+1+
There is something stunning about seeing Chateau Mercier covered in lights. The evening is so quiet that the only sound comes from the sparking filaments inside of the outdoor lights. If I close my eyes I can hear the gate creak open. I can feel the rumble of cars beneath my shoes.
I had been unsuccessful at prying more information from Marguerite. I was even less successful at escaping from the house. The doors were all locked and I perhaps could have made it out of a window but that would have meant leaving Clara here. I settled for watching her as she went about the house. Her threats to injure Clara forced me to prepare for tonight festivities. She was giddy at the prospect of creating new more permanent guest. I wondered if her current state amplified her arrogance and pride. Would she really find peace like this?
I stepped down from the portico and to the driveway in the distance our guest are arrive. A red fiat leads the long line of cars towards Chateau Mercier, a shiver moves through me and a tired man in service wear is next to me… he looks . . . unsubstantial and he most certainly wasn’t there moments ago.The red fiat circles the drive and pulls up in front of me. The strange man opens the door and Emile steps out, though he is unrecognizable underneath the gold, emerald and purple masque he is wearing. He tilts his face up and admires the house.
Others step out their cars and almost instantly the festive lights on the house brighten and the old fountain in the drive spurts to life, I can hear the swell of music and the front doors open on their own accord.
“Fierro? Emile says, “Is everything alright? You look a little grave.”
“No”, I said offering him my arm and escorting Emile inside. We enter the foyer which is now thick with masked people in hushed conversations, women in glittering period gowns. Behind me I feel a brush against my shoulder that is electrifying. I turn but Emile turns me back
“Who are these people?” Emile asks.
“I don’t know” They certainly hadn’t been there before.
When the last guest enters, the doors swing shut and a bright light hovers by the staircase.
Emile turn and stairs, “What the. . .”
I follow Emile’s gaze to the woman at the top of the spiral staircase in a fitted beaded gold and tan dress, her long black hair pinned up. Everyone’s eye are a suddenly on her and I see a hint of a smile beneath the masque. She takes the steps down smoothly one at a time, not looking down one hand lazily on the railing. She stops in front of me and carefully pulls the masque down over my face.
“There we go darling”, she says, “You want to play along, don’t you?”
Emile is staring in awe and curiosity.
“Clara”, Emile begins but she of course doesn’t answer to that name.
The crowd suddenly breaks their gazes from her, the music picks up and everyone is suddenly entranced and enthralled. The people around me (some more substantial than others) break out into dance. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a woman who does appear markedly older than the rest with a festive pink and black masque. She holds a sleek black cane with a diamond top our eyes catch and she squints.
“Ellie”, I whisper.
“Who?” Emile said finishing a second glass of champagne, “I swear these cups are so small. Hey where is Rose?”
Ellie Caldwell grabs her cane and begins to move towards me with purpose. At the same moment I remember Emile’s question. His question about Rose.
“Can I have this dance, Emile?”
Emile nodded and I lead him away from Ellie’s advancing steps.
“Emile”, I started letting him take the lead, “I’ve forgiven you . . . haven’t I?”
“What are you talking about?”
“About Rose, for not telling me about Rose all those years ago.”
“Oh”, Emile thinks on this, “I mean you’ve said you’ve forgiven me, but still.”
“Still what”, Emile’s hands feel warm against my gloves
“I guess there are just somethings you just can’t get back. Her first words, watching her learn to walk despite in those silly heels Clara used to put her in. I think being a part of that would have change you, Fierro.”
Emile grows silent as we take another turn.
“I do forgive you Emile. I want it to be clear that you have never wronged me. You’ve been a good friend… you’ve been like. . .”
“How much have you had to drink? He asked taking a turn.
“You’re family, Emile.” I said, “Which is why I need to get you out of here.”
Around us the party had picked up. Ms. DeLune was nowhere in sight and everyone was enthralled somehow. The food noticeably remained untouched by most of the guest
“What?” Emile looks around perhaps realizing something wasn’t right.
“Emile . . . you were right about this house. It’s not haunted exactly”
“I never said it was haunted I said it gave me the creeps.”
“The house is cursed, Emile.”
Emile steps back and looks around as if to find evidence, “Really, Fierro? You had to buy a cursed house.”
“Look, Emile.” I lowered my voice though I doubted it would help, “ 100 years ago Victor Bordeaux hosted an exclusive masquerade here—“
“Did you say Victor?”
“Yes. But the party was a guise to lore out the three people he wanted to kill for wronging him. He convinced them to linger after the party by promising them a game of great intrigue. Naturally he separate and killed them. Shortly after Victor was murdered –taken to Nightfall. He took his secrets to his grave. He forced them out of purgatory and they’ve been here ever since. Some weakening . . . one strengthening.”
“Fierro.”
“There is a curse on the house and like 100 years ago three people who have wronged the hosts will be . . . killed”
Emile stopped in his tracks.
“Someone like me?”
“Yes. I hadn’t thought of it until just now.”
“Who are the other two people in danger?” Emile asks.
“I don’t know, but I think . . . I think I can get you out of the house”, I steered Emile nonchalantly towards the back of the house, “Take Clara’s car, drive as fast as you can I need you to find Rose.”
“Find Rose?” Emile said, “She isn’t here ?”
“I told her to run. Clara isn’t herself. She’s Marguerite.”
“What! Who?”
“One of Victor’s victims. Rose would go to Lucie. Clarence should be with her . . . They should be able to take care of one another.”
We’d made it unnoticed to the back of the house and turned into Clara’s studio. The floor to ceiling windows refused to open, the doors were all locked. In a moment of frustration Emile picked up the piano bench and made for the windows
“What”, a cold voice said, “Are you doing?”
Ms. DeLune stood by the door, a casual glass of champagne in her hand. Up-close she made a stunning picture until she lifted up the masque and that amusement in her eye gave her away.
Emile calmly set the bench down, he picked up the vase of flowers and hurled it at the woman,
“You bitch”, he said as it knocked her off her balance
“Emile”, I hooked his arms and pulled him back, “You can’t do that. If you hurt her you hurt Clara.”
Marguerite was laughing, highly amused by this and while she was laughing hysterically on the floor I picked up the bench and shattered the glass windows.
Wordlessly I hauled Emile back and helped him through the jagged window.
“Fierro”, He said, “I’m’ not leaving you here.”
“Rose. Emile. Go find Rose.”
Margaret was still laughing almost uncontrollably so, it also seemed the more she laughed the more the guest began to laugh. She stood up and surveyed herself. She was no worse for wear.
“You are not as smart as you think you are, Addison.” Marguerite said watching Emile run to his car.
“I didn’t say I was.”
“Emile was not one of the three people who have wronged you, silly.”
“Pardon?”
“Emile isn’t one of the three who are set to die tonight
+++
Clarence
“Aren’t you tired”, Clarence asked jogging to keep up with his cousin. Her scuffed Mary Janes pounded at the pavement, her pale skin was splotchy in the moonlight and her thin hands barely had purchase on her bag. Her hair was unkempt and every so often Clarence thought she appeared on the edge of tears.Traveling back to France had been grueling 12 hours. They had walked a few blocks from train station. Despite his protest Rose seemed to be on a mission again.
“I think we should call Claudia or Clarice now”, He finally said.
“No”, Rose said, “Not yet. We have to get to the theater. If there is nothing is there then we can call. I swear. Please, Clarence.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Clarence asked.
Rose turned and he stopped in his tracks, she seemed to be considering his question, “I don’t know how.”
Rose turned down another side street and soon they were standing in front of The Hûit Avenue theatre. It was the place Lucie had told them about .There was a metal fence around the theatre and abandoned construction equipment.
“It’s closed.”
Rose shook her head and tried to open the lock on the metal fence, it fell apart even though she’d barely touched it. They walked over the broken ground and toward the theatre’s entrance. Old theatre posters where on the walls, the floor was ancient and there was an old musky smell to it. Collectibles and antiques lined the foyer. Up above a soft light buzzed on.
“Rose”, the word came from a soft velvet voice.
They jumped and Rose’s hand gripped his. Another light came on and Clarence let out a breath when he saw a youngish looking blonde man standing behind the coat check counter. He smiled mechanically at them.
“Hello. Rosalie.” The man said with a … manic smile.
“Another friend of yours”, Clarence asked but he felt Rose’s hand tremble and he thought maybe he wasn’t a friend
“Rose. I suppose you don’t remember me”, the man continued, “I’m glad you’re here. I want you to pass along a message your mother. I’ve been trying to contact her but she’s so . . . resistant.”
“Who are you?” Rose asked.
“I’m” the man flashed a smile, “The resident . . . curator here. I’ve been here a very long time. I used to live here before it was turned into a theatre. This time of year always gets to me. I think about Chateau Mercier and what happened there. Did you know the place was cursed?”
“That sort of stuff isn’t real.” Clarence said if anything
tying to soothe his cousin.
“At least”, the man said, “Let me tell you a story of the three people that died there as a result of their own narcissism. On the outside they were nice… maybe loving. But they were cruel, selfish and pompous. A lot of people are like that. Rumor has it that on the anniversary of their deaths the house becomes alive and three people who have betrayed the current owners are . . . dispatched to where they belong I tried to warn Clara. I really did.”
“What kind of curator are you?” Clarence asked even though he wasn’t really looking for an answer, “He’s just telling stories. Come on Rose we’re leaving.”
“You’re’ so fortunate”, the man said, “I wish I could leave to. But no matter how hard I try. .. I can’t. I’m trapped here. Do tell your mother I do hope she plays on my stage one day.”
“Let’s go Rose”, Clarence said. Rose began to open her mouth but she seemed unable to speak.
“Wait”, the man said, ‘Don’t go. You’re so special Rose. You’re a beautiful miracle. ”The man pushed against the counter but the latch that opened it seemed to be stuck.
Rose backed away and knocked over one of the framed newspaper clippings off wall. Clarence and Rose both tripped over the dusty frame then stared at the framed clipping. They both saw it. There on the front page below an announcement for The Hûit Avenue Theatre’s grand opening in 1929 was a smaller article with a very familiar photograph. The headline read.
THE SCANDALOUS AND UNSOLVED DISAPPEARANCE OF MARGUERITE DELUNE, TEN YEARS LATER. A wide eyed lady peered up at them, she was the woman from Rose’s drawing. She was The Cake Lady.
