Untamed: A Beautiful Nightmare Story

by L. C. Son

  “Is yours, Chalmette,” I answer, swiftly taking her chin in my hand. “I will never take from you, dear one, what is yours. Nor shall I let anyone else do so. That is why it is time to discuss the particulars of the night.”

  Chalmette’s eyes glass with water, but she reins them in, permitting none to fall to her angelic face. Her crystal blue eyes stare into mine with both a haunting innocence and trepidation.

  Escorting her to her washing bowl, she discards her clothing and up pins her hair as I sponge around her neck and back while she keeps her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Kneeling beside her as I dry her with a cotton cloth, I set my face to her mirrored image and see fear form in her face.

  “As I have said, Chalmette, I will never let anyone take from you. That includes tonight.”

  “How is that possible, sister? Mother and Monroe would have those men take everything from me tonight. Everything!” She cries.

  Taking her face in my palms, I squeeze her cheeks tight, preventing her cries and forcing her to set her eyes to mine. “No, Chalmette—no one takes anything. It is yours to give. Yours alone. Do not let them have such a power. Not on this night or ever. Even if you were to marry, I’d instruct you the same. As women, we alone hold the power to our most precious possession. Do you understand me?”

  I wait as Chalmette nods with understanding and she slowly retracts from my hold. One lone tear drops from her eye, but she slaps her hand across her face, wiping her face free of her own tears.

  “Yes, I understand, sister. Give them nothing.”

  “Yes, my dear. But take from them—everything! Make your body a temple. Make him surrender to your whim. Let him beg for more.” Chalmette’s eyes grow wide with understanding, but there’s still more to share. “Your first night will hurt, but do not focus on the pain. Take yourself somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere else? How can I—”

  “In your mind, sister. Make melody in your heart. You and I have the gift of song. Enchant yourself with such songs in your heart and mind. Hum if you must. He will think it is for his benefit, but you alone will know the truth.”

  Chalmette’s eyes widen once more, and a small smile crosses her face. “Is that why I always hear you singing when they leave your chamber? I even heard one fellow say he had you so good, you sang.”

  “The song wasn’t for him.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she says with a sly smile. “I know the song you hum. The one of the mulberry and juniper trees? It is no mere lullaby.” A wicked grin crinkles at the corner of my sister’s sweet lips and while I am thankful, she understands me, it pains me to now see my own reflection in her eyes. I do not want her to become the monster I am, but I fear I have no choice.

  “No it isn’t, my sister and you know this well. But for them, they are never the wiser. As such, we must keep it that way,” I whisper, watching her posture form dark and ominous before my eyes.

  What am I doing?

  “I understand, sister.” Chalmette answers resolute. Her newly narrowed eyes and squared shoulders tell me she has fully accepted her fate.

  Turning away from her, I allow her to care for her precious place and powder herself. Streams of tears race down my face, stinging me as they make their way to my chin. It pains me to see my sister immersing herself into this world. Even more, I am no better than the River Man ferrying her maiden voyage to the Underworld.

  Looking out the window, I wonder if we perhaps have enough time to escape. It’s been years since I’ve climbed down the brick sidings and I’m not certain Chalmette could keep up. But maybe we should at least try our luck. Monroe would surely look for us and Mother too.

  How I wish I knew where Dalcour Marchand was?

  For it was he who led us here from our impending doom in New Orleans. I was still a child when I last saw him, I doubt he would recognize me. Even if he would extend his courtesy, he does not know of Chalmette’s existence. I was the youngest of the children when he led us to safety.

  I still remember him holding me in his arms as he rescued us from the blazing fires caused by his brother, Decaux. He was so kind and gentle. Covering my eyes as we ran past scores of people running through the streets screaming in agony while burning alive.

  “I’ve got you little one,” he whispered in my ear. I can still hear his voice and the soothing fragrance of his scent as he held me in his grip. Even more, I remember his promise that he would watch over us. “Always.” He promised.

  Yet and still, somehow, we have come to this.

  Before I have another second to ponder rescuing my sister from her own impending doom, a loud knock on the door, turn both Chalmette’s and my attention toward one another as I heave in a gulp of air.

