Fiendish Play

by Angela Richardson

  “You know,” she raised her champagne glass towards me, her face looking anything but serious; “there’s a rumor that it was painted by a very powerful mobster’s daughter.”

  “What? Like the Mafia?” I smirked at the notion. “C’mon, you can’t be serious? Yeah right. The mob...” That sounded unbelievable. A gypsy in Europe seemed to be more likely than the idea that the professor was mixed up with such dangerous liaisons.

  “Is my niece telling stories again?” Liam walked up behind me and Anais as we continued to break down the painting’s origins. His surprise appearance made us both jump on the spot.

  “She has quite the imagination James. Don’t you think?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have to listen to all the stories if you’d just tell us the artist’s name uncle Liam.” Anais sounded sweet, her voice playful. You could tell she was very fond of her uncle.

  “And what fun would that be for me, Anais? You know how I love to watch you squirm.” He nudged her jokingly back.

  “Hmmm...One day I’ll figure it out Uncle Liam...one day...” Anais sang, like she would eventually unravel the secret. I had to admit, I was more than curious about the mysterious artist myself.

  Two more bodies emerged behind the professor. Anais and Liam both shot looks at me before turning around to greet them.

  “Mother...father...” Anais said formally as they stood before us now. She took a large gulp of the champagne she was holding, like she purposely needed the alcohol to numb the moment.

  “We were standing over there and couldn’t help but notice you were with Liam’s new student, Anais. We just had to get an introduction to the boy who Liam had said was our next big star.” It was Anais’ mother who addressed her first.

  She waited for Anais to respond, but she didn’t. Instead she stood glaring at her Mom taking more purposeful gulps of the champagne, like she was making a point of not answering her. I was front row to this power struggle that was obviously between them. Anais certainly inherited her mother’s beauty though. They looked very similar in the face. Same innocent brown eyes and soft features that made her Mom look equally angelic, but something told me that in her case, her looks were definitely deceiving. The way she was watching Anais, felt like she was under a microscope. Her judgmental stare was even making me feel tense.

  The professor shuffled forward, hijacking the conversation. “Gerard and Florence Aston, this is James Riley. Our country’s next Apollo prize winner I’m sure of it,” Liam said in praise, turning to me. He even gave me a quick pat on the back. It felt almost fatherly. “James, this is Anais’ parents Florence and Gerard Aston. They’re both on the board here at Cloverley and have many friends and acquaintances in the art community. If you’re looking for someone to talk you up to all these rich deep-pocketed snobs, they’re the ones for you.”

  “Oh Liam.” Anais’ mother made the ‘tsk’ sound still sounding very formal and playfully swiped at his arm.

  “Nice to meet you James,” Anais’ father Gerard held out his hand and I quickly shook it back. He looked me right in the eye as he did. Anais’ mother followed but her shake was more delicate and she was quick to take her hand back.

  “It’s really nice to meet you both,” I said politely.

  “Do you like Cloverley James?” Florence asked looking back and forth between Anais and me.

  The moment she said Cloverley, a smile found its way onto my face. It was hard not to associate Cloverley with meeting Anais, so naturally it shone on my expression when she asked the question. I turned towards Anais, my smile growing even larger with delight.

  “Yes I do. Very much. I have come to see how much the place has to offer and I think I’m going to find everything I’ve ever wanted here.” I found myself staring at Anais as I said the words, forgetting for a second that her parents were standing mere inches away from me.

  “Oh...I see,” Florence noted. She took a sip of her own champagne. “Anais, have you seen Deacon tonight?” Florence’s voice cut into the air with a different tone now, taking away the focus from me. For some reason, Anais stiffened at his name and rolled her eyes.

  She breathed heavily and then addressed her Mom. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere mother...” She made another loud gulping sound as she chugged more alcohol. “Lurking...” she mumbled. Anais’ mother’s lips formed a hard line as she watched her daughter and her clear obvious distaste for this Deacon guy. His name had also been mentioned when Liam had asked Anais to show me around. I was hoping this guy wasn’t her boyfriend. But I figured she would have mentioned a boyfriend by now. Right?

