Chapter 7: Many Meetings

Marilyn skipped across the lawn to reach the bushes behind the magnolia at the end of the garden. The humid air whipped around her bare thighs where the Easter-yellow halter neck dress could not reach. The stifling heat of the night flowed through her system, not a single vein responding to the oxygen. It was the stars that controlled her senses, tickling her cold skin. The world spun around her; in these moments, it did not matter that she had been grounded for a month for the killing of the redneck down at the crossroads; it did not matter that her father had beat her with his belt for three hours straight - she was used to pain. No, her world was complete.

He was coming.

Young as she was, she had never really seen him. Just heard the stories from her parents, her late grandparents, bless their souls, and all the others in the house. Seen the pictures in the old scrapbooks, news on the telly, and the big old oil painting over the dining table. Those icy blue eyes staring at her when dinner was served, clear as stars; the pale face with the noble, slender features framed by waist-long raven black hair, the colour of the night. Her dead heart always skipped a beat when she entered the dining hall. But for real? Seeing him, facing him, presenting herself to him like she and her siblings had been brought up to? It was a dream coming true. She could not fully grasp it, she was too excited. Every second of their lives, they had been paced to be ready for this moment.

"Courtesy like a lady, don't bow like a servant! The Lord's got plenty of those already, what'd you think he'd say if you're just another stupid, mindless servant to him and not a fine woman? He'll never choose you as his wife if you don't act like a descent, proper lady!" her mother's voice rang in her head along with the slaps across her cheeks, telling her to straighten up even though the high heels hurt and the corset was bound too tightly.

And now she and her sister were going to meet him. It was a competition. It always had been. She and her sister used to lie awake and fantasize about how it would be. The night of the wedding, he would carry one of them across the doorstep and up the amazingly magnificent staircase in his infamous mansion in London; he would lay them down in that big, broad king-sized bed, undress them slowly, gently; those long slender fingers, folded in front of him on the painting, now sliding over their skin; the hair whipping against their faces and shoulders as he pressed into them, breaking the veil of virginity which they had been told to keep intact, if the Lord was to arrive.

And now he would.

As she ran all the fantasies made her thoughts swirl and twirl like the very stars above. The boughs broke against her shins as she made it through the woodland, the smell of the rainfall during the afternoon dug into her nostrils, filling her with life and ideas of the future; a future she never thought existed.

"Jane!? Jane! Sis, he's coming! He's finally c-"

She stopped in the glade, their magical little glade with a floor of daisies. Now, though, it was but emerald grass bathed in moonlight. This was her and her sister's secret hide-out. Well, their parents probably knew about it, their brother Walden too, but nobody ever bothered them when they had their private meetings, kissing and learning how to touch one another under their skirts, showered in the light of fireflies and the smell of Capri folium, the dew sticking to their skin, the trees as their natural, black fence to the real world.

As she emerged out of the fence and into the glade, she saw her sister, in her favourite dress, white as a lily. But what startled her was the boy she saw in her sister's arms. Olive skin and brown, almond eyes, Latino no doubt. Oh, she sure knew the smell and the score. It was Jason, from Riverdale High near Jefferson. New Orleans might have plenty of high schools, but Marilyn dearly remembered Jane talking away all summer about her friend whom she had met a few years back at Mardi Gras. And now he had disgraced their beautiful glade.

Her rustling startled them both and they turned, surprised to see her. In the distance, she could hear the heart beat rising.

"Jane!" she exclaimed outraged, but she paused for too long. The boy ran like a deer into the woods and disappeared in the evening dark. Marilyn hurried forth and pulled her older sister by the arm. "Jane, what were you doing with Jason Reynolds?" there were waves of sadness mixed with anger in her. "He's -"

"Shut it, Marilyn! You don't know jack squat!" Jane withdrew, her own grey eyes full of terror that her little sister had just discovered the big secret. "I know what I'm doing."