“Trippy”, Clarence said, “This must have been where you first saw her, Rose. I bet you saw this and that’s why you started drawing her. Hey do you think—“
Loud footsteps thundered past them and a door snapped shut. Rose and Clarence both turned to see the blonde man was gone. They both stood and looked around. The man was gone but it didn’t feel like he was gone.
“Now can we call Claudia”, Clarence asked reaching for his phone
“We can’t. You heard what he said.” Rose finally spoke up, “We have to break the curse.”
“Rose, that stuff isn’t real. He was just creeping us out. I think this has gone on long enough.”
Clarence started dialing Claudia’s number when the front door creaked open. Rose grabbed Clarence’s hand and ran into the theater. They ran down the aisle and hid behind a row of dusty red velvet seats.
“Victor”, a voice called, “I’ve know you are here. This is your doing and you’re—“
Rose popped up from their hiding space and ran toward the voice.
“Uncle Emile”, she threw her arms around the man. He tightened his hold on her lifting her just a bit off the ground. Clarence moved out of the shadows and saw Mr. Emile was dressed in a black and white suit that was covered in patches of dirt and was that . . . blood?
“Rose. What are you doing here? I came here thinking I’d find Victor. He’s the reason that ---oh Clarence. Are you alright?”
“Uh, yes, sir”, Clarence said.
“Emile’, Rose said dragging him over to the clippings, “It’s her. She’s the one doing all of this.”
“She wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for Victor. He truly caused this”
Rose pursed her lips still trying to get her baring.
“Who is he?”
“No one. Just a man dabbling in things no one understands. Now come on you’re coming home with me.” Emile said
“What about the curse? We have to go save everyone.”
“No”, he said looking at Clarence and carefully choosing his words, “That party is no place for children. You’re coming with me. Your father will—“
“No”, Rose said, “If I leave it will be just like the treehouse fell. I can’t let anyone get hurt because I’m afraid of … what I am. I started this Emile I want to finish it.”
“Rose”, he said in a hushed tone, “Think about your Uncle. He’s been through enough”
“We have to go back Emile, please.” Rose turned and looked at Clarence.
“I want to go back to”, Clarence added, “If something is wrong with my sister. ... I want to help.”
Emile sighed and took out his car keys, “There is nothing you can do.”
“I can”, Rose said reading the newspaper clipping, “I can do things no one else can.”
“Fine, but you’re not doing this alone.”
“It’s almost Midnight”, Marguerite said.
The crowd parted for her as she made her way to me. I’d contemplated what it would mean to slip through the broken window and leave Clara to Marguerite’s will and curse. I could reason being with Rose was what Clara would have wanted, but I couldn’t be sure.
“I think it’s time for the real game to begin.” Marguerite continued but I hardly stirred.
Then all at once I heard the synchronized footsteps of the guest as they began to file out the door and to their waiting cars.
All except three, I assumed.
Marguerite raised a glass in toast, “Soon you’ll be the only life of the party.”
“I’m sorry.” I said though I doubted she could hear me.
With her arm raised I lunged for her knocking her off balance, Marguerite dropped the glass and began to kick out. She was back on her feet in an instant and shoved me into the china cabinet. I felt the glass break before I heard it. My hand had gone through the glass and by the time I assessed the damage she’d disappeared.
--
Player #1
When the masquerade is all but done
Join me in the drawing room where a prize is to be won
Your first clue will be on the floor,
Find the second and it will lead to more.
When Niklas Clemens had opened his invitation to the masquerade, a little white card had fallen out and landed on his desk. He’d flipped it over and read the neatly scrawling script again and again.
This little game had intrigued him. Enough to dawn a gold hand painted masque and catch a redeye flight from Vienna to Versailles to attend a party as his ex-girlfriend’s house. It was insane
But it was Clara
The woman who had more passion for music than the industry had for her, the raven-haired beauty whose vibrant smile and casual sophistication had intrigued him. She was somehow worldly and innocent in a way that fascinated him.
It was silly because she was engaged but Niklas
had actually had a grand time. He didn’t’ remember details but he felt giddy.
His blood had ran warm watching Clara DeLune descended those steps. She’d been
illusive during the party but if he played her game maybe he could talk to her
again. He examined the photographs on the mantel in the drawing room.
A clue. He should be looking for a clue.
He felt along the floor for a clue. Maybe under a floorboard? Under a rug?
“Niklas”, a soft voice called
Finally, the woman in gold he’d been eyeing all night stood before him, the gold dress clung to her perfectly, he watched as Clara untied the silk strings around her masque. The porcelain masque crashed on the floor. She was poised and careful. Sultry in a way he had generally always been playful
“Clara, you always knew how to make an entrance.” Niklas said.
“Niklas, do you know why you’re here”, she asked bypassing niceties.
He held up the clue.
“A game”, he said, “Although I didn’t think you were much for games...”
“Oh, I’m not”, She walked around the couch running a hand over the back of it, “There is no game.”
She now stood directly in front of him.
“Clara. . . . What’s going on?” Niklas felt a strange coldness around her.
“You betrayed her. Me.”
“What?”
“You were supposed to save her from this”, Clara looked around the room, and “You were my reason to stay in Austria. A city she loved, at a job she loved but how would that work after you broke up with me? I was falling in love with you.”
