Chapter One
As the taxicab pulled into the driveway of a large mansion, Dereth was somewhat suspicious. He suddenly realized he was way out of his league here, the fact made far more apparent by the large, looming structure ahead. Even though he was sure most of the other teenagers here would be all-American rich kids living off Mommy and Daddy's money, he knew that they would not only know about his powers, but would have some of their own, making them a threat. A threat he had never dealt with before. He would have to be on his guard the entire time he was here- and he was sure that would not be for long.
Dereth Woods was psychokinetic, and more specifically, telekinetic. He could move things merely by concentrating on them- something that had always come in handy during a seedy situation on the streets of New York. He remembered the first time he realized he was different. He had been nine years old, and had only been homeless for a matter of weeks. A newbie, weak and pathetic, Perfect prey for the older, more experienced boys who had chosen to make their homes in the Devil's lot. He coldly recalled their vile, raunchy faces as they circled around him, threatening him into giving up his coat- the last thing his mother had given him before she had died-and the only thing between his body and the icy winter air. Those same faces contorting in horror as first one, then still more, stones from behind the speciously harmless boy began flying at them, apparently of their own volition. They had fled, like cowards, and, over the years, Dereth had slowly learned to control his powers, and use them to his advantage against a cruel world.
Dereth pushed the memory away from him- he remembered one of the rules he had learned on the street: Never let the sentimental shit make you weak. The past didn't matter. All that mattered was now, and now was the warm bed that he would have here at this place for at least a couple nights, and then he would move on.
He stalked up the path towards the gargantuan gothic-style door at the front of the building, shouldering the small pack that held his few belongings. He stopped as he saw a short, thirty-ish woman standing in the stoop, apparently waiting for him. Her hair was a dark brunette, and when the sun hit from the right angle, shimmering blonde highlights caught the light, giving the impression of a golden halo that summoned the gold flecks in her hazel eyes perfectly. "Hello, Dereth." Her voice was kind, and had a slight British sound to it. She smiled. "I'm Elizabeth Nightingale. I'm one of your instructors."
He let a small chasm of silence form after her words as he thought of what he was going to say next. Her discernable friendliness had thrown him off; he was used to the harsh words of the ghetto.
"How'd you know my name?" He replied carefully. "Oh, yeah. That psychic shit, right?" Sarcastically, he tapped the side of his head with his index finger, as if to say, right. Okay, I'll play your game.
Elizabeth frowned. "We'll talk about all of that at the orientation this evening, after the other two arrive. Until then, you can walk around the mansion and grounds, you know, get acquainted with the place. There are already three students who have been here for a few weeks, maybe you could talk with a few of them." A look from Dereth told her that would definitely not be the case. "I'll take your bag, if you want." As her long, graceful fingers reached for the backpack, he suddenly jerked back. Someone was trying to take his things. His hard childhood had trained him never to leave his stuff with other people, especially people he didn't know. "I'll take it with me," He scowled to the floor, and entered the marble doors, noticing a large copper sign declaring the name of the mansion. He struggled to sound out the words- Red Rose Manor. He sighed. Only a person with money would name a house.
Not long after Dereth entered the building, he detected a soft music emanating from some unknown part of the dwelling. Curious to know where the sonorous noise was coming from, He fallowed its waves and arpeggios like a dog might fallow the scent of a rabbit. The sound led him into a large sunroom, containing dozens of musical instruments, ranging from an artfully placed grand piano to a couple electric guitars propped against a fireplace. The oddest addition to the room, however, was a statuesque girl playing an ancient-looking folk harp in the corner farthest from him. She smiled slightly as she saw him, and seemed to exude a radiant light. Dereth ignored her smile and quickly walked out the door nearest him, which led out to what seemed like a garden. It took him a moment to notice that he was not alone.
She was sitting on a bench, and was dressed very eclectically. Sitting straight up, long, raven hair falling about mid-back, she sported a pair of sunglasses, even in the already dying sunlight, but that was not what Dereth found disconcerting about her. He struggled to find a reason for this, finally settling on the way her face seemed to be turned away from him.
" I'm Gabrielle Thompson. You're one of the newbies, right?" Her voice was sad and melodic, and Dereth decided to answer without sarcasm this time.
"Yeah, I guess I am." He waited for her response.
"You're nervous, aren't you?"
Dereth was not expecting anything like this. He found it made him angry for her to say this, partly, because it was true.
