Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  “No. No. That’s quite all right,” I insisted, hoping I hadn’t offended him.

  “Very well,” Silas nodded. “Pardon my saying so, but I find the one-size-fits-all handshake a sad consolation prize bestowed by modern society’s battle for equality. After all, despite the fairer sex’s ever-evolving roles, men are still allowed to be men and enjoy behaving as such.”

  Great… He’s one of THOSE, I mused with a cardboard smile. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sure there are plenty of toilet seats standing at attention as we speak,” I teased. My attempt at some humor didn’t get so much as a smirk, just a bottomed-out pair of lips with their ends blatantly arching down. It seemed my playful icebreaker came off a bit crass for present, “cultured” company. My bad…

  Silas’ head dropped as harsh as the blade of a guillotine. “Yes, well, Ms. Wallace,” he began, “Always remember, what we tolerate becomes our standard.”

  Can’t argue with that, I agreed with a humble grin.

  “And for your reference, I prefer to be thought of as Mr. Grey’s steward,” Silas clarified with more than a smidge of vanity. “Not a common butler, if you please.” His on-the-money declaration begged a “mystical question” that prompted my senses into scoping out the stranger with an extensive sweep. Though I couldn’t pick up on the slightest magical twinge, I started to inquire about the house steward’s spot-on perception when he cut me off with a speedy, “I’m simply a good guesser.”

  “Oh, you are,” I sang, not buying his claim one-hundred percent. Of course there wasn’t anything markedly different about this human that I could find, not physically — typical green eyes (kind of mossy-looking), no suggestive battle scars marring either of his hands, and flesh that cast a peachy-tone similar to mine. I even checked his ears for any exaggerated points on a crazy whim. But despite my empty-handed assessment of the house steward’s normal mortal brainwaves and run-of-the-mill appearance, something sure had my suspicious synapses firing.

  Hmmm…

  Silas leveled his watch with his gaze and gave the flashy timepiece a purposeful flick. “I was starting to wonder if something ghastly was the reason behind your late arrival,” he remarked with a forced shudder. I felt the weight of his moss-green eyes scanning me from head to toe. “But I see you don’t look the worse for wear.” The house steward redirected his attention to my blouse with a slight bump hoisting his brow. “Though you have a hole missing its button,” he noted with a curt nod.

  Ouch. I quickly checked to make sure “the girls” were still reasonably in their respective place. They weren’t, at least not from the house steward’s old-fashion perspective. A turtleneck would have probably shown too much flesh in his judgmental eyes. Ugh… The crimson tie he was sporting looked like a trail of Pepto-Bismol dripping from his neck compared to the blood-red hue igniting my cheeks.

  Sooo awkward…

  I scrambled to fasten my blouse. “Excuse me . . . It must have worked its way loose,” I lied, now all thumbs as I shied away from his discriminating glare.

  Though he had already pivoted around, I heard a faint, though distinct murmur of a questionable, “Uh hmmm” rumbling amidst the harsh squeak of his shined-to-perfection shoes. That only made things worse. I ended up breaking the button slick-off when I forced it too quickly through the stitched loop. The sound it made bouncing along the floor of the marble foyer made the tiny hunk of plastic sound like a daggone iron cannonball.

  I cringed. Shhhit…

  “Come along, Ms. Wallace,” Silas insisted with a direct wave. “I think a quick tour of your new domicile would be prudent. Maybe we can procure a needle and some thread for your unintended wardrobe malfunction along our way?” Silas stopped on a dime and spun around with swift precision. “I do trust that the one who wields the Wand of Adamas is not all thumbs when it comes to mending?”

  With the sting of that crack grating my ears, I stretched my smile as far as my clenched teeth would allow. “Don’t worry, Silas. They’re more than nimble.”

  “Ah, then may I extend a most grateful ‘thank you’ in advance on behalf of all the unsuspecting souls spanning the globe . . . especially the graceless ones who lacked the courtesy of lowering the lids,” Silas added with a droll grin and then carried on with his long strides leading the way. “Though don’t be insulted if I fail to summon the trumpeters. I doubt they’re ready to herald that Utopia’s dawn is breaking just yet.”

