Wednesday 27 June 2012

Billy Came, Chapter 10

Part Two | Subterranea: Vampire Central

10.a, The Boudoir of Big

I awoke from the doze on the winter bridge and immediately found myself in a state of agitation.  One moment, Perveen had been stroking my hair whilst my head flopped in her lap.  The next, I was here in an ancient bedroom on a sea of Jacquard quilt and what felt like feather down.  I had no recollection of events between that ice and snow extravaganza and waking here this very moment.

Looking up, I saw a broad rectangle of dusky rose silk sheets loosely drawn into a central point, giving the impression that I'd fallen asleep beneath a gigantic blush pumpkin.  Around me, netting hung down around me, following the shape of the rectangle above, obfuscating the view of whatever lay beyond.

It was the largest four-poster bed I'd ever seen and, in my current condition, alighting it provided a psychological step too far for my aching limbs. I managed to roll to the side of the bed that was letting in a cool twilight haze.  With only my head through the net, I got a better impression of the type of accommodation in which I now found myself.

As my senses had first stirred, I had assumed this place to be the mansion in which I'd last seen (and drank from) my brother.  But if anything, this room looked to predate that other to the point of being medieval.

Interest piqued, a rush of adrenalin (or whatever passes for that ambrosia in this existence) stirred my mind and limbs.  With trepidation, I dragged the rest of my body to a sitting position on the edge of the huge bed, the nets draping about my shoulders like a cape.  My feet didn't even touch the floor, lightly swinging a good six inches above the grey-flagged stones.

I drop/slid myself off the bed, expecting the stone to chill my soles, but no.  Retaining an ambient temperature no matter the weather was taking some mental adjustment.  Odd that I'd assimilated so much else, more horrific beings and concepts, without blinking an eye, yet couldn't fathom this most basic of changes.  What Freud would have said about my state of mind prior to becoming vampire, I really didn't want to guess.

Shadows danced and jumped against walls from banks of candles. Dozens of them, of many heights and thicknesses and all of the same sickly yellow, bone-coloured ivory hue.  The biggest were on wall sconces, others were on the mantle of an inglenook fireplace, whilst others simply sat in random arrangements along the bottom of the walls.  The waft of jasmine rose subtly on their flickering flames to impart an air of the outside.

It was pleasant enough, but did little to dispel the sense of claustrophobia I had felt in the bed and, to an extent, whilst at the mercy of both Billy and Perveen as they'd got into my mind at different turns.  Enough of the maudlin; it was time to explore!

As I emerged from the net, I spied another source of light; this was an arrowslit in the exterior wall, which, like the scale of everything I'd seen thus far, was mammoth.  The embrasure was at least a yard-and-a-half wide and 12 feet tall up to its 'bishop's hat' peak, only short of the ceiling because the room was so tall, and all but imperceptibly level with the floor at its base.  I was by no means small and I could have just walked straight through the gap into the twilight air without brushing the sides.  Perhaps whoever had built this fortification had meant to defend its walls with cannons instead of bows.

I moved into the gap to take in the view before either nighttime or the artificial glow of the candles stole it.  The landscape that greeted me was nothing like that which Perveen had plunged into a winter wonderland from the bridge last night.  The instant impression it gave me was "The Wasteland(s)" - Eliott or King, take your pick.  This was the violet hour, underlined on the far, far horizon by a thick dirty electric yellow hue.

The sky between here and there was crammed full of seething storm clouds, which looked ready to shed their burden at a hiccup.  So low and full were their bellies, I wagered that if I leapt hard and high enough, I'd burst one before gravity pulled me home.

Gripping the outer bottom ledge of the arrowslit with my toes, I looked down to see exactly where it was gravity would take someone foolish enough to leap at the sky from here.  Many, many storeys down resided a moat.  But instead of water, it was filled with sharp-end-up wooden spikes of varying girth, wood and height.

There was a significance in the water being absent, I was sure, but wooden spikes seemed an odd choice of protection for a vampire, for surely a vampire was my ultimate host.  Perhaps the cannon-wielding architect of this fortress had been trying to keep our kind out. No such joy, it seemed, in this time and place.

I could sense other vampires and ambiguous vapid forms roaming the rooms and corridors beyond my room.  The distances and strengths of those others' 'signals' gave me a size of the place.  I was either interpreting the input incorrectly, which was highly possible, or this castle, fortress, whatever it was, happened to be the size of a small metropolis.

That brought me around to considering why I was here, where here was and what was the protocol that a guest vampire must observe?  There was no chance I was leaving the room of my own volition.  I took one last sniff at the air and fell back into the room, taking the measure of it all for the first time.

The four poster's curtains were woven with the same filigree as the quilt, an ivory weave on dense red scarlet material.  I have no idea what the material was, other than old.  The long, thick curtains, which dropped the full 10' of the bed, were secured to the posts themselves with a richer ivory, almost bronze, rope cord whose tassels splayed across the granite floor.  Everything was tucked in tidily at the end of the bed by an ottoman, whose size would have accommodated two oarsmen if you ever had the urge to set sail in it.

It was all very grand, even if it wasn't exactly me.  But there was something else that bothered me. The atmosphere felt…mm, tilted, off.  It was as if the fulcrum of reality had been shifted, causing everything else to attempt to regain composure and a sense of equilibrium, albeit unsuccessfully.  I began to feel uneasy, very much the state I sensed the world into which I’d awoken to be in, too.

