Shouldn't it be in the display case with the rest of his books? She shook her head and made a mental note and stashed the box back where she found it.
**
Ren sat quietly, polishing the silver she had pulled from the cabinet. She tried to pretend that the job was far more important than it was. It was busy work while she tended to the empty museum, doubtful that anyone was going to come in at all. Unless there was a special circumstance, Delaney House was only open to the public a few hours a day. The schedule was designed to keep expenses at a minimum. Unfortunately, some days it seemed to keep visitors at a minimum too, as most visitors only appeared on the weekends.
The downtime allowed her to get time consuming jobs done without interruption, but those interruptions meant that she was doing something much more important than maintaining the silverware. When Delaney House had a visitor, it kept history from its own death in obscurity. William Delaney and countless others marched back out into the world, carried on a new memory. It meant that for just a while longer, these souls would not be forgotten.
She looked down, practically able to see her reflection in the rough surface of the worn service tray. She handled the dining set piece by piece in cotton gloves, resetting the display gently and closing the cabinet.
She cleared her throat, ready to usher her displeasure into the room and stopped, remembering she was alone. When she had an audience, Ren complained loudly, but it was more game than sincerity - at least she hoped that was how she conveyed it. She didn't like the act of simply agreeing, it was too smooth. Ren liked her chaos. She liked getting a reaction before she cooperated fully. She had no problem participating in the house, even if it dragged sometimes.
She didn't even mind the chores, though she'd be hard pressed to admit that out loud. Ren considered it a small gesture to show her appreciation to the souls they helped memorialize.
She placed the key in the lock of the cabinet and gave it a delicate twist. She wiped at the glass front and admired her handiwork. For at least another month or two, time would be held off the objects inside the cabinet. She turned to the room while she decided what to tackle next.
When the day's work was done, Ren retreated to the living area behind the large oak door. It was similar to the front door, though nothing as ornate. It was sturdy. Even on balanced hinges, she could feel the weight as she pushed the door open. Often, she wondered if the heavy door was a measure of security for the people living in these rooms, or for the treasures within them. Ren never bothered to pose the question out loud.
As the door swung open, it swirled the air silently. The sudden gust twisted, pulling a delicious scent past her nose. She sniffed at the air again, a cornucopia of scents mingling, each breath harnessing something new. It made her think of home cooked meals, of Sunday dinners with family. The door all but forgotten, not completely open as she pushed past it with an eyebrow raised while she moved into the room.
A table was set up in the middle of the common room. The rest of the furniture had been pushed to the walls. Four chairs surrounded it. The room was full of sounds, noises tumbling into the makeshift dining area from the kitchen. It sounded like the rest of her sisters had their work cut out for them.
"No no no, once they are mashed, it's more of a whipping motion," She heard Colette instructing - that was the word, she sounded like a teacher. "The down force doesn't do anything once - yes! Like that!"
Ren poked her head around the corner to see Joe working up a sweat as she toiled over what appeared to be mashed potatoes. Colette was simultaneously scattering veggies into a bowl of lettuce and tossing asparagus around in a sizzling pan. Mariel had her head down, and a hand in the oven. The whole room smelled delicious.
"What the hell?" She couldn't help herself. For all the communal activities that had gone on in the house, she had never seen anything like this.
"Run, Ren! Save yourself! Before they force you into slavery too!" Joe smiled, confined to the corner of the kitchen as she tried to assist while staying out of the way.
Mariel closed the oven, a smile on her face that spoke of memories made long ago.
"Florence, if you please," she gestured to the cabinets. "Service for four, and then help Josephine choose a bottle of wine from the cellar."
They exchanged a glance. Joe mouthed the words again, as if being charged with the holiest of holy deeds. Joe's stunned silence was only met with Ren's confusion, then, they traded expressions.
