Andras: Beyond Good and Evil

by S L Zammit

  “Are you all right Zia Marie?”

  “I sound worse than I feel,” she says wheezing. “I just have a cold. Rosina is taking such good care of me, I don’t think I ever want her to leave.” From her tone of voice, Aurora knows she’s serious.

  “I’m glad the two of you are getting along so well,” says Aurora, “and thanks for hosting her, it means so much to Dame Montfort.”

  “It’s not a problem at all. I’m actually really enjoying her company. With both of you gone, I don’t have anybody. How are you girls doing?” asks Zia Marie, sounding suddenly anxious. “How’s Graziella? I haven’t spoken to her in ages. It’s so hard to get a hold of her these days. She’s not answering my calls or my texts.”

  ‘I haven’t spoken to her in what seems like ages either,’ thinks Aurora, but she doesn’t say anything since Zia Marie has no idea Graziella moved into the palazzo. She’d be mortified.

  “She’s doing great,” fibs Aurora. “She’s just very busy with her new job that’s all.”

  “I’m glad to hear,” says the old woman. “Rosina recognized Graziella from the photos I have of you girls around the house, and although she seems very loyal to her employer, certain things she said gave the impression that this marquis is a reputed philanderer. I’ve been very anxious about Graziella. I wouldn’t want something bad to happen to her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be all right,” Aurora reassures her. “Our Graziella has a good head on her shoulders.”

  “That’s what I keep reminding myself,” says Zia Marie. “I recalled that it was you who got her the job and that was reassuring. You girls are like sisters and I know you’d never put her in harm’s way. The two of you will always have each other’s best interest at heart, that’s what helps me sleep at night.”

  Eager to move away from the issue of missing Graziella, chalking down the lack of communication to the bad cellphone reception at the palazzo, “The reason I called,” says Aurora, who was pondering how to broach the subject and finally decides to get straight to the point, “is that I need to talk to my mother, face to face. I was wondering if you have her contact information.”

  “Are you all right my dear?” asks Zia Marie after a coughing fit and a pregnant pause. “Do you need something? What happened?”

  “I just need to see her,” says Aurora quietly, the image of the black-eyed, serrated-teeth man flashing in front of her eyes.

  “The reason I ask is that you’ve never inquired about your mother before,” says Zia Marie.

  “It’s nothing,” says Aurora. “I just think it’s time we had a conversation in person.”

  The old lady sighs. “Of course dear,” she says. “I do have an old address for her, but it’s from years back and she was living in France back then. I don’t know if she’s still there. I’ll text it to you.”

  “Thanks Zia Marie,” says Aurora solemnly.

  The old lady sighs again. “You’re my precious girl Aurora and I love you so much. You’re a good person and you’ve done so well for yourself. I’m so proud of you, I want you to know that. I’ve heard so many things about your mother and I’m sure most of it is malicious gossip, but now that you’re seeking her out, I don’t want you to be shocked by what you find.”

  “I’m a big girl,” says Aurora brusquely. “I’m sure I can handle it. What are you holding back about her?”

  “Well,” says the old woman, her voice sad, “your mother contacted me about ten years ago saying she wanted you to go live with her. I was very torn about it, but realized it was perhaps the best thing for a girl to be with her biological mother.”

  “How come I haven’t heard about this before?” says Aurora angrily.

  “I wanted to check things out before I told you anything,” says Zia Marie. “You were around fourteen at the time and you were doing so well in school, and were so happy living with me and Graziella, that I didn’t want to disrupt your life before I had the situation investigated.”

  The old lady pauses, and when Aurora doesn’t say anything she continues, “The address your mother sent me wasn’t a house address as I had expected. It was,” Aurora hears her gulp and can almost see the discomfort on her face, “an establishment,” she says finally.

  “What kind of establishment?” asks Aurora impatiently.

  “It was the address of a brothel in Paris,” says Zia Marie, her words almost garbled.

  Aurora feels her head spin. Her mother is a prostitute and her father some black-eyed creep. This day couldn’t get any better.

