House of Glass

by Jen Christie

  I wore only a nightgown and clutched the key in my hand.My feet were bare and pounded the grass as I flew over the lawn. Soon there was a shape beside me, a silver-white form. It was the dog that I had seen the other night. I stopped for a moment and patted her head, while she panted wildly.

  I decided to name her Maxie. As I petted her, I noticed her swollen belly. There would be pups soon. I made a mental note to save scraps for her the next time I was outside. She followed me until I reached the cliff and then she ran off.

  The torches on the stairs were still lit and I flew past each one, my gown trailing in the wind behind me. The light of the torches darkened the world outside of their reach, so I could not see beyond my footsteps. I came upon the house suddenly, and it was ghostly in the darkness, almost invisible. It was dark and quiet.

  I lifted my hand and placed it on one of the double doors and when I felt the warmth of the glass, I hurriedly pulled the key from my pocket and slipped it into the door; the sound of the click in the barrel was music to my ears.

  The door opened. The room was lit through the glass by the moon and the world before me looked like it was immersed in a watery pool of silver light. I stepped forward into the room, into the shimmering light, which wound and danced with the darker shadows. I felt as if I were on the bottom of the ocean floor.

  I found a few candles and lit them. The silver tones of the room turned the flames fuzzy, and ringed them in colorful halos of light. A memory came rushing back to me of when I was a small girl and I swam all day in the ocean. That night when I returned to land, my eyes were reddened, and every candle, every light I looked at had a fuzzy outline and a halo, sometimes two or three halos. It was the same effect. I took a few steps and even my footfalls sounded like they were underwater.

  Heading straight to her room, I shed my nightgown as I walked, glad to be free of the simple cotton dress. I was completely nude, the only thing that touched my body was the shell necklace, and I hesitated for only a moment before I slipped it from my neck and dropped it onto my nightgown.

  My steps were purposeful, daring Lucas to jump from the shadows. Daring Celeste to try to stop me. I went to the dress that hung on the wall, the silvery sheen beckoning me. I grabbed it and threw it over my head, and it slid over my body like a second skin.

  I looked in the closet and find a pair of jewel-encrusted heels. The heel was so delicate, so thin, that I was certain it wouldn’t hold me. I put on one shoe then the other, and they fit perfectly. I stood, and once I did every part of my figure was thrust in the right direction. I felt complete. I felt powerful.

  I sauntered into the main room. The light played on my dress, coloring it blue one moment, reddish the next. I noticed the light in the room had changed; it was warmer, more reddish than before.

  It was the light in the house that I loved the most. The realization came to me in a rush. The light changed all the time, but it still illuminated everything, chased away secrets and fears, and distracted the eyes in a million directions. It was addicting.

  I felt a presence and looked up to see Lucas standing there, staring at me openmouthed. I was not at all surprised, but rather thrilled.

  He stood in the doorway, the torches burning behind him. We faced each other and the silence stretched between us.

  Finally, he made a soft noise, almost a laugh, mocking me. “You’re playing a game. A dangerous one.”

  I chose my next words carefully. “I’m not playing.” There was a certainty to my words that I didn’t have a moment before. My eyes, which did not move away from his, proved my point.

  This seemed to inflame him, and his voice was low, but the order carried very clearly across the room. “Take off the dress.”

  “Fine.” I say the word so easily, but still do not move to remove the dress. Rather, I step toward my nightgown, and lean to pick it up.

  “No.”

  I stop and look at him.

  “The dress, take it off. Now.”

  “No.”

  “You sit on my estate, in my wife’s cottage, with her clothes on your skin, and you refuse me?” He stood with the same stance that I remembered from earlier that day, when I was scrubbing the floors.

  Wasn’t he offering me exactly what I wanted?

  I met his gaze, and slowly slid my fingers beneath the strap of the gown. I pushed it from my shoulder and let the silver dress slide across my skin and land in my hand where it pooled loosely. I tossed the dress across the room, and it slid, coming to rest exactly halfway between Lucas and me.

  He was silent, and his eyes were roaming my body, resting on my eyes, and then returning again to my body.

  I took a step in his direction, the heels tapping on the glass as I moved.

  Lucas filled the doorway, his wide shoulders almost touching each side of the frame. His eyes held mine. The desire on his face was obvious.

  I walked right up to him and stood before him. Inches away from him, completely nude. The wind from the open door rushed by my skin. I stood there, just in front of Mr. St. Claire, poised between the glass house and the outside world, flaunting everything, daring him to touch me.

  There was a restrained, almost angry look on his face, as if the slightest touch would unleash a storm.

  I leaned forward and pressed my breasts against him.

  A ferocity came from within him and like a hurricane he slammed into me, pushing me back into the house. We tumbled to the floor. My hands slid under his shirt and I yanked, delighting in my strength when I heard soft pops and the buttons clattering across the floor.

  Then it was his skin against mine. My body arching in response to his touch.

  I noticed that it was night. There is a black sheet of darkness all around the house. With the light from the candles behind us, the glass is suddenly a mirror and I look up to see a reflection of us. I see a thousand reflections of us, one on top of another, images from every angle, of Lucas poised above me, supreme and in control.

  He was behind me, and pulled me upward, watching in the mirror as he dragged his hand across my breasts. “I hate this house,” he said, “but my God you make it worth it.”

  He pushed me forward, to my hands and knees. Every part of me wanted him, was ready for him. He drove into me and the sight of him in the mirror, the perfect planes of his body, all of it made me wild despite the stab of pain I felt.

  He moved faster and faster until, in an agony of pleasure, he grabbed my hips and roared loudly before collapsing on top of me, covering me in his sweat.

  It was as if a brief wild storm had passed over us and then was gone. We were drenched in sweat. The house was so hot I felt almost suffocated, and for the first time, strangely afraid. I could see the faint pink of the sun rising in the east.

  The couches, the tables, everything seemed different with the light of day looming.

  “I have to go,” I said, unsure of so many things.

  He untangled his fingers from my hair.

  There was no time to waste. I really had to go. Dawn was just moments away. I jumped up and ran to my nightgown. As I lifted it over my head, the shell necklace tumbled from inside the folds and clattered to the ground. I quickly tossed the nightgown over my head and scooped up the necklace. As I left I glanced at him, and in my last image of him he was putting on his shirt, watching me with a dark expression on his face.

  Chapter Four

  I was not sure what shocked me more—the fact that I almost lost my life or that Lucas St. Claire showed me a great kindness.

  It was an overcast morning, and dark, fast-moving clouds pushed one after another over the island. There were brief, intense showers all morning, and when the sun finally made an appearance, Mrs. Amber pulled me aside from my duties.

  “Reyna, go to the stables and meet Alexander. There is a boat coming and we need to bring the cart down to the dock.” She paused for a moment. “You can drive a cart, can’t you?”

  “Of course,”

  “The men will unl
oad and load, help if you can, but you’ll need to drive the cart up and down the road all afternoon, if the weather allows it.”

  Alexander was waiting for me at the stable. He was an older man, with rough, tanned hands and white hair. He flashed a gap-toothed smile and led me to the cart. The cart was being pulled by a brown mare. The mare twitched her ears and stomped her feet.

  “You’ll have to nudge her along, she’s stubborn, but she’ll get the job done. Knows the route so well, she could do it in her sleep, so it should be easy for you.”

  He handed me the reins, gave the mare a pat on the rear and we were off. The cart left the open grass of the estate and ambled between the gates and onto the dark road that led down to the water. There was a sweet and damp smell to the road, and I could hear the water dripping from tree leaves in the overgrowth.