  Good thing his head hadn’t turned, though I doubted he could mistake the heat from my stare as just the thermostat in need of a sharp left. “Well, we wouldn’t want them to waste their breath,” I remarked, aiming for that tiny red bull’s-eye of “humble” but falling well within the outer bounds of “ticked”. I followed along behind him, wishing I’d gotten a warmer reception and rolling my eyes every step of the way.

  My tour kicked off with a spirited parade through all the downstairs common areas. Every inch of the mansion’s manly décor prompted dreamy visions of Tanner that grew more vivid with each room I encountered. While taking in the rugged elegance of the dining room, I pictured him sitting at the head of the lengthy wooden table as he partook in one of countless meals under the flush of a tiered chandelier hanging from the coffered ceiling above… Even in the kitchen, I could see him reaching inside the fridge for something sugary to snack on when his thoughts were keeping him from his slumber… The formal parlor prompted numerous images of him asleep on his choice of cushy sofas positioned around an antique coffee table, just like I’d caught him snoozing on occasion at Bea’s… The wood-paneled study triggered a rather arousing sight of the handsome Amethyst Talisman. He was relaxing in a tufted navy leather chair, sitting all cozy by the fireplace for one of our late night chats. His fingers were stroking the diamond I’d given him with tender sweeps (just like he was guiding them over the curves of my face), while the crackling flames heightened the sweet tension filling the air… And alas, we made our way back to the foyer where the sight of the hefty closed door framed by a grand pointed arch conjured an image of him rushing in to find me looking just as excited and enraptured as he was…that is, if he would ever get his ABSENT BUTT HERE!

  Silas noticed my transfixed stare. “Professor Grey will be along shortly,” he insisted. “He had a last minute errand to run.”

  “That’s fine,” I said and threw in a nonchalant shrug. I started to head up the sweeping staircase when the house steward halted my steps with a tart clearing of his throat.

  “I can give you a tour of the second level if you wish, but the upstairs contains nothing but the master suite and guest rooms, as well as my personal quarters,” Silas announced and then with a scold-like wave, motioned me away from the majestic walnut banister.

  Feeling rightfully confused, my hand inadvertently gripped the finial atop the newel post. By all accounts, I was a “guest”. Surely I wasn’t sleeping on the sofa.

  “Then where am I staying?” I inquired. The house steward guided my clueless frame over to a massive triptych painting. With a sprightly wave of his hand, the center panel magically hoisted itself towards the ceiling while the other two sections shifted horizontally to their respective sides. A blinding violet light flared from the spot where the painting once stood. My fingers stroked the surface of Tanner’s protective charm. The spell waned not a second after I’d made contact, and sadly, right along with the arousing remnants of his essence. All that remained now was a dismal and dark opening to a rocky, underground chamber. I poked my head inside for a clarifying peek. A musty smell and the sound of water dripping from its earthy walls rocked my already jolted senses. Then just to my right, my disbelieving eyes spied a nagging trail of stones forming a staircase that led straight down.

  “I’m sleeping in the basement?” I questioned. Crap… I spun around, practically springing back through the doorway to civilization. “A CAVE basement?”

  “Among other things,” Silas grinned as he glided past me. “It’s the safest place while you are here .
. . for your protection, what with your growing enemies list.”

  My blue eyes stared at the upstairs landing like a child whose arms fell shy of reaching that coveted cookie jar, still trying to process the kink in my accommodations. The house steward took my hand and led my half-dazed frame into the cavern, that is, once he’d lifted my bottom lip off the freshly waxed floor. “It was my suggestion,” he insisted.

  Now fully alert, my gaze met his like the crack of a whip.

  “Out of sight, out of mind,” Silas interjected and then strutted down the rocky stairs like a toy soldier minus its crank.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled with a slow and low nod, clearly because I wasn’t sold on the notion that it was merely Lorelei’s or even the Onyx’s mind that was attempting to be scrubbed. Down we went, winding level by level, though my gait was considerably more sluggish. The further we descended, the deeper my heart dove. I hadn’t expected there to be anyone else here, and now I was faced with a vast amount of physical distance to boot.

