Chapter Six
Oh, mirror, mirror how this face you show disgusts me!
Find me a child for whose youth my heart is hungry
- 'Hungry for another one': by JT Music
The Lady's chambers were dark, illuminated only by infrequent electric lamps or the light cast from the great fireplace. Books lined the walls on shelves, piled up in bunches in corners around the perimeter of the room, or lay scattered on the rich carpets as if cast away in disgust. The wallpaper was old, but tasteful, the adornment scarce, yet elegant.
All these sights went mostly unnoticed to the Twin Chefs as they stumped through, muttering to themselves in gurgling undertones. They were too busy bickering among themselves to notice the room's richness and too afraid to take heed of any books. The only thing that caught their eyes as they passed were the pictures of the Lady – svelte, young, and beautiful – which hung on the walls, staring down into the room as if asserting her dominance, daring anyone to speak against her. She was unmasked in the pictures. An unnerving sight, for the Lady had never appeared to anyone without a mask on. Seeing her in such a state, as lovely as she might be, almost seemed like an atrocious sacrilege. The chefs felt this with a shiver, hastily lowering their faces to avoid looking at her dark, fearsome gaze, hurrying past as quickly as they were able.
The chambers were vast and the corridors between them labyrinthine, yet the two persisted, often stopping to debate the direction, arguing, but never daring to raise their voices higher than a murmur. Their eyes constantly roved, an unexpected shadow causing them to shrink, or an unexplained noise making them jump. Danger seemed to be around every corner, yet after each scare and an additional moment of hasty scanning, they always continued.
"I assume you have a valid reason for coming here." The Twin Chefs jumped and twirled comically, trying to find where the voice had come from. One saw and bumped the other and they both stared up at the Lady, looking down on them from over the railing of the next level. "…Uninvited," she added languidly, and they both winced.
The chefs both began to grovel, grunting out apologies and blubbering explanations, all of which seemed to go unnoticed by the Lady. She simply placed her book back on the shelf and began to descend the spiral staircase, the hem of her skirt rippling as it met the ground, her hand tracing the ancient, delicately carved bannister. Her white porcelain mask shimmered, a bright contrast with the darkness around, almost seeming to shine with its own light.
Soon the Lady stood before the chefs, and the distinction in their appearances were remarkable. In contrast to the fat, drooping, slobbering creatures before her, the Lady stood erect and silent. Dark, but beautiful, her hands folded into her sleeves, terrible as an executioner.
"Remove your masks," she said at last.
The chefs hastened to obey, their clumsy fingers prying off the rubbery masks and displaying their true faces. Even though their masks were very much like their true faces, the masks had become so familiar that it felt uncomfortable not to wear them. The twins stood before the Lady as if naked, ashamed of their appearances. If they could guess her expression, they thought she might have looked on them in scorn, her lip curled and brows lowered. As it were, they could only see the flashing of her eyes.
The Lady's gaze flicked from one dejected face to the other. Their true faces, almost as hideous as the masks which had hidden them. Similar, but not quite the same. Drooping, puffed, disfigured. Behind her mask, the Lady almost allowed herself to smile. Neither of them could hold a candle next to her. How beautiful she must seem next to them. How pristine, how well-crafted and sublime. She stood a little straighter just thinking about it.
"Why have you come?" she asked.
One brother knocked the other with his elbow, nudging him a little further. This almost caused an argument, but one look at the Lady caused all anger to subside. The chosen representative bowed his head, his false face wrung between both his hands in his anxiety.
"M… my Lady," the chef started with a stammer, talking much more clearly without the mask but still with an asthmatic gurgle in his throat. "Great one, wholly esteemed sovereign of the Maw, keeper of the Sacred Power and lord over us all…" He stopped to gauge her expression. There was none to see. "…We… my brother and I… have seen the child."
"She has arisen, then?" The woman turned aside to peruse the books on a nearby shelf, to all appearances disinterested. Only the keenest viewer could catch the slight tremble that betrayed her.
"Yes, M'Lady." The brother stepped back.
"How long ago?"
The first brother knocked the second forward. His turn, now.
"Not long ago, my Lady," the second brother quailed, bowing, even though her back was turned.
"How close did she appear?" The firelight shimmered off the porcelain mask, displaying no blemish. The Lady opened a book and appeared to scan a page, her finger rustling as she drew it down the paper. "Was she far away, or close by?"
