His Black Wings

by Astrid Yrigollen

  After my shower I felt better even though I did feel a little warm. It was late October but the fireplace was still going strong. Naza had made herself comfortable on the bed. I cast a quick glance around the room to see if her dog bed had been brought up. It hadn’t.

  “All right, you can sleep in this bed tonight you spoiled thing, but tomorrow we are bringing your bed up.” I told Naza as I climbed into bed. She thumped her tail in response knowing that it was not true.

  Even though I was so tired, after I climbed into bed, I found myself wide awake. Naza’s tell tale snoring told me she had no such problems. I was not sure what time it was. Without moving I studied my bed’s intricately carved headboard. There were scenes that looked like animals on two legs or dog men in the forest.

  What odd carvings, I should think that they would not be conducive to good dreams. Nightmares, yes, good dreams, no.

  I was suddenly startled by a loud noise, a bang, which woke Naza up. She sat up and gave a low “ruff”. I too sat up and we looked at each other in the firelight.

  “I didn’t make that sound.” I told her as she continued to look at me as though waiting for me to offer up an explanation. I waited several minutes but nothing else was heard. I settled back down under the covers.

  It’s probably just my nerves, I had a long day and I am in a new house.

  I closed my eyes and began to pray. A little thought like a wriggling fish kept interrupting my customary nightly prayer. Even though Mr. Lowood (it would take me awhile to get accustomed to this new name as opposed to Fredrick or Mr. Brighton) seemed to be telling me the truth with his confession, there was still something that bothered me. He seemed to be withholding information from me, what I did not know, but I was sure that it would eventually come out. Perhaps he just did not know if he could fully trust me yet.

  She

  Fredrick removed his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. He loosened his tie and removed his pipe from its case. Sitting down heavily in his chair, he leaned forward on his massive desk that was covered with papers. He always felt most comfortable in his library, with its floor to ceiling books all neatly tucked side by side on their shelves. While so many nowadays used the “EARS” system, (short for Electronic Archival Retrieval System) he did not like the thought of wearing a small device in ones ear. Every book that was ever written since the beginning of time was stored on this device. The device then automatically synced with ones brainwaves so that you can choose to “know” the book page by page or simply read it all in one micro second.

  Fredrick felt that was cheating. There was nothing better than the feel of a book in your hand, listening to the crinkling sounds as you turned its pages, and the smell of its crisp paper. He sighed at the changing times and his unwillingness to adapt to them. He wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing Claren here as he opened a drawer hunting for matches.

  It could very well be months before I see my own son and he may choose not to reveal himself to Claren at all.

  Fredrick’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound as he saw the double doors to his library burst open with tremendous force. They slammed against the inside walls to his library and bounced back.

  “Etrigan. How good to see you so soon after my arrival.” Fredrick said to his son, genuinely pleased.

  Perhaps this would work after all. Especially now that I have put my original design on hiatus.

  A tall form clad in black strode into the room sending books and paper flying everywhere. Etrigan was a younger version of his handsome father. Jet black hair that desperately needed a haircut, it curled around the nape of his neck and ears. While his eyes were blue, they were the darkest blue, darker than his father’s. Eyes that displayed anger and inner torment one moment, and great passion the next. His strong Greek nose fit perfectly with the rest of his features, not underwhelming and not overpowering. Lips red and pouty were always set in either a frown or a scowl but never in a smile. When he stood without slouching he was taller than most men at six foot five. His form was muscular, yet lithe, graceful, and strong. In a word, Etrigan was beautiful in a masculine way. He would have been the envy of every man in the outside world and the desire of every woman who set eyes upon him, save for one thing.

  His black wings.

  They were massive, soft, and leather like, similar to the patagium of a bat, but thicker. They started off narrow, then projected outwards from between his shoulder blades. He had slim bones that ran through them in true bat like fashion. At each wing tip he had a menacing glossy black spike. A natural bone that was part of his wingtips, he could use these tips to rip flesh or gently move things in his way, so great was his control. At their full expansion his wing span was easily twelve feet.

  Fredrick looked up at his son who now stood menacingly over him and recalled when he was a small child, he had broken one of the bones in his wings. It took him a month to heal. He had been trying to carry off a boar that was larger than himself. Always the little savage, he insisted on eating the boar before his wing was set with a splint.

  Now his son’s wings were being held in but wanting to span out in anger.

  “Why have you brought her here!?” He demanded harshly of his father. Fredrick sighed.

  Perhaps I did not do everything that I could have to make him more genteel? Now he seems to be a large savage and not as easy to deal with.

  Fredrick looked at his son and calmly lit his pipe. When his father did not answer right away the son continued.

