She returned to her room, confused, her heart pounding as if it could leap out at any moment whenever her mind whispered his name.
Who exactly was that man? Why did he act that way? And what was her father planning, choosing him of all people?
She sat on the floor with her back against the door and lifted the teddy bear to eye level.
— Mr. Bear, I'm so confused.
She hugged it, then looked at her thin right hand; scars were visible along her forearm.
She quickly tried to hide them, but ended up pulling the sleeve too hard.
— Damn it…
Those scars represented a painful past.
She remembered the men lurking in the shadows of her dreams.
Poor girl…
She was only a child…
. . .
The silence of the morning was broken by the distant sound of an old engine, its low purr accompanied by the soft squeak of tires over the stone driveway.
A black car approached the entrance of the mansion, its long, polished hood reflecting the pale light of dawn.
As it passed through the wrought-iron gate, the headlights cast long shadows over the tall walls and windows of the house, dancing like ghosts across the façade.
— Is it all right that we didn't warn them before coming?
Asked the driver… or was he also a butler?
— It's no problem; I don't need to announce myself to visit a dear cousin.
She was a slender young woman, blonde, with long eyelashes. She wore a silk blouse with a Peter Pan collar, a pleated skirt, and a pretty pink hat.
The car slowed to a gentle stop.
The sky began to close in, as if it were a bad omen.
The sound of the springs and dampers mixed with the tapping of the rain, still falling in thin streams.
He adjusted his bow tie, took the umbrella, and stepped out.
He walked around to the other side and opened the door.
In an act of duty and chivalry, he held the umbrella over her head.
— Are you ready?
He asked in a gentle tone, his voice velvety as he adjusted his glasses.
Even with the overcast sky, the lenses managed to reflect some of the beautiful gray of his eyes… eyes like those of a dead fish.
She simply nodded with a slight tilt of her head.
. . .
Looking at the house from outside, she felt an air of death emanating from it; even with the well-kept flowers, nothing seemed able to change that atmosphere.
She was greeted by some servants, who immediately opened the tall glass doors.
— Where is my cousin?
She asked one of the maids; the woman replied that she would call her at once.
— I see. Tell her to come quickly, I have something to discuss.
The maid bowed and left.
She quickened her pace and climbed the stairs.
The place was enormous, like a limbo: no matter how fast she ran, it felt as if she remained in the same spot.
She was panting, yet she knocked on the door.
Knock knock.
. . . .
No answer.
She knocked again, this time harder, and it seemed to work, for she heard something fall inside the room.
— Did something happen, miss?
She was on the floor, disheveled, her face marked by the pillow.
— What do you want?
— Your cousin Violet is here.
— And what does she want?
— She said she has something to discuss with you.
A brief silence settled.
— All right. Tell her I'll be down in a moment.
"What could that annoying brat want now?"
She yawned a little and got up.
She looked for a dress in her dark oak wardrobe.
It was a colossal presence in the room, as if devouring all the light of the gothic-styled bedroom.
Inside, there were only black clothes; she truly liked the color. She grabbed one of her dresses and began to get ready.
. . .
She ended up wearing the same dress from that night, when the fierce winds had forced the doors open and a mysterious being descended from the sky holding an umbrella.
He came down slowly, his steps the same as that night—almost imperceptible.
— Lily!
She ran and hugged her so tightly it seemed like her bones might break.
— Violet, you can let go now.
Violet was a lively girl, always wearing a smile; whether it rained or shone, she kept smiling.
Daughter of an influential politician in the region, she often hosted parties at her mansion whenever her father was away.
— You really should change this place a bit, you know? Brighten the décor, add some sparkle here or there.
Lily closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, as if searching for patience somewhere in the corners of her consciousness.
— Tell me already, why did you come here?
— Ah, right, I almost forgot.
She made a cute face, but Lily felt only disgust.
— My birthday is next week, and I was thinking of throwing a grand masquerade ball at my house.
— A masquerade ball? I'm sorry, I have nothing to wear.
Violet tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
— Just ask your father for something. And besides…
She smiled in a somewhat suspicious way.
— It's an excellent opportunity to find a suitor.
Lily took a deep breath and answered softly:
— I'm sorry, but I'm not looking for...
Before she could finish, they felt the wind intensify, as if forming a whirlwind; had they been a bit thinner, they might have been blown away.
The butler accompanying Violet saw a kind of shadow pass in the reflection of his glasses and, as if by magic…
— Woooow!
Violet exclaimed, dazzled to see a handsome pale man appear in such an incredible manner.
— I was looking for you, miss.
— Show-off.
— Me? A show-off?
From the other side, Violet commented:
— I didn't know you had gotten yourself a magician. I have one too.
With a simple snap of his fingers, her butler extended his hand in the shape of a gun, but something was strange: Marvelous's instincts were on edge.
In a matter of seconds, a sphere of air formed at the tip of his finger.
He smiled faintly and, almost whispering, said:
Bang.
It shot forward; luckily, Marvelous was fast enough to dodge—
or so he thought, for it grazed his cheek.
— Not bad.
His velvety voice shifted to a sarcastic tone.
Marvelous used his speed to get closer; he became a blur across the lenses of the other butler's glasses.
— You two, stop this instant!
Lily shouted, furious, her pale skin slowly flushing into a reddish tone.
Marvelous and the other butler stopped, extremely close to each other:
one finger pointed at someone's face, sharp nails at someone else's neck.
They both took a step back.
Violet clasped her hands together apologetically.
— I'm sorry for the trouble—I got too excited. Let's go, Lysander.
— Lysander? What an interesting name. Mine is Marvelous.
— Marvelous? What a pathetic name, are you a child?
— Lysander, that's enough.
He turned to her and said:
— Forgive my behavior, Miss Violet.
Violet looked mortified, but still told Lily she was invited to the ball and could bring her butler.
The wind blew again as the door finally closed.
And for a brief moment, Lily had the clear sensation that the house was breathing
as if waiting for something.
The week promised to bring far more than a simple masquerade ball.