"Let me guess: you read my mind." He shot back defensively, rising to her challenge. She laughed.
"I had no need. We've all been there. Scared, alone, confused."
Dereth didn't like the way she said exactly the feelings he was trying to hide from himself. He wasn't here to join any support group and go around the circle, each person relaying their goddamn feelings. He was here for a good nights sleep, and then he would be gone.
"Maybe you think you're better than me because I'm black. Yeah, I'll bet that's exactly what you were thinking."
Dereth Woods was no fool. It was a tactic he had used several times before, to ward off confrontation. White people, especially rich white people, would do almost anything to avoid talking about the color of his skin. He used this to his advantage now, so the girl would leave him alone. She would avoid him for the rest of his stay, if he were lucky.
"Oh, do you?" The amusement in her voice surprised Dereth. She traced the intricate design etched into the marble bench for a moment, then slowly lifted her hand towards her face and removed her sunglasses. A snide reply formed on Dereths lips, but he felt the words catch in his throat as she turned her face towards him.
"Awww, shit," He cursed. Even in the fading light, the murky gray clouds formed over the girl's sightless eyes were noticeable. Cataracts. Gabrielle Thompson was blind.
Elizabeth Nightingale led the two newest arrivals into the front doorway of Red Rose Manor. Jenny Bathes and Amanda Argent, both age fourteen, seemed to be total opposites. Jenny was loose and friendly, taking almost everything at face value, while Amanda carried an air of reservation and maturity far beyond her few years. Despite this, however, the girls seemed to be coming along swimmingly, their relationship complimented by their differences. Elizabeth had hoped friendships would be formed between all the tenants, and this seemed to put favor in that possibility.
Elizabeth was young-only twenty-seven- and had been working with children and teens ever since she had started a baby-sitting business in the seventh grade. She had always possessed and interest in psychic phenomena, and read books on the subject in her spare time, but had never considered the possibility that she might have special powers- that is, until she was approached by a strange man at a teachers convention in Phoenix.
She grinned; now, at the thought of her colleague, Dr. Edward Spear, and the plan he had presented to her then, the plan that was now well underway.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Amanda, obviously the more intellectual one, asked, "When was the mansion built?" With a wave of her hand, she motioned at the medieval gothic splendor that encompassed them, seeming to transport them in time to fourteenth century France.
"The late 1800's. The gothic revival theme was very popular in America then. Except for the dorms and recreational areas, most of the furniture and décor was here when the current owner purchased the place five years ago. We think it's quite charming."
"Yeah, Yeah- if you like dust and that sort of thing. You guys really need to get some light in here. Or are there vampires among our number, too?" She laughed at her own pun. Later, during happier times, perhaps her companions would have guffawed good-naturedly, but now the ability was far beyond them. Everyone was nervous, even Elizabeth. Instead, they smiled somewhat genuine, if weak, smiles as they walked slowly out of grandiose sitting room, and into a rec room lined with computer terminals.
"The computer room," Elizabeth titled. The change in atmosphere was more than a little disconcerting. It was as if by some magical time machine, they had again been transported through the ages.
"Whoa, high-tech," Jenny deemed with appreciation at the flat-screen, plasma computers.
"They were a donation made by a very generous, very- anonymous individual. This is where you will come to do any research or school work involving computers." She quickly steered the conversation away from the supplier of the terminals, for at the mention of the giver, a slight light glinted from deep within Amanda's eyes. She didn't want to let on that she knew little more than the students themselves. Everyone was kept in the dark in these matters, and Dr. Spear, though cautious, knew the chance of funding for a program of this nature was minimal. Sometimes you had to take what you could get.
"The door over to the left is the entry into the west wing, where some of the dorms are located. There are four wings on the complex –North, South, East, and West- and a set of Dorms are located in each. The North wing is for administrators, and so far, there are two students to every other wing. I believe both of you have rooms in the South wing." At this, the girls exchanged mischievous glances. It was in times like this that Elizabeth wished her psyche had developed telepathy, the ability to read minds, instead of Manipulation & Clairvoyance- the ability to see things that cannot, sometimes should not, be seen. She made a soft soughing sound. What were they thinking?
