Semblance

by Logan Patricks

  I needed to dazzle this crowd and give them a performance they’d remember for a lifetime.

  As I made my way to the Heintzman piano, I sensed the anticipation from this eclectic crowd, and the excitement of hearing that first note resonate throughout the mansion. They craved to hear the sounds of my playing, and I vowed to deliver it to them.

  I closed my eyes and brushed my fingertips across the cool, smooth piano keys, worshipping the craftsmanship of this majestic instrument. As I hit the first note, I heard and felt the perfect balance of sound and weight from the piano. I lost myself to the music, allowing it to touch me like a mysterious lover, the reverberations of the instrument reaching deep inside me as I let loose a long sigh. I released the haunting and pleasurable sounds of Liszt’s Benediction de Dieu dans la Solitude from the piano and played it with an absolute reverence.

  Every beautiful note was a blessing from Franz Liszt’s creative genius.

  When I was finished, I paused for a moment, and then went into another one of the composer’s masterpieces, Harmonies Poetiques et Religieuses, using the full range of the Heintzman to weave together sounds of this absolutely stunning work.

  A few times I looked up from the keys to see the crowd’s reaction, but only saw the chilling sight of expressionless masks gazing in my direction. It was unnerving, and I decided that it was best to focus on the music alone, and not allow the people and the surroundings distract me from the music.

  After I finished playing an eight-piece set, I had to stop and take a small break. My wrists and forearms were on fire from the sheer complexity of the pieces and to play another one right away would end up a butcher’s mess.

  I glanced at the audience, many of them still focused in my direction. I had no idea if people were receptive to my playing, or if they were gawking at me like a sideshow attraction. I was glad that I was wearing this golden mask. At least they couldn’t see the nervous expression on my face.

  “That was simply stunning,” said a voice from behind me. I turned around to see a tall man with blonde hair, his face hidden underneath a red Venetian mask resembling a fox. “Your combination of virtuoso playing and eloquent grace is a marvel to watch. I’m just surprised that I haven’t heard of you prior to tonight.”

  “Thanks for the compliments,” I replied. I was excited to hear someone acknowledge my performance. “I’ve been kind of keeping a low profile lately, you know, preparing for my big North American debut.”

  The fox’s eyes glanced over me. “Your European English sounds very…North American.”

  “I spent a lot of time studying in North America,” I was quick to reply. “I’ve assimilated the language pretty fast.”

  There was another long pause from Mr. Fox. “Speak in your native tongue over in Anastasia.”

  What was with the twenty questions? Why was he so concerned about my background and where I came from?

  “Tranqata oblingonata kaliquicky ayamana,” I replied, ranting off gibberish from the top of my head.

  “Translation?” Mr. Fox asked.

  Go away, I wanted to say. However what actually came out of my mouth was, “You’re a curious one Mr. Fox.”

  “Calisto is storytelling again, isn’t she?” he said.

  Damn it. Was there any point in continuing this ridiculous rouse any longer? I knew that the further down the rabbit hole I went, the smaller the tunnel would become.

  “Look,” he said. “I personally don’t care which way the wind blows and how far the story goes. I appreciate talent, which you have an abundance of. However, there is one aspect of Calisto’s story that needs to be proved, and any failure to do so will be a poor reflection on your capabilities as an A-list artist.”

  “Oh?”

  “Play your father’s song,” the fox said. “Play Breathless.”

  Perhaps the one thing about Calisto’s yarn that had some fibers of truth to it was that I did write a song for my dad shortly after he died.

  His passing away wasn’t an easy thing to get over. He was the only family I had. My dad was the pillar that held me up when I wanted to crumble emotionally.

  I remember on one snowy evening, not long after my father died, my loneliness and depression felt like a gun pressed up against my temple. I decided to head over to the university’s conservatory and found myself an old upright piano that was outside one of the examination rooms, waiting to be tossed out the very next day.

  It was a little out of tune and missing the F sharp key in the lower octave, but at that moment in time, the piano was perfect for me. This lonely, broken and abandoned instrument was an exact reflection of me, both physically and mentally.

  I closed my eyes and my fingers unearthed a simple and sad melody that had long been buried inside me. It was a melody that had haunted my imagination before, but up until then, I lacked the raw emotions to do it any justice. I stored the tune in the back of my mind until the time was right—when I felt the most vulnerable.

  I played the song on that old piano with my heart bleeding out into the music while tears streamed down my cheeks. I allowed the world around me to dissolve into nothing, imagining that the only thing left in the universe was that old piano, a heartbroken daughter that played it, and the spirit of her father listening to her one final gift to him.

  Since that day, I never played that song again. There were too many raw emotions associated with it and I feared that playing it would tear open deep wounds.

  “I don’t think I can,” I replied to Mr. Fox. “I’m sorry.”

  The fox shook his head. “Please,” he said. “I wish to hear it. It would mean a great deal to me and everyone here as well.”

  I looked around and noticed that Mr. Fox had effortlessly drawn the attention of the room to us.

  “What do you say?” he said aloud to everyone. “Wouldn’t we love for the Golden Virgin to bless us with her beautiful tribute to her father?”