  “Well, be a good girl and go find him dear. I don’t like it when you’re being rude.”

  Anais coughed a small laugh into her glass. “Rude? Oh I’m so sorry mother. I know how much you hate it when I don’t do what you ask. Now...” She sculled the rest of her champagne and then gave the empty glass to a waiter who was walking past. “I’m going to hang out with James some more.” She tugged at my arm, pulling us away from the group. “C’mon James.”

  We walked very quietly away from Professor Aston and her parents. I could tell her head was somewhere else. Her mood had shifted into something distant and somber...like melancholy. She dragged me through people, just walking and walking into the crowd. It was like she was trying to find a way to lose herself so she couldn’t be found. Finally, we found ourselves in another hallway. It was dark, dimly lit and had a number of different pieces of artwork on the walls. We stopped at another painting. Anais stared at it blankly, like she was looking right through it. I tried to bring Anais back from her mental slip. She seemed so far away, and I wanted her here, close, with me.

  “Are you okay?” I said moving closer to her so she could feel my touch. I wanted to put my arm around her and draw her in, but at that moment, it didn’t feel like I should be digging through her baggage. Although the buckles to the metaphorical suitcase were definitely undone.

  Anais said nothing to my question. She continued to stare at the painting in front of us like it was the only way she could stay standing up and not break down and cry.

  “So what kind of story do you think this painting tells us?” I asked in a quiet voice, trying to lift the mood by using light conversation.

  “Story, story, story...” Anais chanted. “I’ll tell you what kind of story this picture tells us James. It’s a story of a girl, who since the moment she could walk, was told to obey everything her parents instructed her to do. They told her to ignore that voice inside herself that wanted to play and be free. They told her she’s supposed to want a horrible world of rules and consequences. To accept the friends they wanted for her. The career. The guy. And to welcome what I had to do with my own body. That I couldn’t give into my own sexual urges…that I couldn’t find my own love. That I couldn’t be free to find my own happiness. That I would forever be mentally locked up from the splendor of the outside world and all its glory. Like I was a caged animal, trained to obey and sacrifice my heart’s desires…for...”

  Anais hadn’t realized that during her story that her wording had changed from being about some girl…to using the word ‘I’. She was talking about herself and she hadn’t even noticed that it had changed. Then suddenly, her mouth dropped open like her mind was catching up to what she had said. She became frozen; speechless. Shocked at what she revealed openly to me with such ease and lack of self-control.

  I wanted so much to try and be comforting. To ask her to tell me everything, but I also didn’t want to force it. I didn’t want to push out emotions she wasn’t ready to share even though she was already exposed. So I did what any gentleman should do...I played dumb.

  “Sounds like that girl’s story is very sad. And you got all that from the painting?” I pointed back up to the blue and black swirling colors. It looked like a whirlpool in a rough sea. I hoped that my pretend ignorance was enough for her to see that I was trying to help. Anais’ mouth closed, began to quiver, and then she turned and bolt
ed down the corridor. She knew what she said...and what I had heard. No pretence of ignorance could gloss over what she had revealed about herself and her life. She ran, going as fast as her heels could carry her.