  A switchback was just ahead, and as we passed by it, I peeked down the steep ravine below. The land had disappeared into a crevice of small trees and tumbling green vines that led into the shadows. A juvenile fear rose inside me, of falling into that deep and wild space, and I felt my heart beat faster. When another switchback appeared, I looked stoically ahead, refusing to entertain such a foolish thought. There were breaks in the trees and I saw the ocean here and there, and I focused on that instead.

  When I reached the dock, the men were waiting for me. There was a large boat, with many boxes already unloaded, and men were carrying even more down the gangway. I had no idea what was in the boxes, but they were nailed tightly shut and handled with great care. My cart was loaded quickly, and I started back up the hill. The mare was considerably more irritable on the way back to Devlin Manor. More than once, I had to urge her along, clicking at her and rustling the reins. Once the first switchback was behind us, the horse settled into a rhythm and we finally reached the top.

  It still had not rained, and I turned the cart around to head down again.

  The mare was happy with an empty load, and her pace was quick. I am ashamed now to say that I encouraged her, and soon the cart was bouncing along the road. Even though it was summer, my speed was quick enough that the breeze gave me chills on my skin and whistled in my ears. Shadows and sunshine flickered over me until I was almost blind.

  It happened so fast.

  Just before the switchback, a cloud of mist appeared. The appearance of mists in the deep foliage on the mountainside was not unusual, but as my mare and cart passed through it, an uneasy feeling came over me, and just a second later the mare squealed in fear. Later, I would reflect on that experience, on that mist, and mull over the possible causes in my mind, but at that moment, things happened too fast to contemplate.

  The horse panicked and turned sharply. I had only a moment to prepare before the cart slanted over the edge. It was just a minor tilt, and the mare pulled the cart free. But it was too late for me. I went sailing into the air and down into the void of the crevasse.

  Down I went, until the ground exploded beneath me and the vines clamored over me, hungry and clinging, and they swallowed me whole. Everything was dark. Sound was muffled. I screamed like a person trapped alive in a tomb. Pushing, pulling and clawing with my hands, my only thought was to get out of the darkness. But there was nothing, no response, only the indifferent call of the birds to each other. It was too awful and I screamed and clawed at the earth, trying to get free.

  Suddenly there was movement beside me. The vines were yanked away, pulled back to reveal Lucas St. Claire.

  He was looking at me with shock. He was completely still, his chiseled face roving over my body and eyes, and when he finally spoke, his tone was flat and apologetic. “I…I thought …you sounded just like her.”

  In the recess of my mind, fear registered, that my screams for help should remind him of her, but my fear of the damp earth and the clawing vines was simply overwhelming, and I reached for him.

  An angry, almost sinister grimace settled on his features. But then, he composed himself and he took my hand. “Are you all right? Is anything broken?”

  “Help me out of here.” I tried to take a step, but my foot twisted beneath my weight. I pitched forward on the steep slope and he caught me.

  “Don’t take another step.” He scooped me up and into his arms, cradling me in one arm and steadying himself with the other.

  He took a step, and wobbled—just slightly—and I remembered his limp.

  “Don’t.” I pulled away from him, trying to climb down and stand. “I can make it.” My efforts once again unbalanced us. We slid down, before one of his arms shot out and grabbed hold of a small tree.

  “Stop.” His voice was a growl. “Let me.”

  Right at that moment, I saw the dignity in him, the refusal to listen to my protest, even at his own peril. I knew instinctively that to continue to fight him was to insult his ability. There was something more, though. The resolute set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, even the way he held me—completely solid and unyielding—this was something he had to do.

  He took one step, dug his foot into the steep earth, grabbed onto an exposed root and pulled, dragging his other leg behind him. Step after step he continued, grasping at roots and small trees, anything that would give him leverage. My arms were around his neck. I knew that he would bring us to the top, no matter what it took.

  It started to rain. First a mist and then fat dollops battered us. All I could hear was the pounding of the rain on the forest around us and the calm, even breathing of Lucas. The water drenched us and our clothes clung together. I looked up and saw rivulets of water streaming down his face, and I wiped his brow with the sleeve of my shirt.

