by Anne Rice
“There was no one on the front door, as far as I ever saw, and I simply went in, pushing through a regular jam of young persons in the hallway, who were all smoking and laughing and greeting each other, and took no notice of me at all.”
The party did include every manner of dress, exactly as Stella had promised. There were even quite a few elderly people there. And Langtry found himself comfortably anonymous as he made his way to the bar in the living room where he was served a glass of extremely good champagne.
“There were more and more people streaming in every minute. A crowd was dancing in the front portion of the room. In fact, there were so many persons everywhere I looked, all chattering and laughing and drinking amid a thick bluish cloud of cigarette smoke, that I could hardly gain a fair impression of the furnishings of the room. Rather lavish, I suppose, and rather like the salon of a great liner, actually, with the potted palms, and the tortured art deco lamps, and the delicate, vaguely Grecian chairs.
“The band, stationed on the side porch just behind a pair of floor-length windows, was deafening. How people managed to talk over it, I cannot imagine. I could not sustain a coherent train of thought.
“I was about to make my way out of all this when my eyes fastened on the dancers before the front windows, and I soon realized I was gazing directly at Stella-far more dramatic than any picture of her could possibly be. She was clad in gold silk-a skimpy little dress, no more than a remnant of a chemise layered with fringe, it seemed, and barely covering her shapely knees. Tiny gold sequins covered her gossamer stockings, and indeed the dress itself, and there was a gold satin band of yellow flowers in her short wavy black hair. Around her wrists were delicate glittering gold bracelets, and at her throat the Mayfair emerald, looking quite absurdly old-fashioned, yet stunning in its old filigree, as it rested against her naked flesh.
“A child-woman, she appeared, slim, breastless, yet entirely feminine, her lips brazenly rouged, and her enormous black eyes literally flashing like gems as she took in the crowd gazing at her in adoration, without ever missing a beat of dance. Her little feet in their flimsy high-heel shoes came down mercilessly on the polished floor, and throwing back her head, she laughed delightedly as she made a little circle, swishing her tiny hips, her arms flung out.
“ ‘That’s it, Stella!’ someone roared, and yet another, ‘Yeeeah, Stella!’ and all of this with the rhythm, if you can imagine, and Stella managing somehow to be lovingly responsive to her worshipers, while at the same time giving herself over, limply and exquisitely, to the dance.
“If I have ever seen a person enjoy music and attention with such innocent abandon. I did not recall it then and I do not recall now. There was nothing cynical or vain in her exhibition. On the contrary, she seemed to have soared past all such self-conscious nonsense, and to belong both to those who admired her, and to her self.
“As for her partner, I only came to see him by and by, though in any other setting I’m sure I would have noticed him immediately, given that he was very young and indeed resembled her remarkably, having the same fair skin, black eyes, and black hair. But he was scarcely more than a boy. And his face still had a porcelain purity to it, and his height seemed to have gotten the better of his weight.
“He was bursting with the same careless vitality as Stella. And as the dance came to a finish, she threw up her hands, and let herself fall, with perfect trust, straight backwards into his waiting arms. He embraced her with shameless intimacy, letting his hands run over her boyish little torso and then kissing her tenderly on the mouth. But this was done without a particle of theatricality. Indeed, I don’t think he saw anyone in the room save for her.
“The crowd closed about them. Someone was pouring champagne into Stella’s mouth, and she was draping herself over the boy, as it were, and the music was starting up again. Other couples-all quite modern and very gay-began to dance.
“This was no time to approach her, I reasoned. It was only ten past eight, and I wanted to take a few moments to look about. Also I was for the moment entirely disarmed by her appearance. A great blank had been filled in. I felt certain she had not harmed Stuart. And so, hearing her laughter ringing over the fresh onslaught of the band, I resumed my journey towards the hall doors.
“Now, let me say here that this house is possessed of an exceptionally long hallway and a particularly long and straight stairs. I would say, offhand, there were some thirty steps to it. (There are in fact twenty-seven.) The second floor appeared to be completely dark and the staircase was deserted, but dozens of people were squeezing past this stairway towards a brightly lighted room at the end of the first-floor hall.
