 XVIII. Nasnia 3:00 AM Reine stared up at the dark canopy of her bed and worried. The police had still not turned up any clues about Ira’s whereabouts. She seemed to have vanished into thin air. All of the cars were still on the driveway at the base of the plateau. All the guests were still accounted for. And then there was the business of Xanthia wandering off. What if she didn’t wander off on her own free will? What if someone else coerced her to go out? What if someone else was on the island at the same time that they were? And then what was the purpose of leaving Xanthia out in the cold weather without a way to get back to the camp? There may be no way of knowing until the astrologer came out of her fever induced stupor. Restless, she finally got out of bed and donned a robe. She paced as she tied the belt at her waist. “Can you make any sense of this?” Tuesday meowed sleepily from his nest of blankets, apparently unconcerned. “There are too many strange things going on. The matter with Xanthia. The life vest. That damned chess game in the den where the pieces look like they are moving by themselves. And this afternoon, the Baroness said that she was missing something else. And Vicker’s wife Esther was still harping about her missing jewelry. All of this can’t be coincidences.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of the robe and her fingers came in contact with her pouch of stones. “And don’t forget those strange things in the library. And on top of all of this, Ira is gone.” She opened the bag of stones and selected one out. Black. “It’s always black. I don’t understand what it’s trying to tell me even if this is trying to tell me anything at all. You don’t suppose I’m going out of my mind, do you? I’m usually so logical.” Reine stopped pacing for a moment to stare out the window. The sky was clear and the moon, a bloated crescent, was out. It was cold outside—there was still a bit of frost left from the ground, not completely melted during the day. She unlatched the window and pulled them open. Cold biting air assailed her senses. Tuesday protested with a loud yowl. “I need to clear my head, Tuesday. Besides, I can’t sleep.” She stepped out onto the balcony, rubbing her arms. The lake was a calm black pool and the island beyond, something darker and more mysterious. As far as her eye could see, everything was dark and quiet and refusing to begrudge her answers. Giving a groan of frustration, she leaned against the balcony railing, wishing that the cool air would give her something of an answer. The sound of metal squealed. She had only a second to register that the railing was giving way, but the railing was already falling. For a moment, she saw that part of the balcony in midair as she herself was suspended. Time to freeze for that particular second until she realized that she too would tumble down three stories if she didn’t do anything. And she was falling and for a second she thought it was a repeat of falling down the catacombs, that she was just dreaming and that in reality she was really in her bed, warm and safe while her adopted cat that no one had claimed back in downtown Monadnock was snoozing at her feet. But then her hands grasped onto cold metal and the muscles in her fingers, wrists, and shoulders strained as her body was flung over the balcony. She breathed sharply when she looked down. She hadn’t fallen yet. But she was close. She was dangling at the edge of the balcony only by her fingertips. Above her, she heard Tuesday meowing from some distance away. Did the cat realize that she was in danger? She tried to shout, but her throat had closed up and she could only utter a squeak. Her fingers were freezing and getting tired. Marcus, she thought. I have to call Marcus. His room also faced the balcony. If only she could call, then there would be a chance that he could hear her. Tuesday’s meowing moved from her right to her left, but still, it sounded too far away. Was her hearing going? Was she going mad since she was on the brink of disaster? She heard a scratching sound and her already tense muscles quivered. Was the rest of the balcony going to fall too? Her fingers were slipping as they were. Above her, she heard a click and then a masculine voice. Marcus. A tiny bit of relief flowed through her. Now if only her throat could work! “Tuesday, what are you doing out here? Reine didn’t leave her window open did she? She’s going to freeze if she lets all this cold air in. Now, what the hell?” The cat meowed, determined. “Oh my God. Reine?” She managed to move her head and looked up. Marcus was looking over the balcony, the moonlight shining over his face highlighting his scar, his eyes glittering with surprise and horror. She couldn’t decide whether she should be relieved or embarrassed. Instead, she tried opening her mouth, but still nothing came out.” “Hold on Reine. I’ll get you.” His face briefly disappeared, but she felt his hands grasping her forearms. Slowly, she felt herself being pulled upward. With every inch closer to safety, she found herself breathing more easily. Finally, she collapsed onto her savior and greedily took a breath. His arms came around her, gently pulling her up with him. “Come on, let’s get you to some place warmer.” She let him half walk and half carry her back to his room. Tuesday jumped inside just as Marcus closed the window. She buried her face into his shoulder and shuddered. “Thanks,” she croaked, finally finding her voice. “I could have broken my legs from a fall like that.” “You could have died in a fall like that,” he said angrily. “What the hell happened?” “The railing gave way when I leaned on it.” His arms tightened around her. “Damn.” “It was probably old and I wasn’t thinking.” “It was not your fault, Reine.” He tried putting her onto the bed, but she refused to let go of his shoulder. He sighed. “Delayed reaction,” she explained as he obligingly settled with her in his arms. “I just need somebody to hold onto and to remind myself that I’m still alive.” “Just anybody?” “You’ll do just fine. By the by, why are you awake at this hour anyway?” “I should be asking you that question. I was thinking. I was probably thinking too much because I couldn’t get to sleep. There are too many coincidences happening lately. So many that I don’t think that they are coincidences. And I’ll have to add this balcony incident to the ever growing list.” “It was just an accident.” “No. All of these little incidents are all connected somehow. All of them culminating to Ira’s disappearance. They must be all connected.” “But.” “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to take a good look at that balcony. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was somehow rigged to fall. Ira doesn’t seem like the type to me to neglect repairs to a house.” “I suppose so.” She raised her head so that her mouth touched his throat. “But she isn’t here now to see if anything has fallen apart during her absence.” Impulsively, she licked his skin. Salty. “Reine?” He edged a few inches away from her so that he could look down at her. She grinned back up at him mischievously. “You should go back to bed.” “I am in bed.” “No. I mean your bed.” “No.” “You want to switch rooms?” She shook her head. “You’re staying right here,” she told him. She placed a hand on his chest as he started to get up. “You’re not going anywhere.” She took the belt out of the loops of her robe. He eyed her wearily. “You know I’m glad that you want to stay with me, but what are you doing?” “Oh, nothing,” she replied innocently as she wound the cloth belt around his wrists and secured it to the headboard. “I finally decided I wasn’t really satisfied with that kiss you gave me in the forest. But you can get away if you really wanted to.” “Uh, Reine. You know this isn’t necessary. You know I’m not going anywhere.” “Well, it never hurts to be extra sure, you know.” He opened his mouth to retort but she held up a hand. “You’re being far too chatty tonight.” She lowered her head and kissed him. When she finally came up for air, he gasped. “Why did you stop?” She grinned, a hand lingering at the opening of his robe when there was a rapid knock at the door. He groaned when she looked up at the noise. “Hadrian has such horrible timing.” “Why on earth would Hadrian come by at this time of night? I thought he was preoccupied elsewhere.” “How would I know? Maybe he wants us to tell him where the whip cream is.” “Whip cream. Now that’s an idea.” “No. Too messy.” She sighed. “Spoilsport. I guess I’ll just have to tell him to go away.” She wrapped her robe tightly around her since her belt was now in use elsewhere and opened the door. She blinked at the redhead on the doorstep. “Er, good evening?” Tuesday crawled out from his hiding place beneath a stool and trotted to Reine’s feet. He took a passing sniff at the visiting woman and the hairs on his back stood on end. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong room.” “Well…” “Damn right it is!” shouted a furious voice. Reine blinked again and the barrel of a gun appeared in front of her face. She glanced up to see that Vicker was behind the trigger. His black robe was flapping dramatically around him and his face was a beat red. His young wife, Esther who had been wearing a revealing negligee was shoved aside, gaping. “What are you doing here?” Esther said to her husband. “I’m here to get rid of your lover,” Vicker declared. “I admit I wasn’t really expecting a woman but then again, that doesn’t really matter.” “She isn’t my lover,” his wife said exasperated. “And why are you doing here?” Vicker ignored his wife’s question. “All right then, you got the bedrooms mixed up. Damned easy to do in the dark. His room must be across the hall right?” he said gesturing to the opposite room. “Actually, that’s my room,” Reine said calmly, but still eyeing the revolver still pointed at her direction. “What?” Esther was obviously not comprehending the implications of Reine’s statement. Vicker frowned. “So if that’s your room, who’s room are you in now?” “Mine.” Reine’s belt dangled from Marcus’s hand as he stepped to the door to see what was happening. “Put that gun away, Vicker. You could seriously hurt somebody with that.” “Oh, sorry.” The older man tucked his weapon into the belt of his robe. “So this is your room, eh?” “Yes.” “So what are you doing in his room?” Vicker said looking back at Reine. “It’s really none of your business,” she replied. “Ah.” His already red face reddened some more until it looked like it was about to burst. “Well, Esther, it looks like you knew I was coming after you tonight.” He grasped his wife’s arm. She looked quite angry and perplexed. “Did you seek to mislead me and still save your real lover? I know who it is, it’s that other editor, the one who looks like an actor.” “I don’t think you’ll find Hadrian in his room,” said Reine. “What do you mean? What is the world coming to when no one is in their own beds at night?” fumed Vicker. “All right, if it’s not him, there’s only one other man who probably caught your fancy.” “No man caught my fancy,” Esther protested. “Oh, then why are you up wandering about?” “I was going to get a midnight snack.” “On the third floor?” Marcus shut the door on the squabbling couple. “Well, that settles it. I’m never going to marry a woman who’s young enough to be my granddaughter.” The edge of Reine’s mouth twitched, pleased. “Really?” “Yes, really. Now where were we? Ah yes, I was thinking of paying you back.” He looked down at his empty hands. “What happened to the belt?” She dangled the belt in front of his face. “You didn’t think I would let you get away with that, do you? Get back in bed.” “Yes ma’am.” His tone was serious, but his eyes were glittering amused yet anticipatory. Tuesday dove back into his hiding place beneath the stool. © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |