| §*ß*§ Prologue §*ß*§ Helena slowly sipped her sherry. She watched as Andreas bent over to place a present beneath the large Christmas tree that dominated the room. Just watching him was gift enough. She leaned back against the chair, marveling at how good her taste was. Hiring twins had been an excellent idea. She had high expectations for this Christmas. She had a feeling it was going to be spectacular. "Andreas, I think the angel is leaning. " "I'll fix it immediately, Madame," he replied, moving around front to adjust the porcelain heirloom. "Is that to your satisfaction?" "Yes, that's fine." Andreas came to sit beside her. "Madame, I have been meaning to ask something of you." "Then do it, my dear. I have no patience for those who delay." Andreas took a deep breath, taking her hand into his own. "You are a woman of tremendous compassion and kindness. Knowing this, I would like to ask you for some time off." "Time off? Well, whatever for, Andreas?" "My mother...she's gravely ill and I wish to see her before the...end. I am the only family she has left, especially since the death of my brother." Helena pursed her lips, allowing her eyes to glide over her manservant's elegant face. She could see how much he wanted to see his mother. She softened a bit as she saw the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. "Your mother's in Greece." Her words sounded like an accusation. "Yes, and I would need to leave immediately. It would mean so much to her if I could be there for Christmas." "You want to spend Christmas with...her?" she asked crisply. Andreas remained silent. "I thought we were looking forward to spending Christmas together." "It pains me to be separated from you, but my mother is dying." Helena was touched by the man's devotion to his mother. She could relate, knowing that she would definitely want Stavros by her side in her last moments. Of course, no matter how much she wished, Stavros wouldn't be there. Why should Mrs. Andropolous have something that, she herself, could never have? Helena sighed, placing her hand on top of his. "Andreas, it grieves me so that your mother is suffering and nothing would make me happier than to help ease her pain, if just a tiny bit." "Oh Madame!" "But, you are my employee. It is your job to take care of me. Not her. So, as long as you wish to remain in my employ, you'll send your mother some flowers and spend Christmas here. With me. Where you belong." Andreas looked stricken. His face grew pale and he pulled his hand away from Helena's. "I have to go." "Then go, but you'll have to be dealt with for your disobedience." "I don't care, Madame," he said, jumping up. "Terminate my employment if it so suits you." Helena smiled brightly. She stood, placing her hand on Andreas' cheek. "You know me better than that. If you leave, it won't be your employment that I'll be terminating." "Please," he sputtered, close to tears, but stoically holding them back. "I am going to bed. Will you be joining me in my bed, Darling?" "I don't think so." "Well, that is your prerogative. I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and no eggs. I've grown tired of eggs," Helena said. "Of course, Madame." "Goodnight, Andreas," Helena said, placing a kiss on his stiff lips. She opened the door to leave the stateroom. "Helena," he said. She turned, surprised by his use of her Christian name. "What is it?" "Merry Christmas." ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Helena slept peacefully in her large bed. The black silk sheets were cool against her bare legs. As a restless sleeper, she tossed about, her long slender arms slipping underneath the covers. She flopped onto her back, her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. Through the misty fog of sleep, she felt a slight pressure against her stomach. She moaned in her sleep. "Helena..." Helena tried to roll over, but she couldn't. Her face scrunched up in quiet distress. "Helena..." A finger slid down her face, tracing the outline of her cheek. She smiled, her nose twitching. "Helena!" It was the shout that pulled her from sleep. Her eyes popped open. Her chest fluttered as she realized that she was not alone. Straddled across her stomach in a rather provocative fashion, sat her long dead husband, Mikkos. Helena screamed. "You and your hysterics," he said, planting a kiss on her nose. He pulled himself up off the bed. Helena scrambled, pulling herself back against the large wooden headboard. She reached her hand out to him, but quickly jerked it back. "M...Mikkos?" "Who else would be in your bedroom in the middle of the night, Darling?" "Someone who's not dead!" "You have a point." "Are you...dead? Is this a dream." "Touch me and see," he replied, moving to her side. He unfastened the button on the jacket of his navy blue