“I meant to follow suit, and thereby make a little exploration of the place, but as I placed my hand on the newel post I saw someone at the top of the stairs. Quite suddenly I realized it was Stuart. My shock was so great I almost called out to him. But then I realized that something was very wrong.
“He appeared absolutely real, you must understand. Indeed the way that the light struck him from below was altogether realistic. But his expression alerted me at once to the fact that I was seeing something that couldn’t be real. For though he was looking straight at me and obviously knew me, there was no urgency in his face, only a profound sadness, a great and weary distress.
“It seemed he took his time even acknowledging that I had seen him, and then he gave a very weary and forbidding shake of his head. I continued to stare at him, pushed and shoved by God knows how many individuals, the noise a perfect din around me, and once again, he shook his head in this forbidding way. Then he lifted his right hand and made a definite gesture for me to go away.
“I didn’t dare move. I remained absolutely calm as I always do at such moments, resisting the inevitable delirium, concentrating upon the noise, the press of the crowd, even the thin scream of the music. And very carefully I memorized what I saw. His clothes were dirty and disheveled. The right side of his face was bruised or at least discolored.
“Finally I came round to the foot of the steps and started up. Only then did the phantom wake from its seeming languor. Once again, he shook his head and gestured for me to go away.
“ ‘Stuart!’ I whispered. ‘Talk to me, man, if you can!’
“I continued upwards, my eyes fixed upon him, as his expression grew ever more fearful; and I saw that he was covered with dust; that his body, even as he stared back at me, showed the first signs of decay. Nay, I could smell it! Then the inevitable happened; the image begin to fade. ‘Stuart!’ I appealed to him desperately. But the figure darkened, and through it, quite unconscious of it, stepped a flesh and blood woman of extraordinary beauty, who hurried down the stairs towards me and then past me, in a flurry of peach-colored silk and clattering jewelry, carrying with her a cloud of sweet perfume.
“Stuart was gone. The smell of human decay was gone. The woman murmured an apology as she brushed by me. Seems she was shouting to any number of people in the lower hall.
“Then she turned, and as I stood staring upwards still, quite oblivious to her, and gazing at nothing but empty shadows, I felt her hand grip my arm.
“ ‘Oh, but the party’s down here,’ she said. And gave me a little tug.
“ ‘I’m looking for the lavatory,’ I said, for at that moment, I could think of nothing else.
“ ‘Down here, ducky,’ she said. ‘It’s off the library. I’ll show you, right around in back of the stairs.’
“Clumsily, I followed her down around the staircase and into a very large but dimly lighted northside room. The library, yes, most certainly, with bookshelves to the ceiling and dark leather furnishings, and only one lamp lighted, in a far corner, beside a blood red drape. A great dark mirror hung over the marble fireplace, reflecting the one lamp as if it were a sanctuary light.
“ ‘There you go,’ she said, pointing to a closed door, and quickly made her exit. I was suddenly conscious of a man and woman huddled together on the leather couch who rose and hurried away.
It seemed the party with its continued merriment bypassed this room. Everything here was dust and silence. One could smell moldering leather and paper. And I was immensely relieved to be alone.
“I sank down into the wing chair facing the fireplace, with my back to the crowd passing in the hallway, glancing up at the reflection of it in the mirror, and feeling quite safe from it for the moment, and praying that no other loving couple would seek this shadowy retreat.
“I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face. I was sweating miserably, and I struggled to remember every detail of what I’d seen.
“Now, you know we all have our theories regarding apparitions-as to why they appear in this or that guise, or why they do what they do. And my theories probably don’t agree with those of anyone else. But I was certain of one thing as I sat there. Stuart had chosen to show himself to me in decayed and disheveled form for one very good reason-his remains were in this house! Yet he was imploring me to leave here! He was warning me to get out.
“Was this warning intended for the entire Talamasca? Or merely for Arthur Langtry? I sat brooding, feeling my pulse return to normal, and feeling as I always do in the aftermath of such experiences, a rush of adrenaline, a zeal to discover all that lies behind the faint shimmer of the supernatural which I had only just glimpsed.