He thought she might be drunk, the sudden turn to anger wasn’t like her at all.
“I cared about you but you didn’t have time, your daughter was a handful and I wasn’t ready for a family. I should go. I shouldn’t be here. You’re engaged now… I can’t deal with this. I’m leaving.”
Clara was unphased, “I hope you like this house, because like me you’re never leaving.”
“Clara, you’re scaring me”
“You don’t know fear yet. . . “
She picked up his masque and headed for the door.
“Clara, wait. “
She kept walking and shut the drawing room door behind her. Niklas pulled his keys from his pocket, not wanting to discount Clara DeLune as a crazy-ex but . . . well there she was.
He headed for the door when something knocked him back, he turned and saw the room was empty except for an ominous trunk he hadn’t seen before.
A trunk
On the floor
Oh, that was the clue
He walked over to the trunk and considered it for a moment
Then someone pushed him in and locked him in tight
+2+
Fierro
Player #2
My hand fought to keep steady as I picked the glass out of it. Bright lights flooding the gray marble bathroom and I forced myself to look into the mirror. The face I saw there so cloying familiar that I felt a dull ache.
I washed and bandaged the hand. Quietly preparing for what was to come next.
“Hello, a frail voice called. ... I’m not sure… is this right?”
I closed my eyes and cursed. I carefully put the masque back on my face and
stepped into my bedroom. Ellie Caldwell was standing there, her face unmasked
her cane held tight in her hand. She still had her vibrant downturned doe eyes,
but she looked fragile.
“Ellie? What are you doing here?” I said without thinking
“Do I . . . know you?”
I reached for the thing covering my face but thought twice about removing it. She squinted and tilted her head. It had probably been years since anyone had called her Ellie.
“Is this . . . apart of the scavenger hunt? I don’t know what I was thinking I’m too old for this kind of thing. And I can’t find Eleanor…“
“Ellie, there’s no game. You see . . . I—“
“What’s going on “, she raised her cane defensively
“Mrs. Caldwell. . . Ellie… I…”
There were no words. So I took off the masque.
“Oh, God”, she said holding her heart. Her eyes expanded, her breathe stilled and I reached for her cane before it could hit the floor and held it out to her. She backed away.
“Ellie I can’t explain all this . . . but you’re in danger. We need to get you out of here.”
“Are . . . are you here to take me to heaven? Oh, Eleanor will be so mad if I move on out of country. The fees alone to ship this old body”
The wry humor lit something inside me. How often had Lucie tried to shush her silly comments?
“No. Nothing of the sort is due, Ellie.”, At least I hoped not.
“Eleanor teased Clara house was haunted. But I hadn’t expected . . . this”
“Ellie-“
“Although death does suit you, Addison. You look rather dashing. If you weren’t dead I’d fix you up with my granddaughter… who I think left without me, at least I think she did. “
Ellie Moore’s practicality was a thing to behold. Why she was here was beyond me. Ellie had been tangentially involved in my childhood. The pair of us divided between Lucie.
“Ellie. Have you ever betrayed me?
She went grave and I helped her sit in one of the chairs by my desk.
“Ellie. What is it?”
She shook her head and started crying.
“Lucie told me what she and Roger did. She told me how Roger stabbed and strangled you and how they disposed of your body in the quarry.
It was… 1962. It just came out one day while the kids were playing. We . . . talked about it a lot. She said how they got rid of the body and it was awful. I tried to get her to go to the police but she kept wanting to wait until Martin was older. We . . . talked about it once every few years after that. She said she was going to go to the police . . . but our lives got busy. The worst day of my life was when your poor Aunt died never knowing who did it.”
“It’s alright Ellie.” I said.
“No it’s not. I should have told the truth. I thought Lucie would do it on her death bed. I planned to do it on mine ---“
“It wasn’t’ you’re secret to tell Eleanor. I forgive you. Lucie and Roger ae gone. It’s over. I’m at peace with it. I don’t blame you for anything Ellie.”
She blushed and took the cane from me and stood
“Death really does suit you”, she said, “Was it . . . painful?”
“I can’t really say. Though can you keep a secret Eleanor?”
“Clearly”, she said
I reached out to touch her thin frail hand, she felt warm and her pulse thrummed right along with mine.
“I’m not dead, Ellie.”
“But . . . how?”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
She bought her hand to her heart and I was afraid this ending would be a touch to fitting.
“You’re alive, Addison. How?”
“I can’t truly say, but I’ve been given a second chance to lead a good life.”
“Clara’s little girl”, Ellie picking up an unframed picture off my desk, “I knew she looked familiar. She’s yours?”
“Yes”
“Good for you”, she said nudging me, “Clara was always Roger’s favorite. I bet he’s rolling in his grave”
“I can’t say I ever give Roger DeLune much thought. We need to get you out of here”
“Why?”
The fireplace roared to life in answer. I pulled Ellie from her seat as an arm shot out of the fireplace and toward her ankle. It grabbed her and pulled her towards the flames. The screams of the apparition could be heard as I disentangled Ellie from its grasp. Ellie screamed and I pulled her to the door her cane instead getting pulled into the flames.
“Let me go”, she said, “I deserve this.”
