SMOKE AND ASHES

Gold is finding himself increasingly attracted to his new maid, despite her fairy ancestry and his own misgivings regarding close relationships with his tenants. He cannot help but compare 'Lacey's' delicate, fine style to Milah's over-the-top vulgarities. The little maid continues to capture his attention and his imagination.

And Miss Belle continues to speculate on just what she has gotten herself into. Late one afternoon she encounters an unwelcome visitor in Mr. Gold's shop and is attacked by a slithering dark shadow.

Chapter 6

Invisible

Belle made herself as small and as still as possible. She held her breath. She focused on emptiness, nothingness, non-existence. She pictured the room as it was before she had entered it, every cup, every plate, every book, every lamp, every table, everything piece of furniture, everything. It was as it had been and she was not there.

The oily black shadow slid and slithered around the alcove she had retreated to. It poked and prodded with its elongated, slender, slimy fingers all around the room, looking, seeking, trying to find her.

Belle focused a while on thinking that there was no one in the room, that she was invisible. When one of the fingertip tendrils brushed against her, she shivered. It left behind the stifling oversweet scent of decay. Belle could also feel an insatiable hunger and a hatred of all things alive and healthy. She changed her focus to sunshine and refreshing fall breezes and cleansing spring rains and rainbows.

Kittens and puppies, tiramisu, new mown grass, babies giggling.

A pair of warm brown eyes.

Abruptly, in a flurry of darkness and pain, the thing slipped out of the room, in a swift flowing motion, as if it were being retracted, sucked up by something more powerful or perhaps it had faded quickly to get away from something more powerful.

Belle knew it had gone.

For, how long? she sat still, breathing again, slowly and as shallowly as she could manage. It was a long moment before she ventured to open her eyes. She found that Mr. Gold was crouched by her.

"What kind of stunt did you just pull?" he asked her angrily.

"Wh. . .What? I don't understand," she told him.

He put his hands on her upper arms and shook her, "Don't play innocent with me, Miss Lacey! What did you just do?"

She didn't like him being angry with her. She stammered again, "I. . . I . . . I don't understand."

He looked hard at her. He took several deep breaths, closing his eyes briefly, as if to calm himself down. Still crouched down, he spoke between his teeth, "You were just attacked by a bocan, a ghost shadow. I had to forcibly evict Miss Cora and then come back to find you. By the time I got back here, it was gone. How did you get rid of it?"

"I . . .I . . ." she wasn't sure what to say. "I . . . I didn't do anything. I just looked at you and that woman and then the shadow came after me. I just crouched down here."

His eye narrowed. "You. Just. Crouched. Down," he repeated and then roughly pulled her up, his hands gripping her arms, "Those things don't just slither away from their prey. I was expecting to find your bleached bones and your little necklace in a pile back here. You did something," he accused her.

"I didn't do anything!" she insisted, trying to pull away from his firm grip on her arms.

"Miss Lacey or whatever your real name is, I know what you are," he told her.

"You do?" her question was ingenuous, open and honest. "What am I?" she asked him.

He noticed her eyes had widened with what? curiosity? "You must know that you're able to put yourself into people's heads!" His brown eyes were locked with hers. He took another couple of deep breaths, stilling himself and lowered his voice again. "Everyone in this house has Talent. You wouldn't have been invited in if you didn't have Talent. You must know you're able to do things that most other people can't do! You, my dear, can get into people's heads and know what they're feeling!" He spoke softly, his lips near her ear.

Belle felt tears spill out of her eyes. She slowly nodded her head. "I don't mean for it to happen. It started when I . . . when I . . . ." she couldn't finish.

"It started when your period started," he told her curtly.

She felt herself growing hot and knew she was blushing. How could he speak of such personal things? But he seemed to know something about this. She sniffed and answered him slowly,"Yes, I would know how people were feeling about things before they said anything. Even when they would say something different, I would still know," she confessed. "I didn't know that others couldn't do what I was doing," she told him in a tiny voice looking down at this harsh grip on her arms.

Seeing her glance, he relaxed his grip on her arms . . . a bit. "You have to be very careful. You're playing a very dangerous game, especially around here. Cora is one of the most dangerous creatures you'll ever meet and probably twice as dangerous now with that shadow thing that has attached itself to her."

"I didn't try to get into that woman's head!" she protested. "And that thing that came after me! It just appeared out of nowhere!" she told him. "I saw it. It came looking for me!" She looked up at him. "What did it want?"