  “I trust you’ve gotten plenty of rest and relaxation over the past week,” Silas remarked. “After all, you are in for a rather arduous stay.”

  “I’ve trained with Professor Grey before,” I contended. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Yes, but not on his turf,” Silas insisted. “And since enough time has now passed for you to become acclimated to your destiny, I am certain Professor Grey will strive to challenge your skill set. There are no plateaus when dealing with what your future holds, Ms. Wallace, only mountains yet to be climbed. A young lady from the hills of West Virginia should be well aware of that fact.”

  I couldn’t suppress the laugh-like gasp a second longer, so out it popped with as much finesse as a redneck Roman Candle. “Silas, are you questioning my abilities — or my drive?” I asked.

  “Forgive me, Ms. Wallace. I’m simply pointing out that you still have a great deal of training left and much more to learn,” Silas suggested respectfully. “That is the reason for your stay? Your sole purpose?”

  And here I thought Samuel’s intrusive fatherly chastising was embarrassing enough. My mistake. A stranger’s proved much worse.

  Silas lifted my chin. “Let’s just pray those skilled notches on your belt are easier to grapple with than any distracting buttons, shall we?” he cooed with a suspicious grin. “We wouldn’t want anything to hinder your focus while you are here. Hopefully all that lingers in the clouds above will be a bolt waiting to be cast . . . not a far-off young lady’s head.”

  Mortifying message received, I mentally noted with a busted gaze. My stare drifted towards an aged metal door standing before us. Though there weren’t any fancy numbers mounted on its bronze surface, my mental count of stories we’d descended stood at good ole thirteen. I shook my head. That figures. I glanced back up to spy only a faint trace of light streaming from the secret entrance leading into the main house. Suddenly Cloud-Nine didn’t seem as white and fluffy as I’d envisioned.

  I swiftly cleared a tight lump from my throat. “Don’t worry, Silas. My focus is crystal-clear,” I affirmed and even threw in a resolute nod, hoping to throw the old bloodhound off my scent.

  Silas turned the knob, looking equally as shrewd. “Yes. That’s exactly what I thought,” the house steward hummed as he pushed open the door and waved me into the room with a graceful and gallant sweep.

  My emotional downward spiral came to a halt when I crossed the threshold. I laid my purse down on a nearby table as a rush of cool air passed over my parted lips and into my chest with the force of a tempest. I honestly couldn’t have imagined a more luxurious or flawlessly decorated space anywhere else in existence.

  “I take it the accommodations are to your liking?” Silas posed.

  “Yes,” I murmured as I worked my way around the heavenly quarters. It was almost like Tanner had scoured my brain and plucked every perfect touch from the recesses of my mind. The walls were drenched in a shimmery shade of blue so sweet & innocent it summoned visions of angels with gilded wings watching over me as I slept. Soothing creams and regal golden hues trimmed every architectural nook and cranny accenting the room. An enchanting wooden armoire stood in one of the corners that looked like something conjured in an old world artisan’s dream. Samuel would surely go to his grave trying to replicate the intricate designs carved on its front panels alone. And who could miss the gargantuan mahogany bed draped in the most seductive, velvety soft linens that enticed every inch of your flesh? The sight of its sweeping canopy lifted the corners of my lips on the spot. I’d always longed for a bed like this. Well, maybe not to “this scale”, but the adult version of my little girl fantasy proved worth the wait. To my further surprise, several pictures lay on one of the bedside tables — four of them in all. The first photograph was of Katie and me when we were ten, taken after an afternoon of playing dress-up at her house. How or when he’d gotten hold of that one was beyond me… Then there was a sketched portrait of Gallia, which had to have been one from his personal collection. The worn edges on the antique paper peeking out from underneath the mat were a dead giveaway, not to mention, the dated ringlet up-do fashioning her long golden-blonde locks. Mid to late 1700’s, perhaps? He obviously cherished the memento enough to have saved it all these years. A more modern picture of Beatrix looking her impeccable-best (pixie-length hair and all) had been placed in a fluted golden frame with accents of topazes mounted like flowers around its edges. No surprise there… And if my eyes weren’t already misty enough, a blown-up color snapshot of Daddy lay nearest to the bed, close enough to see his blue-green eyes every night before I drifted off to sleep. I swayed slightly, just so I could watch the light bouncing off the glass, trying to trick my mind into seeing them twinkle one last time.