The fireplace roared again and the carpet began to catch fire. No one deserved this.
+3+
Clarence
“Remember do as I say not as I do”, Emile instructed as he, Rose and Clarence walked back up to the house. The festive lights were gone, the fountain had quieted and an ominous buzzing came from the house. They entered through the back of the house via a broken window that lead to his sister’s studio. The ambient sound of screams occasionally hit Clarence’s ear. It was all so faint like it was a part of the house.
Emile led the way from the studio to the main foyer. Clara was standing by the tower of Champagne glasses carefully teasing one free.
“Rosie”, Clara said smiling, “You came back.”
“She’s sick”, Rose said to Clarence, “…she’s not herself.”
Rose stepped forward, Emile had reached a hand out to stop her but thought better of it.
“Mommy?” Rose peered at her mother
Clara smiled and patted her on the head, “You really shouldn’t have come back, angel.”
“Stop”, Rose said, “Please stop all of this.”
“I can’t help it, Rose. This is my nature. I don’t think any of this could have happened without you. You heard us when no one else did. You wanted to help us right? I can’t wait for the new victims to join us. When their families spends years and decades looking for them, I want you to know it was all your fault.”
“This isn’t my fault”, Rose gritted her teeth and the floor began to rumble beneath Clarence.
“Another earthquake”, Clarence told Emile
“So it seems”, Emile said moving behind Rose.
“You did this, Rosie”, Clara snapped at her, “Everything that happens here is all your fault, Rose.”
“No”, Rose whispered the ground continued to rumble...
“People die around you”, Clara said wiping a tear away that seemed to perplex her, and “Mommy lost everything because of you. Why couldn’t you be a nice normal little girl? Why do you have to ruin everything? I hate you Rose. I’ve always hated you.
“That’s not true”, Rose’s voice raised slightly and bits of the ceiling came down as the quake began to shake the house.
“Mommy was so happy before you came along. She had so many dreams and ambitions. You took every good thing away from her, now your mommy has to drink just to put up with you. Why couldn’t’ you just die in that bathtub your grandfather tried to drown you in—“
“Shut up”, Emile said, “Come on Rose. It’s not safe here anymore.”
Clarence noticed a curl of smoke coming from the East wing. Emile took Rose by the arm and dragged her from the center of the room. Rose dug her heels into the hardwood floor and broke away.
“No”, Rose said, “I can’t leave them.”
“Rose, come on”, Emile tried to pull her away again and the quake escalated tumbling them apart. Dishes started to rattle and the champagne glass tower smashed to the floor
Clara started laughing and Rose moved effortless across the shaking ground toward her mother. When she was right in front of her Rose, with more strength than Clarence ever thought she’d have, shoved her mother back. It was barley anything but Clara went dark. Clara grabbed Rose by her hair and bought the back of her hand hard across Rose’s face. The blow sent Rose to the floor and the world exploded around Clarence. The shaking intensified and sent him off his feet and jolting his sense of up and down knocking him out cold. Emile crawled toward the boy to check his pulse.
The floor split in half and the foundation gave way to a huge gaping chasm, revealing nothing darkness below. Rose was now partially up. She balanced on her knees with her face down. Her small frame tensed and Clara was thrown off balance. Clara slid like she was being pulled toward the chasm. Rose got up on one knee as Clara disappeared into the darkness. In one motion the floor closed up and Clara DeLune’s screams died out.
+++
Fierro
“Come along, Ellie. Quickly”, I shut the door to the burning room and assisted Ellie down the long hallway. The sudden and very unnatural earthquake had thrown us both off balance and her hand kept clutching her heart.
“Rose”, I whispered as the ground continued to shake.
“I can’t…leave me”, she breathed out.
“Almost there Ellie”, I said as the ground shook violently and sent us toppling back to where we started. Determined, I supported Ellie and we made it to the stairs. Ellie to one look at the spiraling steps and shook her head.
“I’ll fall… we should get underneath a table. I. . . I didn’t think there were earthquakes in this part of the country.”
“It’s not an earthquake”, I said and lead her down the stairs.
The scene below the stairs caused me to go still. Rose was on her knees curled into herself screaming in pain with a fresh bruise on her cheek. Seeing this Ellie began pulling me down the steps
“You’ll be fine. Calm down Rose”, Emile shouted from where he was hovering over a passed out Clarence DeLune.
“Emile”, I called.
Emile’s head snapped up to me and when I reached the bottom of the steps I handed Ellie off to him and picked up my daughter.
“Rose, sweetheart’, I said but her eye was rolled back and the house was still shaking, “Rose calm down. Please.”
Her mind was somewhere else, and a sense of unease and dread came over me. The ceiling lights crashed to the ground narrowly missing us. Emile had picked up Clarence and Ellie was very close to passing out.
“Sweetheart”, I said even though I knew Rose couldn’t hear me, “I’ll be back for you sweetheart. Emile, we need to get Ellie and Clarence out of here.”
Emile nodded and with a bit of prompting we got Ellie and Clarence out of the house. Ellie was breathing hard and looking up at where my bedroom had caught fire. There was only smoke now.
“Where’s Clara”, I asked Emile once we’d reached his car.
“She . . . fell . . . the floor opened and she just… fell. “
Outside the ground still trembled, the house could fall at any minute.