  “Is it not enough that I have no privacy with the many servants you have crawling around this deuce of a house!?” Etrigan used his right wing to shoot out and wipe a whole row of books off a top shelf. He was breathing hard but Fredrick could see his son’s eyes glistening as if wanting to cry.

  “Calm yourself Etrigan. Please be calm.” Etrigan stopped but his body still heaved with emotion.

  “Be calm my son.” Fredrick said in a low voice as he used to when Etrigan was a little boy. Etrigan’s breathing slowly resumed to a normal rhythm while looking at his father. He turned his tall muscular form away from his father’s watchful gaze. He faced a book shelf and rested his head gently against it, the fight seemingly gone out of him. Fredrick had long grown used to these outbursts that seemed to have come on more frequently in the last few years. One moment Etrigan was angry full of rage, then as Fredrick spoke to him, he would calm down. Fredrick wondered if it had something to do with Etrigan’s genetic makeup.

  “Who is she?” He asked in a tired voice, his anger drained.

  “Who?” Fredrick asked innocently.

  “Please don’t play games with me Father. That young woman who is at this moment unpacking her belongings in a room next to mine!” Fredrick could hear his son’s anger returning.

  “So you saw her did you?” Fredrick teased. Etrigan turned around slowly.

  “I heard her, that room has been devoid of furniture for years till early this week! Then all of a sudden I hear the servants moving in a bed and desk etc… etc…I am assuming it was all for her. Why? Who is she?”

  “Her name is Claren. She will be living here with us from now on. I will become her guardian in time.”

  “You mean you did not bring her here as your wife?” Etrigan questioned with a scowl.

  “The thought has crossed my mind. She’s pretty and pleasant and she certainly does have her own mind. But a bit young for me don’t you think? She is a year or so younger than you.” Fredrick puffed on his pipe and smiled at his son. He now saw that it might be necessary to play devil’s advocate with Etrigan.

  “Unless you think she is not?” Etrigan scowled again at his father’s question, the thought of his father remarrying filled him with disgust.

  “You do what you like, you always do don’t you Father?” Etrigan turned on his heel and left the room without shutting the double doors behind him.

  Etrigan walked as softly as he could down the hallway.

  Her doors are
right next to mine! What is my father thinking!?Does he really want some silly female screeching in the middle of the night when she finally runs into me?

  He paused at her door where he saw firelight flickering slowly from underneath the door. Etrigan could smell an animal, a dog.

  She has a dog with her?

  As in answer, Etrigan saw the shadow of a black nose pressed in the space between the floor and the bottom of the door sniffing urgently.

  “Ruff!” Naza said to him in a greeting through the door. Even though she could not see him, she could smell him. Startled, Etrigan held in his wings and fled to the tower room. As long as that girl was in the house he would no longer live in his old room.

  The morning sunlight poured itself into Claren’s bedroom. The fire had long since gone out and Claren could feel the morning chill against her cheek. Naza sensing her mistress was awake, jumped down off the bed and stretched slowly. Claren followed suit.

  “Well it certainly is bright in here without curtains isn’t it girl?” Claren walked to the windows and peered out. The sun was out but a low mist still clung to the top of the lawn. She could see two men out at the pond with nets.

  “They must be cleaning.” Naza gave a whine.

  “I know, you need to go outside don’t you?” Claren sighed wondering how fast she could wash up and get dressed to take Naza out for a walk. Just then a light knock on the bedroom door sent Naza bounding over to it. Before she could answer the door, it opened slowly.

  “Hello Miss,” the plump older woman said as Naza greeted her, “oh you must be Naza! The master had told us all about you.” She patted Naza on the head and smiled warmly at Claren.

  “And you must be Claren?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am Mrs. Esther Whitby. I believe you met my husband Thomas, last night.” She extended her hand which I took. Dark green eyes smiled at me from among the soft wrinkles in her full face.

  “So nice to meet you Mrs. Whitby.” She nodded and smoothed down her white apron. Her gray hair was piled up in a loose bun on top of her head.

  I was surprised to see her dressed in the traditional black and white maids uniform and lace cap. Aside from that she wore a large key ring attached at the waist of her apron and, as one in her position must, sensible shoes.

  “I am housekeeper for Mr. Lowood, but anything you need let me know. We’ll start off first with curtains, a young lady needs some privacy.” She said as she pointed to the windows.

  “Yes, now I’m afraid I need to take my dog out for a walk. I don’t want her to have an accident.” Mrs. Whitby brought her hand up to her mouth in surprise.

  “Oh! I’ll have one of the groundskeepers take her out while you finish dressing.”

  “I’m not sure if she would be comfortable with that, she doesn’t know anyone here and…”

  “Oh fie fie! There are nothing but gentle souls here Miss. I’ll have Timothy take her out. He loves dogs and all sorts of animals. He is the groomsman and my grandson. After that, we’ll fix her up a hearty beef stew for her breakfast. The Master told us that we were to treat her well because she saved your life?” I nodded and suddenly felt unexpected tears spring into my eyes. I kneeled down on the floor and hugged Naza to me. Even though she loved getting hugs I could tell she needed to go outside more.