The second chef gave an anxious look back at his brother. "C… close, I would say, my Lady."
"Did you see her clearly?"
"Yes. Yes we did, my Lady."
"How many times?"
Both chefs froze. "My… my lady?"
"There are two of you." The Lady's posture had not changed, yet a shard of ice had needled its way into her voice. "Between the two, how many times would you say you encountered the child?"
The second chef shot a panicked glance backward, but his brother did not seem any more inclined to answer the question than he was.
"I'll make it even easier for you," the Lady added, her face still dipping towards the book. "Once between the two of you? A few times? Or more?"
"M…" the chef seemed to have difficulty getting his throat to work. "M… I would have to say… m… more."
The Lady's hands closed, slamming the book shut between them. The second chef jumped backward to stand next to his brother. Both of them trembled. A black ire seemed to be growing around the woman, leaching into the air, throbbing with a powerful strength. "Many times." Her voice was flat as she turned to face them, the book dropping forgotten to her side. "You saw her many times and yet you did nothing?"
"We tried, M'Lady, we tried!" gurgled the first brother, cowering before the Lady's wrath.
"She was just so quick!" cried the second, putting his hands before his face to shut out the image of the white mask, printing its afterimage into his brain. "She snuck beneath the floorboards, out of the garbage when we weren't looking! She even climbed the rack of plates we had been washing to get to the pulley system! We ran after her and threw things at her, but she was still too quick! Nothing we could do made any difference!"
The Lady paused inches away from their blubbering faces. It was a terrible sight, it was true, but how much more terrible would it seem to them with her mask so close before their eyes?
The air began to pulse with a demonic presence, the entire room fading away as darkness filled it, flooding from the Lady's figure until nothing remained to be seen but the emotionless white mask. The chefs whimpered as their own masks dropped unbidden from their hands and they felt their feet leave the floor, the darkness twining around them, constricting, their heavy weight seeming as nothing as they were lifted upwards. Their blubbering apologies were stilled as their throats closed and even though they thrashed, no movement came from them except a frantic twitch.
"I saved you from the Maw," The Lady's voice whispered. "You were not chosen as guests, but I allowed you reprieve from your sentence. I gave you the masks to make you like the others although you bore the unblemished appearance of the unchosen. And why?" The chefs twitched again, but the Lady did not wait for an answer. "Because I saw your potential. Yet you squander my mercy. You fret and squabble amongst yourselves like pampered children, making light of your circumstances. You have become spoiled and lazy. Insolent."
The chefs struggled, hands clamped to their throats, pulling for every meager breath. All they could see was the mask. That shining mask. All else had faded into darkness, and yet it seemed as if the darkness was preferable to this.
"I asked two favors of you." Oh, but the Lady's voice was ice. The fires of Hell could not melt the rigidity of her tone. "Feed my guests. Be good stewards of the kitchens I made you lords over. That was the first task. And I told you…" The Lady's tone became, if anything, even colder, "…That if you ever found a girl in a yellow raincoat wandering around your kitchen, that you would kill her immediately and without hesitation. That you would prepare her body and bring it to me so that I might feast on her heart. Two simple requests, and yet you neglect the one and fail the other. Tell me, what reason is there that I should not end your sorry lives right now?"
The brothers could not speak. They could hardly even breathe. They attempted to motion with their hands, but they seemed affixed to their throats. Even the mask was becoming dark now, fading into the nothingness that awaited in the blissful rest of the unconscious.
And then they fell to the ground, groveling on hands and knees, gasping as the darkness curled back into place leaving the room in stark relief. The Lady stood above them, the eyeless holes in her mask staring down on them in assumed disdain.
"However," she continued in a slightly slower tone, "you are not entirely useless. After all, you have done an adequate job of providing for my guests."
"Yes, M'Lady, yes!" the twins babbled, standing and bowing, picking up their masks from off the ground.
"And yours has not been the only failure," mused their mistress. "My Janitor has also failed to capture the child, but he is old and blind. I would have expected more from two younglings with all their senses." For the first time, her voice snapped. Afraid of the dire consequences, the brothers resumed their muttered apologies, bowing with twice the fervor. "Still," resumed the Lady, regaining her semblance of calm, "it may be that we have underestimated the girl. Or that I have overestimated you. Either way, it is in the past, now. We can only wait to see what will happen next. Go." She raised a hand, pointing toward the door, which opened at her motion. "My guests will arrive soon and we must make certain that all is prepared. Mustn't we?"
