The mansion in which she and her parents once called home is shaking and crumbling at its foundations. Dark days are ever present, and the threat of poverty is hanging over their heads
By day my skin turned silver in the sun light.
By night I was chased by ghosts and angels all at once, all at the same time. I could not see which was which.
And then…there was him.
The one that burdened my heart.
Love?
Or hate?
All at once, all at the same time.
I could not see.
I lifted my eyes from my book to look across the room at my father, curled beside the bed, speaking softly to my mother in his native Italian. I felt as if I was intruding, though mama never spoke a syllable of love in return to him. I moved my gaze back to my page, firelight rippling over my face and dappling over my skin.
I was dressed in my favourite gown, a gorgeous dress of a deep purple that inspired the colour of lavender and my namesake. Its overskirt was ruffled, and the sleeves slid gracefully off my shoulders. This dress had been tailored for dancing and grand balls, not for an occasion as sombre as this. Yet, my father had insisted, saying that my mama would be so proud and happy to see me all dressed up. I had become so beautiful.
Mother's eyes remained locked shut, her once pristine, china like skin, sallow and murky green as pond weed. She had lost most of her hair, and still, just like every day…she lay in bed, stolen away from the outside world, trapped inside her own body.
She could not know if her daughter had become even the slightest bit pretty, she had not seen me for centuries, it seemed.
Maria had been kind and sweet enough to bake a cake, though this was expensive enough in our current affairs, and the silver was draining steadily into the gutter.
My fingers found my fork again at the thought, and slid a fragment of birthday cake into my mouth.
It was delicious.
"Leave a little bit for me, my darling," Papa called over softly from the bed. His aged, wrinkled face squeezed in his wide, teasing smile, like a concertina or an accordion.
"Certainly not papa," I replied, and shovelling another bit in my mouth, in a way that wasn't at all ladylike.
His lips bubbled out a chuckle and he touched mama's forehead with a fatigued and tender hand.
I let my gentle smile stay for as long as I could, then plunged myself back inside the perfect, kind and forgiving passages in which I treasured now more than ever. This new heroine: Edith Burnette, lived in the depths of the wild and passionate city of Paris. The capital that was now hours upon hours away from us, an entirely different world. Edith is plagued with suitors and a new romantic dilemma at every turn. She despaired over it. I envied her.
"You cannot put that book aside." Father chuckled with good humour, speaking again after a time.
"Is it your new favourite?"
"Impossible," I answered, smiling for him again.
"Come," He waved his hand imperiously for me to join him beside mama.
"Sit next to your mama, and show her how lovely you have become."
I did so, placing my book carefully upon the little Chippendale table, sweeping my magnificent skirts.
"A princess!" My father announced, when I had seated in my own chair opposite him on the other side of the bed.
"Thank you," I made a little bow.
Papa wheezed out a laugh, his expression becoming distant as he gazed upon me.
"Extraordinary."
Sometimes, Father would become lost in the shadows he saw on my mother's cheekbones. He would become detached too, and leave me behind. I constantly feared for him, perhaps even more than mother, I couldn't lose him too.
It was perhaps ten seconds after this had occurred, when it happened.
I felt a scorching chill sweep over every piece of exposed skin I had not covered with my gloves or gown. Hairs stood up prick by prick on the back of my neck, painfully, and horribly. I gripped at the ruffles of my skirt, Goosebumps popping up all over my arms, and gazed wildly around, desperately looking for the draught that had surely just entered the room.
But there was no open window or door to be seen.
I swallowed hard, finding a strange sensation gnaw at the back of my throat, and freeze the insides of my body.
I hastily tried to cover myself with a nearby blanket, hoping to crush the sensation at once.
But nothing changed. The chill brushed and scratched me with its unbearable chill, I felt as if it was touching me, inspecting every part of me. Even the parts that were not visible to the human eye.
"W-w-what I-I-is that?" I stammered through chattering teeth
My father raised his head.
"What is what my dear?"
"T-t-that….c-c-chill?"
My father frowned, eyes still lost in my mother's condition. Then as he slowly came back to the ground, his face inexorably shifted and melted into the same shivers and alarm that I felt.
"Cold…" He mumbled, rubbing at his aged shoulders
His brow wrinkled as his pupils moved towards the tightly shut door.
"Why is it so cold?"
There was a brief pause.
Then we heard a faraway pattering of feet up the flight of stairs outside. Father and I listened to the echoing footfalls: they were rushed, scampering…full of undeniable haste. Several times we heard a few bumps and whimpers, and realised that the sprinter had fallen several times on their way up the stairs in their rush.
The footsteps at last reached the door, and there was a great hammering at it.
"Josette?" I inquired aloud, concerned
"May I enter Monsieur…Mademoiselle?"
I exchanged a quick glance with Papa.
Never had we heard Josette so fearful and horrified, since the day mother had fainted in the dining room.
"Yes…"
No! Stay away! We cannot have any more bad news!
Josette, our poor maid, tumbled through the door. She was quite a sight to behold, her apron and the fringes of her skirt was ripped and torn, her hair dishevelled and her brow rung with sweat, But it was her eyes that frightened me the most.
"A gentleman has come, monsieur," She whispered, face parched of colour
"He wishes-"
She took a great gulp
"D-d-demands to see you."
Father stared at her, almost fascinated by her fear
"Is-"
He took a deep breath and began again
"Has he come for the money?"
But even as he said this, everyone knew that the person downstairs…whoever he was…had not come for another unpaid bill.
