me and when they do…” she trailed off, with a self-satisfied grin.
“Betrothed?” Alex asked curiously, with a raised eyebrow. He had studied the detailed dossier on this woman carefully and absolutely nowhere did it mention a husband-to-be. Perhaps this was a recent development?
“Yes, my betrothed,” Jessica smirked. “You might have heard of him before, High-Lord Stanton?”
Alex’s hand froze as he reached out for some bread, for a moment he thought that he must have misheard, his mind playing tricks on him. But, thinking back carefully, she did indeed mention Stanton. His next thought was that this was just some cunning ploy on her behalf, to try and rattle him, but how? There was no possible way that she could ever know their history, or mutual loathing.
Mistaking his sudden hesitation as a sign of apprehension, Jessica continued on, confidently. “He’s extremely powerful you know and very quick to anger. He will take my kidnapping personally and nothing is beyond his power, or reach. He will find you, hunt you down and when he does…” again she trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat lingering, menacingly, in the air.
Alex meanwhile couldn’t take his eyes off her, suddenly seeing her in a completely different light. Stanton’s fiancée was sitting in his very room, just across the table from him, having been dropped into his lap, like a gift from the Gods. Perhaps this was in recognition for everything that had gone wrong in his life, up until now, a reward for every time that he’d been wronged, or unjustly punished. He couldn’t help himself, but lean back in his chair and laugh.
How glorious was divine retribution?
He had imagined the very many ways that he could take his revenge on Stanton. For every one of those days that he’d been caged, alone in the pitch-darkness, he’d imagined a different way. Yet, never in his wildest dreams had he thought that it would take the form of a raven haired, blue-eyed beauty, sitting across from him. He would take great delight in tearing off her alluring lingerie, as he plundered her mouth—
But as soon as the idea came to him, he dismissed it, along with his laughter, still ringing with the hint of madness. Yes, he deserved justice, if not vengeance for what Stanton had done to him and those he had loved, but not at any price. Certainly not at the price of some innocent girl, who had no way to defend herself. He would be no better than Stanton himself. Taking something that didn’t belong to him, using it, and then simply discarding it.
Suddenly he didn’t want to be here, sitting across the table, making small talk with this woman that belonged to him. So standing up, he turned his back on her, instead looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up one side of the brightly lit breakfast room. Looking out across the overgrown lawns, the weeds and flowers fighting for dominance, the once immaculate lawns, now all but gone.
It was a sad reminder, which perfectly reflected his own decline.
“I look forward to High-Lord Stanton’s arrival, we can renew old acquaintances,” Alex uttered between clenched teeth, his hand resting on his fusion pistol. Yes, he would look forward to seeing Stanton again. He would send him straight back to hell, where he’d obviously been spawned.
“You know, High-Lord Stanton?” Jessica asked, for the first time sinc
e she walked into the room, a note of pleading in her voice. “What type of man is he? The betrothal agreement was signed by our parents, over fifty years ago. My older brother was meant to marry, but after his death…well, it fell upon me. I’ve only met him once, a few years ago, when the agreement was renewed. Please, if you know of him, tell me?”
Alex had to close his eyes, and his heart, to the pleading in her voice. What could he tell her? That Stanton was a coward, and a monster? A man that took great delight in using his power to obtain whatever he wanted and likewise destroy anything, and anybody, who stood in his way. As for his regard to women? Alex could still clearly remember that dark night, Stanton’s hands around Becca’s throat, squeezing, but more than that the look in his eyes, the pleasure that he got from the pain that he was inflicting…
“I don’t know him that well,” he choked, the lie stuck in his throat. He wanted as little to do with the vile man as possible. “You’ll have to talk to your father, I’m certain High-Lord Hadley knows him better than I.” Or possibly not, Alex mused, for if Hadley did indeed know Stanton, he wouldn’t let his daughter anywhere near the bastard.
“Well, I can hardly ask him now, what with you holding me here, against my will, as a prisoner in your own home, now can I?”
“You’re not a prisoner,” Alex replied unthinkingly. “While you remain here, you’ll be treated as an honoured guest—under my personal protection.”
“I’ve already declined that invitation, several times in fact. Hence as an honoured guest, there is nothing to stop me leaving then. Good day, my Lord.” With those parting words, Jessica abruptly stood and, without even a backwards glance, strode from the room.
She was therefore denied the opportunity of watching Alex bang his head, repeatedly, against the wall, from his choice of words.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Alex pointed his finger at Lucifer, who had looked up from his bone, watching as Jessica had made her dramatic exit, before giving his master a reproachful glare. It was that look that Alex was rebuking. “Anyway, it’s hardly as if she’s going to get far. The city is over ten kilometres distant. I doubt that she’s ever had to walk more than a few hundred metres in her life, she’s hardly dressed for a journey.” That thought brought him up short, as he suddenly remembered how she had looked arriving at breakfast, with the sleep tousled expression and that wrap that barely covered her at all. Suddenly he was incensed at the thought of anybody else seeing her like that. Striding from the room to bring her back, or at least find her some clothes, he was suddenly running out of the room when he heard her shrill scream.
A cry full of fear and terror.
*****
He was at her side less than a minute later, as she’d hardly gotten far. Only a couple of metres beyond the main door in fact. He found her curled up in a foetal ball on the ground, trembling like a leaf. His first instinct was that she’d hurt herself, or had somehow been hurt. However, a quick check for any injuries soon dispelled that notion, but something must have terrified her beyond reason, as she didn’t react in any form or manner to his hands running along the length of her body, touching her all over. If anything, she only seemed to retreat further inside herself, curling more tightly into a ball.
