Hello everyone.

Sorry that it's been nearly 3 months since I last updated. Muse comes and goes for me, but luckily I managed to sit down and write out another chapter.

I'll see you down below.


He was tall, perhaps a good foot taller than me. The guy was nestled in the rose bushes, gingerly holding a bud in his hand while the other cleared out dead parts of the bush. A part of me started searching for a name as his ashy blonde hair that crept into his eyes seemed familiar.

Suddenly he looked up at me. His eyes shone with a green light. "Mademoiselle Dubois."

That voice.

"Archer?"

A dazzling smile broke across his face. He shook his head while laughing, keeping that emerald gaze locked on me. "I cannot believe I left enough of an impression for you to remember my name."

"Same." I could not stop the smile that formed.

He closed the space between us, clasping my hands in his. As soon as we were touching, a feeling ignited in my stomach that refused to settle. There were no words, he simply led me to a bench where I was surrounded by the white blossoms of the trees and the bursting reds of the roses. The air smelled sweet, a gentle enough breeze whispering in my ears and filling me with peace.

"I have to go tend the muguet – how do you say, the lily-of-the-valley?" He muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit like yes, I think that is right. "I will be back." He stepped over the beds of flowers to a patch of white flowers on the other side of the garden.

I watched him for a second before remembering the hall. The voice.

The note.

I reached into my pocket and drew out the notes, sifting through them until I found the newest one. Curiosity is dangerous. Do keep yourself in check. A part of me felt insulted that he did not have more to say, but the brevity served its purpose. Was he angry about me talking to Madame Giry? I knew he was angry about me entering the auditorium (why does a big fancy mansion even have an auditorium?) but that was all I had done to anger him as far as I knew. Which in turn, angered me.

How dare this intruder accuse me of something. I haven't done anything. I thought, huffing a bit as the thoughts whizzed through my mind.

"Mademoiselle?" I nearly jumped when Archer spoke. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you."

I smiled up at him as I shoved the note into my pocket. "Don't worry about it. Come," I patted the spot on the bench next to me, "take a break."

He took the seat. We sat shoulder to shoulder in complete silence. Listening to the private oasis that the mansion offered. It was not to last as a question built up in my mind. "Archer, is the mansion haunted?" His eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. Perhaps I was too sudden? "Not that I believe in ghosts. I'm just curious."

He laughed, forced though it was. "Curiosity is dangerous here, mademoiselle."

That's exactly what he said. I thought, fighting to keep a neutral face as he spoke. The last think I needed was for my emotions to betray my thoughts.

"Is it? Why?" I was surprised at my own tone. The way I had said just those three words reminded me of those old movie women who lounge around in smoky rooms talking to gumshoes that are asking all the wrong questions.

"Monsieur does not like when people ask too many questions. It is best to follow his rules and pray that he does not get angry."

His answer ignited something in my blood. "Who is this guy? Why should I listen to him?" I should have bitten my tongue after that. Apologized, left, anything. Instead, I held my ground and stared down Archer.

He wore quickly. "He kills those who pry. Trust me, it is best to be silent in his presence." Archer's eyes were darting all around the garden as he scooted a bit away from me.

"Did he kill Eliana and Madelaine?" Archer blanched. Then his eyes became dark, and I shrunk back. "I'm sorry…"

"You will be if you keep asking." Something about Archer seemed different all the sudden. His mouth was in a very severe frown, his eyes firmly planted on the ground rather than on me, and his eyebrows were curved down giving him a most angry look. His expression softened as he looked at me. "I do not mean to scare you, Mademoiselle Dubois, but it is best not to ask others about those two."

"Others?" An option formed in my head. "I see." I rose from the bench and, having given Archer a quiet goodbye, walked back into the manor.

I went straight to my room and closed the door with such force that I could hear the echo all the way down the hallway. Tearing out paper from a notebook, I grabbed a pen and started furiously scratching letters into the thin sheet.

Monsieur,

It seems I have mistakenly broken one of your rules. I didn't think that asking about old names given me by an old man was of any consequence. Perhaps you can answer them.

Who are Eliana and Madelaine? What happened to them?

I don't ask out of curiosity. I want to know that I'm safe. Any information you can give will be appreciated.

And you don't have to call me Aminta-Rose. Just Minta will do.

Thanks

I did not bother to sign it because honestly, who else writes this guy notes? I slid it outside my door and flopped onto the bed. Boredom quickly overtook me.

Wasn't there a library? I found myself asking. With a renewed sense of purpose, I walked down the hall – noticing that the note I had left was gone – heading to the opposite end, away from the entrance. I found the bathroom again, a good place to keep memorized, before opening the door to the library.

