September
Mr. Fierro
+1+
ll posibilty, eyes on fireI closed my eyes many times that night, yet I still found it hard to
fall to sleep.
The digital clock
clicked to 2:48 am.
The insomnia mixed
with the need to sleep frustrated me more than I liked. The house was quiet,
stilted due to the lack of electricity, just the silent hiss of the gas
filtering through the kitchen. The last candle in the room blew out and I knew I had been awake far to long.
My thoughts drifted to the bottle of Louis XIII de Remy martin in the nightstand.
As the night slowly progressed my thoughts became. The dusty cognac bottle was heave in my hand, I had never planned on opening it, yet there I was. Before I could allow a drop alcohol to sedate me I realized I was no longer alone.
There was a figure in the doorway. The figure was petite, familiar and welcomed. Still something perplexed me.
“M-Ms. DeLune ?”, I called to the figure
To my knowledge I had not seen or heard from her all day. Martin had made a work of himself keeping his daughter under his control. I had busied myself that day working and paying off unsavory people to further my identity.
I tried to recall if I had let her in, perhaps I had forgotten and my age was wearing on me more than I suspected ?
I blinked twice but she was still there . . . lying in my bed watching me.
Her eyes were dark and vacant, her hair clung in uneven strands to her face: she was dressed as if sleeping the clothes she wore showed wear and were covered in dirt, the flat shoes she was wearing were also caked in dirt and stained by murky water.
It had upset me and incited anger at her ignoring my privacy. I contained my anger and spoke to her.
“Speak to me”, I ordered her. I was hardly pleased with this at all.
Had I not locked the doors ?
Ms. DeLune did not respond or even blink as she continued to watch me, I waited for her to blink, just once, yet she never did.
“Clara ?”, I tried again, taking note of her worn shoes, “Did you walk here ?”
Nothing.
I brought myself to eye level with her, I began to shake her but it was as if she was made of glass, finally I resorted to striking her across the face.
“Sweetheart”, she drawled and laughed, in an intoxicating voice.
I was aching for that nightcap now, I desperately hoped this was a delusion of my constant insomnia.
“Why did you call me that?”
“I’ve always called you that”
Either her lips were or were not moving I could not tell.
“Lucille” I recognized the tone of my dead wife quickly, “What have you done ?”
“You lied to me”, she said
I wanted to reach out and touch her, truly I had gone mad.
Although she had taken he body of her granddaughter, her movements appeared limited almost labored. I could no longer bring myself to touch her
Yes, her presence had been lacking as of late.
“How long ?”, I asked
“I had to wait till she fell asleep. I’m just so upset with ,
sweetheart. You made a commitment to me. She’s a child, my child I practically
raised her.”, she expressed a but of anger.
“Lies-”
“No” she was volatile, “her goddamn flighty mother-“
I needed to get away. Nothing was adding up and logic and reason appeared foreign. I stumbled out of the room praying she would not be able to follow
me. There were footprints on the floor and along the stairs.
Her labored steps followed me down the hall, I knew that If I left, I would abandon Ms. DeLune still I couldn't stop moving.
“Why torment her, Lucie ?”, I called back to her
“Torment her ? What about me”, she missteped and
tumbled head over heels down the last 8 steps, I can still hear the sounds of her body violently hitting each step. She had bleed but it was the least of my concern.
“What is it you want ? Is it the house, the cars the money? What is it you truly want ?”
She had fallen at my feet and awkwardly pulled her self up.There was certainly something darker in Ms. De Lune's eyes. She pressed her palm to the side of my face. In a quiet voice almost a whisper she spoke to me.
“You, I want a second chance”.
I kissed her and felt the memory of my long lost Lucie, she
laughed as I touched her lips something only Lucie would do. Her heart and
mannerism all became real. To have her--some part of her in my arms felt like a true happy ending.
Suddenly Clara’s body was thrown on to the wooden floor, Lucie fought to keep control.
Enough time for me to regain my senses.