jacket. He extended a fine patrician hand for her inspection. Her hand shook as it left her side. She placed her hand tentatively in his. Flesh on flesh. "Mikkos! You're alive!" she shrieked, throwing her hands around his neck. "Oh my love, you've come back to me!" "One would think that, wouldn't they?" he said, closing his arms around her. "But one would be mistaken." "What do you mean?" she asked. She pulled back, trying to see all the details of his face in the sparse lighting. "I am very dead, Helena." "But I'm touching you!" "Are you?" "This is a dream, then?" "No." Helena crawled off the bed. She turned on the bedside lamp. She stood next to him, looking deeply into his eyes. It was definitely Mikkos. Her Mikkos. The father of her beloved Stavros...and that other one. "You've always been an effortless liar. This is a dream. If it wasn't, I wouldn't be able to touch you. You certainly are not alive." "How do you know?" "Because your corpse is frozen in a clinic in Amsterdam. I have several good scientists working on a formula to re-animate you." He pursed his lips. "Ah, my own little Dr. Frankenstein. You've made me proud, Lanie." "I know. Are you finally willing to admit that this is a dream?" "It's not a dream." "It's not?" "No," Mikkos answered. He sat down on the bed, pulling Helena down into his lap. Her face was skeptical as she ran her hand through his thick gray hair. "Well, then," she said, licking his earlobe, "why don't you enlighten me." He squirmed slightly, momentarily lost in what Helena was doing to his ear. He had forgotten what his wife could do with her tongue. Clearing his voice, he stated, "I am a messenger." She kissed the side of his jaw. "And?" "I have been sent to warn you of the path you are on. You are headed towards eternal damnation." "Oh," she said, her hands roaming down his back as she shifted to a new position. "Yes, and I am also to inform you that...ahhh....harder....Lanie! Darling, did I mention how much I missed you? It's so lonely in Hell." Helena smiled as she got up off the floor. She shook out her hair, smoothing her long satin night gown. "Are you sure that this isn't a dream?" "Positive," he replied, wiping his forehead. He stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I am supposed to inform you that your life is on a downward spiral. You have crushed everyone who has ever tried to get close to you. You have burned many, and so now the determination is that you must also burn." Helena rolled her eyes. "Fire and brimstone? Really, I expected better." "It's all true. Hell awaits you unless you make some serious changes." "You want me to believe this? Are you supposed to be an evil ghost?" "Yes, I am a ghost." "But, I can touch you. I thought ghosts and apparitions were supposed to be non-composite." "The poor ones are, but wealthy aristocracy know how to persuade. I called in half a dozen favors just to be able to appear in the flesh. Have you any idea how greedy Stalin is? If I hadn't longed to touch you, I would have told that pudgy little midget exactly what I thought of him!" "Never trust a Bolshevik, Darling." "I'm planning to form an alliance with Napoleon and the Marquis de Sade. Together, I think we'll be able to neutralize him." "Is it wise to trust the French?" "Who said I trusted them?" "It's been too long. I'd forgotten the shifty way your mind operates. So, is that it? You're a ghost here to warn me of my wicked ways?" she inquired, scratching her eyebrow in confusion. "No. I am to inform you that tonight, you will be visited by three ghosts." Helena burst out into laughter. She pulled out of his arms. "Is this some kind of a joke?!" "Not at all." "Oh, Mikkos, this is utterly hilarious. Three ghosts? Am I supposed to be Ebeneezer Scrooge?" "Yes." "Please, spare me," she said, her laughter fading. "As much as I love seeing you, now I know that this must be a dream. There is no way that is real." "It is very real, Lanie. Three ghosts will visit you tonight to show you the wickedness of your ways." "If my life is to turn into fiction, can't you find something better than A Christmas Carol? You know very well that I find Dickens a pathetic waste of time." "What would you suggest?" "War and Peace." "You had best learn to tolerate Dickens. This is going to happen whether you want it to or not." "This is a dream!" Mikkos took her into his arms once more. He kissed her gently on the lips. "My time has run out." "NO! Don't go. Not yet. I get so lonely without you." "I know, but I cannot stay. I love you," he said, his dark eyes roaming over her beautiful face. "I love you, too." He started to back away. "Listen to the message, Helena. Hell awaits." "I don't believe in Hell, Mikkos." "You may not believe in it," he whispered, his form growing dim, "But it believes in you." |