"But Jane..." Marilyn blinked uncomprehending. "You..." she held her breath, moistening her lips. "You didn't lose it, did ya?"

"Lose what?" Jane rolled her eyes and crossed her arms demonstratively, a sour pout plastered to her lips.

"Your veil, silly! To Jason?" Marilyn blinked again, not really knowing what else to say.

"Of course not!" Outraged, Jane stormed off into the forest. Marilyn mimicked her, the boughs smacking into her face.

"Jane! Jane, come back! We have to talk. I've got important news!" The forest she knew as well as her own mind, and she knew where Jane was headed off to. "He's coming. For real, for the first time. Lord Darklighter will be here by midnight!" She called through the forest and heard her sister stop not more than a hundred feet ahead of her.

"Lord Darklighter?" the question was disbelieving and at once the entire forest seemed to hold its breath; the drop of a feather would have stirred any woodland creature nearby.

"Yeah," Marilyn neared the thorny bushes. She could see Jane's shape as clear as day. It was trembling with fear; Marilyn knew the signs, although Jane never showed it to anyone.

"And he's really coming? It ain't a joke like Waldo said last month?" Jane turned to face the small figure of her sister, merely 14 years old in appearance.

"No." The reply was honest. "Ma' just told me. She just got off the phone with Zacharias Darklighter."

"Zacha-... the lawyer?" the voice again was judging. This was simply too good to be true.

"Yeah, him," Marilyn's hands fluttered between themselves like butterfly wings. She watched Jane's eyes turned from haunted to gleeful. She flung herself around Marilyn's neck, shouting with joy.

"Oh my god, that's so wonderful! Oh, Mary!" she held out her little sister, smiling like a child receiving presents. "This is our one shot, the chance we've always been waiting for to be with him once and for all!" she embraced Marilyn again.

"Yeah, it is." Marilyn rejoiced a few seconds with her sister before she withdrew and scoured her sister curiously. "But if this is our one chance, why in the name of His blessed Darkness are you running around with," she glanced around and her eyes turned to slits as she looked back at Jane, "Jason?"

"Oh c'mon, Mary, it's nothing but a fling!" Jane looked pleadingly at her sister. The stars shone in her eyes. "He's sweet and kind to me and all. Please don't tell ma' or dad? Or anybody, okay? Let's just get home."

Marilyn nodded slowly. "Okay, let's go."

They went calmly at first, arm in arm, but their pace accelerated and they ran back towards the house, laughing and cheering, their voices chanting a song of love into the night, a praise to their Lord and His Darkness. They reached the back porch and went into the parlour where they met their mother, Caroline Nathaniel Darklighter. She was a tall, slender figure, beautiful and young, her blonde hair set in a French braid. She embraced her daughters, tears of joy stinging her eyes.

"Oh, my little princesses!" her voice swam with delight as she looked happily at both of them. "Our wishes have finally been heard."

"What's going on?" the voice greeted them from the darkened hallway leading into the rest of the house. Walden came trotting into the parlour, his suit neatly pressed and the tie fitted perfectly to the collar. In his left hand he carried a briefcase. The parish work was over. Caroline turned and cupped his face with her hand, kissing his forehead gently.

"Oh darling, you might get lucky too, y'know," she said kindly. "If the Lord takes either of your sisters, you can maybe leave with him as well!"

"Wha'? The Lord's... coming here?" Walden dropped the briefcase of sheer surprise.

"That's right, my dear, tonight at midnight. He's coming to settle some affairs between the Beauregards and Tarleys, and to take care of that nasty business with Milo," Caroline beamed and clasped her hands. "Your daddy's already gone to meet 'em in the airport. It's an entire delegation we're receiving. And I want you all to look descent. Off you go, shower in fifteen minutes and dress in twenty." She shoved them out of the parlour and they ran up the stairs like small tornadoes. "And don't forget the make-up, Marilyn. Have Jane help ya!"