  “Yes its true, thank you.”

  “Good, now you finish getting dressed and come downstairs to eat breakfast.” I nodded as Naza followed Mrs. Whitby out happily.

  I felt a twinge of regret that I could not take Naza out on our first morning here. She still had her splint and poultice on, and I was worried they would rush her to do her business. Naza liked to sniff every blade of grass and nuzzle every flower she came across.

  I dressed quickly after I washed up. Even though Mrs. Whitby seemed pleasant, I did not know this groomsman who had Naza. She was my companion and I needed to make sure that she was alright. After several attempts, I was finally able to get my hair in to a bun piled on the top of my head. My hair was growing longer, I had not had a trim since before my parents had died. Now when I let down my hair, fell to my waist. While I liked having it long, it can be a little harder to manage. Sliding a few random bobby pins into place I checked my luggage. I picked out my rose colored ankle length skirt and beige pin-tucked long sleeve blouse. I knew I had a sweater somewhere but I could not find it. I decided to find it later after I was assured of Naza’s whereabouts.

  Westwind, my new home?

  Mr. Lowood was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me with Naza at his side.

  “Ah, there she is Naza. Your Mistress, looking radiant as ever.” He called out in a loud voice. I was surprised by this compliment, and one in such a loud voice. I walked down the staircase holding on to the polished banister.

  “Good Morning Mr. Lowood, you seem to be in good spirits this morning.” He took my arm which was something he had begun to do as soon as he had brought me in to this house I realized.

  “I realized something last night. While I have lived here for so long, I never really considered it. Do you follow me Claren? I never really considered the morning and her glories, her birds chirping, the sun shining.”

  He smiled in an impish manner.

  “But now, I am hopeful and it is a grand morning.”

  He guided me into the right side of the house and opened the door. The dining room had paned windows that let in the wonderful light from outside. A long, dark wood table was positioned in the center of the dining room. Another fireplace, this one with two small Corinthian styled columns on either side of it, stood on the far wall. Made of polished cherry wood, the fireplace was situated at presumably the head of the table. A grand mirror with delicate filigree hung above the mantel. A dark cherry wood side board with its many drawers and large surface for serving, stood over to the right of the dining room table. Mr. Lowood pulled out my chair but must have noticed me looking at the door in the room.

  “Ah, that door leads to the main hall which we just were in. Having two doors to the dining room makes it easier for the servants to come in and serve large parties. This door,” he said pointing to the door we came in through, “is where the guests can come in from the front door.” He pushed my chair in and walked around to his seat.

  “That door,” he said and pointed to his left, “is closer to the kitchen. I promised to give you the grand tour and I will. Right after breakfast.”

  Mrs. Whitby, I can only presume, had put out a beautiful assortment of fruits, muffins, hot cakes and vegetarian sausages, (the Grand Council had outlawed meat consumption due to its detrimental effects on ones heath. The meat that has been consumed until now has been derived from plants).As we ate he told me about the area and surrounding woods.

  “The house sits on forty acres. We do have animals on the grounds, keep this in mind if you and Naza go exploring. There is rabbit, deer, various fowl, perhaps a bear or two.” He chuckled at this. After breakfast he showed me around the rest of the house with the exception of his son’s room and the tower room which was locked. He tried jiggling the door handle, but it remained locked.

  “I don’t know why it’s locked. We usually keep it unlocked.” He shrugged and led me back down the staircase from the tower room.

  “From the tower room, one can go out on to the roof. It’s a very nice view, one that I haven’t seen myself in awhile. I’ll get the key from Mrs. Whitby later.”

  Mr. Lowood showed me the stables and introduced me to all his horses. He had named each one after a particular sweet pastry.

  “This is Cupcake.” He said as he stroked a white mare’s nose. He led me to the next one.

  “This one is Doughnut.” He said and chuckled. I was surprised at the names he had given his horses.

  “Oh, they all have their grand names to flaunt their proud lineage, but it was my son who named them when he was a younger.” He grew still and looked at the horse he was stroking sadly.

  “When he, Etrigan, was just
a boy,” he continued in a far off sort of voice, “he was happy. He used to run around singing and laughing. But all that changed after his mother died and her relatives started giving us problems.”

  “So that was true then, what you said about his mother dying when he was a child and her relatives thinking you had something to do with it?”

  “Yes, sadly it is true. I found it necessary to bring him here far away from his relatives which had never seen him, since…well, his deformity. His mother wanted to protect him against cruel people, even her own relatives who would not have understood I suppose.”