Chapter 7: The Check Up.
Life without the chains and cuffs was certainly easier, Iris felt like she was walking on the moon without having to trudge around with heavy cuffs weighing her down, she could clean and dust the highest places in the rooms without her muscles screaming, and no more welts or bruises.
Replacing the physical pain of the chain and cuffs, was a deep discomfort, an unknown tension in the musty air of the factory. Iris wasn't sure what she did to displease Lord Heisenberg, but the man was even more distant, even more unpredictable than before. He'd demand food at random times of the day and night, sometimes waking Iris up, heart thumping in her chest like a prisoner desperately trying to escape their cell. Sometimes he'd make her stay, sit silently as he ate, or share his meal. Sometimes he'd ask to inspect her healing wounds, even when they were evidently long gone. He'd become very interested in the raised scars of Lady's bite mark on her wrist, and often covered the mark with his large, gloved hand.
Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight he'd thundered into the living quarters unannounced. Not acknowledging Iris who cowered in the corner of the office, feather duster in hand as if that would protect her from his fury. Seconds after he stormed in, the ancient phone in his office rang once, making Iris's soul jump out of her body from the screeching noise.
The man nearly ripped it off the wall as he answered. Iris wondered how he knew it was even going to ring.
"WHAT- Oh. Mother Miranda…" The switch in tone was instant but had Iris cringing. He was lucky he was her son, and one of the four Lords of the village. Mother Miranda was a mysterious figure to the villagers, but they did know one thing. She demanded the utmost respect from everyone at all times.
The man, usually always on the move, even whilst sitting he'd be fiddling with something, was as still as a statue. He stayed frozen by the phone for a good few minutes, Iris didn't think she breathed until he hung up with a low, "Thank you, Mother Miranda, Good Night."
Her Lord turned to her with gritted teeth, eyes dark as they glared down at her, gloved fists clenched.
"Well? Don't just stand around looking pretty. Get to bed. You have an interesting day tomorrow."
At Iris's blank expression he sighed in exasperation.
"You, my dear, are meeting with dear old mother tomorrow." He stalked off before her brain processed his words, her panic, her most likely ultimate demise. "It was nice knowing you sweet, even if you are a shitty maid." The office door shutting didn't mask his low chuckling, he loved to call her a bad maid, bad cook, bad everything. Iris didn't take it to heart, most of the time it felt like teasing, and the other times, well she was used to her Lords being fussy.
She stayed in the office for a good while, perched on the Lord's desk, which had been organised and shined that day, all paperwork in its proper place, with Iris making a show to the camera that she wasn't reading anything on the papers. Her Lord was a paranoid one. The feather duster remained clutched in her hands, bone white with bitten nails and cuts from where she picked at them in worry.
Mother Miranda had told her to tell her what she saw in the factory, but Iris didn't really expect to be called upon to relay any information.
Did she even have information?
Her Lord had mentioned Mother Miranda numerous times, none in a pleasant manner. He was extremely secretive about his work, and often hinted towards it being some sort of weapon. Whatever he was doing, Iris had a feeling it wouldn't please Mother Miranda, yet she couldn't find herself comfortable with telling her any of this. She was devout, as all villagers were. But surely if Mother Miranda was as all knowing as the church said she was, she'd already know about whatever her son was doing?
Maybe this was all a test.
Village folk would sometimes be granted a gift from Mother Miranda when they'd done something exceptional in her eyes. Sometimes they were those affiliated with the church. Sometimes people were just born to be gifted, others from notable families, like the Lord Donna Benneviento. Rumour has it that Lady Dimitrescu was a famous singer before she was gifted, and it was her talents that granted her the blessing.
Maybe if Iris showed loyalty, she'd be given the gift. But she wasn't sure if she'd want to earn such a sacred thing by snitching on her Lord making snide comments about his own mother. It felt dirty, cheap.
The debate had Iris in the office until the wee hours of the morning where she eventually decided to forgo sleep and make some coffee for her and her Lord, who she could hear stomping towards the Living Quarters just as the sky was turning from dark shades of purples and blues, to reds and pink.
The man was silent as she placed the chipped white mug in front of him, glaring down at what was surely a very out of date newspaper. She sat opposite him, something that still felt very much forbidden to Iris, but her Lord got irritated whenever he caught her eating or drinking whilst stood up. She stared into her black coffee, steam circling up towards her nose, teasing her with the bitter smell, hoping that her Lord would break the silence first.