Gabrielle Thompson had lived in darkness since the tender age of three; almost as far back as she could remember. All of the doctors she had seen agreed about the cause: The loss of eyesight was a result of looking directly into the sun for a lengthened period of time. Though she could not ever remember doing this, or even being that dense, She tended to think that at that moment, she had fulfilled the 'light' quota for her lifetime, and the universe would never allow her anymore. She basically had forgotten what light was; all that was known to her was an endless night. She knew light was the opposite of that night, but she could not conjure the difference in her mind. She needed a comparison, something to relate it too, and she did not possess this. All she could remember, from the few months or so before she went completely sightless, and vision was but a diminishing blur, was that it hurt. So now she almost preferred the threatening blackness that closed in at every angle. Almost.
As she waited for an intelligible response from the boy standing just opposite of her, Gabrielle fingered the carved handle of her wooden walking cane, feeling the rough spots where her grip had worn away the smooth finish. So many times had she done this that the indented pattern was as familiar to her fingers as her glasses where to her face, and that was definitely saying something. Her glasses were her security blanket, her protection. If she couldn't see other people, then she would be damned if they would see her- or at least any part of her where she could help it.
Clip-Clap, Clip-Clap, Clip-Clap…
It was a sound that Gabrielle identified with Elizabeth Nightingale. Many times, the teacher had attempted to startle Gabrielle by sneaking up behind her, an endeavor that, so far, was unsuccessful. When will she learn, she mused, Too not wear clogs around a blind person? Gabrielle's thoughts were interrupted with the realization that Elizabeth was not alone. No, she detected the slight sound of giggling beside her. At least two adolescent girls. Almost definitely two, actually, since she knew there were three new arrivals, and of course, she had already met one, she ratiocinated. In her two weeks at the mansion, she had never known anyone other then students or instructors to actually be inside the mansion, and so far, she had not been permitted outside. It was completely fine with her- she had serious problems with the majority of humanity.
"Gabrielle, Dereth, the orientation is going to begin in the sitting room in fifteen minutes, if you wouldn't mind making an appearance. I've already sent Angel, and I believe Ken's in there right already." Elizabeth. She was easy to identify, because of her accent.
With a slight flourish, Gabrielle extended her walking stick, and stood up.
"Meet you there," she said over her shoulder as she walked the direction that the threesome had come from, towards the music room.
Tap-tap, Tap-tap, Tap-tap…. The shoe-clicks attached to her soles iterated. The sonorous sound of the taps hit the walls, resounding back to her ears, giving her a relative idea of where walls, doorways, and other large objects were located. She really didn't need the extra help; she had had the 106-step trek from the garden to the sitting room memorized since the first time she had made the walk, with Dr. Spear there to guide her, two weeks ago.
She grinned passively at the circumstances of her own arrival, and the conditions of her being there.
Click-Click-Click-Click… It was the sound of canine nails on a hard floor.
She reached out until her hands made contact with a soft, furry animal- Seth, her Seeing Eye dog. Condition number one. There was no way in hell that her parents would have ever let her travel from the outskirts of Washington D.C. to Chicago Illinois, to go to 'Psychic School', none the less, unless Dr. Spear had allowed the dog to come too. Dr. Spear conceded, much to her parents' horror. They still saw her as a poor, disabled blind girl.
She ruffled the hair on Seth's head lightly, breathing in his slight doggy-smell, and he whimpered in appreciation. Seth was a good seeing-eye dog. When his harness was on, he realized it was 'work' time. When it was off, like now, he was a playful puppy- and he was a playful puppy much more often then her parents would have liked, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Come on, boy," She cooed, "Want to go to the meeting with me?" His hot tongue licked her fingers in affirmation.
"Alright, come on," together, they proceeded to the sitting room. For once, she was glad. At least for a short while, she was not alone in the darkness.
Edward Spear sat in a large, squishy armchair near the crackling fireplace, surveying the scene that was beginning to lie out before him. Five of the six currently residing students of the Spear Institution were already assembled there, and Angel was most certainly on her way. For now, Edward inconspicuously studied the five students who were present- Gabrielle Thompson, Dereth Woods, Ken Rodgers, Jenny Bathe, and Amanda Argent- and they were undoubtedly studying him. The new arrivals were especially wary. They had no idea what to make of the stout man with graying hair seated before them- but he knew just what to make of them. A psychologist by choice and nature, Edward was marvelous at delving into people's characters and analyzing them, and his psyche was but a mere tool in the process. So far, he had intricately placed characteristics to each face that lay before him:
Ken Rodgers, at 16, was the oldest of all the students staying in the dorms. A definite All-American, star-of-the-football-team type, Ken was of the polo-shirt wearing crowd. The Dr. could see him acting as a sort of big brother to all the new arrivals.