Mariel smiled. "We have a tradition. Everyone gathers for one last family dinner before someone leaves the house. Everyone eats and drinks and we make sure that we all go to bed full of food and laughter. It's how we all stay sisters, even when we don't see eye to eye." Her eyes lingered on Ren. She found herself smiling softly in reply, as Joe pushed her way out of the kitchen, making a mad dash for the cellar.
**
What food remained had been put away and now there were only four women laughing, sharing stories and amassing a collection of wine bottles in the center of the table between them. For Ren, it felt like a night out with the girls, and she understood perfectly: She would never hate these women, they were her sisters. Now and forever, pretty much.
Colette distributed the remains of the final bottle among the four glasses and held hers high.
"To each of us: old, new and in-between. May we never be too long from a reunion."
Three glasses joined hers, clinking loudly.
Mariel stood, still moving in her usual graceful measures, although Ren would not have believed it after this evening.
"My ladies, my beautiful wonderful ladies, that we might do this all night, but it is time we were all off to bed." Joe, who was both the first to rise and the closest, was pulled in for an all-enveloping hug. It surprised Ren to see the facade fall away and witness this heartfelt gesture. Ren stood, her head suddenly woozy and her legs wobbly. Her legs had that “like new” quality they did when she first arrived. She was oddly fascinated by it, blaming the tranquilizing effects of the wine on her comely reaction. She leaned just a bit too far slipping around her chair. Colette was there, sharing a giggle as they held onto each other for a moment.
“Look after Joe,” Colette said quietly. She didn’t say anything else, but her eyes pointed. Following them, Ren saw Mariel hushing the crying girl. She put an arm around Colette and together, they enveloped the rest of the group. Joe, stuck in the center, wiped away the tears and the solemnity and growled softly.
“Oh my god, I’m fine! Get off me!” She tried to sound offended, but couldn’t hold in the laughter trickling through her words.
Ren pulled Colette and Mariel closer, tightening the circle around Joe again. She looked between them, smiling wide.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Colette smiled back.
“I don’t know; she could be in denial.”
“Maybe we should keep it up for a while longer.”
Mariel laughed, kissing Colette on the cheek. She turned, putting her arms around Ren and kissed her as well, folding her into a hug. The warmth burned from inside her and she felt the tears come unbidden.
“We’ll be back before you have a chance to miss us,” Mariel smiled, but hesitated.
Ren raised an eyebrow, but the moment was gone. Mariel squeezed her again, then, turned her attention to breaking up the huddle. “Good night, ladies.”
Joe put her arm around Ren, who leaned hard against her sister to keep them both from pitching over.
“Come on, lush, I’ll help you find your room,” Joe laughed, both of them taking it slow as they moved to the stairs.
“Listen, wino,” Ren countered as they both put an arm around each other, and each an arm on the railing. “Without me, you’d already be on the floor.”
Together, they trudged, one step at a time, retorts being shuffled back and forth with the same amount of ferocity as their conquest of the staircase.
“You’d never have gotten this far without my help.” Joe tried to jab a tic
klish spot in Ren’s side, disturbing the sleepy equilibrium they shared. Together, they paused to grip the railing harder and make sure their feet were still beneath them.
Ren snickered. “My room is first, so we’ll see how far you can get on your own.”
Once they had made it to Ren’s room, they had all but won. Ren leaned into the dark, knowing her bed would catch her, and indeed it did. She also dragged Joe with her, who pitched forward into the darkness with a sense of panic and hoped for the best. When she found herself safely cradled by the overstuffed duvet somewhere in the darkness, she let her worries slip to the floor and hoped Ren didn’t kick in her sleep.