“Get Ellie back to her granddaughter, Emile. I’m going back for my daughter.”
“Addison?” Ellie said her voice shaking
“You’re fine, Ellie”
“I . . . call me sometime. Let’s not wait 60 years, huh?”
“I promise.”
With a renewed determination I headed back into the house. The doors were wide open and if my eyes hadn’t been on Rose sprawled face down in the door, I might have noticed the floor give way beneath me.
+++
Rose
It’s oh so very quiet
Everyone leaves
Everyone always leaves me . . .
Except for the Cake Lady . . . I made her disappear. I stood up and the floor was now sealed with the Cake Lady safely underneath it. I can’t hear her screaming. Something I think she quite deserves even if she took Mother with her.
I feel better . . . but very very tired. I pick my bag up off the floor even though Mother won’t be around to scold me over it, I drag it behind me thinking at least my bed would still smell like her. I stop when I hear screams. Real screams. Human screams? I follow the sound of the screams to the drawing room.
There is a very ugly trunk in the drawing room. It didn’t match at all. It was oh so very tacky. The first clasp made a very delightful sound when it opened the second did to. So did the fourth
The man cramped inside rose and gulped up air
“I . . . I. . . I”, He said.
“Mr. Niklas?”
“You”, he said pointing, “I always thought there was something creepy about you. You know I wanted to give your mother a second chance . . . but she’s a crazy bitch. You stay away from me. Stay!”
He looked around and stumbled out of the drawing room, his shoes crunch over the glass and overturned crab puff trays as he runs out of the house.
“Tsk tsk tsk”
I follow the
voice and I see her perched on a
table in all her glory.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Rosie”
+4+
Player #3
Fierro
I hadn’t anticipated the fall, but I saw the ground before I hit it and did my best to land on my feet. I felt for a light switch and electricity crackled through the room, I quickly attributed the damp smell of mildew to the hundreds of books lining the room. A hidden room it would seem. The library on the blueprints we could never find. A closer look revealed something sickening like old blood on the books and walls.
A card was at my feet
Player #3
Forget being sad and blue
Look around and you will find a clue too
A shadow moved on the other side of a densely packed book case. I let the card drop and made my way over the bookcase.
The woman on the other side in the gold gown that would have caught Gatsby’s eyes. Her hands were nervously entwined with one another and she had the exact same card as I’d had in her hands
“Clara. Is that you?”
Clara nodded and wiped a tear away. She looked around the library noticing the dirty jars lining the shelves and walls caked in dried blood. She was holding herself up like something had been ripped out of her, “I heard everything. I felt it . . . I don’t know it’s . . . Oh God… I hit Rose. I would never do that. She made me say things that I would never say to her. ”
The room had suffered from years of neglect but the books at least but perfectly preserved. Hidden away. As it had been for nearly 100 years.
“Do you know
about the curse?” I askd
“Yes”, Clara whispered
“Does this mean you’re the third person?”
“I think so.”, she said
“Clara, you’ve never betrayed me.”
She wiped a tear from her other eye and held out her trembling left hand. The ring there catching the light in a curious way. I reached for her hand, my thumb grazed the facet of her ring and I felt the give in the stone. It was loosely set and when I pressed on the facet I felt the fragility of it. I pressed down harder and the diamond shattered leaving pin pricks of blood on my thumb.
“Glass”, I said
“I lost my engagement ring”, she said, “It went missing actually.”
“Ms. DeLune tell me you aren’t crying over a piece of lost jewelry. “
She began crying again and I had to . . . remember if I’d ever seen her cry like this before. Maybe on the day her mother was arrested but that was beside the point. If her greatest betrayal was losing a ring. . . I worried I didn’t know her at all.
“Clara-“
“I woke up”, she started, “In the Huit Avenue Theatre a few weeks ago. . . The ring was gone and I… I felt like a weight was lifted off of me.”
Huit Avenue? That was where Victor’s home had been. The home he’d been murdered in.
“Clara—“
She waived her hand.
“Just listen. I know how I want the rest of my life to play out. I want a marriage filled with music and joy and passion. I want to travel and explore. I want romance to make love. I want to feel safe wandering around Rome past midnight, have long lazy breakfasts. I want a house filled with laughter.-“
“Clara—“
“Just”, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands smearing he make up, “I just want to fight over stupid things like how much I spend on or hair or my cooking. I want argue over who has the most Italian mother and what we regretted in high school.”
“Clara”, I said softer this time. Understanding
“I miss Peter. I know it’s been years but I loved. I was in love with Peter and I wasn’t ready to marry him the first time, but I wanted a life with him. If Rose hadn’t come along Peter and I would have been so happy together. He was my soulmate, He is the only man I want to marry and he’s gone. You—I we killed him. I know now that Peter was the love of my life and I want him back so much it hurts. I don’t think you could ever replace him and I don’t want you to.
“Clara, I’m so sorry. I understand now. This is your house. You found this house. It was I who wronged you. “
“Fierro, Everyday we’ve been in this house I’ve gotten a glimpse of what our future holds and I realized that this isn’t the kind of marriage I want.”
“Ms. DeLune—“
“I don’t want to marry you, Fierro.”
