Sam Black Shadow

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Sam Black Shadow Page 7

by Paul Berry


  ‘I’ll see you in the dining room when you’re ready.’

  ‘Thank you again,’ I say. ‘For all of this.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He looks at me seriously. ‘I’m only doing this because you’re beautiful. Inside and out.’

  ‘Very funny,’ I say, looking awkwardly at my lanky body in the mirror.

  ‘I would never joke about that.’ He lightly strokes the side of my face and walks away, seeming to disappear like a ghost into the clouds of steam that are drifting around the bathroom.

  Chapter 9

  I wipe the condensation off the mirror and stare into it.

  A stranger that looks like me is grinning back and I grab the edge of the sink, reeling. I close my eyes and slowly raise my hands to touch my face, convinced the reflected version will be different when I look.

  I take a deep breath and slowly open them.

  The reflection is just my normal one, my hands flat against my cheeks, and I laugh nervously, the small, familiar creases around my eyes reflected back. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m still awake and not lying in bed having a bizarre dream. But I still feel mystified. Why did I take a bath in front of a stranger? A spark of shame burns in my chest, as though something alien has violated the impregnable wall of privacy that cocoons me and keeps me safe. I take a deep breath and shake my head, the smell of bath oil dissipating the mantle of doubt. Maybe tonight is the time to be brave and try new things, something my dad is always telling me to do.

  The shirt is white silk and feels like warm cream sliding over my skin. I put on the clean undergarments, feeling a strange sense of intimacy with Adam, and wonder when he last wore them. The slate-grey trousers are also silk and mould themselves perfectly to the contours of my legs. I’m puzzled about where Adam got them, as they seem much too small for his muscular body and there are no labels on any of the clothes, as though they’ve been handmade.

  I quickly style my damp hair with my fingers, relieved by my mimicking reflection, and leave the bathroom, walking slowly down the staircase and trying not to trip over in my new shoes.

  ‘Who is that handsome man?’ Marcus asks. The three of them applaud as I descend and I feel my face flushing. Marcus adjusts my shirt collar. ‘Glad you decided against a cravat. And you smell delicious.’

  ‘We’ll leave you in Adam’s capable hands,’ Philip says and starts giggling with Marcus.

  ‘Ignore them,’ Adam says. ‘I always do. Allow me to take you on the grand tour.’ He has changed into a purple velvet jacket with a white shirt open to the middle of his chest, a few dark hairs poking over the material.

  The house is colossal and it feels like we’re wandering around another maze. Huge oil paintings in baroque gold frames almost completely cover the panelled corridors while side tables and cabinets brim with colourful ornaments. An elaborate china peacock stares up from one table, and I quickly avert my eyes from its gaze.

  We stop next to a painting of a Roman swimming bath. Naked men with chiselled torsos luxuriate in the water or lounge against marble walls.

  ‘I love this one for obvious reasons,’ Adam says. The more I stare at it, the more it feels I’m standing there with them, the cool water rippling around my thighs. One of the men wades towards me, smiling, and touches my shoulder. I smile back.

  He has Adam’s face. I look around, disorientated, and realise I’m back in the corridor.

  ‘I get lost in paintings too,’ he says.

  ‘But it felt so real.’

  ‘The passion of the artist is a powerful force. It can create worlds.’

  We pass the portrait of a severe man with pursed lips whose eyes seem to follow me.

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ Adam says. ‘He’s been in a bad mood for a few hundred years.’

  ‘His face looks like mine in the morning.’

  ‘I’m tempted to paint some sunglasses on him.’

  ‘He looks like he’d eat your hand before you do it.’

  ‘You’re making me hungry.’ He licks his lips. ‘Do you like reading?’

  ‘Besides watching films, that’s the only time when I can forget about bad stuff.’

  ‘Then you’re going to love what I’m about to show you.’

  We walk through a marble archway into a round room that could double as an amphitheatre if they decided to bring back gladiatorial combat. I never understood before why people sometimes used the word ‘speechless’. Thousands of books line rows of circular shelves rising like halos to the ceiling, their leather spines twinkling with gold lettering.