  I tried to walk quickly without running, so as to avoid drawing attention my way. I saw Anais slip into a room that didn’t have a door although I must have taken two turns down a number of different hallways to finally catch up. When I reached the doorway, I could see it was a sitting room. There was a vanity dresser with a huge gilded mirror and massive carved wooden wardrobe. The kind that instantly made me think of my favorite childhood story, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. There was even a small ornate table and chairs with one of those embroidered lacy tablecloths covering it. Anais was standing near a window looking out. She looked like a fairytale character in the way she gripped the curtains, and stared out of the window like she was a princess trapped in a castle. I knew that she was caught up in something that seemed like a fantasy. Something that scared her. Was trapping her. Taking away her free will and spirit. And when I saw her standing across the room with a stance that said ‘save me’, I knew, I wanted to be that hero for her. Just like I was the other night. The prince. The knight in shining armor. The fucking cliché’. Yes, that was me. Hands up in the air for the job. And it wasn’t because she was weak...because I sensed more strength inside her heart than any girl I had known. It was because there was something about how she made me feel inside. As a man, I wanted to protect her. It was as if nature intended it. I was starting to understand that ‘thing’ that’s written about in books that describes the emotion of when a girl can take hold of everything inside you and bring out this instinct that latches on to your insides and makes you want to fight for them. Protect them. Fuck — I think I was willing to go to the end of the earth and back to keep her safe. The sensation was staggering. And unexpected. Especially given how little I knew about her and how little time we had shared. But when your soul speaks to your heart and says, “Time is just a state of mind. It can’t stop the most powerful emotion in the world from manifesting itself and consuming you in a blink of an eye,” you listen. You walk forward and you fight for the idea that it’s something more. The possibility of the unknown. The possibility that it’s the most real experience your soul can discover. Why not take a risk? And I am an artist. I am a risk-taker.

  I shuffled slowly towards her, drawn to her beauty, her inner light, to something that I wanted to know and possess. She didn’t turn towards me, but she could sense I was there. Our bodies already feeling their pull towards one another. We had had that pull since we first met. It was sensation. Emotion. Need. Yes, deep down, I cared for her. I wanted her. I felt like I knew her but knew nothing at all. How crazy does that fucking sound? I’m all about logic, and nothing about my feelings for Anais made any sense. But I liked that I didn’t understand this connection...because being this puzzled had never felt so right in my head.

  “I’m not really a head case James,” she whispered, knowing I was right there for her. “I’ve just spent so much of my life without a certain kind of freedom. And I’ve been made to do so many things I don’t want to do, that I feel like I don’t know who I really am anymore.” She sighed. “And then I meet you, and the way you look at me...the way you make me feel...and all of a sudden, it’s more than I believed was possible. You’re heroic, and passionate, and kind…and talented...and doing what you want to do with your life…and it just makes me see what’s on the other side of this world I’m trapped in. What it’s like to be happy...to have your choices be your own...to want someone not decided for you...”

  I took more slow and steady steps towards her, but she didn’t move away from the window. She had confessed, she had feelings too. But what kind of feelings for me? And how do I help her? Can I save her?

  “Anais…tell me about this world you’re in…let me help you...I want to help you.”

  She finally faced me, her eyes filled with tears that she couldn’t hold back, and she shook her head. “I’ve already said more than I should have. I’ve got you involved in something that will just hurt you. James, I need to tell you what I’m part of. It’s the only way to get you to stay away from me. You need to stay away. It’s about the other night...When you knocked out those guys who were tying me to the tree…”

  Anais stopped talking when she heard some voices move towards the room. They sounded like two guys heading our way. She grabbed my hand, and in a flurry, pushed me into the massive wardrobe, closing the door; hiding our bodies in the small confined space. She plastered her hand over my mouth yet again as we stood in the darkness with nothing but the smell of old cedar and the crack of light seeping into the corners of the wardrobe from a soft lamp in the room.

  “I swore I saw her come in here,” a guy’s voice said, breaking the dark tension between us.

  “Stop stalking her. She knows what she has to do, alright?” the second guy said. He sounded vaguely familiar. “Just relax. I’m sure by this time next week, you’ll have your precious little flower on your arm.”

  “What’s Liam doing setting her up with that guy anyway? I don’t appreciate the interference.”

  “Are you worried he’s found a better prospect? Someone with far more potential than you?”

  “Fuck you Byron.”

  I heard shuffling now. Feet pounding on hardwood and the rustling of suits. “Watch what you say to me Deacon…my friend. You don’t want to get on my bad side. And you especially shouldn’t question Liam’s motives. You know his rank…and mine.”