I felt a weight in my pocket and felt the outline of the real ring in my pocket. It surely hadn’t been there a moment ago. I’d spent a week in Belgium diamond shops searching for just the right diamonds and setting. It was the ring whose shape I’d familiarized myself after nights and nights of running my hand over it. A large elegant diamond ring for a woman who’d only ever worn a small gold plated music note necklace.
I suddenly saw the life that’d been stolen from her with such clarity that it felt real. She deserved that life. Clara could never be the wife I’d wanted, because she’d never be happy with me. I felt the heat of tears that never quite formed. Clara slid her arms around me, waiting for me to reciprocate. I took a slight step back and tilted her chin. Something pulled at me and time seemed to strangely slow down, when it caught up we were sharing a kiss. Slow and quietly unattached, it was only broken when she slowly opened her eyes as the house began to tremor.
“Rose”, we both said.
We both looked around for an exit, but the room was sealed off on all sides. An exit had been in the far corner but it appeared to have been filled in decades ago. Clara opened her mouth but the house rocked again and knocked us both to the floor.
Clara studied the room and pulled a rolling ladder out of a dark corner.
“I think we can break through.” she turned her gaze to a stack of dust covered equipment hidden under a writing desk, equipment which included several axes, “I’ll hold the ladder.”
I pulled one of the cleaner axes from under the desk, they sat on top of a pile of dirty rags that had once been clothes and perhaps party dresses. What the hell had happened here? I shook off the question, climbed the ladder and started swinging.
+++
Rose
I’m not afraid
I am not afraid
Marguerite DeLune is prettier than in the pictures I drew of her. Her 18th century costume dress clashes with the classical décor. The costume is like a piece of art. I can see every stitch a maid probably did, the strange washed out colors from dyed fabric. Marguerite is holding a wine glass Mother doesn’t own and she spins in a slow circle to music I can’t hear. She feels alive again. She looks so happy. Her blonde hair flowing in the wind. She free and whole in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. But she isn’t alive.
“Marguerite?”
“Rose!” she said, “Just look at me. I’m so sorry for before. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. I feel so powerful. I think it’s being around you.”
“I know what happened to you. Someone hurt you.” I said.
“It took you long enough”, she seemed very sad but brightened up, “But it’s okay because all good things repeat themselves. I can’t wait to see our new guest.”
“They escaped”, I said, “I helped them escape.”
She frowned, “No matter. I won’t let your family leave here and in another 100 years it will all happen again... It’s a cycle you know.””
“No”, I said, “This isn’t your house anymore.”
“It’s more mine that it is yours little girl.”
“Leave”, I said firmly.
“Excuse me?” She turned to me.
“Leave my house. You’re not welcome here.”
“You are the one who is not welcome”
I planted my feet and folded my arms. I cleared my throat and had to speak just a little bit louder. I had to be firm, “Get. Out. This isn’t your house anymore. It’s mine. I’m telling you to leave.”
I picked up a vase that hadn’t yet toppled over and threw it at Ms. Marguerite. It went right through her and smashed to the ground. She dropped the wine glass in surprise.
“GET OUT“, I yelled remembering I was all alone now.
She’d gone back to spinning and I heaved another vase at her, it was heavy and feel with a thud. The black and gold roses spilled out across the floor floating in a thin layer of dirty water. The water ran down the uneven marble floor and seeped into the end of Marguerite’s dress. There was a terrifying odor that seemed to get stronger as the water soaked into her dress. Marguerite turned and watched the coffee scented water soak into her dress
“What’s this?” She said, “Ouch--It hurts. . .What is that. What’s happening? I can’t. . Something’s happening to me. I feel . . . it’s burning me.”
“Get out”, I demanded, “Get out of my house.”
She turned again and again. With each turn she was moving slower and slower. The entire house jolted and rocked. Marguerite screamed and started to run. I followed her through the kitchen and out the backdoor. She ran across the patio, so entirely out of place. She ran as far as she could but she didn’t make it that far.
She screamed one last time and fell. Where she had landed was a pile of bones and a smiling skull, still in the remains of the party dress and masque, nicely preserved by the trunk she’d been buried in. Up ahead the sun was starting to come out.
The ground was soft and even though it was as quiet messy I dug with my hands until I came to another skeleton. And there was a third. . I could feel it.
And
There was a fourth?
And a . . . fifth and a
“Oh, no”
My lids felt very heavy. I sat back on my knees and for the first time in a long time it was quiet in Chateau Mercier.
+5+
Fierro
The splintered ceiling fell in small pieces, the axe was dull but there was enough space for one to slip through. I tossed the axe down, letting Clara climb out first. Once she pulled herself up I followed not sure what to expect on the other side.
We came through in the middle of the foyer. The cool lights of dawn were shinning into the foyer. We surveyed the broken champagne glasses, overturned food trays and vases. There was a black burn mark on the marble near broken pieces of a very expensive vase
“My coffee”, Clara said touching the remains of the vase.
“What?”
“I poured my coffee into the vase at the séance. Remember Bridget gave it to us. It had . . . holy water in it.”
“For the love of god”
“I guess she was actually worth every penny.” Clara said then spun around, “Where Rose is . . . and Clarence.”
“Clarence is with Emile”
“Rose”, Clara called out looking under tables, “ROSE?”