Father chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes flickering between his wife and Josette.
"I can take care of mama," I reached over to clasp his hand
"She will be safe with me."
Father seemed to struggle, then sighed.
"Very well."
He rose and walked to the door
"Stay with my daughter," He instructed Josette, before passing
"Do not leave her, or my wife's side while I am attending to… this…gentleman."
Josette started, then began twisting her apron wildly in her fingers.
"What is it?" Father paused
"Was there something else?"
Josette's eyes swivelled to me, and within them I saw what I had felt when the chill came.
Dreaded fear.
I gazed back at her, then felt a jolt resound through me.
"He wanted to see me…too?"
Josette plunged her face into her apron.
My eyes widened
"W-w-why?" I whispered, my heart falling into the pit of my stomach
Josette staggered across the room, collapsed by my mother's beside, and sobbed.
For the first time, I saw the true chill sweep over Papa's face.
He looked at me.
I looked back.
The silent conversation between our eyes was enough.
I slowly stood and joined him at the door.
"Do not move from behind me Violet," My father told me quietly
"My sword is the only weapon we have now."
I nodded shakily.
We moved out from the doorframe, and began to move down the enormous twisting staircase, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Father leading ahead, his hand curled around the hilt of the sword at his belt, myself holding my enormous skirts a little above my ankles, thankful that my papa had his back turned.
"A mere suitor, would not have made Josette cry that much." I said softly as we turned a sharp corner
"No…" My father replied, in a very shadowed voice
"No he would not have..."
We crept through the dimly lit corridors of our house, until we came to the grand stair case that would lead us out into the entrance hall, were we had been told our visitor would be waiting.
Papa and I let out a long breath.
I wound my fingers into his and squeezed.
He squeezed back.
"We are the masters of our mansion," I whispered to him, staring at him straight in the eye, trying to summon more bravery than I felt.
"He cannot push us out."
Father's neck convulsed as he swallowed and nodded.
"That may be true, but I cannot let you come past here. Once I know what his business is, then we shall see."
"But papa-"
"Your safety is my only priority." He cut across me.
"What about yours?" I whimpered, refusing to let go of his hands
He did not answer.
"Stay here my darling. Come only if I call."
I relented miserably.
"Be careful,"
He jerked his head, drew himself up, then slipped from my fingers and marched down the great stairs.
I crouched down beneath the wall, listening intently to his footsteps down the steps. I craned to hear any sound from the mysterious stranger into our home, but there was nothing.
"Monsieur," My father called out, somewhere about half way down the stairs
"I hope I have not kept you waiting. There is not as many of our fine staff as there used to be."
"I noticed."
The voice that answered him was the chill that had spread across her mother's chamber. Thick spider webs frozen under the moon at night. Clearer and sharper than an octave.
His words seemed to echo about the hall a long time after he had spoken them.
"My sincerest apologies." Papa said as warmly as he could
"Can I offer you a beverage of some kind? You seem weary. Have you come a long w-"
"That won't be necessary, thank you."
There was a small silence. The footsteps on the stairs had stopped.
I trembled under the pillar, my hands clutching around the pendent my parents had given me for my last birthday.
"What…is your business, then, monsieur? I am rather confused at why you have come here, and at such a late hour at night...if you have come for money. I'm afraid you will be disappointed."
"Gold is not in my interest. And I come rather…to supply it. Not to take it."
I quirked an eyebrow, and inched towards the edge of the wall.
"Supply it?" My father blustered
"Yes." The gentleman answered, seemingly almost bored.
"I have heard that you need money to pay off the hounds that relentlessly torture you and your family for debt."
Here he paused, perhaps for delicacy.
"And the tragic misfortune that has struck the centre of your lives."
I could feel my poor, beautiful papa crumbling
"My Rosa…" He said hoarsely
"Yes."
"Your mansion is falling apart and fading to dust before our very eyes. You have no more generous friends, or any relations to speak of."
My fists clenched around the pendent.
"I can make this all vanish instantly. Money problems. Vanquished. Disrepair of your house, gone. And your wife-"
There was a creak of the bottom most step, and I saw in my mind, the stranger moving close, stepping forward to trap my father in his snare. His voice lowered, curling with persuasive smoke
"I can cure her."
There were several creaks backwards on the stairs, disguising the clap of my hand going over my mouth and my insides lurching.
Of all the doctors that had come forward, all the medical professionals and fools we had spent our entire fortunes on…this stranger thought he could revive my mother from her death like sleep and cure her?
"Liar." I hissed into my fingers.
"I am no liar, nor am I a magician of that kind…"
The gentleman trailed his voice as coldly and softly as a child would with a stick in a puddle, right to my ears.
"-Monsieur."
He heard me?!
Curiosity was slowly tugging at my core, but I refused to reveal myself, especially now that I was sure that this man of shadows had heard me from his position all the way down fifty long stairs.
"What could you possibly want in return for all of that? An incredible gift such as that, I have nothing to repay you with!" Papa stuttered
I felt the smirk, even from my hiding place.
"Ah, now. My dear monsieur that is where you are wrong."
Ice…I felt ice on my neck.
Slowly, as if under a spell, I twisted my body round to peep around the pillar and look down the grand staircase at the man standing before the very last step.
Golden eyes, under a wide rimmed hat, gazed back up at me. And I knew that he had known all along that I was hiding there.
"What I want…Monsieur Arturi. Is her."