  “That is why I never said anything to you my dear,” says Zia Marie in a pleading voice. “I had heard talk about your mother for years and though it sounded incredible to me, I wasn’t about to send my precious fourteen-year old girl to a brothel in Paris.”

  Aurora remains mum, appalled, overcome by a strong feeling rare with her since childhood, a distaste for life. In her head, an older version of herself swirls with a sharp-toothed creature, churning out a black-eyed reptile. Squeezing her eyes shut, she unsuccessfully strains to exorcize the disturbing imagery.

  “I need that address,” she says. “Please text it to me.”

  “Of course my dear,” says Zia Marie. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you.”

  “I’m sorry too,” mutters Aurora.

  Chapter 18

  The Arid

  1

  It is close to eight PM when an exhausted Aurora finally approaches the palazzo in Mdina. Although the thought of skipping the visit altogether has crossed her mind a few times, she realizes that she needs to talk to Graziella immediately before she starts asking questions about the book. Hopefully she hasn’t started probing yet, possibly raising valid suspicions by drawing direct attention to the motive of Profs’ demise.

  The appalling revelations that unfolded throughout the day made her push the professor’s death onto the back burner. With any luck, television is as nonexistent as cellphone reception at the palazzo, and Graziella is oblivious to the demise of the old professor, which is headline news and the main topic of everyone’s conversations around town.

  Lifting the heavy circle of metal held by the wicked cherub, Aurora bangs on the door of the palazzo. The sound booms around the alley but when its echoes fade the house remains still.

  She steps back to check the façade of the building for any sight of light within. After a few minutes she realizes she had missed the doorbell that she rings forcefully for good measure.

  Standing in the shadows of the alleyway, Aurora feels the weight of the hard stares of the statues adorning the building, looming over her, their silhouettes dark against the twilit sky. As she focuses on the face of one of the gargoyle waterspouts and the snare of a particularly evil-looking statue, she rushes to the door and bangs as hard as she can until finally she hears a noise from within the house.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” roars a male voice. “Enough with the banging.”

  The door opens to a hulking figure of a man, wearing three-quarter length tapered-sweatpants with elastic cuffs, and nothing else apart from a thick metal chain around his right wrist.

  Taken by surprise, Aurora stands speechless on the doorstep ogling at his broad shoulders and strong arms, his strong chest and taut abdominal muscles, his veins like steel cables pulsating under his skin, glistening with sweat.

  Finally zoning in on his handsome face and into his deep blue-green eyes, his mouth pursed half-smiling, his left cheek dimpled, his black hair tousled. “Were you working out?” she asks inanely.

  The man laughs. “Sort of,” he says and with a flamboyant gesture of his arms, “enter at your own peril.”

  Stepping into the foyer, closer to him, she detects a particular scent, which she discerns as the distinct, sweet smell of licorice. Recollecting her thoughts, the initial stun of the encounter dissipates completely and she recovers her composure. She looks straight at the man’s face, studying his features.

  “Do I know you?” she asks. “Something about
you is so familiar.”

  “Think hard Aurora,” he teases.

  Mentally sifting through memories of many encounters, faces of people from work, at clubs, her after-parties, men she met on her travels, and finally delving back into her childhood, until that sweet smell and the sound of the man’s voice precisely resonate with a very specific episode.

  “It’s you,” she says shocked, “from long ago, you’re the man in the tunnel.”

  Looking around at her lavish surroundings then back to where he’s standing, statuesque like a Hercules, she glares at him. “What was that charade you pulled under the house on Charity Street? I thought you were destitute and homeless.”

  “It wasn’t a charade,” he says quietly. “I was between places when you found me. We’ll talk about it more.”

  “Where is Graziella?” she asks. “I need to see her.”

  “We’ll talk about her too,” he says. “Come in.”

  Aurora follows as he leads the way down the hall to the library, studying the extravagant environment as she walks along, her eyes moving along the exquisite antiques and paintings, over the intricate mural, up the sweeping columns to the soaring vaulted ceilings.