“I was also enraged, deeply and bitterly, at whoever or whatever had brought Stuart’s life to a close.
“How to proceed, that was the vital question. Of course I should speak to Stella. But how much of the house might I explore before I made myself known to her? And what of Stuart’s warning? Precisely what was the danger for which I must be prepared?
“I was considering all this, aware of no perceptible change in the racket from the hallway behind me, when there suddenly came over me the realization that something in my immediate environment had undergone a radical and significant change. Slowly I looked up. There was someone reflected in the mirror-a lone figure, it seemed. With a start I looked over my shoulder. No one there. And then back again to the dim and shadowy glass.
“A man was gazing out from the immaterial realm beyond it, and as I studied him, the adrenaline pumping and my senses sharpening, his image grew brighter and clearer, until he was vividly and undeniably a young man of pale complexion and dark brown eyes, staring angrily and malevolently and unmistakably down at me.
“At last the image reached its fullest potency. And so vital was it, that it seemed a mortal man had secreted himself in a chamber behind the mirror, and having removed the glass was peering at me from the empty frame.
“Never in all my years with the Talamasca had I seen an apparition so exquisitely realized. The man appeared to be perhaps thirty years of age; his skin was deliberately flawless, yet carefully colored, with a blush to the cheeks and a faint paling beneath the eyes. His clothing was extremely old-fashioned, with an upturned white collar and a rich silk tie. As for the hair, it was wavy and ever so slightly unkempt, as if he had only just run his fingers through it. The mouth appeared soft, youthful, and slightly ruddy. I could see the fine lines in the lips. Indeed I could see the barest shadow of a shaven beard on his chin.
“But the effect was horrible, for it was not a human being, or a painting, or a reflection. But something infinitely more brilliant than any of these; and yet silently alive.
“The brown eyes were full of hatred, and as I looked at the creature, his mouth quivered ever so slightly with anger, and finally rage.
“Quite slowly and deliberately, I raised my handkerchief to my lips. ‘Did you kill my friend, spirit?’ I whispered. Seldom have I felt so enlivened, so heated for adversity. ‘Well, spirit?’ I whispered again.
“I saw it weakening. I saw it lose its solidity, indeed, its very animation. The face, so beautifully modeled and expressive of negative emotion, was slowly going blank.
“ ‘I’m not so easily dispatched, spirit,’ I said under my breath. ‘Now we have two accounts to settle, do we not! Petyr van Abel and Stuart Townsend, are we agreed on that much?’
“The illusion seemed powerless to answer me. And quite suddenly the entire mirror shivered, becoming merely a dark glass again as the door to the hallway was slammed shut.
“Footsteps sounded on the bare floor beyond the edge of the Chinese carpet. The mirror was definitely empty, reflecting no more than woodwork and books.
“I turned and saw a young woman advancing across the carpet, her eyes fixed on the mirror, her whole demeanor one of anger, confusion, distress. It was Stella. She stood before the mirror, with her back to me, gazing into it, and then turned round.
“ ‘Well, you can describe that to your friends in London, can’t you?’ she said. She seemed on the edge of hysteria. ‘You can tell them you saw that!’
“I realized she was shaking all over. The flimsy gold dress with its layers of fringe was shivering. And anxiously she clutched the monstrous emerald at her throat.
“I struggled to rise, but she told me to sit down, and immediately took a place on the couch to my left, her hand laid firmly on my knee. She leant over very close to me, so close that I could see the mascara on her long lashes, and the powder on her cheeks. She was like a great kewpie doll looking at me, a cinema goddess, naked in her gossamer silk.
“ ‘Listen, can you take me with you?’ she said. ‘Back to England, to these people, this Talamasca? Stuart said you could!’
“ ‘You tell me what happened to Stuart and I’ll take you anywhere you like.’
“ ‘I don’t know!’ she said, and at once her eyes watered. ‘Listen, I have to get out of here. I didn’t hurt him. I don’t do things like that to people. I never have! God, don’t you believe me? Can’t you tell that I’m speaking the truth?’