  “It’s time,” I hear Scotty call to us from the other side of the door. Chalmette stands from her vanity and takes a deep breath before gesturing her hand instructing me to open the door. She exhales and sighs hard as I open the door, but I realize I am still holding my breath.

  In fact, I have no idea how I can breathe knowing what comes next.

  Chapter Four

  I opt to stand at the top of the balcony as Scotty escorts Chalmette into the saloon. I have a better view of the crowd from this vantage point, and I want to see the face of every man who crosses the threshold tonight.

  Both Mother and Monroe look up at me, scrunching their noses with displeasure when they see Scotty with Chalmette. Even they know just his presence alone is enough to ward off any of the ill-intended. While Mother’s scowl is more pronounced, Monroe’s face isn’t as annoyed as she. Perhaps, he knows as I do, only the wealthiest and well-intended of suitors will bid knowing Scotty will be seated at her door. A small smirk gathers over his face and I can almost sense the scent of greed pouring from his pores.

  “She looks to be the belle of the ball tonight, Mon Cheri,” Marius says over my shoulder as he leans on the railing behind me.

  “Yes, she does look lovely,” Elena sneers as she walks past me, rolling her eyes as she does. Tossing her long, brunette hair over her shoulder as she cascades down the stairs with a suitor already on her arm, her envy of Chalmette is hard to miss. She had grown quite accustomed to being the newest dish on the menu and now my sister has taken her place. Strangely, somehow Elena fancies herself my rival. I suppose having more suitors than me in one night is akin of a prize to her. It is a sad state really. On her best night she never fares more than me. Even if she did, neither of us would come out the victor.

  “Chalmette is strong, she will be just fine,” Corrine says sweetly, coming to my side. “She comes from good stock—like her big sister.” I am thankful for Corinne’s sentiment. Although her mood wavers often, I can trust—good or bad—she is being sincere. In my world sincerity is a rarity.

  “Gentlemen, masters, and lords,” Monroe begins from centerstage. I watch as he wobbles slightly as he paces the riser, feigning himself a man of statue. I am sure it is apparent to anyone with eyes that he is drunk. Even more, he looks ridiculous in a top hat and ill-fitted suit. His clothes are too tight and he’s busting at the seams. If Mother had any care for him, she wouldn’t let him embarrass himself as such. Then again, perhaps it is her own little mischievous fantasy—to see him carry himself about with such buffoonery. “You well know all the pretty and sweet treasures in our modest bawdy house, but tonight you’ll be graced with our most precious gem—the Lovely Little Mette!”

  Whistles and a series of hand claps echo through the saloon as the men cheer as some of the other house girls lead Chalmette up the stairs and onto the stage with Monroe. Grunting and a flurry of expletives explode in the atmosphere the moment my young sister’s luminous frame takes centerstage. Monroe yanks her so hard to his side that she almost stumbles on the tulle layered at the sides of her gown. Still, she manages to keep her posture upright and her face firm. If this moment were a source of joy, my chest would swell with pride for my sister. She’s doing remarkably well c
onsidering the situation.

  “Now, let the bidding begin!” Monroe shouts as the room erupts in such a clamor it’s difficult to tell to whom each bid belongs. Small strips of all manner of continental currency sift through the air, flying in front of the stage. Monroe’s eyes grow wide in greed as he gives a knowing glance to Mother. The return smile she gives him, sickens me. How she could be happy knowing what is to come to her own child is unconscionable.

  While the thought only crept in my mind once before, it is evident, my mother would’ve been best suited had she been sterile. She hasn’t a maternal bone in her entire body. Of that I am certain.

  The bidding floor bustles as burly, brooding men brawl with one another for the chance of crowning Chalmette’s first night. Bloody bastards. Fists fly and tables turn as a few drunken men fight, challenging every contending bidder. Most, likely haven’t a coin to their name to indulge in a pint of port, much less spend the night with Chalmette, but Monroe’s perverted soul is aroused by the uproar itself. The more they fight, the more he loves it as if his own depravity feeds off it.

  Sickening.