  Opening the doors to the library and turning on the lights, “Wait in here,” he says. “I need to put some clothes on.” Before he closes the door, “Do not leave this room for any reason whatsoever!” he orders brusquely.

  Aurora settles into an armchair, silence overtakes the room as his footsteps fade into the distance, she can hear the tick-tock of a clock far away.

  From where she’s sitting, she admires the outstanding interior decorations of the library and the colorful traceries in the elaborate ocular window facing her.

  She checks her phone for reception but as expected it is completely dead. A black Siamese cat emerges from under a large mahogany desk, startling her. The cat glares at Aurora through florescent eyes, hisses and spits and bounds off towards the far end of the room and up a spiral wooden staircase, to the balconied upper floor of the library.

  “Stupid cat,” whispers Aurora smiling.

  Settling back into the armchair, she feels exhaustion sweep over her. But as soon as she rests her head on the cushioned backrest of the chair, a loud bang from the floors above reverberates through the room. The echo of the noise rings around the library, shaking the black crystals on the wrought-iron chandelier until it sounds like it’s raining glass.

  The noise abates, but is immediately followed by a resounding crash drumming through the ceiling. Shaken out of her fatigued state, bolting upright, grasping the arms of the chair, body poised for flight, she waits for a few moments as the crashing and thumping and knocking above ensues. The sounds remind her of the clashing of large boulders or the fireworks from a hellish feast or an amplified bar fight.

  Unable to imagine the source of the uproar and anxious about her friend she yells, “Graziella,” over the noise. The sound is so loud, the wooden balustrades on the horseshoe balcony on the upper floor of the library seem to be shaking and the chandelier swings on its chain from the apex of the vaulted ceiling.

  Disregarding the marquis’ order not to leave the library, Aurora runs through the door into the corridor, towards the sweeping stairs in the direction of the noise.

  Bolting up the steps, she yells for Graziella and Andras, but the resounding booms and bangs continue and there is no response.

  With taut nerves and adrenaline pumping through her body, she barges into the room where the uproar seems to be coming from.

  The sight that meets her as she enters freezes her in her tracks. Andras is wrestling with what looks like an enormous black wolf. Standing on its hind legs, it’s as tall as the man.

  Speechless, she observes the long pointed face of the scraggly-haired beast, its eyes gleaming evil, giant bared fangs and the drool hanging from the sides of its mouth as it snarls.

  Locked in combat, neither one of them seems to notice her. Aurora watches as Andras overpowers the beast, snaps its neck and flings its body to the wall where it disintegrates into a swarm of buzzing flies and disperses into nothing.

  The room immediately darkens as shadows gather on the walls consolidating into another creature similar to the one before it. The sounds of growling and gnashing teeth fill the room as the two engage in fighting.

  Astounded, Aurora watches as the beast slashes and claws at Andras. The beast stomps over him, but in an amazing move the man leaps back up punching and kicking. She observes his powerful arm as he lands a mighty sideswipe to the wolf’s neck. Just as Andras lifts the animal over his head and flings it across the room, she observes another beast looming behind him. Aurora screams in terror attracting the attention of both Andras and the giant wolf.

  “Get out of here,” yells Andras as he flings himself onto the beast.

  But just as Aurora is about to spring out of the room, shadows gather around her feet, darkness oozing up from the floor of the room, dislodging her foothold, lifting her clear off the ground.

  Before she knows it, she is in the strong grip of and locking eyes with a bloodthirsty, barking monster. Feeling and smelling its filthy breath, bared fangs inches from her face, Aurora cowers back prepared for the worst.

  Surprisingly the beast suddenly stops in its tracks, sniffs around her like a dog, and face suddenly docile, whimpers and stumbles back.

  Shell-shocked by the creature’s reaction to her, Aurora remains motionless as Andras leaps on its back, strangling its neck until the wolf goes limp and degenerates into nothing.

  Kneeling on one knee, Andras raises his hand motioning Aurora to stay put and biting his lower lip gestures her to stay silent. But the room remains still.