  “Fine…I’m sorry. But I’m getting impatient. This needs to be done now...tonight.”

  “Patience Deacon. Patience. It’s not like she can give it up to anyone else you know. Not unless they are...well, you know how it goes.”

  “She’s mine Byron. Mine.”

  “So you keep saying...but she’s really putting up a fight with all this. She’s not like the others.”

  “Then I’ll break her. Once I have her, it should be easy enough.”

  “You make too many assumptions Deacon. That’s your weakness.”

  “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

  “Look...she obviously isn’t here...or anywhere where you are. I’m going back to the party. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

  A few minutes passed before we heard nothing except the sound of my breath against the palm of Anais’ hand. She removed it from my mouth, her fingers brushing along my lips, pausing for a second, allowing them to linger on my skin before she moved them to her chest.

  “I think you enjoy putting your hand on my mouth,” I said, as I felt her body shift away from my own.

  “Shhh, they might still be out there,” she hushed, ignoring my comment, but in the crack of light which found its way between us, I saw her smile.

  We went quiet for a few more minutes trying to hear any sounds of life outside the wardrobe. When I was convinced we were completely alone, I broke the silence once more.

  “Who was that guy with Byron?”

  “That’s Deacon,” she simply said.

  Silence.

  “Ohhhkay...And who’s Deacon to you?”

  “He’s my...well...he’s my,” she swallowed loudly, “betrothed.”

  I imagined myself pushing my finger into my ear and shaking it around frantically trying to make sure I heard correctly. “Wait…are we locked in a time machine right now? Did you just say betrothed?”

  “Uh...yeah. It’s the term they use.”

  “Who’s ‘they’ Anais? Because I need more than just vague answers to understand what you are saying...what you’re warning me against.”

  Anais pushed open the wardrobe and we both fell out, my head spinning from the shock of light and fresh air that hit us and swirled around our bodies like a whirlwind.

  “Look James, you’ve just arrived at Cloverley, but what you should know is that it’s more than a university. You’ve come to a place filled with secrets.” Anais looked
behind her shoulder before she continued. “Worlds within worlds where you shouldn’t trust anybody and anything. The people who are part of these groups...they’re everywhere...control everything. They manipulate, they scare, and they have ways of making things happen...and making problems disappear. And they take what they want...who they want. And they hurt people who get in the way.”

  This all felt so unbelievable. Worlds within worlds? Secret groups?

  “So what are you saying Anais...that you’re in some kind of...what...secret society?”

  “Yes...” she nodded, confirming my already formed suspicions. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

  I watched Anais, waiting for more, but she stopped herself from going on. I hated that she was just giving me fragments. How do I understand her position if I don’t know what kind of position she is really in?

  “And betrothed?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “It means…” She took a big step forward towards me, standing chest to chest. “That what you saw on that tree was me going through with a ceremony that’s part of this secret society. Deacon was supposed to find me that night. He was supposed to take my virginity and I was supposed to let him. Can you believe it? I was supposed to enjoy being forced to give away the one thing that was still mine and sacred to someone I hate because our parents had set us up for a future together, all because Deacon wants more power and position. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I was a gift. My body on a platter. What a joke! So I told those guys that I didn’t care about the punishment and fought to stop them. I was never going to let him just take it. It was going to be against my own free will. And when they still tied me up, laughing at me, knowing that Deacon would take it anyway against my will, I knew that I didn’t care about ceremonies...expectations...rules or anything else anymore. I knew that everything I had believed from my parents, everything I was told was right...was wrong. So very very wrong. And then you came along, just like an answered prayer, and turned my whole reason for living upside down. James, have you ever prayed for something so hard and never had it come true? And then when it does...that moment...it changes you...because for a long time I never had hope that it would all get better...and then, the unbelievable happened. You happened. You were an answered prayer. A wish. A ray of hope.”