She caved quickly, too nervous about the day to care much about politeness.
"Lord Heisenberg, what time am I supposed to meet with Mother Miranda. Will it be in the factory?"
"10 am. The Church."
"Thank you my Lord."
More tense silence. It was killing her inside. Lady Dimitrescu was never this bad, even at her worst moods she would at least express her feelings, loudly and violently. Her nerves were gnawing at her stomach, rabid creatures eating away at her insides. She watched the cool, calm facade of her Lord across the table, flicking through the damn newspaper and sipping coffee as if he was in a Parisian cafe.
Paris?
Iris had forgotten about the city. Any city. For a second a burst of horror shot down her spine like ice water. She suddenly felt trapped, like an ant in a spider's web. Sweat beaded her neck, her head pounding with a sudden migraine. Memories forcing themselves through the fabric of her brain like blunt scissors, making her wince.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Her Lord snapped, Iris could barely hear over the ringing in her ears.
"H-My.. Lord Heisenberg. Have you ever visited P-Paris?" It was a stupid question, she knew the second he put his mug down, mouth open in surprise. No one spoke of the outside world, it was evil, full of people out to get them, to get Mother Miranda, and that's why she created the village, to keep her people safe.
"Repeat that."
"P-Paris. It just entered my mind. H-have you ever been?"
The man leaned back, assessing her.
"Do you think about Paris often?" She knew the true question, did she think of the outside world often. She didn't. Not really. She had her prayer book, full of scrawling notes of memories long forgotten. But no one could ever know about that.
"...No my Lord. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I think I'm nervous. Seeing Mother Miranda is such a huge blessing after all." The man rolled his eyes and went back to his newspaper with a sharp huff.
"Whatever bullshit keeps you sane." He muttered gruffly, Iris suppressed a gasp at the open hostility to what should have been both of their ways of life. She gulped down the last dredges of her coffee and scurried away back to her cage to find the least dour looking dress she possessed.
She walked as slowly as possible out of the factory, trudging through the long grass as if her feet were made of lead. She'd not seen her Lord before leaving, and found herself surprisingly upset that she didn't get to say goodbye face to face, instead shyly pressing the speaker button of the rusty gate, which was already opened for her, to tell him she hoped she'd see him later that day. He'd grumbled the same before telling her to scram, the gates slamming shut behind her.
Iris hovered by the gate for a moment, staring at the path over the river into the village, lit by the soft morning light, birds chirping and the beautiful Dimitrescu castle just looming over the mountains. Something so beautiful shouldn't have brought so much terror. As if she was about to enter her Lady's room, she smoother her dress, tidied her bun, and pressed a hand to where her prayer book was fastened.
Except it wasn't.
"Oh no. Oh no no no no nonononono" Iris doubled over from the nausea, the rush of fear, guilt, shame. She'd left the book in the bathroom when she'd gotten changed, so distracted by the meeting with Mother Miranda that she'd forgotten about it, lying on the floor in the corner of the room. Shooting up she turned back to the gate, maybe her Lord would let her back in? She could say she had nerves, needed the bathroom again?
As if psychic, the buzzer lit up and her Lord's growling voice shouted from the other side
"I said SCRAM".
Tears welled in her eyes, well if Mother Miranda wasn't going to punish her, Lord Heisenberg would. She'd either die in the morning, or afternoon.
Numbly she turned and walked down the path, ignoring the pretty river, the cute birds, the beautiful castle. Ignoring the poverty, the wreckage, the lycans.
The church was a humble looking building, near the graveyard and the path that led up to Castle Dimitrescu. Iris hadn't been there since she was a girl, worship was to be done within the castle walls for the maids, as apparently when allowed to leave the grounds for church led to many maids.. escaping.
As usual, The Hag was milling around outside, scratching sigils into the ground. The Hag had been a staple in the village ever since Iris arrived as a child, the most devoted of the church she was often found praying to Mother Miranda and drawing sigils onto any surface she could get her old, wrinkly hands on. Most villagers avoided her, some threw abuse at her, but Iris always had a feeling about her, she had the same aura as the Lycans, as her Lord and Lady, as Mother Miranda. She had a feeling the woman was much more than a simple villager like herself, so always made a point to be polite to the woman, even if she was wrong, maybe The Hag got lonely sometimes.