  “Great,” he finally says, looking around the room, “they wrecked all my furniture again.”

  “What on earth were those things?” she asks.

  “Hell hounds,” says Andras simply. “I’ve been fighting them off all day.” He smiles, looking into her eyes, “But you don’t believe in hell do you?”

  Realizing that she needs to guard her thoughts around the man, she decides not to mention anything about the beast’s reaction to her. Having been fully engrossed in combat, he seems oblivious to what just happened.

  “What are you?” she asks slowly, staring at him. “And where is Graziella?”

  “I’m just a very strong man,” he says smiling, “and your friend is safe with me. I thought I told you to stay in the library, but no one seems to listen to me.”

  “What would hell hounds want with you?” asks Aurora.

  “This,” he says, raising his arm and twisting it around. Aurora notices a key manacled to his wrist by the thick metal cuff. “They want in.”

  “Where does that key lead to?” she asks.

  “Me,” he says simply. “They want access to me.”

  “I don’t believe you’re just a man. And I want to see Graziella,” insists Aurora. “I need to talk to her right away.”

  Andras walks over to his closet and puts on a new shirt.

  “Come downstairs I’ll make you some tea and we can talk about things,” he says leading her out of the room. “You must have lots of burning questions.”

  Following him down the stairway and towards the kitchen, Aurora tries to stave off the image of that huge glowering animal cowering away from her. The voice of the raven-eyed man resounding in her ears, but she shakes her thoughts off.

  “I’ve heard so many good things about you from the Montforts,” says Andras, casually pottering around his kitchen preparing tea. “I hear you’re very intelligent and have a bright future ahead of you. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” says Aurora dryly, “but as I stand here looking at you, I find it hard to believe that the times our paths have crossed have been even remotely coincidental. You don’t look like an ordinary human being at all to me, especially after what I’ve just seen you do up there. You’re not shaken one bit. And now I feel like I drove Graziella straight i
nto an abyss. So I’d like you to take me to her immediately if you don’t mind.”

  Andras laughs. “You’ve always been very direct,” he says. “I’d like to explain a few things first. Let’s go to the library.”

  Although feeling that he’s just stalling at this point, Aurora humors him and follows him into the library.

  “This is where I saw her the first time,” he muses, closing the door behind him, walking towards his desk, “in this very room. Her hair flowing like a velvet cascade, her beautiful skin and sweet face, the song in her voice and her pure aura were out of this world.”

  Noticing the skepticism clouding Aurora’s expression as she regards him, “I know you’re not a romantic,” he says, “and neither am I. What I’m describing is not about love or sex; it’s about my transformation and how I became who I am now. I had never noticed a woman in that way before. You have to understand that at the time I was in the throes of an abysmal existential crisis. I was questioning everything, things that had come so natural to me for eons. I’d just stare at my mapped path,” he says lifting a rectangular etched sheet from the top of his desk, “and ponder things that had never even crossed my mind before. I’d read back things I had written over the years and I’d feel completely disconnected with myself. I completely lost the illusion of control over anything I did, and came to the stark realization that I was utterly powerless. I had no idea who I was or why I was. My spirit was dragged into a dark pit of melancholy and despair, my being completely exhausted. I couldn’t climb out and maybe I didn’t want to. I retreated from everything and went into hiding, letting the solitude and darkness take me to a place where I could be numb. And then she crossed my path.”

  Although wondering how this has anything to do with Graziella, Aurora feigns interest by looking at him wide eyed and engaged. But seeing that Andras is gazing into the distance, reminiscing about a time long gone, she doubts he cares whether she’s interested or not.

  “She called me out of the shadows,” he continues. “She saw me like no one had ever seen me before. And through her perception of me came my restoration. But it wasn’t a regeneration of my old self, I was not only revitalized, I was different. And I liked the feeling so much that I became greedy for more. I cut ties with everything that bonded me to my old self by discarding the items that connected me to my domain. I gifted the gold box from my father to the woman and threw away the key. Hiding the log of my exploits forever, I escaped my mapped path and took off to roam the earth. And so started my descent.”