  Marius’ slender palm grips my shoulders, preventing me from making my way down the stairs. His strength strangely surprises me. While Scotty is who I look to for muscle, this new view of Marius is a pleasant revelation. Looking up and over my shoulder at him, I spy the softness of his almond-shaped hazel eyes and his crookedly perfect grin and I cannot help smiling at him in return, despite the chaos going on inside.

  Why have I never noticed his handsomeness before? I suppose being Monroe’s errand boy and cousin has earned him very few high marks in my regard. That is, until now.

  Interesting.

  “Stay here,” Marius says as his cool breath prickles my pores. His tone is also more calming than I expected. Still I keep my sights set on my sister. From my view I can see how much the brawling around her is upsetting. Parting my lips to reply, Marius makes his way in front of me and snaps his fingers and two large men from both sides of the saloon make their way in front of the stage, keeping the bidders at bay.

  Monroe looks up at Marius and gives him a cross glare. I am shocked when Marius tips his hat only in reply, keeping his shoulders squared in front of me almost protectively. Mother gazes up at us from Chalmette’s side and a crooked smile glances across her face as if she were pleased.

  “Catherine paid me to find two stooges to muscle the crowd if need be. I think she anticipated this response,” Marius whispers over his shoulder.

  “Evidently.” I answer flatly. While the gesture may seem forward-thinking to Marius, it is despicable to me. The fact she has enough foresight to account for needed security, but no thought to put her youngest in such a position is reprehensible.

  Monroe clears his throat, attempting to gain control of the crowd. He points to Crawley, his companion drunkard and resident pianist, to begin playing, hopeful to soften the atmosphere. As Crawley pulls himself from his stewed state, a slender well-dressed elderly man walks to the front of the stage and hands Monroe a small card.

  The two flunkies Marius acquired close in around the man as he reaches out to give Monroe the card, but the man only gives a side-eye to both men, giving no thought to their otherwise intimidating posturing.

  “Who is that?” I mutter to Marius as I step down to his side.

  “I don’t know. I have never seen him around here before,” Marius answers, looking at me with the same mirrored face of confusion as me. Even Scotty looks up at us from the bottom of the stage and he too seems surprised.

  “Well, well, well,” Monroe begins as his eyes grow wide with wicked delight. Mother tries to peer over his shoulder, but he boxes her out, hindering her from seeing the note in full. Chalmette’s posture shifts and she steps to the edge of the stage, but Scotty takes her arm, preventing her from falling. “Gentlemen, it appears we have our first full bid and well—it is quite generous, I must say.”

  “I’ve got twenty pesos!” One man shouts from the floor.

  “Let me at her! I have thirty pounds!” Another screams.

  Marius and I stare at one another, curious how far this bidding will go.

  Monroe clears his throat once more above the clamoring snarls, “I am sorry, my most esteemed gentlemen, but unless any of you can make the good of six hundred pounds, I’ll have to oblige this dear sir’s request of the ever-beautiful Mette!”

  Gasps ripple throughout the hall and Crawley abruptly halts his play. Marius’ mouth parts with disbelief and I notice even my mother is taken aback.

  Staring at this elderly gentleman dressed in a proper topcoat and trousers with a brim tucked beneath his arms, I can’t fathom why such an unassuming yet wealthy man is interested in such a deal. A man of his stature doesn’t belong here. His thick silver and black hair is impeccably groomed and even the shine of his shoes casts a reflection of his aged yet handsome face. Pulling a few notes out of his breast pocket, his white gloved hand offers payment to Monroe as he steps near the staircase, gesturing his other free hand toward Chalmette.

  Looking over her shoulder to Mother, Chalmette’s face is fright with alarm. Typical of Mother, she allows no room for either empathy or pardon as she keeps her sights set on Monroe. I take note how Scotty’s face tightens as Chalmette walks toward the front of the stage. A small but forced smile peers beneath Chalmette’s sullied state as she takes steps closer to her first caller as he watches her warmly. However, her brief and tender exchange with the gentleman is cut short by Monroe as he quickly throws his arm around her waist and plants a kiss on her forehead.