“ ‘All right. What do you want me to do?’
“ ‘Just help me! Take me with you, back to England. Look, I’ve got my passport, I’ve got plenty of money-’ At this point she broke off, and pulled open a drawer in the couchside table and took out of it a veritable sheaf of twenty-dollar bills. ‘Here, you can buy the tickets. I can meet you. Tonight.’
“Before I could answer, she looked up with a start. The door had opened, and in came the young boy with whom she’d been dancing earlier, quite flushed, and full of concern.
“ ‘Stella, I’ve been looking for you … ’
“ ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m coming,’ she said, rising at once, and glancing at me meaningfully over her shoulder. ‘Now, go back out and get me a drink, will you, sweetheart?’ She straightened his tie as she spoke to him, and then turned him around with quick little gestures and actually shoved him towards the door.
“He was highly suspicious, but very obviously well bred. He did as he was told. As soon as she had shut the door, she came back to me. She was flushed, and almost feverish, and absolutely convincing. In fact, my impression of her was that she was a somewhat innocent person, that she believed all the optimism and rebellion of the ‘jazz babies.’ She seemed authentic, if you know what I mean.
“ ‘Go to the station,’ she implored me. ‘Get the tickets. I’ll meet you at the train.’
“ ‘But which train, what time?’
“ ‘I don’t know what train!’ She wrung her hands. ‘I don’t know what time! I have to get out of here. Look, I’ll come with you.’
“ ‘That certainly seems to be a better plan. You could wait for me in the taxi while I get my things from the hotel.’
“ ‘Yes, that’s a fine idea!’ she whispered. And we’ll get out of here on any train that’s leaving, we can always change our destination further on.’
“ ‘And what about him?’
“ ‘Who! Him!’ she demanded crossly. ‘You mean Pierce? Pierce isn’t going to be any trouble! Pierce is a perfect darling. I can handle Pierce.’
“ ‘You know I don’t mean Pierce,’ I said. ‘I mean the man I saw a moment ago in that mirror, the man you forced to disappear.’
“She looked absolutely desperate. She was the cor
nered animal, but I don’t believe I was the one cornering her. I couldn’t figure it out.
“ ‘Look, I didn’t make him disappear,’ she said under her breath. ‘You did!’ She made a conscious effort to calm herself, her hand resting for a moment on her heaving breast. ‘He won’t stop us,’ she said. ‘Please trust me that he won’t.’
“At this moment, Pierce returned, pushing open the door once more and letting in the great cacophony from outside. She took the glass of champagne from him gratefully and drank down half of it.
“ ‘I’ll talk to you in a few minutes,’ she said to me with deliberate sweetness. ‘In just a few minutes. You’ll be right here, won’t you? No, as a matter of fact, why don’t you get some air? Go out on the front porch, ducky, and I’ll come talk to you there.’
“Pierce knew she was up to something. He looked from her to me, but obviously he felt quite helpless. She took him by the arm and led him out with her ahead of me. I glanced down at the carpet. The twenty-dollar bills had fallen and were scattered everywhere. Hastily, I gathered them up, put them back into the drawer, and went into the hall.
“Just opposite the library door, I caught a glimpse of a portrait of Julien Mayfair, a very well-done canvas in heavy dark Rembrandt-style oils. I wished I had time to examine it.
“But I hurried around the back of the staircase and started pushing and shoving as gently as I could towards the front door.
“Three minutes must have passed, and I had made it only so far as the newel post, when I saw him again, or thought I did for one terrible instant-the brown-haired man I had seen in the mirror. This time he was gazing at me over someone’s shoulder, as he stood in the front corner of the hall.
“I tried to pick him out again. But I couldn’t. People crushed against me as if they were deliberately trying to block me, but of course they weren’t.
“Then I realized someone ahead of me was pointing to the stairs. I was now past it, and within only a few feet of the door. I turned round, and saw a child on the stairway, a very pretty little blond-haired girl. No doubt it was Antha, though she looked rather small for eight years. She was dressed in a flannel nightgown and barefoot, and she was crying, and looking over the railing into the doors of the front room.