  ‘I forgot to bring my library card,’ I say in wonder.

  ‘You won’t need one,’ he says. ‘Take any book you want. This place is yours now.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m giving it to you. Everything in it now belongs to you.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Consider it a Halloween present or an early Christmas present.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say … thank you. I’ve never been given a library before.’ I stare around, wide-eyed, not really believing him but appreciating the sentiment. ‘But I don’t have anything to give you in return.’

  ‘Your company is more than enough.’

  I look at some of the titles. De Vermis Mysteriis, Book of Dzyan. It would take me a million lifetimes to even read one of the shelves.

  One book catches my eye: The Travellers Between Spheres, its spine more ornate than the rest. I slide it out from the shelf and lay it on a table.

  ‘That’s one of my favourites,’ Adam says. I flick through the vellum pages and stop at an illustration of a hooded figure holding a miniature sun. Behind him a door opens onto a galaxy of strange planets and constellations.

  ‘Every book is its own universe,’ he says. ‘Unfortunately, I still have no idea what language it’s written in.’ I turn the pages to another illustration. It shows the earth floating in what looks like a huge cave filled with stalactites.

  I look at it more closely and realise it’s a giant mouth of teeth.

  I reluctantly leave the library and he takes me down another corridor, pausing in front of a black door covered in brass studs.

  ‘This room’s rather scary. I would advise accepting the offer of my arm before we enter.’

  ‘Is it a torture chamber?’

  ‘Even more terrifying.’ I look at him anxiously and slip my arm through his. ‘Are you ready?’

  He slowly pushes open the door.

  Inside is a giant four-poster bed with black curtains hanging from the frame. ‘It’s my bedroom,’ he says. I laugh and gently slap the top of his arm.

  ‘I wasn’t scared.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, maybe for a second.’ Above the bed is a painting of the Minotaur fighting a bare-chested Theseus. I try not to look at it too closely in case it tries to drag me in; a bull-headed man would be less friendly than a pool of Roman bathers.

  A shout echoes down the corridor.

  ‘Dinner’s ready!’

  ‘We should play a trick on Marcus,’ Adam says, stuffing pillows under the sheets. ‘He’s far too serious.’

  ‘Where are you two?’ Marcus asks, his voice coming closer.

  ‘Under the bed,’ Adam whispers to me. We crouch down, bow our heads and shuffle on our knees under the carved wooden frame. I laugh and Adam covers my mouth with his hand. A pair of legs walks towards us.

  ‘Why are you both under the covers before dinner? You’ll ruin your appetite, Adam.’ Marcus pulls back the sheet. Adam stretches forward and grabs his ankles. There is a high-pitched squeal and Marcus jumps backwards, slips and lands on his bottom. We both start laughing as he peers under the bed.

  ‘In case you didn’t hear, dinner’s ready. Although I’m tempted to serve you both as the main course.’ We crawl out and he is standi
ng with his arms folded.

  ‘Forgive us,’ Adam says, planting a kiss on his shoe.

  ‘That’s very unhygienic,’ he says. ‘Luckily my shoes are clean, you nitwit.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, worried I’ve offended him. Marcus kneels down.

  ‘I’ll forgive you, though not him, if you compliment the spectacular dinner I’ve prepared for you.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  Marcus leaves us both sitting on the floor.

  ‘Don’t worry, you didn’t annoy him,’ Adam says. ‘He’s just nervous you won’t like his meal.’

  He stands up and offers me his hand. I grasp it and he pulls me up, his chest bumping against mine. I stare at his mouth and the light gleams on the curves of his lips. He looks into my eyes and it feels like time has stopped. He slowly puts his hand on the back of my neck. His face moves towards mine and my heart hammers against my ribs. He pauses and smiles, stroking the back of my neck with his fingertips.

  ‘Let’s eat before we really annoy Marcus for being late.’ As we leave the room, I glimpse Theseus out of the corner of my eye.

  For a brief moment, he seems to be reaching out his arm as if imploring me to stop.