10.b, Flames of Wrath

In the wall opposite the bed stood a huge hearth and fireplace, filled with logs and kindling ready to be lit.  Not for my benefit, obviously.  Out of sheer curiosity I bent over the logs and into the nook to get a better look at the chimney.  Not only did it go up for many a storey, but it also plunged down into a blackness that not even my eyesight could fathom.

Travelling up and down the chimney were the echoes of voices, dozens of them.  Chatter and commands, dreams and nightmares, laughter and despair, whispering and screaming; it was a cacophony of life, some of which I got the distinct impression had passed on many, many decades hance.  If the flue system ran horizontally as well as vertically, who knew how long the reverberating voices had been rattling around the old place?

Still somewhat weak from the kiss of the vampire, a wave of giddiness washed over me as I pushed myself up from the hanging stance I'd taken to look into fireplace.  I walked gingerly to the ottoman opposite and sat down, turning back to face the unlit fire.  What a boon it would be to light it, even if the flames would add little more than an aesthetic!

Beside the mantelpiece sat a cluster of candles in a semicircle, scaling in height to look like a miniature amphitheatre.  I crouched to pick up the tallest one, mindful of the flame, which surprisingly repulsed me.  For a second, anger flared in the front of my brain; before I had a chance to curse my stupidity, I could have sworn I saw the kindling catch.

As I put the candle back in place, I heard the familiar snap, crackle and pop of dry tinder catching light.  I then imagined the fire roaring and, to my total amazement, the first fierce tongues of fire began licking the lower logs.  All of this without so much as a hint of the alighted wick I'd just replaced going near the wood.  What a power this was!

All at once, a calm settled over me.  A stamp of humanity in this stark place, perhaps?  I scraped a piece of solidified wax off my thumb into the fire and resolved to carry on searching the room.

In the corner of the interior wall, opposite the arrow-cum-cannon-slit, stood a grandiose cupboard or wardrobe of indeterminate age.  Next to that, a dressing table.  Then finally, standing just before the door out of the bedroom, a small wooden rack ported several pairs of fine velvet slippers on the top row and leather boots beneath.

I couldn't help it.  I had to try the shoes on, and then any clothes I might find in the wardrobe.  What else was a man with only one set of clothes to his name and time on his hands to do?

At first, I doubted that anything would fit.  Upon opening on of the wardrobe's huge creaking doors, it seemed that everything on the rack—and there was a fair choice—looked tiny.  Perhaps it was the setting they were in, the size of the wardrobe itself, that made them look so small because, as I tried each item on, everything seemed to grow on, or rather, with me.  And each piece was exquisite in detail, made of only the finest materials.

The style was turn of the century - the 20th century.  The exterior garb—long-tailed jackets, trousers and heavy overcoat—were formal, made up in sombre colours.  The waistcoats, shirts, cravats, their pins and cufflinks, however, were the counterpoint.  Every colour of the rainbow hung or glistened in boxes (hidden in the dressing table drawers) to bring personality to the wardrobe.  There was even a gold-topped walking cane to complete the dandy look.  I had never looked so dapper.

Whatever I had been brought here for, I was now ready.  I looked the part.  And despite my belly gnawing itself, I felt more composed than I had since laying my eyes on Billy for the first time proper.  I sat on the ottoman waiting and got lost in the flames.

With my mesmeric attention fixed on the burgeoning bonfire, I heard the heavy bedroom door open only on a subconscious level.  A breeze from the corridor outside stirred the candles and fanfare of flames in the hearth, casting shadow hither and thither.  Sooty shapes played out battle scenes around the chimney breast and along walls, and I followed them until they disappeared into the deepening shadows of the furthest corner of the room.

For a second, I thought I could make out another door tucked away in the murk that I must have somehow overlooked while exploring the room.  Or maybe I'd been so excited by the wardrobe, I'd opened its huge door without fully exploring that little corner beyond it.

Before I had chance to investigate properly, I heard the main bedroom door's latch clack shut behind me.  The shadows suddenly stopped dancing, drew together as one and retreated, plunging that corner into pitch blackness.  I couldn't say whether I’d made out a door jamb over there for sure, but it was too late to delve any deeper.  My attention was now diverted to the party that had inadvertently entered the room: Billy and his, by now, two familiar cohorts.

In his fashion, Billy spoke no words, but made it crystal clear that I had to leave with them; his two wingmen parted for me to lead on between them. Had they been waiting for me to wake and smarten up before calling on me?  Of course they had.

The corridor ahead, lit with infrequent torches all along its length, stretched out before us, culminating in a tiny rectangle of light, way off in the distance.  It was a true lesson in perspective, all around.

From the direction of that pin-prick of light, I fancied I heard the clamour of a busying crowd come rolling towards us bouncing off the corridor walls.  It sang of industry, much like the clatter of the school kitchen heard from a nearby classroom as staff prepare for lunchtime.  But surely that was not it.  Perveen had said I'd feast, but I took that to mean…

I turned to seek some sign of reassurance from Billy, but he was no longer there.  Only his trustees stood in the wavering darkness, one at either shoulder behind me in the claustrophobic corridor. 

As I turned to see which way he'd gone,  I saw that the corridor stretched back just as far the other way, if not further, than the way we were headed. The two equally silent bodyguards nodded in unison towards the ghostly sound of the workhouse kitchen, undulating on the same wafting breezes that unsettled the torches in their sconces.  Somehow, I was disappointed that the draught did not bring with it the odour off goulash or chocolate brick and mint custard.

A prod in my back refocused my attention.  I don’t know what I’d done to upset these two fellows, but their hostility was palpable; I don't mind admitting, neither did I much care for them.


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