It was not grand and majestic, like Belle's in Beauty and the Beast. The walls were all just bookshelves that reached the ceiling but there was no grand second level. A few chairs dotted the back-left corner, a desk on the right-hand side. The dim light of a high window shone through layers of books, assisted by the lightbulb once I turned it on.

My fingers skimmed the spines of several books, reading the titles as best as I could. Many were French, and I found myself utterly butchering the language in my head as I tried to read them. The left corner had the English books, much to my relief. I plucked a random book from the shelf, not bothering with the title, and curled up in one of the chairs.

It was a history book, talking about the American Wild West and, more specifically, its outlaws. Butch Cassidy, Sundance, Big Nose George, Tom Horn. Those and more had sections dedicated to their crimes, their beginnings, and their downfalls. I was so engrossed in reading that I barely heard Madame Giry come on, and her announcement that she and Archer were leaving for the day just made it into my head between Cassidy's name change and Horn's execution.

By the time I put the book down, night had overtaken the city. I did not make dinner because the last thing I wanted to do was walk all the way across the mansion to just whip up some chicken and rice. Instead, I traded books and poured over the American Revolution.

The musical Hamilton came into my mind as I read about Alexander's contributions. Quietly I began humming the song Aaron Burr, Sir until it got to the point that I had to start singing.

"Can I buy you a drink?

That would be nice!

While we're talking,

Can I offer you some free advice?

Talk less. Smile more.

Don't let them know

What you're against or what you're for."

A feeling crept up my spine. The one where you know you are alone, but you feel like someone is watching you regardless. I glanced around the room, paranoia settling in my stomach. "Hello?" Oh yeah, that's brilliant, Minta. A person spying on you will definitely answer.

"Hello."

My heart stopped beating for half a second. That voice. It was the same on as before.

In the auditorium.

"She will not come."

I jumped out of my seat and spun around, trying to see whoever was with me. However, he did not reveal himself. Yet his voice, it had sounded like it was right behind my chair. "Where are you?" I asked, watching the light switch in case a hand would sprout out of the wall or something and try to turn off the light.

"That is of no concern to you." His voice was harsh, quiet. Like he did not want to be heard while at the same time ensuring that I got every word. "Who told you those names?"

"Eliana and Madelaine? It was an old man at the restaurant Dad took me to yesterday."

"Did you get his name?"

"No." I shot out quickly. That man was lucky. If I had known…

There was a pause, poignant and bothersome.

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"Not likely." That fire that cannot be fought lit up. I found myself glaring at the wall, seeing as I did not have someone to glare at.

"Then why do this? Why not just write a note?"

There was another pause, not as long and not as bothersome. It was more like the pause someone has when they themselves are trying to think of an answer to a decent question.

"It is easier to discern truth from the source than from the writing."

I threw my hands in the air, heaving a sigh from my chest. "Whatever. I'm going to bed." I was heading for the door when a single word stopped me.

"Minta."

It was soft, like he was not sure he could use it. Like a little boy who just met a pretty girl and cannot help but turn on that bashfulness.

"Good night. I hope we can be civilized with one another."

I nodded, soaking in the words. "As do I, sir."

And with that, I left the library and nearly ran to my room. I locked the door and just laid on the bed, not bothering to change into pajamas. What did he mean civilized? He's the one who can't show his face. How am I supposed to be civilized with an apparition?

My mind filled with questions as I drifted to sleep. I thought that I would sleep through the whole night, but a little sound woke me up. The creaking of hinges.

Slowly I sat up and peered into the darkness, letting my eyes fully adjust themselves. On my bureau was a single flower in a vase. Standing next to it was a figure clothed in darkness. I could not find it in me to scream. Instead I laid back down and fell asleep once more. I thought I was hallucinating, as I was bound to do when I was tired.

When the white bunch of lilac was still there in the morning, I had something to question.


Thank you to all of my followers, including the 6 new ones since my last update: Khubb, VictoriaJameson, ProngsPadfootMooneyCJC, , Ags2277, and LadybugPanda.

A special shoutout to LadybugPanda for commenting. I love you for that, and I'm so grateful that you think what I'm working on is clever and unique! That's what I'm working on, so thank you.

To answer some questions -

Child of Dreams: No, Minta was singing. Erik won't sing much until further chapters.

Kristianna000: Minta is 17, with her 18th birthday just around the corner. We get to party with her in a future chapter!

So guys, tell me what you think! Ask your questions, give me your feedback (good or bad, you can learn from criticism).