He watched the light from the fire flicker over Ken's pretty-boy face. Ken approached Dereth Woods, and Edward laughed slightly to himself, as Dereth shot Ken a 100 virgin arsenic look, meant to kill, not maim. Ken steered away towards the two new girls. Wise choice, Thought Edward.
He turned his concentration towards a rather surly-looking Dereth, Whose face held an expression of pained boredom and uninterest. A feigned look, Edward was more than certain. Always suspicious and accusing, Dereth was taking every precaution possible to not be vulnerable to attack. Edward had seen it many times over when he had been a psychologist for troubled teenagers. He grinned, inwardly, at the realization of just how much information people give away when they disconnect themselves from others. Actions always spoke louder then words.
His gaze turned now to the morose figure sitting opposite of Dereth. Dark and artsy, Gabrielle Thompson was just the type to write depressed poetry and stories. Gabrielle had the rare ability to see deep within people, tell what they were thinking, what they were feeling, even without her empathic gifts. She ran her hands lovingly over the silky coat of the Golden Retriever parked languorously at her feet. Oh, Seth, Thought the Doctor, You have no idea how much you mean to her.
And then there were the two girls, Amanda and Jenny, giggling at the hearth of the fire, talking to Ken. Teenagers. Ed needn't think more.
Angel took this moment to make her entrance on the meeting. Tall and waif-like, She cloaked her body entirely in white clothing, making the point of her namesake. Her pale face shone with a radiant light, almost like that of a waxing moon reflecting off of a calm lake at midnight. Her motions were willowy and delicate, yet quick, in a graceful way. She was a Sylph, if the good Doctor had ever saw one, and he was sure no one who had ever seen her would disagree with him. But now it was time to get down to business.
"Now that you are all present, I think we can start the orientation." He nodded towards Elizabeth, who, before had been talking animatedly with the girls about one thing or another, quickly joined him at the front of the room.
"You're probably wondering what this is all about, how it all was started." He paused for a moment as he rose from the armchair, and continued. "When I was a young boy, around your age, strange things would happen to me, as if I was being stalked by some unseen force determined to make my life miserable. I would have a dream, and days, months, even years later the dream would actually take place in waking life. I would predict things before they would happen. After awhile, I was always scared that anything I might think or dream about would come true. I was quite a nervous boy." He smiled wryly at the faces staring back at him, giving him their entire, undivided attention. Even Dereth, who was still trying to keep an air of aloofness, seemed interested.
"Throughout much of this, I began wondering if there were others out there, others with such abilities as mine, or if I was, like my family believed, a freak." He stopped for a moment, allowing that notion to sink in. From the quick intake of breath from almost everyone in the room, he knew it was a thought they had often pondered.
"I began reading- doing research on anything paranormal. I came to find that many others existed, and some of them had become quite famous –Uri Geller, Edward Cayce, etc., but there was no society, or group, where we could all meet. I wanted desperately to be with people who would understand." He did not hesitate to say the last sentence, if everything went as planned, in a few months, they would have known anyway.
"So a few years ago, I decided to try to start such a group. First, starting with the next generation-You. This is a group where no one would be a misfit, a freak. Everyone will be the same. Talking about our gifts, our curses, is not a taboo here." He finished with a conviction that almost betrayed his attachment to the point. These children would never feel like an outcast again, not if he could help it. He sank back into his chair, and Elizabeth stepped forward.
"If all of you would introduce yourself to the group, tell why you're here, where you were before you came here, oh, and, anything else you might like to add." Five heads bobbed up and down in compliance, with one shrug-supplied by Dereth, of course. "Spiffing. I'll go first. My name is Elizabeth Nightingale. Before I came here, I was a middle-school counselor for delinquent children." Her gaze met Dereths, with a warning glance, and his eyes quickly turned away. "Unlike you, my powers never revealed themselves during my adolescence, or even my adult life. I probably wouldn't have known I had them if I hadn't met Dr. Spear at the education conference in Phoenix two years ago."
"What are your powers?"
"Pardon?"
"What type of psychic power do you have?" Amanda, the resident analyst, of course.
"Um, manipulation. Gabrielle, can I borrow Seth for a moment?" Gabrielle nodded, and Seth, hearing the sound of his own name, walked slowly forward toward Elizabeth. She patted him on the head, and gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then he ran nimbly from the room.
