Lingering Darkness

Chapter One

Dawn scattered the last remnants of night from the island, yet shadows still held vigil where the burning light of the sun could not reach.  There was a slight breeze, brought in from an ocean storm that had raged during the night.  Everywhere I looked, I was reminded of just how destructive those storm winds could be.   A mangled mass of gnarled tree limbs scattered the grounds closest to Rose Hall, though the expanse of the building itself remained untouched.  By the time the sun sets on the horizon tonight, the landscape would be manicured and all traces of those ugly, damaged trees would be gone.

I have lived here longer than I care to remember.   I have born witness to the trials and tribulations of those that inhabit this place.  There is but one structure upon this island, a home.  Those that live within her walls, call her Rose Hall.  I simply call her Rose.  She has accepted me, an outsider, as long as I keep her secrets and the secrets of those that she protects. 

My Mistress, the Lady of the Rose Hall, had chosen me as a companion to her youngest child.  Imagine, if you will, someone like me who is without gender, though the Mistress treats me as a man, to be the plaything of a child? When I gaze at myself in the mirror, I do not see my face for the mask that hides it.  I have forgotten what I look like beneath it.  My course dark hair has grown long, sprouting unkempt from my head.  The rest of my body is covered by a black sheen of leather that keeps my skin hidden, and aside from the elongated thin tail that sprouts from my lower back; I am a blot of darkness.  The Mistress calls me Mute, as do the others for I have never spoken in their presence. 

Along with Rose, I am their caretaker and like her I never sleep.  This is the reason that I now find myself able to enjoy this early morning gift that the storm has brought me.  There is much to be done this day, while my charges sleep peacefully with whatever dreams that haunts them.   I am told that guests will be arriving tonight, so everything must be perfect as the Mistress wishes it to be.  I know not how long I sat idly, but the whispered voice of Rose roused inside my head.  Turning, I looked up at the grand structure and bowed half to the hip, before walking into her open arms.  

Upon entering, my senses were assaulted by the fragrant smell of flowers.  I was hoping for this, for it meant that my job would be easy, for I would not have to battle with Rose today.  She was much like a child, this home, throwing temper tantrums when it suited her.  Her tantrums consisted of doors that opened to nowhere, and staircases that took you where you did not want to go.  When feeling particularly vicious, she could trap you for months in an endless maze of corridors.  

I did rounds, cleaning as I went, delivering freshly prepared garments to the personal quarters of each of my charges.  The first of which went to the eastern wing of the estate.   This is where I spent the majority of my time as companion to Belinda.  A precocious girl, this one was.  I stepped into a large room where a porcelain tea set had been placed. It was very child-like, dainty and patterned with flowers and butterflies.  I would sit many an evening there with her, playing at tea.   I knew not how old she was, but she had not changed in the time that I have been here.   She was youthful, somewhere in the precipice between a woman and child.  She was the youngest, my Belinda.  

The room adjacent to the tea room is where she slept, and as I gazed inside I could see her sleeping there.  She was fair of hair, and a sweet face that could turn twisted with fear at a moment’s notice. She had been sheltered by her Mother, never allowed to leave the safety of Rose Hall.  I felt pity for her, as this was her prison.  She was most loved of her Mother’s children, and it was said that she looked like her father who was a being of light.  I have never seen him, nor does the Mistress talk about him.  Rose tells me that his life was extinguished shortly after Belinda was born, and to this day the Mistress still mourns him.  Looking down upon that lovely face, my dark orbs fall to her breasts.   I can see the shape of them beneath her nightgown and with a gloved hand I trace fingers down between them.  This causes her to stir.  She is mine, and I am hers.  

I do not linger long within Belinda’s quarters, moving to the Northern wing of the estate.   It is here, that Samantha spends her time.  She makes me nervous, this middle child of my Mistress.   She looks like a doll that has had breath blown into it.  In fact, Belinda has a replica doll of her sister that she calls Blue, and the two of them spend hours whispering to each other when Belinda visits her.  I can imagine why the doll is named what it is, for it wears the same blue dresses that her sister does.  The dress that I now carry, it is a brilliant cerulean blue that will hang with others of its ilk.  I do not think Samantha owns any other colors but a sea of blue shades. 

I dare not spy upon her as I did Belinda, for her twin brother Ashlar shares the suite of rooms across from her.  If anyone was to do that, it would be he, for he seems to be his sister’s guardian.  This man, I do not like and nor does Rose, however, he is of the blood line and thus he must be considered sacred.  I think he has an unhealthy obsession with his twin. I wonder why the Mistress allows him life,  for if it were me, I would have strangled and cast him in pieces to the ravens.