SEVEN
In the night, there was a sound that crawled along the walls of the room. A long, rasping hiss seemed to climb from the dark recesses under the bed, up to the hidden corners of the ceiling before it finished. Ren heard it through dreaming senses. When she heard it again, her eyes opened wide, investigating – not that they did much good in the pitch-dark room. She listened to the noise slither around her a third time and reached out with her senses. She was face down on her bed, sleeping in her clothes on top of her plush comforter. She made a mental note that this wasn’t an awful way to spend a night, minus the evil thing haunting her bedroom. If someone else were in here with her they could –
She reached across the bed, hoping to find that she had been carried to bed with something that would make a handy weapon. What she found was a hand. A hand that attached to an arm that attached to the ugly noise coming from Joe’s lumbering breath.
Ren gritted her teeth, panic evaporating in the fire lit inside as she realized her panic was nothing more than her sister’s disturbingly haunted snoring. She couldn’t help herself. Reaching out, she pinched Joe’s nostrils closed, snickering as the girl choked momentarily and coughed. As Joe reflexed, rising, Ren hit her with a pillow. Joe cried out, not fully awake and under attack.
“You could have told me you snore,” Ren sighed, her senses returning to her as she collapsed back onto the bed.
“I do not snore,” Joe’s protest muffled by the pillow. She yawned. “Even if, you can sleep in your own bed.”
“You are in my room!”
“Whatever.”
Ren wanted to argue further, but she could already hear Joe drifting back to sleep. Ren laid back, her heart still trying to come back down to its resting beat. She knew staring up at the black nothing in front of her that she wouldn’t be sleeping until the adrenaline finished worming through her system.
Maybe a cup of tea will help. And a book.
She sat up slowly, easing off the bed. She was tired, but she didn’t feel any of the effects she expected to after the night they had all had.
Let’s count ourselves lucky and not push that little bonus too often.
She eased open the door and slipped out, fingers gliding along the railing as she walked toward the stairs. Looking down, she was surprised to see a light cutting across the room. One thin beam traced along the floor up to the door of Mariel’s office, the door closed all but a crack. She wandered across to the kitchen, moving quietly. Whatever Mariel found so important to be up at this hour, Ren didn’t want to interrupt her just yet. She moved as silently as possible, transferring the kettle to the stove, heating the water to a boil without the whistle in place. While the water began to roil, she prepared the tea tray. The dark was easier to work with here, soft blue light glowing through the windows allowing her to see enough to work by. She transferred the kettle to the serving tray and carried the whole set across the common room in the dark, back to the sliver of light beaming from Mariel’s office. She approached the door and braced one knuckle, rapping twice, soft but firm and stood quietly in the dark.
She heard a shuffle and the door opened quietly to a curious face. Mariel’s lips parted in a warm smile the moment she opened the door.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Ren spoke in a whisper. “And I thought you could use a break.”
Mariel stepped out of the way, welcoming her into the cramped office. No, cramped wasn’t right. There was plenty of room to move, but every available surface was dedicated to books and instruments and artifacts, rested upon old wood surfaces and stacked on each other. The room adhered to a completely different set of rules than the rest of the house. Strange books from all eras, in many languages. Intricate devices that Ren knew with just a look she had better not touch. Piles of pages and stones and coins. Unlike the other rooms and boxes and showcases; there was no central theme in this room. It seemed to be a collection of oddities that Mariel surrounded herself with.
Then the light flicked on in Ren’s head: Mariel was the connection. This was her personal collection.
Mariel pulled a flat drawer from her desk, providing a place for the serving tray. Ren set it down, pouring two cups of steaming water. She took a teabag with her cup and sat down at the other side of the desk, exhaling across the lip of the cup, watching steam dance and dissipate into the room.
Mariel raised her cup. “Fortune is certainly in my favor tonight. Thank you.” Ren raised her cup in reply.
“What do you mean?” She looked across the desk. Whether it was the light or the hour, Mariel did not look like her usual self. She looked weary, like her years were catching up to her tonight. Ren swallowed, that was a lot of time to weigh on a person all at once.
Mariel looked down, passing a page across the desk. Ren saw the refined, flowing script on the page, then she saw her own name.