  The applause and the cheers of everyone provided a definite answer. But I just wasn’t ready, was I?

  Oh dad, what would you like me to do? I silently prayed to him. That song was like a secret message to my father, one that was meant for his ears only. The idea of playing it for anyone else felt blasphemous.

  No. That wasn’t true. It was just an excuse I was making. I knew exactly what my dad would have said to me.

  “Enchant them all,” I whispered aloud. Without another word, I turned my attention back to the Heintzman piano, closed my eyes and allowed the feelings of loss and hurt to overtake me. In my mind and heart, I was no longer at the mansion but sitting in front of that broken old upright on that lonely winter night a couple of years ago.

  The music that resonated all around me was filled with pain, as if the loss of my father were still a fresh wound. It would always feel that way.

  I played that song with my heart torn apart; the ache of my dad’s passing now at the forefront of my thoughts. It sounded sad, lovely, and wounded. As I reached the finale, I realized that I was crying underneath the mask. My fingers fell on the final chord and I held my hands there and allowed the note to linger until it eventually faded away into silence.

  The entire room was hushed. The only sounds audible to me were those of my heavy breathing.

  I bowed my head, closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I had bared my heart to everyone in this room, and I was met with silence.

  It wasn’t until Mr. Fox began clapping that I realized that the silence was a result of the emotions everyone felt after listening to my father’s song.

  Like a musical chorus, the applause started off softly at first but it didn’t take long for it to crescendo into cheers and praise.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Abraham, still in his wolf mask.

  “My heart is breaking with that haunting piece you’ve just played,” he said, “And though you cannot see it, I assure you that I am tasting my bittersweet tears.”

  “Thank you Abraham,” I replied. “I’ll let you i
n on a little secret. This is the first time I’ve played it for anyone.”

  “What an outstanding job you’ve done,” he replied, “Simply outstanding.”

  For the next ten minutes, I was met with continuous adoration and praise. My heart was racing and I felt delighted every time someone showered me with kind words.

  “You’re a treasure,” Mr. Fox said as he took my hands in his. “I would kiss your priceless hands, but alas, this mask stands in the way between my lips and your skin.”

  “I guess you liked it huh?”

  “I won’t lie, I’m a cruel and cold hearted man and the emotions I identify with the most are jealousy and greed. But listening to your music, it stirred something inside me,” he said. “But don’t let these kind words get to your head, Golden Virgin from Anastasia. I see a lot of money being made between the two of us. I’ll have someone call you.”

  “Really?” I beamed.

  “Yes. As beautiful as your tune was, nothing sounds better than money raining down from the wallets of the public,” Mr. Fox said. “Now if you excuse me, there’s a lovely lady in this room that I’ve had my eye on for a while.”

  “We’re all wearing masks here,” I laughed. “How do you know what she looks like underneath?”

  “These stupid things are a façade and a novelty. True beauty radiates through a simple piece of dried plaster and can slay a man’s heart in seconds,” Mr. Fox said.

  “You sound like quite the hopeless romantic.”

  “Once again, you mistake me for being a gentleman. I’m actually a sexual deviant,” he replied. “I’ve been dying to taste her skin again.”

  As appalling as it sounded, I couldn’t help but laugh. Mr. Fox seemed harmless enough, and the fact that he offered me an opportunity had me on cloud nine.

  “Well, I won’t be a cock block any longer then,” I replied. He bowed graciously and made his way through the crowd. I watched him pass by a dozen ogling girls, paying them no attention and finally stopped in front of Calisto and offer her a greeting.

  I didn’t blame him. Calisto looked absolutely stunning in her dress. For a split second, I almost felt envy for all that she had and all that she was.

  I continued chatting with other party guests for the better part of an hour, playing along to Calisto’s lies as I practiced my storytelling abilities. I discussed the politics and scandals behind the fictional city of Anastasia. It was actually kind of fun pulling the wool over people’s eyes, coming up with elaborate and outrageous stories.

  I was ashamed to think it, but I was becoming better at lying.

  I was in the middle of telling a story of how the last Mayor of Anastasia was caught in a sex scandal involving transvestite prostitutes and raccoons when suddenly, I heard the heavy chimes of what sounded like church bells.

  Everyone’s attention was drawn to the origins of the bells outside in the gardens, just beyond the sun parlor and through the towering French doors. The guests made their way outside towards the sound, bewitched by every vibrant chime.

  My curiosity was peaked and I fell in line with everyone else, leaving the warmth of the mansion and immersing myself into the cool air of the night. I looked up and saw the stars fill the sky like tiny speckled diamonds.

  It was a magical night.

  The sweet scent of blooming flowers flooded my nostrils and I was amazed by how enchanting the gardens looked. It was something out of a fairy tale.

  I was captivated while continuing to follow the crowd through the spellbinding gardens.

  How odd it was that in a matter of seconds something could go from appearing so lovely to so fucked up.

  At the centre of the gardens, three women were kneeling on velvet pillows, worshipping a large stone bell, fiery torches to each side of it.

  Something strange was going on here.