“Lucie, let her go”, I demanded
“No”, Lucie rose from the floor, “I’m the victim Addie. I always sacrificed. I sacrificed to give my son the life he deserved. I wasted my life watching Roger stray and comeback.. . “, she went off into an aside, “but he loved his little beautiful Clara, his protege. . . she alone could make him happy, made him realize he wanted a divorce.”
“Lucie, stop this”
“She’s done it again you know. You are all I ever wanted-- we were all each
other wanted. . . I was a stupid girl then . You want to give up everything we
have for a girl 52 years younger than you. Please. . don’t you want it all back
? Don't you love me ?"
I thought of those simple afternoons on
Martin often commented on how his daughter had not been the same after
the accident, she could be distant and quiet, always reading he would say. She was somewhat rebellious and constantly
causing a strain on her father. A disgraceful daughter by his count.
Would they be surprised if she disappeared?
“This could be our second chance”, I could hear Lucie in each of her words.
I helped her off the floor and held both her hands in mine.
“You have to let her go, Lucille”, I said, "It's what is rational"
“I’m your wife, Addie. I was your best friend for years were going to be famil—“
“Yes, we were but you chose Roger”
“It was a stupid mistake I’m sorry, please sweetheart please try to understand”
One last day, I’d often prayed for one last day with Lucie but not like this. I will always believe Lucie deserved a second chance.
“Did you love Roger ?”
She took her bottom lip between her teeth like Lucie would often do.
I knew I couldn’t make Lucie let go, but without a body . . .
I turned my back to her, resting my hands on a hall table and slowly opened a drawer
“I’m sorry Lucie”
Lucie needed her granddaughter's body, perfectly intact. Realizing what I intended to do she ran past me and out the door. I removed the knife from the drawer, grasping it’s silver handle and followed her into the night, she wouldn’t make it far.
It was one of the coldest nights I'll ever remember
I made out her tired form by the lake, With force I threw her down onto the ground, pinning her down.
I pressed the tip of the knife to her
throat, just enough blood to drive Lucie out and preserve Ms. DeLune's life.
“Do it”, she threatened me, “You can’t kill me. .. you will only hurt her.”
“Lucie, damn it”
I dropped the knife and sat her up.
“It’s okay”, she said, “She was supposed to die.”
“So was I”, I told her.
I held her tightly in a false embrace and when she relaxed I pushed us into the cold lake. Lucie screamed and struggled to reach surface and avoid drowning. When she was able to surface I pushed her back under the murky water, listening to the sounds of her drowning. She struggled against me for a while until she didn’t resurface.
13 seconds had gone by when there was a disturbance in the water, I watched as her body resurfaced, she swam to the land and pulled herself ashore, eyes blinded with mud and dirt, water spilling from her cold lips.
“How did I get here ?”, Ms. DeLune said between coughs.
She dragged herself further ashore, speaking incoherently, before falling unconscious.
+++
Every clock in the house had been stuck at 2:49 am.
I concentrated on the full length mirror infront of me,
watching my hands awkwardly work their way in out of the silk tie in an uncomfortable haze.
I had laid Ms. DeLune down in the spare bedroom, after watching her sleep for several minutes I had showered and dressed. Afterward I ripped the sheets from my bed tossing them in the fireplace to burn later.
I reorganized and cleaned the bedroom to my liking, except for the stench of cognac it was as if she and previous events had never been here.
Ms. DeLune was still lying in the spare room when I went to
check on her. It was, by all standards, still early. I listened to the rise and fall of her breathe, I recall contemplating if she always looked this way in the morning.
“Ms. DeLune”, I ran a finger down her cheek, “Wake- up”
Her eyes blinked and she pushed my hand away turning back into sleep. There were bruises on her arm from where she had fallen down the stairs but they could be easily covered.
She sighed and turned over again, the back of her hand on mine
“I'm sorry, you can’t get rid of me that easily, Addie”
“Lucie”, I recoiled from her
“Please please, sweetheart”, she was calm, “please just try to understand”
“Lucielle. . . how ?”
She sat up, pulling her legs underneath her.