  Rage kindles through me as he does and I dash down the top stairs, sickened to see his hands on my sister. Marius pulls my arm back from behind and Monroe glares up at me with a devilish grin. He knows he’s getting to me.

  Sick bastard.

  I am somewhat thankful to see Chalmette’s caller throw his palm into Chalmette’s tiny hand, tugging her from Monroe’s grip. The two men close in around them, but the man maintains his place at Chalmette’s side. Monroe’s irritation with this new caller is obvious and I cannot help chuckle at his annoyance. Still, he doesn’t stay annoyed for long as he stuffs the note wad in his pockets.

  Scotty makes his way behind Chalmette and the gentleman, nodding at me as he does. I know he doesn’t want me to worry but how can I not.

  This is still Chalmette’s first night with a man.

  Although, I admit I am curious as to how her first night will go with someone so well advanced in years. In my experience the elderly either want me to fancy myself for their pleasure or spend the hour trying to restore a peak in their wintry forests. Either way, I am slightly thankful she won’t have to endure the barbarity of the buffoons paraded here tonight. That will be, unfortunately, the task of me and the other house girls.

  “You better make your way down,” Marius suggests as Monroe snaps his finger once more to Crawley and he begins playing his usual Irish medley, beginning with The Last Rose of Summer. Most of the regulars know when that medley starts, the girls of the house will come out to partner up with someone for the evening.

  Nonetheless, I can’t help keeping my attention on Chalmette as she and her companions take the opposite staircase up to her suite. With nothing but a large candelabra hanging between us, Chalmette glares at me through the dancing flames of fire and I almost bolt to her side when I spy one lone tear fall to her cheek. Still, she lifts her chin up, smiles at me, and loops her arm with her new gentleman, whispering in his ear as she’s seen me do countless times before.

  While I admire the fight in her it pains me to see her in distress.

  “Chartreuse!” Marius says once more, tugging my hand as he looks nervously over his shoulder catching Monroe’s watchful gaze. “Don’t worry, I have a bee line to Scotty. If anything untoward should happen, he will take care of her,” he whispers.

  “Thank you, Marius,” I softly reply, gazing back at his sincere smile.

/>   “Besides, I doubt the old prune will hardly be able to mount her much less cause a ruckus,” Marius teases, pinching my shoulder. We both laugh as he does, and I do my best to shrug off thoughts of Chalmette alone with a man.

  “Well, I suppose I better get to work. I hardly took time to attend to myself, so whatever my state will just have to do!” I say, unpinning my bun, letting my auburn ringlets drift down my back.

  “Lovely.” Marius’ sentiment surprises me. Offering his hand to mine as I come down the stairs, I can’t help seeing Marius as I’ve never seen him before. All these years I’ve only thought of him as the lanky and awkward errand boy of his wretched cousin, but tonight I see something more.

  As odd as it may be, I almost wish I had allowed DeLuca to stay at my side instead of Marius. The thought of Marius having to endure my doorpost while I entertain another pains me. Even more as I now notice his sculpted chest peering through his top everything in me wishes he were the one to share my bed tonight. And from the desirous gaze set in his eyes and the shimmering sweat hovering atop his mustache, this feeling is mutual.

  We share one final glance as his warm hand tightly clasps with mine before I begin shuffling my way through the tables. Marius perches against the wooden walls, swirling his chewing stick in the corner of his rose-colored lips and it is indeed the sexiest thing I have ever seen. His keen gaze latches onto my every step and the building magnetism between us as I mingle about is indescribable.

  “Pace yourself, honey. Monroe’s keeping his eye set on you,” Corine mutters beneath a faux chortle, brushing past me as she walks about with two of her usual escorts on her arm. I appreciate her subtle warning and I work hard to turn my attention away from Marius and back to the men of the tavern.

  “There’s my sweet sugar,” Preston, one of my regulars says, patting my backside. Looking at Marius I see he’s talking with Crawley and I blow out a deep breath, thankful for the distraction. I need to focus and thinking of Marius isn’t helping me. Besides we both know it’s folly to think of ourselves otherwise.