  His eyes glanced to me for one second—only one second—and it was a surprised, almost defensive look. Life must have been cruel to him to harden him to a gentle touch. At last, he reached the road. As soon as he stepped out onto it, a sigh of relief escaped from him. His horse was grazing at the edge of the road, its reins looped on the saddle. The cart and mare were nowhere to be seen.

  “I can walk,” I said. “Please, let me try. You can help me if needed.”

  “No.” He went to his horse, his unusual gate causing me to sway in his arms with every step. When we reached the horse, he placed me sideways in the saddle and took the reins. He led us back to Devlin Manor, slowly, resolutely and without speaking.

  When we reached the house, he kicked open the front door, and carried me inside. He stood in the foyer with me in his arms, each of us soaking wet and water streaming onto the floor. Mrs. Amber came running, but stopped in her tracks when she saw us. She stood with her mouth hanging open, and when she spoke, it was to me and her voice was full of anger.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  “Call the doctor.” Lucas carried me to the sofa and placed me upon it.

  “It was very strange,” I said. “Something spooked the horse.” But even as I said the words I doubted the truth of them. The shadow had made no sound and did not seem to have any substance. I could make no sense of it and I tried to ignore the nagging sensation that it was something that I wouldn’t want to understand.

  Mrs. Amber and I went back and forth, and Mr. St. Claire watched me, listening to every word I spoke, although he said nothing in my defense. When Mrs. Amber went to the kitchen to get me a poultice, I tried to thank Mr. St. Claire.

  “I am so happy you found me,” I said.

  His face immediately turned twisted and angry, and I realized that I had said something very wrong. He turned and walked away, but I managed to tug at his trousers as he walked by.

  “I’m trying to thank you. Please don’t just walk away.”

  “Consider this a warning. I can just walk away, and I usually do.”

  I thought of our previous night, and a sense of foreboding settled over me.

  * * *

  The doctor declared that my injury was minor, barely even a bruise. Mrs. Amber was relieved to hear that, and quickly put me to work again, although she made some accommodation and set me to
polishing the silver.

  I was stationed in the kitchen. The table in front of me was piled with platters and utensils that already seemed to gleam in the meager light, but I did as I was told, and polished them until they were so bright I could see my reflection in them. Just before dinner, Mrs. Amber came and helped me stack them away.

  I felt Mrs. Amber’s eyes on me during dinner. I knew she was upset that I had drawn his attention to myself. If she only knew the extent of his attention, I thought to myself.

  I remembered Maxie, the dog from the courtyard, and took pity on the animal. I hid some scraps of my meal in a napkin to feed her later that night. It wasn’t until I thought of Maxie and setting aside scraps that I realized my mind was already made up. Of course I would go.

  The evening chore of kitchen cleanup went by quickly, and I felt like a child anticipating a new toy. When we were finished for the night, I bolted to my small room, seeing it not as the dismal chamber that I once had, but rather as a portal to the outside, to the house of glass.

  Maxie arrived after midnight. I opened the window and called softly. She trotted over, her silver-white coat glowing in the darkness. I dropped the bits of meat, one by one, and she grabbed them from the air and wolfed them down in a most unladylike manner. She was what we called an island mutt, a mix of a hundred unknown breeds.

  When she was finished, her tail thumped against the ground and she let out a small whine. “Shh,” I whispered to her, but my voice only excited her more. Her body burst into motion and she let out a yip. I realized that she was about to wake the entire household with her enthusiasm.

  I quickly squirmed through the small window and dropped to the ground. The dog went crazy with happiness, licking my hands and face. Her stomach was stretched tight. I thought that it couldn’t be much longer. I coaxed her along the side of the house, along the path. When we reached the soft grass, I stopped and looked around. The whole world was in darkness and yet still bursting with life.