“I didn’t think it could actually be done. There is a light in some people. . . it’s small and dim but Clara’s light. It shined so brightly it was so inviting. It took me a while, I had to wait until she was asleep. I can’t tell you how good this feels. To have a body to feel things”
“You—“
“I love you so much, Addie”
“I love you too Lucie but you made your choice, Clara has a life too”
“Clara had a life. She was always supposed to die young”, she looked down, “Girls like Clara always do.”
“How can you be so cruel to your own grandchild.”
“I’m being far from cruel. It’s not right for her to have such feeling for you, when I know you don’t feel the same way. I'm protecting her”
“Are you so attuned to my feelings ?”
She continued to look down, a live wire of electricity in the air; the door closed behind me, I could
hear the entire house close and lock.my pocket watch slowly stopped ticking.
“I’m attuned to many things”, she answered.
She stood up and walked to the hall mirror and studied her granddaughter's reflections, running her fingers through her hair.
“Clara was always such a pretty girl. If only she could tame this hair and her poor figure.”
She continued to scrutinize her granddaughter's appearance, while I contemplated what to do next. This was to my knowledge uncharted territory. A Spectre controlling a human was uncommon, but clearly not impossible.
“I’ll need some clothes.” she spoke as if she had just arrived into town, “I think, I may be here for a while.”
+++
Lucie's exploits to reclaim and explore the life she had been blind to began with good intentions.
Though it was 5 in the morning I sat on the opposite end of the dinning room table. Lucielle flipped through an old paper, not touching the warm cup of tea in front of her. I had called Mrs. Beck early sending her to town to pick up a few birthday gifts for Ms. DeLune with a credit card from Nemian Marcus.
Lucie made breakfast.
“Shouldn’t you eat, Lucille.”
“No”, she said not looking up, “I like watching you eat. It makes me feel like something I’ve done is helpful.”
“Everything you have done thus far has been a hindrance.”
“Everything I have done thus far has been for us.”
The table shook on its legs and fell over, each fragile place setting falling and shattering on the floor, staining the table cloth and floor with coffee and tea. Lucie crossed her legs and continued to flip through the paper laughing at something she had read.
“They will notice if she goes missing”, I told her.
“And we will take care of it when the time comes, why are you trying to take this away from me.”
“You may have been idiotic enough to let Roger pull you into his sins, but I will not comply.”
“I know you, Addie", She said, "You would never make this choice for yourself, so I will make it for you. We will make this work.”
I contemplated whether I would have made this choice. Certainly there was some intrinsic value on a decade long relationship when compared to a trite affair with a school teacher. What an unfortunate school teacher at that.Ms. DeLune would always be my means to an end.
+++
“Fierro Residence”, I heard Mrs. Beck answer the phone, “Just a minute”
I picked up the other line before she could call me.
“Yes”, I answered.
“This is Clair. .. Martin's wife.”
“Yes, Mrs. DeLune”
“Have you by chance seen Clara. She hasn’t been home all night and didn't show up for work. . . I'm worried”
“No, I have not”
“Hm, oh well she left her phone here. . . if she calls.. . “
“Yes, I understand”
I hung up, not being able to bear a mother’s concern for her missing child. Although there was more than Mrs. DeLune would let on. Guilt perhaps ? Either way my lie left a bitter taste in my mouth, I left Ms. Beck to her cleaning and ventured to find Lucie upstairs.
She was no longer in the spare room but in another empty
room in the west wing of the house, I had paid little attention to the room (or side of the house) in the past.
“Is she gone ?”, Lucie asked innocently, referring to Mrs. Beck.
“No, and if you aren’t careful to stay out of sight she will become suspicious”
“Fine, then I’ll wait for you in your bedroom”
“No you will not”, I pulled her back into the empty and shut the door, “stay here, please”
“What ever you say”, she mistook my words as growing affection
I considered my situation. Emile may know something about the situation, although I risked exposing him to Lucie’s terrors.
The day passed in a silent tension. Mrs. Beck worked around me, noting my lack of detail and concentration. I dismissed the woman at every turn.