He gave her a feral smile, "What do you think, Miss Lacey? It wanted to possess you, kill you, fuck you . . . whatever it could manage."

He felt her shudder under his hands. She was frightened. Well, she should be frightened. "Now, tell me again what you did so that it didn't find you."

"I tried to hide from it," she told him.

"Well," he looked around the room. "Apparently you did. I'd like to know how you managed to hide and avoid the slimy bastard."

"I don't know. I just made myself small," Belle hesitated. Then she added, "And then I thought pretty thoughts, thoughts about kittens and sunshine and nice stuff."

He looked at her, both puzzled and bemused. "You'll have to show me how that's done sometime," he told her.

Belle managed to nod one more time. "I . . . I . . . I've never met anyone else who could. . .who could do what I do."

There was a moment and then he released her and stepped back, "You still haven't."

"But you said. . ."

"We have different Talents here. Telepaths are most similar to what you are, but they hear thoughts. You are in tune with feelings. You're an Empath."

"I am?" she asked in wonderment.

He was struck with her real amazement regarding the nature of her Talent. She really was an innocent. She didn't know. She'd had no training. She was regarding him with her eyes wide and . . . a bit fearful.

Damn fairy. To give birth to and then abandon a sensitive child like this.

And he was pissed with himself. He had frightened her. The most fragile, delicate flower of all the Talented and he had shaken her and shouted at her. He could be such a prick. He gave her what he hoped was a kindly smile. He brought his hand up and gently touched her hair, "You sweet girl, what's your real name?"

"Isabella," she whispered her answer, suddenly feeling as if she had made herself even more vulnerable to him.

"Isabella? That's a nice name. Sometime you'll have to tell me why you didn't feel like you could tell me that when I first asked you. How about I call you Belle?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and dropping his hand to her shoulder.

She looked up. "Do you read minds?" she asked. Where had he pulled that name from?"

"More or less, but I didn't just then. It's disrespectful to read your friend's thoughts unless they know you're doing it."

"Belle is what my mother would call me," she told him, dropping her eyes.

He stood very quietly, one hand still resting on her shoulder. He placed his other hand on the side of her face. Almost a caress.

"Do you remember your mother?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not really, she died when I was very young. She was my father's second wife. He never seemed to get over her passing."

He hesitated, "Do you mind that I call you Belle?" he finally asked.

She considered, "No," Somehow it felt right for him to call her Belle.

"Belle, this House is a sanctuary for people with Talents, people who are a bit different. The House selects us and invites us in. Everyone who is here, is here because they are supposed to be here."

"So this is a safe place?"

"Usually, yes, this is a safe place," he confirmed when we aren't fighting off minions from Hell, devil-imps, banshees or soul-sucking fiends.

She felt like there was something else. "Why are we here?"

"To take care of others," he told her.

"But I can barely take care of myself," she told him. "How can I take care of anyone else?"

He released her and turned away. "I don't know. I know you made a good suggestion for how Regina could augment her Talent. How'd you know that?"

Belle blushed again. "I could see around her and things kinda stopped at her feet. She wasn't. . . connected. It was like there was a break in the energies. . . " she didn't know how to explain it.

Gold considered. "Interesting. Thwarted by seven hundred dollar Ferragamos." He didn't seem to be talking to her at the moment.

"Do you want me to move out?" she asked him a tiny voice.

"Wh. . .what? No," he told her, but he seemed distant. "I need to figure out why The House wanted you here. Empaths are exceedingly rare and I'd always thought they weren't particularly useful." But you're apparently powerful enough to single-handedly face down a bocan ghost shadow. Not too many full-fledged practitioners could do that. "But if The House wanted you here, then you must belong here. You must belong here." He seemed to be talking as much to himself as to her. He stopped and looked at her again, "Do you want to move out? I would arrange for you to get another job and find you another place to stay."

"I don't know. If I can be helpful. . . You are the good guys, right?" she suddenly asked him shyly.

He almost chuckled, "Yes, Belle, this week, at least, I'm one of the good guys. Everyone here, they're the good guys."

As he started back to the counter, he told her, "You are going to have to learn to control your abilities, you know that. I will see about getting Ruby and Emma to help."

"Wha. . . What are their Talents?" Belle managed to ask him.

"I'll let you figure that out," he told her, cutting her off.

As he was about to walk out on her, she made one last effort, "Wha . . . What are you?"

He stopped and turned. There was a long pause, as if he was debating if he was going to answer her. "I'm an Elemental Master," he finally said.