  The smell of food wafts into my face as we walk across the hall into the dining room, and my mouth starts watering. Marcus and Philip are having a play fight.

  ‘Those children can’t sit still for five minutes,’ Adam says.

  ‘Let go of me or I’ll stick a fork in your face!’ Marcus shouts. Philip has his arm around Marcus’s neck and is trying to lick his ear. He succeeds and Marcus screams with a mixture of disgust and pleasure. We sit down on the other side of the table next to each other.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry. Marcus has gone a bit overboard as usual.’

  The long table is big enough to seat fifty people, the polished wood shimmering under the candelabras. On a silver platter is a roast chicken surrounded by golden potatoes. Bowls of steaming vegetables glisten with butter, and a tall chocolate cake is topped with strawberries. Adam pours wine from a crystal decanter into my glass.

  The only table setting is in front of me, and they stare as I pick up the knife and fork.

  ‘Is this food all for me?’ I ask. Marcus and Philip look at each other, nonplussed, as if trying to think of something to say.

  ‘We all ate earlier,’ Adam says, carving the side of the chicken, its juices dripping over the knife. I wait as they look at me expectantly.

  ‘No need to stand on ceremony. Tuck in,’ Adam says. I hungrily start heaping food onto my plate and smother it with rich gravy. I take a bite of chicken, the succulent flesh melting against my tongue.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ I say, crunching into a roast potato.

  ‘Try the carrots.’ Adam watches me eat, nudging a glass of water around with his finger.

  ‘How’s Rachel?’ Marcus asks. I pause with a forkful of chicken.

  ‘She’s … she’s fine.’

  Get away from me, you crazy shit!

  I finger my collar nervously. ‘Actually, we’ve kinda fallen out.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be friends again soon,’ Philip says.

  ‘And Terry?’ Marcus asks. ‘Is he still as repugnant as ever?’ Philip looks at him and shakes his head, putting his finger to his lips. I nod, remembering Terry’s face sneering triumphantly in the toilets.

  ‘Let Sam eat in peace,’ Adam says. ‘He doesn’t need bad memories ruining his dinner.’

  Marcus twirls the stem of his wine glass in irritation. ‘Bon appétit.’

  Eventually, I lay the knife and fork on the empty plate and pat my bulging stomach.

  ‘I can’t manage another bite.’

  ‘Surely you can make room for cake,’ Philip says, cutting a slice. ‘It’s Marcus’s chef d’œuvre.’ He carefully lays it on a plate and pushes it towards me. I take a mouthful, the chocolate melting across my tongue, and the memories of Rachel and Terry grow dim.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ I murmur, a blanket of sweetness enveloping my doubt and anxiety until they disappear. I smile blissfully and Adam leans over and strokes the corner of my mouth.

  ‘You left some chocolate behind.’ He licks the tip of his finger clean. ‘Mmm … sweeter than ambrosia.’

  Marcus fills everyone’s glass from the decanter. ‘To reunited friends.’ We raise the glasses and clink them together.

  ‘Have you told your parents where you are?’ I ask.

  Philip looks down sadly. ‘They’re probably relieved we’re gone. The black sheep of the family dead or off to pastures new.’

  ‘We can be who we want to be here,’ Marcus says. ‘Who we’re supposed to be.’

  ‘But don’t they miss you?’

  ‘Not all parents love their children, Sam,’ Philip says. ‘Dying was the best thing that happened to us – and them.’

  ‘What about London? Are you still planning to move there?’

  ‘So many questions,’ Marcus says with annoyance. ‘Tell me, Sam, how long are you staying here, or are you eager to go back to your prosaic life?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think only tonight.’ He catches me off guard. I haven’t thought about what will happen tomorrow.

  ‘Sam can stay as long as he wants,’ Adam says. ‘You two certainly did.’

  ‘Where did Adam find you?’ Marcus asks. ‘Hiding in the park as usual?’