When her day finally came to an end I paid her and waited till her car dissapered down the road before attempting my own escape. My oxfords slipped across the floor as I tried to reach the garage before Lucie realized my intent.
The garage mechanism refused to open, the doors hummed but stayed shut. The lights in the garage went off and I heard the door open.
“Where are you going”, she approached me in the darkness.
“I-I have to go into town”
“No you don’t. I get the feeling that you have forgotten the commitment we made to each other. It shouldn’t have to be this way.”
The lights came on.
I felt inexplicable drawn to her, she had changed into the clothes Mrs. Beck had purchased; a black dress with the tag still on, matching shoes and a hat to match. Her smile is brighter than Ms. DeLune’s.
I heard my footsteps echo as I followed her back into the
house. Realizing that I was being lured by whatever control she had, I pulled away from her a dull ache forming behind my eyes, my vision burned white, by the time I could see again I had stumbled into my study
"I know you have a lot of work to do", she said from somewhere in the room.
I blinked and she was in front of me, a kitchen knife in hand.
"Why would you try to leave", she said holding the knife up to her neck, "You and I will always be one with or without Clara's. . . 'help'. If she can have a second chance why not me ? Besides It would be difficult to explain if they find the slit throat of a missing girl in your house. . . wouldn't it ? "
The knife danced along the bright clear skin, not dropping a hint of blood.
The doors locked and not another word was passed.
+++
Fear among other things kept me in line.
In a odd twist of irony Lucie would have done anything to persuade me to leave the farm 50 year previous now my leaving was her absolute fear.
Lucie refused to eat citing that she was far to superior for that, she refused sleep for fear that I would leave,therefore leaving the body she occupied to endure the wrath of her neglect.
Lucielle agreed to keep out of sight while Mrs. Beck worked but afterward insisted on playing my wife. Her stubbornness temper and wit is what had sealed our growing affections, something every man wanted to posses in a wife.
“An hour, Lucie be reasonable”
“No”, Lucie removed another painting from the wall of the upstairs west wing.
“Half, then”
“. . . fine, but only half”
“You have to let me speak to her”
“No”, she held up a few paint samples to the living room
wall
Lucie took a break from her adherent remodeling for a smoke break. I watched the smoke pass through her lips and for a few minutes it could have easily been 1954. I hadn’t smoked for years but took in a cigarette in fear of idleness.
Lucie had made herself up, her eyes were sharper and her lips were the color of a tyrian colored peony.
I let the smoldering end of the cigarette hover and touch her skin. Lucie, contemplating paint samples, didn’t even notice.
“Do you feel that ?”, I asked her
“No, it’s not my body. . . why would I ?”, her voice was filled with sadness, she wanted to feel pain.
“So, she will feel it ?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Music continued to play quietly over the sound system, we listened one of us enjoying the others company more.
“You said 30 minutes”, I reminded her, "now would be a good time to start."
“Fine”, she put out the cigarette, “But we have to do this my way.”
"What are you afraid of ?"
"I don't know what I fear but there is something to fear."
Lucie had seemingly set up two prisons for Clara to endure. The empty room in the west wing had been painted black, the windows had been sealed. The door bolted with three secure locks and a number lock.
Taking off her shoes Lucie stepped into the room, as instructed I locked the doors, pressing an ear to the door I couldn't hear anything. At some point Ms.DeLune dropped to the floor perhaps she cried but it was all speculation. I contiuned to listen, my hand reaching for something that was not there.
The exact second 30 minutes had passed the combination lock twisted and turned till the door open. Lucie stepped out relaxed, she could not look me in the eye.
The doors of the room, The Black Room, stood open
It was almost as if Ms. DeLune existed only in that space, she was little more than a ghost in passing now.
+2+
Afterward I found Lucie sitting in the backyard, kneeling
in the grass watching the dark sky. We were probably the only ones alive who
still remembered when this part of Chatuquana was a simple farming community. Where names were common knowledge, a real community in every sense of the word
“Lucille ?”
“You've changed", she said
"Time does that"
"Even when we were together on Litany Lane. . . you were still bitter."