“I have been sitting down here trying to leave you with some sort of explanation for our departure. Lord knows you deserve something.”
“Mariel, I really don’t. I –“
Mariel cut her off. She set her cup down. “You do. You should at least understand the responsibility we are leaving you with.”
Ren sat back. She looked at the page again, and then back to Mariel. “Okay.”
Mariel adjusted herself, taking a breath.
“I am not going to tell you why we are going. Some things are not your concern.” She gauged Ren’s reaction. The girl was trying to understand without looking too shaken. “For now.” She added, hoping it would placate Ren’s worries.
“What I do need to tell you, what you need to understand, is exactly what you are being entrusted with here.” She stood and turned to the shelves behind her. Ren could see her lingering on various objects, then moving to the next. “In the main rooms, we showcase a particular collection, because we can afford to. The grants that help sustain us make that collection vital, both in the caretaking and continued expansion. But there are far more interesting objects that do not fit with our showcase.” She smiled as she turned around and flipped a coin onto the table. It landed with a ringing thud on the desk, the weight obvious in the sound. Ren picked up the coin and examined it. The side she could see was a roman numeral circled by laurels. On the opposite face, was a detailed picture of –
She gasped and almost dropped the coin in surprise. Mariel chuckled as Ren looked again. She blinked, turning the coin over again. Her eyes were not mistaken: there was a depiction of a couple sharing an intimate, if not lewd, moment on the flipside of the coin. She reached out, returning it to Mariel.
“They have the internet for that sort of thing now, you know,” Ren couldn’t help but make faces; it was a shock, especially for this hour.
“It is called a spintria,” Mariel flipped it over in her fingers. “Roman. First century.”
She watched Ren’s mouth repeat the words soundlessly. She could almost see the wheels start working. “Yes, it is worth quite a bit, but probably not as much as you would think. I will not bother you with a history lesson tonight, but it is an example. There are many valuable objects in this house.” Her gaze wandered the room, then, settled on Ren.
“Guard them. Care for them. But remember: None of this is worth putting yourself at risk.”
Ren nodded but the gears were still turning. She had been training. She was getting pretty good a
t both hand to hand and swordplay – with a wooden sword, but it was close to the same thing, right? Surely, she could defend Delaney house if it came down to it.
Mariel had been raising her cup to sip. She lowered it and cut Ren off with a single glance.
“Do not forget, Ren: There are no guarantees on the second chance we have been given.” She shook her head. “Nothing in this house is worth your life.”
“Maybe not nothing,” Ren smiled. “You risked a lot to bring me here.”
“Touché,” Mariel sipped her tea. “She plays tough, but she’s a delicate soul. Look after her.” There was no acknowledgement to whom she was referring. Ren waited, watching Mariel enjoy her tea without anything further.
“Joe?” She sat up a little. “She was a little blubbery, but I think the wine had a lot to do with that.”
Mariel nodded, putting her cup down again. She didn’t look at Ren and for a moment, it appeared she was done with the discussion.
“She would not tell you this herself. Josephine is very self-conscious of her past and would rather you accept her for the person she is becoming – without the burden she carries with her.”
Ren paused again, confused. This all seemed to be coming out of nowhere. “We are talking about the same Joe, right?”
“Yes, the wonderful girl who I presume is passed out upstairs. The one with the good heart and the strong spirit.” To Ren, it felt like the room darkened as Mariel leaned toward the desk, looking Ren in the eye. “Like the rest of us, that bright-eyed girl comes with a past much darker than her future.”
“Josephine was orphaned very young. No one else in her family came to collect her, and she entered the foster care system.” Ren continued to listen, feeling like they were discussing a different Joe – but Mariel was right, each of them had come here from some ugly end. She hated to think that her past, dark as it was, might have been the brightest of them. “Regardless of what the system reported, she grew up alone. She was not much more than a statistic to the courts, a paycheck to her caretakers.”
House of Thirteen Page 8