"Where's he going?" Asked Gabrielle. She could feel the tension in the room, felt it pounding through her veins, and Seth was her security blanket.
"I told him to go find my copy of Gone with the Wind, he'll be right back,"
No sooner had the words escaped her mouth than Seth galloped back into the room- a heavy, weathered book clutched firmly in his jowls. Elizabeth took it from him, and he collapsed at Gabrielle's feet. "Good boy." She praised softly.
"Humans are more difficult," Elizabeth clarified, "But I don't mess around with free will, anyway. Would anyone else like to go next?"
Dereth quickly gathered his wits. Up until this point, he had truly believed that this was just a game- no one there beside himself of course, could possibly have any powers. He had never knowingly met anyone like him before, and now he was just supposed to believe that seven of them just popped up from nowhere on the same day? It was unbelievable, not to mention dangerous. He was no longer sure he held the ace here.
He was careful not to let anyone notice how much attention he was paying to what was going on in the room, or about how much it unnerved him. Then he had a crazy thought: What if they can read my mind? He shook his head. He must not lose his cool about this.
He watched with increasing surrealism as each person stood and told the bare minimum of who they were and why they were here. He learned that Ken and Amanda were both telepathic and clairvoyant, which might explain why the girl, Amanda, seemed to know everything. He bristled slightly when Jenny rose and stated that she was telekinetic- but her impish grin put him more at ease.
Then Gabrielle stood to take her turn. Dereths gaze was attentive as he took in how, even though she was facing his direction, she seemed to be watching something far away, something he, nor anyone else for that matter, would ever witness. In her clear, melodious voice, she stated that she was naturally empathic-she could feel the emotions of others- and that she was a telepath. Then she sat down, giving the golden-haired dog a quick pat on the head, and waited. Dereth stood.
"Dereth Woods. Telekinesis." He sat down quickly, waiting for a reprimand, but none came. Instead, Elizabeth Nightingale turned to the one person in the room who had not yet spoken.
The Sylph stepped forward. "You may call me Angel," Her singsong voice was calming and peaceful. "That is not my real name. Before I came here, I lived on the streets of Chicago." Her lovely, angelic face darkened at the words, and Dereth Woods gasped. "My power is energy manipulation, and I can sense auras." She stopped.
"Care to give them a demonstration?" Elizabeth suggested.
At first, Angel looked confused, and then her face took on a knowing look. She floated over to the fire. With an intent stare, she gazed into the flames, seeming to go into a trance. Her eyes were vacant, and the three newcomers exchanged questioning glances.
For five long minutes, they all sat that way, watching Angel watch the fire; even Seth was still- for he possessed the extra sense that all canines had, and knew something special was happening.
The air immediately behind Angel's upper back flickered like heat waves over a sweltering highway in August. The fire began to recede, and the flickering on her back grew more pronounced, until it had appeared that fire was sprouting there, its long, feather-like fingers licking her shoulders, and spreading to the floor. The fire gave one last attempt at life, until all that was left were a few glowing embers. She turned to face them, while the fire-wings on her back spread out to their full span of about six feet. She waited for a reply.
The room was silent for a moment, its occupants staring dumbly- again, with the exception of Gabrielle, who could not see the wings, but could feel their energy-, aghast at what they were seeing. All it took was one "Holy-shit," from Dereth for the room to erupt with talking and jabbering.
Angel accepted the din surrounding the way she accepted everything- without question. She knew that her differences would be met with nervousness, fear; sometimes even violence- none of it was new to her. Some might ask her how she was capable of staying so peaceful and serene, but she would return their questions with a blank stare. She believed her abilities were a gift from god- that is why her aura around her back held the shape of wings. She had always felt them there, and known they were a part of her soul, if not a part of her body.
"How-what? No way," Amanda managed to sputter.
Angel smiled briefly, and then took a seat in the armchair opposite Dr. Spear- closer to the group then Gabrielle, but still not quite there. She would not invite her own shunning. In the fireplace, the flames quickly rekindled, rising now almost to their previous height, but the igneous wings on the waif's back remained visible, even if they were beginning to fade some. If I can continue to concentrate enough, She contemplated, I can keep them their for the rest of the meeting. She relinquished the idea as the room quieted. Her attention should be focused entirely on the conversation.