  Calisto stood behind the three women, each one dressed in elegant white gowns, their faces covered with milk-white masks. She was examining them; no different from how I examined a piece of fruit at the grocery store, running her fingers down every curve to check for imperfections.

  What was going on here?

  Finally Calisto turned to all the guests and addressed us.

  “We have all come today to celebrate a very special time for the Midnight Society,” she began. “Twenty-three years ago on this day, not only were my brother and I born, but the future of our society as well. Over the past decade, we endured harsh times. We’ve had our wars with others, but persevered and came out of it stronger than before. We have also lost people close to us…” she paused, “…But I know if my father were still here today, he would tell everyone that the future of the Midnight Society shines brightly with Shadow leading it.”

  There was a round of applause and acknowledgements to the words she had just said.

  I, however, was baffled. What the heck was a Midnight Society?

  “Tonight Shadow, the prince of our Midnight Society, will choose one of these three women to stand by his side and continue on with the legacy of the Tremaine family name. Because he considers each and every one of you as a part of his family as well, we are invited here to watch as he selects his mate, a worthy queen that will honor both the Tremaine lineage and the Midnight Society as well.”

  There was another round of applause followed by a chorus of cheers.

  It sounded like this was some sort of arranged marriage.

  Calisto raised her hands to the night sky, which silenced everyone. When she was content that everyone was listening, she continued.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome my brother, Shadow Tremaine, lord of the Midnight Society.”

  Out of the darkness of the gardens emerged a tall, muscular man wearing a form-fitting suit, his face hidden behind a solid black mask. His emergence out of the depths of the foliage reminded me of a monster out of a horror movie.

  As he strolled towards the three women, I couldn’t help but feel that his eyes were focused on me, and that was more than enough to turn my insides into liquid.

  Chapter Four

  His presence cast a hush throughout the gardens. Shadow strolled towards the three women on their knees, stalking them with an animalistic grace.

  He was ominous, yet electrifying and I found myself trembling just standing in the same vicinity as he was.

  “Your bride awaits you Shadow,” Calisto said to her brother.

  I glanced around and noticed that everyone had their head bowed in reverence of this man.

  It was disconcerting and this made me panic.

  This had to be a cult; there was no other logical explanation in my mind. Any second now, this Shadow fellow was going to pass out the Kool-Aid and we were all going to drink it and die.

  There was still time for me to flee. I could pretend to use the bathroom and then sneak out the window or something. I had no idea where on the map this estate was, but that didn’t matter. I needed to escape and I could figure the rest out later.

  I looked around to see if anyone else was watching me.

  Damn it, indeed someone was. Calisto’s eyes were deadlocked onto me.

  I panicked and almost let loose a scream, but managed to contain myself. Thank God for the mask I was wearing, which hid the expressions on my face.

  Calisto smiled and winked at me, which I thought was a bizarre thing to do. I had no idea what was happening or what to expect, but I desperately wanted to be away from here.

  Shadow strolled over to the first girl, a fair skinned beauty with silky blonde hair that glowed. She had her head bowed down low, as if she were in prayer.

  “Rise,” he said in a deep authoritative voice. She did as she was told and rose to her feet. He examined her from head to toe, just before speaking again.

  “Why should you be worthy of being my mate?” he asked.

  “I am Elizabeth Mayweather, heir to the Mayweather Hotel Empire,” she replied. “The Mayweathers have a long and prestigious history with the Midnight Society and
to be united with the Tremaines would be a historic moment for two of the world’s most powerful families,” she explained. “As your wife, I shall be faithful, loyal, and will always stand by your side. I will bear your children in my womb and when it is their time, they will rise up and set this world on fire.”

  It all sounded like overdramatic nonsense to me.

  Shadow looked at her for a moment without saying a word. Elizabeth was noticeably uncomfortable underneath his gaze.

  Finally he spoke. “When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done?”

  Elizabeth looked bewildered. “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “Answer my question,” Shadow said. “When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done?”

  “Yes?”

  “Unacceptable,” Shadow said as he moved onto the next girl, a young Asian woman with long curly hair and almond colored skin.

  “Rise,” Shadow said as he gently touched the beautiful girl’s shoulder. The contact was like a magnetic force that bonded to the woman’s curvy body and she rose to her feet effortlessly.

  “I’m Elena Zhao,” she said. “I am the daughter of Yuen Xi Zhao and heiress to the Zhao shipping corporation, the most powerful business entity in all of the East. My father’s fortune is worth well over one hundred and fifty billion U.S. dollars and for the Zhao and Tremaine family to merge together would create an everlasting dynasty of wealth and power. However wealth is only a fraction of what I can offer you. I am skilled in the arts of pleasure, taught to me by the exotic mistresses of rich and powerful men. I can pleasure you in ways that you never thought possible…” she paused and smiled wickedly. “I will stimulate all five of your senses. You will feel my sensuous touch upon your body, taste the sweetness of my skin, hear the cries of pleasure as we unite together as one, smell the scent of our lust, and see every act I perform with only the intentions of fulfilling your deepest desires.”

  Shadow stared at her for a moment before finally replying.