  ‘Yes, the maze.’ The memory of holding the broken bottle over my wrist makes me shiver. I look around, suddenly groggy, as though I am emerging from a dream. What is this place? I rub my eyes and feel panic stirring in my chest.

  This is all wrong.

  Adam bangs down his glass, spilling wine onto the table. The panic vanishes and I shake the confusion from my head.

  ‘Maybe Sam isn’t ready to be interrogated.’

  ‘Yes, Marcus, give it a rest,’ Philip says.

  ‘It was just a simple question.’

  ‘Perhaps you ask too many questions,’ Adam says.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ I say, trying to lessen the tension. ‘I was having a bad time and Adam … well, he helped me.’ The words seem to form in my head as though from a script someone else has written just for me.

  ‘Adam can’t stop helping everyone,’ Marcus mumbles.

  ‘Remind me,’ Adam says. ‘Why did I help you?’

  ‘Sometimes I wish you hadn’t.’ Marcus plucks a cigarette from a gold case and lights it, breathing out a plume of smoke. The muscles in Adam’s jaw twitch.

  ‘Okay!’ Philip says, breaking the silence. ‘Stop making our guest feel uncomfortable and show him the conservatory.’

  ‘I’ll take him.’ Adam wipes his mouth with a napkin and glares at Marcus.

  Chapter 10

  The conservatory is almost as big as my house. Tall plants with dinner-plate leaves grow from giant brass urns and press against the glass roof. I touch the waxy leaf of one and its flowers close and retract as though it’s afraid of me. In the centre is a round pool, koi carp swimming to the surface as we approach, gulping air and flashing brightly coloured scales.

  ‘I apologise for Marcus,’ Adam says. ‘He hates not always being the centre of attention.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause any problems. I’m just so happy to see them again.’

  ‘You didn’t. He’s always argumentative. This house is as much yours as theirs.’ He looks at me sadly and then smiles. ‘I want to introduce you to my best friend in the whole world.’

  In the corner of the conservatory is a copper cage with a small tree growing inside, some of its branches twisted around the bars like vines.

  In the branches, something white is moving. Adam strums the bars and a white owl swoops onto the nearest branch. I see my face reflected in its glassy eyes as it stares back at me curiously.

  He o
pens a wooden box on a table next to the cage, takes out a piece of dried meat and hands it to me.

  ‘Does it bite?’ I ask. Adam makes a clucking sound and unlatches a square gap in the bars. The owl screeches and flaps its wings, its powerful claws gripping the branch.

  ‘Don’t be afraid. Just hold out your hand.’ I put the meat on my palm and nervously raise it through the gap. The owl delicately picks it up with its beak and swallows it with a dry gulp. I laugh in surprise. Adam scratches its feathered head with his forefinger and its saucer eyes close with pleasure.

  ‘I found him injured in the garden one evening.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘I’ve never really thought of one. Why don’t you decide?’

  A name instantly pops into my head. ‘How about Helsing? He looks like a vampire-killer.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Adam laughs, the owl screeching and flapping its wings in agreement, the rush of air blowing the hair off my forehead. ‘I think he likes it.’

  It feels like every plant in the conservatory has leant towards us, straining to listen in to our conversation. He caresses my shoulder.

  Adam’s touch doesn’t feel strange anymore. In fact, I ache to feel his hand on me.

  ‘How about taking your new friend out for his nightly exercise?’ he asks. ‘He’s been cooped up all day.’ The owl stares at us as though understanding every word. On the table next to the box of meat is a thick leather glove with a long sleeve. ‘Put that on. His claws are rather sharp.’

  I push my hand into the glove and smooth the sleeve over my forearm. ‘You’re going to need a coat too. Helsing will keep you company for a moment.’ He taps the bars and the owl bursts out, circling around my head, his wings beating air against my face. ‘He’s just showing off now.’

  Adam leaves the conservatory and Helsing lands on my forearm, gripping the leather with his claws, squeezing the skin beneath, and starts fastidiously preening a wing. There is the sound of raised voices from Adam and Marcus.

  ‘You’re ruining everything!’ Adam shouts.

 

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