"Oh," she had no idea what that was. "But you don't have empathy?" Belle asked him to be sure.

"Not really. Not that I've ever been aware of. Not that I've ever used," he admitted.

"So, I'm kinda unique."

He smiled back at her, "You are special," he agreed.

Belle picked up her dusting cloth but hesitated to begin her job again. She pulled back from the walls of the room, all the places where the evil spirit had touched. Gold could tell and thought it likely that Belle could still feel where the oily shadowy creature, the bocan, had spread its poison. He instructed her to wait a moment while he limped into the bowels of his back room and returned carrying a long elegantly carved . . . stick. He gently waved it around the room following the path of the shadow creature.

"That should make you feel better," he told her and gently he touched her hair again before he returned to the front desk.

Belle watched him, open-mouthed as he'd walked around the room waving the stick and then left her standing. Did he just wave a wand around the room? An honest to goodness wand?

+ + + A Breakfast Invitation

At five o'clock, Mister Gold let her know that her day with him was over and insisted she pick out a clock for herself. She selected a small porcelain desk clock from the ones he had pulled out for her to see. It was white with pretty little blue roses and light lavender blossoms painted on it.

He tentatively suggested that he would not be averse to her joining him for breakfast tomorrow morning, that is . . . if she would like to. He had kept his eyes on the counter when he had made his suggestion and only at the end, did he look up, "Would you like to join me?"

Belle had smiled at him, "If it wouldn't be an imposition?"

"No, not at all."

He was clearly relieved. Then, Belle told him, "I'd love to."

+ + + A Quiet Supper

When she got to her room, Belle placed the pretty porcelain clock on the floor next to the bed. She set the alarm for six thirty. She then sat in the darkness of her living room with the curtains open, looking out at the traffic in the city considering getting up to heat up the rest of her leftovers. Maybe just a sandwich. She had some bread, ham, and cheese. And some canned mandarin oranges. And she could make some tea.

She fixed her meager sandwich supper and then ate it, sitting in her living room¸ mulling over her change in fortunes.

She thought about what he had told her. An Empath.

She was an Empath.

Well, that explained a lot.

So she hadn't been going crazy. When she was still at home and the bad dreams had started, she had become too afraid to go to sleep and become too afraid of being in large groups and become too afraid of being around others and become too afraid of . . . just everything. They had diagnosed her with an anxiety disorder and began giving her increasingly powerful drugs. But the drugs seemed to make everything worse.

So then they tried other drugs.

And more drugs.

And then they had locked her away.

She had learned, on her own, how to shut out the feelings, well, most of the time she could shut them out. She slowly 'got better' and they allowed her out with close supervision. Still skittish, she remained uncomfortable around people and had taken to spending most of her hours in the library. It was quiet and calm (and not too many people).

Even then, sometimes, strong feelings would just come out of nowhere and overwhelm her, but, she had kept getting better, a little, maybe a lot. But, she was judged to be fragile and delicate and still had to be watched all the time in case she started to lose control. She had various keepers, who worked in shifts, when she went out in public. After all, they didn't want her to embarrass her family. It was important that she maintain appearances.

But the time came. They had been on a publicity tour of the United States when her father had told her, had shared his plans for her with her. She had gotten angry with him and his decision that marriage and having a baby would distract her from her crazy anxieties. She knew all that wouldn't help. And the craziness was so encompassing so that still, even though she was some better, all the while she was still afraid of embarrassing her family, her country, herself. So one fateful night she had decided that the best thing she could do for herself, her family and her country was to slip away, to disappear, to run away.

It was the bravest thing she had ever done.

She had taken some money and she had run away. Far, far away.

And ended up on the streets, a genuinely dangerous situation. And there, the fears had gotten worse, far worse than anything she had experienced before. While on the street she had first encountered the little shadows, the things that haunted dark basements, and alleyways and lived in closets and under beds. They were everywhere. They fed on fear . . .and she'd been afraid all the time.

And because she had to, because she had no choice, she had learned to make herself invisible.

But then, she had gone from a dangerous situation on the streets to a dangerous situation in this building.

But there were no shadows here. Or had not been except for this afternoon when one of the biggest, meanest ones she'd ever encountered came after her. It had come into the shop with That Woman.

Belle got up to clean up from her supper.

Just what was the mission of these people? Could she trust them? She certainly had felt safer with thim.