Edward Spear stood to his full height of about 5.10 inches. "What you have just witnessed is a rather impressive example of Energy manipulation. Now, I admit that Angel has had some tutoring outside of these walls, but I can guarantee that you can all reach her level, maybe not in Energy manipulation, but in each of your own categories. We all have our fortes." He smiled jovially at the six students. They returned his look warily. Even the alums seemed unsure now. During the two weeks since his arrival, Ken had become accustomed to the light shows that seemed to fallow Angel around everywhere, and even Gabrielle could feel the energy, but neither had ever experienced anything even remotely like what they had just witnessed.
Edward, sensing their discomfort, quickly ended the meeting. "Perhaps this is too much for all of you at the present moment. Anyway, it is getting late. I think we can adjourn the meeting for one night, and continue it later. You may proceed to your dorm rooms for the night. Remember, if anyone needs anything, I'm always happy to talk."
Dereth fallowed the morose figure ahead of him with growing unease. Apparently, he was sharing the East Wing of the Mansion with Gabrielle Thompson. God obviously had it out for him. Not that he had ever had any doubts about that.
He sighed. He felted uncharacteristic pangs of guilt shoot through his system, something he had not felt for a long time. This made him wary, but then again, how dangerous could a blind girl be? His goal was to not get hurt, not act like an ass. He quickened his pace until his legs were parallel with hers, and they nimbly fell into pace with each other. He listened to the short, punctuating clicks emanating from her shoes as though she were a tap-dancer, each step perfectly fitting into a soft, syncopated rhythm. Seth, always the friendly sort, nuzzled Dereth's hand with his damp nose. Even his nails clicked against the floor rhythmically. Dereth felt clumsy and ungraceful next to the two companions, as though they belonged to an exclusive club that he could never join.
"Hello, Dereth." She soughed. She did not sound angry nor cool, only expectant. He didn't ask how she knew it was he.
"Umm, yeah. I was wondering if you wanted me to walk you to your door."
"Why?" Her voice did not carry an accusation, but it was a question that caught Dereth completely off guard.
"Well…. I mean… oh, shit. You know." He sputtered. "I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you earlier. I mean, I didn't know." He was not certain it was the correct answer, but it was the only one he had. He gesticulated with his arms, shrugging, and then, realizing the gesture held no meaning for her, dropped his hands to his sides.
"You do not want people to judge you from the color of your skin. I do not want people to judge me from the fact that I cannot see." She paused for a moment, as though unsure whether to go on, then said, "I can promise that I will not judge the fact that you are black, if you do not judge the fact that I am blind." She turned her face towards him expectantly, and he knew, even though the glasses blocked her eyes from his sight, that she was not actually looking at him.
He nodded his head yes, then, remembering, said, "Sure."
She smiled sadly, then reached her cane in front of his legs and hit the polished oak frame of a doorway- one that he had missed entirely.
"I believe that is your room," She said this without even a hint of doubtfulness. He looked down at the note card in his hand. In a tiny, precise letters was printed room 2E. He shifted his eyes to the plate directly over the doorway, and surly enough, it also read 2E. The aesthetic tapping of her footsteps faded into the distance, leaving him utterly alone to wonder whether he had actually walked her to her room, or if she, blind though she was, had led him. He shook his head. Nothing would surprise him anymore.
Slowly, he walked through the shadowed doorway. It was more luxurious then he would have guessed; he was used to the stark mattresses of shelters. Even a normal dorm room would have paled in comparison with the lush furnishings that lay before him; Everything made from a glossy Mahogany colored wood, from the Amish-style pullover desk to the tall headboard of the bed frame. There was a small dresser in the corner, and a nightstand on the left side of the bed supported a modern-looking reading lamp that seemed out of place with the rest of the settings. The comforter on the bed was thick and soft looking, and there were even pillowcases on the large, voluminous pillows- and they actually matched!
He took all this in by the moonlight shining through a crack in the curtains. Not bothering to search for the light switch, he paced over to the window and opened them completely. There were no streetlights, buildings, or even cars visible for miles- just the bright waxing moon and the stars. Dereth had never seen so many stars in his life. He beheld the image for a few moments before concentrating his gaze lower. From his new room, he could see acres of sprawling gardens, pathways, and even the bench where he had had that fateful conversation only a few hours before.
He turned away from the window and placed the small satchel that carried all of his worldly belongings on the smooth, blistered surface of the dresser. Without even undressing, he drew back the comforter on the bed and climbed between the clean, crisply white sheets, soon falling into a deep slumber. Maybe he might stick it out here- at least for a little while.