To the western wing, I stop and look down the vacant halls.  Here dwells the oldest of my Mistress’s children, though I can say that Tyran is not there.  She is as wild as the ocean winds that beat upon the island, and most surely she would call the uninhabited swamp land on the other side of the island home.  She is often mistaken for the youngest, because she is short in stature and somewhat underdeveloped. My mistress and her oldest child do not speak, and there is an air of animosity between them.  I dare say that Tyran hates her, as the predatory glances that she gives her Mother are unbiased testimony.   We stay out of each other’s way, and that is the way I prefer it.

At last, I find myself in the southern wing of the estate, the place where the Mistress holds court.   As with her children, she has not aged since the day I came here.   Often mistaken as a sibling to her children, she lacks the maternal bond that she should have with them.   However, I am sure she loves them in her own way, or loves them for what they can do for her.  My Mistress is selfish, childish and temperamental.    It is to her that both Rose and I are undisputedly loyal. 

As I walk into her private quarters, I can hear her voice calling to me.  That sweet sound that digs into my very core, haunting and luring me towards her bath, I want to chide her for not being asleep.   Her back is to me, that smooth honey colored skin covered by a long canopy of dark waves.   As I round the tub to look at her, her face lifts and I am struck by the odd golden hues of her eyes made glossy by the tears that drip from their centers.   It is not often that I see those eyes in this manner, but I know their meaning.   Thin arms reach upward to me, and carefully I reach beneath the water in order to scoop her naked body completely from it.   She is light, almost fragile and as a lover would do, I take her to her bed.  

It is then that I realize there is another sleeping there, a male with pale colored hair.  It’s cut short, somewhat wispy about his ears, his face hidden from me.  I know who he is; he had arrived during the night bringing the news of the coming guests.  My Mistress turns to his back as though she sought shelter there, whispering loud enough that I could hear her.  “I never learn from my mistakes, do I.. Muse? Make sure he is gone before they arrive, I just want to feel his warmth a bit longer before his body grows cold.” She became silent, lost to her thoughts. 

Before retreating, I notice the letter the man had delivered had caught my attention.  The envelope, of which it was addressed, had but one name ‘Jade’, I cherished that written name, looking back fondly to my Mistress of who it was addressed.   She paid no heed to me, and with a slip of a hand I tucked the letter against my chest and stepped out.   

All around me, I heard the anguished voices of those that were lost here.  At times, I could see them, these apparitions that toiled eternally. The majority of them were male, but here and there I would catch a feminine whisper or ring of laughter.   Lost souls, forever to be held hostage by their place of death, and I wondered why it was that Rose Hall kept them here.  When it was my time, would I make my place among them?  These were the ghostly servants I could hear, going about their day as though they were still alive. 

Sitting down, I looked longingly towards the eastern wing before turning my attention to the letter that was clutched against my chest.   It was then that I found another note, which was smudged and written hurriedly in different hand writing.  It read; St. Romanique Island, Boat 6:30.  Amused, I thought of the storm the previous night, it was most assured that the boat never returned to its port.   Tossing the note into the fireplace, I read then the main letter. 

My lovely Jade, I hope this letter finds you well. Our last meeting still lingers in my thoughts, and the promise that you made me. I dare say you will be angry at my request, however, this you owe me. You will have compensation in due time, but for now, I put my sons in your care.  There will also be a young girl traveling with them.  Treat them as I would, I am sure I do not need to stress to you my unhappiness if something difficult arises during their stay. 

K.

This letter too was tossed into the flame.  Recalling my Mistress’s anger during the night, I knew this to be the source of her agitation.  This ‘K’ I remembered from a visit some months ago, a supposed Lord of Vampires.  What is the promise she made to this man? And why would he be sending his progeny here to Rose Hall? The Mistress and her children did not fall beneath the rule of Vampires; no they were something else entirely. 

An hour later, I returned to the southern wing, this time to remove the Mistress’ meal.  As I entered her private chambers, I could sense the lingering spirit there as if it did not understand why it was dead.  Jade was upon her stomach, having finally refused the body beside her.  Grabbing onto the cold ankle of the corpse, I turned and dragged the body from the bed.  Rigor mortis had not yet set, but I could see plainly a look of pleasure that was carved into the face in the moments prior to death.  Walking out with my puppet in tow, I counted the hours until sunset.  It was not often that we had such noble visitors, I was going to enjoy these coming days.