Clara ran up the stairs, I’d made to follow her but out of the corner of my eye I noticed one guest was still at the party.
“Lucie?” I said as she took off the bright red masque that hadn’t looked substantial.
“Addison? We have to stop meeting like this”
“What are you doing here?”
“Rose needed me, but I couldn’t’ do anything but watch. It was terrible. I was going to take Rose back with me. I know it’s what you would have wanted.”
I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t not sure.
“Thank you, Lucie.—“
“It’s fine. Wine is still chilled, music swell how about one last dance.”
“Now isn’t the time Lucie.”
“What’s wrong.” she asked appearing now as her best self, “What’s happened?”
I wordlessly held up the diamond ring and Lucie’s eyes went wide like I must have known they would.
“It’s beautiful”, she said
“I thought you’d think so. And that is the problem.”
“So you’re not . . . anymore?”
“No.”
“C’est la vie”, she said with an uncomfortable shrug, “I think Marguerite is gone. She was a crazy one.”
“Do you fear you will be like them one day? Just a residual?”
“I’m much too fabulous for that . . . plus my death was a bit less dramatic. It’s actually quite tranquil being a part of the world instead of just in it. Though I feel sometimes like.”
“Like what?”
“Like there is something . . . else out there . . . after this. There is a
light sometimes and I want to go to it but I’m just . . . not ready yet. Silly?
Do you think?”
“No. Never.”
“Oh. Watch your step, sweetheart”
I felt the slick puddle of water beneath my shoes. The water is ice cold and seeps through the leather. And when I look up her us gone. My eyes are pulled to my watch where only a second had gone by from hello to . . . goodbye. For now anyway,
“She’s gone”, Clara shouts from upstairs, “I can’t find her.”
Clara stops the staircase landing ad peers through the stain glass window there, “Oh God.”
Clara hurries down the staircase and through the kitchen. I follow her outside and to the rose garden where Rose is curled up on top of a bed of thorny rose bushes, the sharp thorns pricking her fragile skin. I reach for her lightly thrumming pulse
“Rose”, Clara pulls her away from the thorny bushes, “Rose are you okay?”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, it’s me. Look at you. Are you okay?”
“Is everyone okay”, she asks. Clara looks to me and though I can’t be sure I nod yes.
“Yes”, Clara says, “Everyone is fine. Rose you know I’d never hit you ever. That wasn’t me. I’m sorry.”
“I know. “
She kisses him top of Rose’s head, “Rose, Whatever happens . . . whatever you hear no matter how strange and unusual you have to promise you’ll tell us and we will fix it together. I know I haven’t been at my best with you but I love you Rose. ”
Rose nodded, letting out the tears she’d been holding in. Clara wiped her own tears, her arms tight around Rose. Wordlessly Clara found my gaze and followed it to what lay around us.
“My God”, the words slipped out. She kept Rose’s face pressed to her so she wouldn’t see but it was probably too late.
+++
My roses had done particular well here, most likely due to the dozens of bodies buried beneath the cursed house. One by one the secrets hidden beneath the chateau began to surface.
+++
Clarence head still hurt as he helped his sister scrape min crab cakes off the floor and into a massive trash bag. She had been oddly quiet and Clarence couldn’t tell if he was being punished for running off or not. He’s also expected her to seem more upset over the damage the bizarre earthquakes had caused She hadn’t even seemed that concerned over him not quiet being able to remember some things clearly. When he thought on the last two days he remembered Rose wanting to go to the theater, they had talked to the owner or something and Emile had driven them home but then it was all blurry. He kind of remembered the earthquake but he’d awoken in Emile’s house.
It was kind of awkward but Emile seemed distracted and at one point the man had cursed and together they’d gone back to the house, where a dozen police cars had shown up.
Now, Clara was preoccupied with sweeping. Rose and her father were somewhere in the background taking down all the decorations. It had been two days of cleaning up after the party and there was still so much to do. He didn’t know why Clara didn’t hire anyone, she’d just taken her headphones out long enough to say that this was something she felt she needed to do.
The French police were still in the backyard documenting and cataloging the 23 bodies that had been found buried beneath Chateau Mercier, each one raised from the unusual earthquake. The real work though was for the forensic scientist and historians coming back tomorrow. The current rumor was the bodies had been buried between 1916-1919. No one had said it to Clarence but he knew they’d all been murdered.
Clarence and Rose had watched with curious interest that morning (Though they kept a good distance) as the academics took notes and photographs. The victims were of what everyone now believed to be of the man now dubbed the Mad Heir of Bordeaux. A socialite who’d was some of the academics whispered was France’s most notorious serial killer. He had been ironically murdered perhaps by someone who had escaped.
His sister had told him they could stay in a hotel but for some reason he felt the house growing on him, for one the heat had come back on.
“Thank you”, Rose said suddenly appearing behind Clarence in her soft shoes.
“Huh”, he said
“For sticking with me.” She clarified.
“Oh, no problem.”
Rose offered him one of her rare smiles, “You have to promise to make it exciting when I come to America next summer.”
“Are you ?”, he said suddenly nervous.
“Mother said we will see but I think that’s a yes.”
“Okay then”, Clarence said realizing he didn’t even know whose house he was going back to, “Deal.”