And just what was Mr. Gold? He had been so nice but he had been clearly angry and upset after the Shadow Incident. What had he called that thing? A bocan? He had shaken her. He had hurt her in his urgency to find out what she had done. What had she done? She had reached out and touched something, something unpleasant, something evil. It had fled but she knew it had been looking for her. It had fled and she wasn't sure if it was because of anything she had done or if she had just been lucky.

Then he had become nice again as if he was sorry and embarrassed for having shouted at her. And invited her to breakfast.

She enjoyed his company but. . . . Who was she kidding? She was immensely attracted to the man. When he had touched her face she had wanted to lean into his hand. She had wanted to throw herself into his arms, his safe and comforting arms. His warm chocolate eyes, his long, talented fingers, his very presence . . . he made the craziness go away. He made her feel calm. He made her feel . . . right.

No, no, no, the man had saved her from destitution. He had given her a job, food, a place to stay, a safe place. What she was feeling was gratitude. Yes, gratitude. She was grateful for everything he was doing for her. There was no attraction. How, why would she feel attracted to a man old enough to be her father?

It was just gratitude.

Thankful that she had gotten a better grip on her emotions, Belle settled in to her apartment, looking around. Her room was so quiet, with only the noises of the street coming up. Maybe she should buy a radio with her first paycheck. Or did she need one of those cheap phones first? She laughed at herself. Now, why would she need a phone? Who was she going to call? No, not a phone, a radio would be nice.

Belle removed her skirt and bra. Then dressed in her undies and tank top, she turned into bed. Having a full stomach and a warm bed was wonderful and she never intended to ever forget it. She was asleep when Gold walked up the stairs.

+ + + + A New Day- Saturday

Belle awakened before the alarm went off, grabbed a shower, dressed in her new black skirt with one of her older blue tops. She put on her lipstick and ran her fingers through her hair. She had plenty of time to make her breakfast appointment (date?) with Mr. Gold.

He seemed happy (almost relieved) when she came down the stairs, already wearing her heavy coat.

"Miss Belle, or should I call you Miss Lacey when they might be others around?" he'd asked.

"Belle is fine," she told him she rather liked him calling her Belle.

"Miss Belle, may I suggest The Early Girl Eatery?"

"Certainly." It's your money. Belle had been by the moderately priced restaurant but had never been able to afford more than a look.

"It's a bit of a walk," he told her and helped her with her coat and then offered her his arm. They walked up Lexington, walked the steep hill up Walnut Street, then down Haywood to Battery Park and then angled left to Wall Street to get to the restaurant. Gold ordered the Early Girl Benny, a grit cake topped with poached eggs, tomato, spinach and avocado with gravy and a biscuit. Belle ordered the less expensive Southern Breakfast with two eggs (scrambled) with grits and toast. With Gold's encouragement, she added some sausage.

They ate companionably with Belle updating him on what she had finished up with in his shop and what she hoped to accomplish today. She would catch Mr. Gold looking at her from time to time, speculatively. When she would look at him, he would look away.

"This is Saturday," he said.

"I believe so, yes sir," she answered, pleasantly agreeing with him.

"There'll be a paycheck waiting for you this afternoon."

"Thank you. I . . . " she started to talk, stopped herself, but then continued, "I know I've said this before, but I really want to thank you for this job and the apartment. I'm immensely grateful."

He locked eyes with her and then looked away. "You've been a hard worker, Miss Belle. You're doing a very good job." Not to mention you're easy on the eyes and easy on the ears and sweet and gentle . . .and intriguing and . . . .

"Thank you. I . . . I hope you remain happy with my work," she told him.

He waited a moment, seemingly reluctant to say what he was about to. "Miss Belle, we need to consider getting you some training. Your Talent is unique and I'm not quite sure how to go about finding out more about it. I'm certainly not sure how it can be used to benefit our little group."

"I couldn't help but overhear your phone call yesterday," Belle began. "You called on someone to come to help with one of your tenants."

"That wasn't for you. . . although, there may be some help there. If anyone could . . . yes, maybe, she could help with your training."

Belle looked at him, questioningly.

"Not exactly an old friend, but someone I have a working relationship with. She helped me out one time when I had been pretty badly hurt. She was the only one who came and helped me and she got in trouble for it. She's . . . mostly trustworthy. At least I'm pretty sure she doesn't lie to me or try to mislead me. We have the same enemies."

"So the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Belle asked knowingly.

His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled back at Belle, "Exactly."

+ + + A Bookish Interlude

Once back in the shop, Belle promptly got back to work picking up at the point she had left off. Gold could hear her. Occasionally he could hear her bumping into things but there were no crashes. Often he could hear things moving around; Belle was evidently dusting and sweeping behind some of the furniture. Sometimes there was a gentle clinking of dishes and he assumed that she was moving things out of some of the cabinets, cleaning and then moving things back into the cabinets.