"Now you are being bitter"
"Fate has never been kind to us."
She wanted me to tell her that I understood, like I had forgiven her for marrying Roger. I wanted to be compassionate, I wanted to understand. "
“I feel old Lucie, I don't know if I could bear living another lifetime. It's very tedious”
"another lifetime", she laughed, "to think we could have another lifetime"
I came down to her level, draping my jacket over her shoulders. Summer had been quietly chased away replaced by the gentle autumn.
Her hands worked their way to the side of my face, I felt as though she were speaking to me. She wanted to further her need to be human, and I would never have the power to stop her.
“I never forgot about you”, Lucie kissed me, “everytime I took Martin to the library I thought of you, he was so intelligent and I thought-I always h-hope—“
I assured her that it was in the past, that nothing she could say now would remedy it. Perhaps I thought closure on Lucie's part would help her move on but there was no place for her to go.
+++
I convinced Lucie to allow her granddaughter's prison a few luxuries limited to a bed and a
piano that had been in the basement. Whenever Lucie allowed Ms. DeLune to become sentient her desperation to get out of the room became violent and loud
Lucie kept her reign tight on the household, she was by no
means a tyrant but a tired woman—soul really who needed help. Perhaps I too quickly submitted to her will. She had been my wife what felt like just a year ago and those commitments don't die easily.
After two weeks Clara DeLune began to appear in the papers.
She was romantically portrayed as a young missing heiress and prodigy who had gone missing. Her dissaperence was quoted as causing sympathy and heartache for her wealthy family and fiancee, among other things I would later find to be lies.
+++
October 1st
Henry Thorpe and Martin DeLune appeared to be good friends in low spirits
as they waited to be received in my office.
Mr. DeLune appeared out of sorts, his looks disheveled and unkept, from our last meeting he
could have aged 100 years. I had previously been introduced to Mr. Thorpe but that was hardy the time for pleasantries.
“Mr. DeLune, Mr. Thorpe”, I greeted them, “What can I help you with ?”
“I don’t want to make much of this, Fierro”, started Martin, “It's just you are new in town and you are barley here a month and my little girl goes missing.”
“It’s a shameful coincidence. Is there anything I can do to help”
“I know you're a private man, I won't get the police involved if you won’t mind if we look around this house of yours”
“Be my guest”
I handed them the keys to every room, including The Black
Room. As they were searching the rooms downstairs I went in search of Lucie in
the glasshouse.
Withing walking distance of the house,the 2 acre glasshouse had been my only contribution to the property. It was custom built to my specifications and housed 184 different species of plants. I kept many of my flora, hybrids and distilleries locked
in the glasshouse. the automatic doors opened as I approached them. found Lucie in the back reading amidst the perennials the automatic sprinkler system had dusted her in a mist of water.
“Your son is here, looking for his daughter”
“You can’t let him.”, she suddenly became alarmed
“I can and have”,I took her towards the back door, hidden behind a growth of gladiolas, “Hide in the woods till they leave.”
She agreed and as I made my way back to the house. Martin and Mr. Thorpe had discovered the Black Room.
“I see you have discovered my piano room, I am doing some remodeling”
Martin did not have the heart to listen and brought his hands to his face, the instrument had reminded him of his daughter. Mr. Thorpe offered a comforting hand on his back. The men stood in silence for several minutes before Martin could speak again.
“I wanted her to be here, I wanted you to have committed this crime.. . I just want to take my little girl home.”
“I am dreadfully sorry, sir if there is anything I can do please let me know.anything”, those words sparked something strange in me but it was hardly the time.
Satisfied with their findings (or rather lack there of) the men left, leaving behind a stilted and saddened air
“He never seemed to care for family before”, Lucie said over dinner that night, “growing up. You know he never visited me after he moved out.”
“He cares for his daughter”
She thought about this for a while and leisurely sipped her tea.
“You know family is important to me, Sweetheart. A proper family”
“Proper ?”
“I want Clara to be apart of our family, and for her to get to know her new Grandfather.”
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.