  I hurried to sneak in a quick breath, hoping to head off a swiftly forming tear. I didn’t want the walking-talking pillar of stone thinking for one second that the Wand of Adamas’ new owner wore her emotions on her sleeve. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I knew the limits of my tongue’s restraint. One more crack and I honestly couldn’t be held responsible WHERE a bolt of lightning happened to end up — no matter how dark or tiny the intended target may be.

  My captivated eyes trailed Silas around the room. The house steward’s steps halted in front of a set of double doors that he whisked open to reveal a palatial private bathroom. I rushed inside at the sight of the gleaming copper tub standing in the center of the white marble sanctuary. You could literally slide into this thing. An assortment of oils lay randomly on a long mirrored table beside the elegant slipper-like tub, along with a whopping bowl stocked with a ton of sea-salt. So not kidding. Silas took the liberty of staking an equally weighty shovel-sized scoop into the mound of healing crystals, just like he’d placed a daggone tombstone on top of a freshly patted plot. I just smiled at him as we strolled out of the bathroom. He returned my gesture with an artful grin of his own, knowing I’d caught the gist of his “you’ll be needing a lot of this” hint. Hey — I was simply thrilled he didn’t feel the need to vocalize it. My only complaint: there wasn’t the first airy window — anywhere. My gaze fell upon the bronze bedroom door. One way in and one way out. I shifted my stare back to Silas. Nope… I still wasn’t sold on the idea of its “advantage” from my enemies just yet.

  Silas pointed to a vintage telephone sitting on a dainty stand beside a lavish chaise lounge that rivaled the cradling sweep of a crescent moon. “Your cell phone will be of no use down here,” the house steward announced. “Professor Grey had me install that so you won’t feel cut off from the world.”

  I inspected the ancient wonder that boasted a real wooden frame and cutesy brass bells. My eyes trailed a thick cord running to a small box mounted on the wall. It had been a long time since I’d actually “sat” to talk. Thankfully it looked long enough to stretch around the room. I just hope I’m allowed more than one phone call, I simmered silently.

  “Your things were delivered about an hour ago,” Silas remarked and motio
ned a nod towards a dressing screen.

  I checked behind the zigzagging panels. Thankfully the boxes I’d shipped last week had arrived. Of course they had a lot more dings and were streaked with grease, but they were all here. I paused as I bent down to grab one of the cartons. It looked to have been opened and resealed. Actually, they all had upon further inspection.

  “They’ve been opened,” I remarked aloud as I ripped off the misaligned strips of tape. “Did you—”

  “Goodness no, Ms. Wallace,” Silas interrupted on his approach. “I may be the hands of this house, but they hold one’s privacy in utmost regard, so you can holster any doubts. I simply placed them in here and out of the way. They were like that when they arrived.”

  Everything inside each of the boxes looked disheveled, though nothing appeared to be missing. Granted there wasn’t anything of major importance in them (nothing magical by any means). I shook my head as I thought about the funny feeling I’d gotten at the UPS store. I knew I should have spelled them. Then another thought surfaced. Who could have done this? And exactly WHAT were they looking for?

  “Is everything in order?” Silas questioned.

  Paranoia jerked me out of my daze and up to my feet. “Yeah, but I still need to unload my car.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Ms. Wallace,” Silas insisted. “I’ll fetch your belongings.”

  Knowing the trunk of my Charger was still safely spelled, I stressed, “But I really should be the one—”

  “I won’t hear of you burdening yourself with such a menial task,” Silas objected. “I’ll collect them right now. That should give you a chance to relax before Professor Grey’s arrival.” One of his brows arched like a cat’s back. “You seem a bit wound up to me.”

  Back to the cracks. “I’m not,” I assured him. “I’m just ready to get going. Remember, I am ‘eager’.”