Alex looked up in frustration, trying to understand what could have frightened her so. This woman who, when faced with a knife wielding stranger late at night in her own bedroom, reacted with fury and not the slightest sense of trepidation. But everything was still and calm, with no hint of any visible danger. The sun was well into the sky, as she had slept late, her nervous system still recovering from the effects of the low-intensity fusion beam that had hit her. The sun was far smaller than on Osiris, as Arcturus was further away from its star, yet he couldn’t believe that would have terrified her so. In fact, the only reason that Arcturus was habitable, was from the massive geothermal energy produced from its core. For Arcturus wasn’t a planet at all, but instead a massive moon orbiting a gas giant. It was one of twelve moons, but the rest were far smaller; The resulting lower gravity didn’t allow for any water to be present and therefore the others were all barren, desolate, moons. Looking up he could make out the massive shape of the gas giant hanging low in the sky; so large it took up most of the skyline, a colossal orb hanging there, seemingly ready to fall at any moment, and crush—
Suddenly he knew exactly what had frightened her so badly, for he had a similar reaction when he had first visited Arcturus. His reaction had not been so intense, more an instinctive urge to flinch away every time he’d caught sight of the gas giant. Now that he knew the root cause of her fear, at least he could try and help.
“Jessica, it’s me Alex,” at this he laughed remembering that they still had not been formally introduced. Wondering what it was about their relationship that meant they always seemed to fight instead. Filing that strange thought, to be examined more closely at another time, he turned his focus back on her, running his hand softly against her back, in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, before continuing on. “Keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice, feel my touch. You’re safe here; there is nothing to harm you. Feel the warm sun on your skin, the air filling your lungs, taste it as you breathe in, and out. You’re perfectly safe here, there is nothing to hurt you.” He kept repeating these same platitudes until thankfully, after a few minutes, he felt her start to relax. Taking a seat on the grass next to her he continued to reassure her, pulling her into his arms and holding her as if she were a delicate figurine. When he noticed her eyelids start to flutter open for the first time, he touched her chin, angling her head down and closer, until they were face to face. If he so wished, he could lean forward ever so slightly to touch her lips but, instead, just waited patiently for her to open her eyes, looking directly into his.
“No,” he scolded gently when he observed her eyes drift upwards towards the sky. “Look at me and listen.” He then proceeded to recite to her the full history of Arcturus and the surrounding System but, at all times, taking care to never mention any actual names. At some point in the future she would return to her family and he didn’t want her father’s battle fleets descending upon his home. Without thinking, as he proceeded to describe the planetary layout, he leaned back onto the grass until she was looking down at him, her eyes far from the enormous giant looming above them.
As the story finally drew to a close, silence engulfed them and Alex offered to take her back inside but not for the first time, she surprised him, by shaking her head. “I want to see it,” she insisted.
“Then do so slowly, take your time, allow yourself to adjust to the size of it,” Alex whispered hoarsely. Jessica meanwhile tipped her head backwards and at her sudden indrawn breath, he clasped her hand tightly, anchoring her to him.
“It's beautiful,” she whispered in awe.
Lying in the long grass, with her close to him, staring up with such childish delight on her face at the vista above, Alex couldn’t agree more. It was the most beautiful sight that he’d ever seen and made no move to interrupt it.
Chapter Seven
You don’t realise how much you take for granted, until you’re deprived of it. Light, touch, taste, smell—even simple conversation. Beauty is all around us, yet we’re blind to it.
I now live in a state of constant, total, amazement.
—From the journal of Lord Alexander Greystone
“A cloaking device,” Alex replied looking at Professor Alcubierre sceptically. “That is what you are working on?” The two of them had fallen into a comfortable routine, meeting up for an early dinner, followed by a couple of glasses of whiskey, whilst talking late into the night.
It had been several months since their first meeting, when the Professor or, Henry, as he insisted on being called, had finally confided in the purpose of his work.
“You almost sound disappointed,” Henry noticed with a grin.
“Maybe a little,” Alex confessed. “Your inventions are astonishing; the quantum entanglemen
t scanner, orbital ion defence satellites, fusion pistols, I just expected something a little more…”
Henry laughed, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip from the cut glass tumbler, obviously savouring the fine malt whiskey, before eying the younger man across the table. “But it’s not just any cloaking device,” he added enigmatically.
“I don’t understand.”
“Metamaterials, optical camouflage, Retro-Reflective projection, they’ve all been tried before and they’re good, but not perfect. The people who built those were clever, but limited, constrained by their own imagination. Never cage your imagination my boy, let it run wild and soar freely, for if you can imagine something, then you’re already halfway there. I envisaged the perfect cloak; totally undetectable, able to go anywhere, do anything and yet remain completely invisible across all the spectrums. Think beyond what has gone before, forget metamaterials or active camouflage, instead consider quantum physics, string theory, and multiple dimensional trans-location, let your imagination take flight.”
“Then why are we still sitting here? Why haven’t you taken the final step and finished it?” Alex asked puzzled.
Suddenly Henry leaned forward across the table, with a strange expression on his face, the likes of which Alex had never seen before. “Because I have one final problem to grapple with, one that I cannot seem to overcome.”
“What problem?”
Henry eyed him warily for a moment and instead replied with a question of his own. “What if I built such a device? Something to render a ship, a dozen, hundreds, completely and totally invisible. What would be the consequences?”
Alex fell silent, glancing into his glass, his thoughts blending together, merging just like the colours in his glass, thinking back to a time when such questions held real meaning. “First strikes without any forewarning? No time to organise any sort of defence or counter-attack? You would have to be constantly on guard, always at a high state of readiness, massive entrenched defences, thousands bearing arms, hundreds of thousands constantly ready for such a surprise attack. A massive increase in defence spending, expansion of all arms of the military, a powder keg just waiting for a spark…”