The chefs, altogether amazed that they had gotten off as lightly as they had, backed out of the door, still bowing. The Lady closed the door behind them, feeling a strange weariness steal over her body with the absence of anger. A weariness that had been growing with every new dawn.
I'm getting old, she thought, and was startled to discover how easily the thought came to mind. She banished it, ripping off her mask and standing barefaced in front of one of the portraits. Almost she could picture it as a mirror, the lovely face in it as her own was now. Almost she could convince herself that the face in the portrait and the face she wore beneath the mask was her true face. The true semblance of her beauty. To any outsider, those two faces would seem the same, for the Lady's smooth white skin seemed untouched by time or blemish. But the Lady knew better. She closed her eyes for the portrait's gaze seemed suddenly mocking and with her eyes still closed moved between the bookshelves and into the nearby corridor, walking with such grace that anyone watching would assume she was feigning blindness.
The Lady did not open her eyes until she had reached the room of her desiring, and then only to stare at the porcelain mask in her hand, unwilling to raise her eyes. When she did, it was only a little to stare at her feet in the unbroken, floor-length mirror before her. Her shoes, at least, were safe to stare at. A little higher, perhaps. Her eyes alighted on her skirt and she admired her shapely form. That, at least, hadn't changed. Higher, even. Her bodice and high neckline displayed nothing new. It was with great trepidation that her eyes rose again, unwillingly looking deep into her own face.
That which normal eyes could not perceive was reflected in startling clarity in the mirror. The bags beneath the eyes and lines on the forehead that were absent in the mortal plane were displayed in the reflective surface. The grayish, dying hue of the skin, liver spots and folds of sagging flesh seemed startlingly acute in the dim light.
The Lady looked at her own reflection with the sinking, twisting feeling that always accompanied any revolting sight, wishing she could rip her eyes away, but unable to make that move. I am old, she thought again. Although, and here she placed a hand to her smooth cheek, watching as her warped reflection did the same to its own rough, sagging one, nobody can see it for themselves. To all others I am beautiful. To myself… how long can I play the fool to reality?
She clutched at her mask, the reliquary of her powers. Without it, her powers would become unrestrained. Not gone, but rogue and wild. With it… she was a goddess.
I am the only one who knows, she thought again, but a noise behind her drew her attention. In the mirror she saw a small form, that of a child, staring in unrestrained abandon at her true face. The woman screamed and the mirror shattered, the light dousing as she slapped the mask back to her face, disappearing from the room as the darkness moved her away.
Could it be real? she wondered, gasping for air. Could it finally have happened? Could I have been found out so easily?
Just as quickly, her fear was replaced by rage. An icy, burning, undying range. How dare he? How dare he? How dare any of them? How could they have let slip such an insignificant creature and let him wander into her room? Was nothing sacred anymore?
She followed the boy, letting him know that he was being watched. A cruel pleasure prickled her fancy as she rustled by, peering from the darkened recesses of her chambers, leading him further in until he stood inside the centermost chamber. Then she lunged.
The Lady's magic wrapped around the boy's form, pulling him up off the ground, lifting him to eye level. The Lady's voice was no more than a hiss, barely reaching over the boy's frantic gasps as he struggled. "How dare you?" she questioned softly.
"'M sorry," the boy said, not even raising his eyes to look at her face, still twisting in her grasp.
"Look at me," she commanded, and the boy did, his eyes mostly hidden behind a sheet of rumpled brown hair. His look was rebellious without a shade of fear. The Lady hated him, then. How dare he look on her with such equality? Did he know who she was? What she was capable of? Her grip on him tightened, but he only clenched his teeth a little more.
"I know…" he huffed.
"You know what?" The Lady breathed.
"I know… about the Nomes," he whispered, hardly able to breathe.
Behind the mask, the Lady smiled, a pinched, sour look. "Do you really?"
"There's a furnace down below… where the Nomes work," he gasped. "They all gather around it… and," here he gasped again, "…and in its light… they can see who they once were. And… and so could I." His rebellious gaze lifted again, its glare cold and accusing. "They were children once. All of 'em. All the ones who tried to run away. And… and you sapped them for their powers, didn't you? Everything that used to make them a child you sucked out and now they're just husks, aren't they? You did that! You did that to them!" And he gave another savage twitch. Not that it did any good, of course.