Then it got quiet.

He waited awhile.

But it remained quiet.

He debated, but eventually he became concerned that something might have happened to his little maid. Could Cora have left some part of that dark, nasty entity in his shop and had it been lying in wait for some innocent soul? He left the counter, knowing that he would hear the bell should someone come in. He knew about where Belle had been and made his way back through the corridors and through the different alcoves that made up the massive shop. He missed her the first time through. Had she managed to make herself invisible again? It was on his second pass that he found her. She was sitting in one corner in one of the old high backed chairs with a book in her hand. She had drawn her feet up and looked rather tiny in the over-sized chair.

"Miss Belle, is everything all right?" he asked.

She startled and jumped to her feet. "Oh, oh!" she blushed guiltily, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing. "I'm so sorry. I was dusting out one of the cabinets and I found a little cache of books." She was excited, her blue eyes sparkling. "And this was one of them," she held up a leather bound volume. "It's a first edition Pride and Prejudice! Did you know you had this?" she spoke in wonderment.

He almost smiled, "Of course, dear. You're a Jane Austin fan, I take it."

"Oh yes, of course. This is in such wonderful condition. It's probably worth more than five thousand dollars! You really ought to put these books out in a more secure location, in a case to protect them and where people can see them," she lectured him. "And you have The Tale of Two Cities. Do you have others?"

"I'm sure I do," he answered, "Perhaps, you will want to work on that as you go along. You can gather the books up and then we can find a place for them out front. I'll see if we can find a proper bookcase to put them in." He had to smile at Belle's enthusiasm.

Belle carefully laid the precious first edition aside. And, with an embarrassed smile, she went back to her dusting work. She lost track of the time and was surprised when Mr. Gold called her out. He asked if she'd want to join him for some grilled chicken empanadas from Salsa's.

Belle stood a moment, "That sounds so good, but you don't have to feed me breakfast and lunch."

"Miss Belle," Gold was suddenly serious. "You are an excellent worker. And I know that you have no funds and you have been close to starving. How about, when you get your first paycheck, you buy me a meal?"

Belle thought about this. "I'd like that. But you still don't have to feed me breakfast and lunch. I appreciate it, please understand that. I'll agree to lunch today and breakfast tomorrow, but then I need to be responsible for my own lunches."

He looked at her steadily, then gave her a small smile, "So I will get to keep breakfasts with you. It's a deal."

Belle was surprised. She hadn't meant that but . . .well, she did enjoy her breakfasts with the man. She didn't want to give them up. She should argue about it with him, but . . . he . . . he seemed so lonely. She was really doing him a kindness. Just as he was helping her.

They enjoyed their lunch together eating in the back alcove where Gold could hear the bell if someone came in. Belle shared that she had never had Mexican cuisine before which surprised Gold and then she chatted about some of the other volumes of books she had found, her excitement coming through in her voice and in her eyes. She had found a couple of esoteric volumes like Potions and Elixers, Behind the Veil, and Singing the Sabbats. She asked Gold about them. He asked that she put such volumes aside and he would peruse them and find a special place for them later.

After clearing up from lunch, Belle again returned to work. She continued to hear different customers coming in and out. Some came to sell items, some to buy.

No one ever came in to just browse. Everyone had a purpose, something for which they needed help.

I continue to be staggered by the kindness and comments of my reviewers. Things are about to heat up for our players. Thanks to : Robin4, OneMagician, The Prince's Phoenix, RaFire, thedoctorsgirl42, RoxyMoron, karolprado, Psyko-chan, emospritelet, juju0268, cynicsquest, Erik'sTrueAngel, VinterNatt, spacecats, Chauchi, cheesyteal'c, jewel415, deweymay, Ying-Fa-dono, orthankg1, MyraValhallah, Aletta-Feather, WillowlovesRumbelle, Anne Andrews (guest), Guest (anon love)

Guest(listing): There are thirteen in the house. You forgot Gold and Belle (of course). Along with Regina, Emma, Ashley, Ruby, Mary Margaret, Milah, and Jefferson, I've also mentioned Archie and Killian. Leroy has been obliquely referred to. There is one other that hasn't come into the story just yet.

NEXT: Gold reveals something of his own history, Ruby and Emma drop by Belle's for an unexpected supper and (oh no!) The House is attacked.