As if she could hear her "name" in Iris's thoughts, The Hag turned around in an awkward hobble, smiling wide, her pale, watery eyes wide and beaming.
"Ahhhh little Iris, Mother Miranda is waiting for you! Yes little Iris first locked up in the Castle now the Factory, maybe today you will be freed."
Her loud, theatrical voice cut through the silence of the church grounds, Iris didn't question how she knew her name, and her time with her Lord and Lady. The Hag seemed to know everything that went on in the village, and would proclaim them loudly to anyone close enough.
"Good morning Ma'am" Iris gave her a timid smile, and the tiniest of curtsy, just in case, "Thank you for telling me that Mother Miranda is waiting. I hope it has not been for long. I would hate to be an inconvenience."
With that she quickly stepped to the side and hurried into the church, at the door turning to say goodbye to The Hag, but the woman had vanished.
Odd.
The church was silent bar a rustle of feathers, Iris assumed an owl was hiding somewhere in the thatched roof. Mother Miranda was stood in her full regalia, mask and robes, at the foot of the shrine dedicated to her and the Lords. Iris knelt to the floor, forehead touching the well worn floorboards.
"Rise"
Stand up, smooth dress, tighten bun, eyes down.
"Sit"
Iris sat on the suggested pew. Mother Miranda remained standing, unmoving like a statue, she felt like she was a naughty school child, about to be scolded by their teacher.
She must know about the prayer book. Iris forced herself to appear calm.
"How has your time been at my Karl's factory?" It was odd hearing Lord Heisenberg's name, it was common knowledge to know the full names of each Lord, information about them was written in prayer books, about how they came to the village on Mother Miranda's request, gifted by her, then charged with ruling over the village, protecting it with their own specific gifts.
"It has been enjoyable. Lord Heisenberg is a kind Lord." Mother Miranda nodded, sitting down next to Iris on the pew in a fluid motion, a cold hand placed over Iris's clammy one. Her heart was in her throat, going a mile a minute, she couldn't believe she was so close, being touched by her village's God.
"Remember what I asked you in Alcina's Castle? Have you learnt anything?"
It was a loaded question, Iris's brain racked for an appropriate answer that wouldn't get her killed or tortured, but also one that wouldn't get her Lord in trouble with his mother.
"Lord Heisenberg is.. A private man. He works all hours of the day, and was wary of me going near his items." Despite the mask, Iris could see Mother Miranda's expression harden, she had to give something good quick. "He seemed to believe I was a spy for Lady Dimitrescu. I don't want to speak out of turn-"
"Speak freely to your Mother." Alrighty then.
"He is very jealous of her. I think he believes that you favour her the most. And that if he works hard enough, that will change."
Her God leaned back, head tilted to the side slightly, in thought. There was a long, gut-wrenching pause before she spoke.
"He was always a sensitive boy. Even more so than Moreau." She stood up and Iris swore she heard feathers again, "Thank you Iris. This has placated my concerns. You will continue to stay under your Lord's care. Help him with whatever silly project he's working on to 'become the favourite'. I will meet with you again near the end of the year for an update."
"O-Of course Mother Miranda. Thank you for your trust. I will not let you down."
"No you won't. Now Leave."
Iris bowed once again, allowing three seconds on the floor before shooting up and scuttling out of the church. She forced herself to walk nearly halfway back to the factory before the panic attack took over and had her squatted behind a dilapidated butchers, snivelling into her dress and choking up bile.
The walk back to the factory was in a haze, bile burned her throat, salty tears burned her eyes, and the weight of Mother Miranda's orders nearly crushed Iris's shoulders. Despite being midday a low fog had been laid onto the village like a suffocating blanket, hiding any lurking villagers or lycans from Iris's view. Although at the moment, she wouldn't mind a rogue lycan taking her out of the picture.
The factory gate was wide open as Iris crossed the bridge, perhaps Mother Miranda had alerted her Lord that she'd be returning to stay in the factory. She entered the garage and floated through the hallway of the living quarters like a ghost, not quite sure what to do with herself now she was back at "work".
She decided a strong coffee would snap her out of it, rounding the doorway of the kitchen, but stopping dead.
Sat on the rickety dining table, hunched over, hat pulled low, cigar lit, was her Lord.
In front of him was her prayer book. Wide open.
His smoky glasses flashed at her. Iris felt like a rabbit pinned down by a fox.
"We need to talk."