The Lady nodded sagely, walking a slow circle around the levitating boy. "Very good. You have done your homework." And she let her grip loosen, just a little. The boy gasped in deep breaths of the stuffy air.
"So then," the Lady continued. "Since you know what happen to the runaway children who come across me, and since you are one of those children, you know what happens next."
"But I've come farther," argued the boy. "All the rest of the kids, they must have been caught farther down and brought to you. Or you came across them on an inspection or something. But not me. I made it all the way here by myself." And now there was a shine of triumph and pride in those previously rebellious eyes.
"And you think that deserves some type of reward?"
"I'm just saying. I'm not just another common meatbag." The boy looked at her from under his dark hair, seemingly nonplussed but she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.
The Lady scrutinized the boy, placing a finger underneath his chin, tipping his face this way and that. He matched her gaze, staring deep into the sockets of her mask. "You're right," the Lady said at last. "You're not one of the common canaille. What is it that you want?"
"I want to be free," said the boy. "I want to go up to the surface. You never have to see me again. I won't ever speak of this place, I won't ever try to come back."
The Lady scoffed a light puff of air into the stagnant room. "How do I know any promise of yours can be honored? Why not ask for a position among my servants? You are a smart young boy. With the use of my powers, no child would be turned into a Nome again. You would make sure that they would stay safe where they belong. Away from me."
The boy seemed to consider this, but shook his shaggy head. "Even if I wanted to… even if I asked, you wouldn't."
"How could you be so sure of that?" the Lady purred.
"I know too much," said the boy. "I've seen too much. I'm a wild element that can't be controlled. You know that. You hold it against me that I saw your face. And I have other knowledge, too. I know your weaknesses and you don't want it getting out."
"What weaknesses?" There was a shard of ice in the woman's tone as she brought her mask closer to the dangling boy.
"The girl," said her captive. "The one wearing a yellow coat. I don't know how or why, but… you fear her. And she's coming for you."
"You… you have seen her?" And now the boy could feel the tension in the woman's tone and thought that he had guessed correctly.
"Some time back. I talked with her. She's moved on since then, but I've heard the whispers. The Nomes have pictures of her all over their walls. She's like some sort of… goddess to them."
The magic constricted around the boy again. "I am the only goddess," hissed the Lady.
The boy had the audacity to smile, even as his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "Not the first, and now not the last," he whispered.
"You…" growled the Lady deep in her throat.
"See? You can't keep me around with that knowledge," coughed the boy, still trying desperately to barter, even though he knew that he might have gone a few steps too far. "I've proven myself to you. I'll keep quiet. Just… let me go!"
"The only thing you've proven," murmured the woman, her voice as slow as the progression of venom through the veins, "is how dangerous you are. And how idiotic you can be about the knowledge you hold."
The boy's breath was choked from his lungs and he began to contort in panic. "You think yourself above the rest, do you, boy? Well, let me remove that notion." With glee, she began to breathe in, her magic sapping the boy of everything he might once have held dear. Old memories. His will. Imagination. Cunning. Cleverness. Wit. And then finally his form was reduced to a small, cone-headed little creature slumped on the floor in the midst of the boy's now too-big clothing. The woman breathed out, enjoying the new flush of energy the boy's potential had given her, laughing sourly at the trembling creature on the floor.
"Run away, little one," she said, flicking a hand at the creature and watching it scurry away, wriggling out of the pile of clothes and scampering toward a crack in the wall for escape. "Let's see how that savior of yours treats you now that you are one of the 'meatbags'."
The Lady smiled to herself. Goddess? Hah. As if that little girl could do anything for anyone? How could she think that any of her exploits could turn fruitful? Sooner or later that little girl would learn that she, the Lady, was the only goddess.
A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the late update. I have been very busy over the last few weeks and slightly blocked in the imagination and writing department. Thank you for being patient. That being said, my updates aren't going to be that consistent from now on because I'm not sure I can commit to getting a chapter out per week, but rest assured that I have NOT given up on this fanfic and I DO intend to finish it, but it just might take a little longer than I thought.
Also, I loved writing this chapter, even if it took me a trip to Starbucks and a few hours alone to complete it. Tell me what you think down below.
Thanks again, my readers! Until next time!