※

They stood in the entrance hall, lined up and ready, as they heard the convoy of cars sliding down the narrow track to the house. Marilyn stood straight, her now rose petal lips kept together with a thin, innocent smile. A lady was not supposed to show her teeth in a smile, a lady did not fiddle with her scarf or the seams of her dress or bite her lip; a lady was not nervous. The soft light from the electrical chandelier showered them all, and she remembered to stand straight, her heels together, hands folded in front, if she had to keep them preoccupied, and her eyes adorably blue and bright. She stood closest to the front door, then came Walden in his finest suit and tie, and last Jane in a long, slender, dark blue evening dress. Her own was pale rose and with a big skirt and a white corset tightened like a clamp around her. It exaggerated her still childish hips. She loved the long-forgotten fashion of her youth, and even though it wasn't as modern as Jane's dress, she regarded herself as more beautiful in her garments.

The cars stopped and doors were opened. She could hear footsteps on the gravel and quiet talking. She felt lightheaded, dizzy and floating somewhere below the ceiling. This was it. These seconds were everything she had ever dreamed about for the past 200 years.

The door opened and seven people walked in. In front came two of the infamous Darklighter agents, without doubt the Lord's personal bodyguards, Mathieu Nathaniel and Shade Letoile Phoenix Darklighter, both in complete attire; a black suit, sunglasses and probably with their guns hidden in their shoulder holster. And next came the Lord himself, followed by Marilyn's father, James, a short but respectable man with watery eyes and high brow. Behind them came another person, a tall boy, around the age of nineteen or twenty, slender of built and golden-crowned with eyes like emeralds and skin like milk. She knew him very well, Gabriel Jacques Darklighter, the son of Lord Darklighter and an aspiring Darklighter agent although it was well-known that he had failed the course twice already, and third time would be the last attempt; she had seen his face on countless magazines, modelling half-naked or caught in a drug scandal. The retinue was ended by three men, Marcus Darklighter, Aenriques Darklighter and Zacharias Aaron Corona Darklighter, Marcus being the manager of internal affairs of the Darklighter company and family itself, Aenriques a newly appointed Agent, and Zacharias the Lord's personal assistant and lawyer.

And he was there. He was actually there. Caroline had been waiting by the door and welcomed him properly as James presented his house to his guests.

"Welcome, Your Highness," he said and bowed, following his wife's example, "to our humble home. We are pleased to finally, for the first time, receive you as our guest."

"The pleasure is all mine," Lord Darklighter replied with a courteous but short nod to his hosts. Marilyn felt chills running down her spine like a mouse in a cage. That voice. So soft, so dark, like a torrent of black velvet coursing through her system. His words did not matter, not for a single second did she listen. No, she listened to the sound of him, she sensed the smell of him and the sight of him was unbearable.

He was tall, taller than most men, but oddly enough his son was said to be even taller, although she could not see the difference. He looked amazingly young compared to the painting, but then again she had never imagined him as being old. He could have been perhaps thirty-eight years or so, actually not a day older or younger. Lines of grief and experience showed at the eyes, but no furrows or wrinkles were visible on the marble skin.

He wore a long, black cape with ruby lining, leather gloves and sleek shoes to fit his noble clothes, all in the deepest colour of black. As she scanned the face, all of a sudden she met the eyes. The eyes, she had been told by Jane, were dangerous. They could pull out every single thought of you, erase your memories and turn you into a lobster. Or something like that. They were the windows to his soul, and just as icy blue the colour, just as icy was he on the inside.

All the rumours about him, all the stories, Walden had whispered in the dark of their bedroom when they were old enough to understand the meaning of difficult words such as "sodomy", "physical interrogation", "incestuous relationships" and "artificial reanimation". Marilyn had never believed her brother's stories, mad as they were. But now, as the eyes met hers for just a second as he scanned the surroundings, she felt the twinge of doubt shoot through her like hot iron through her veins.

She knew for a fact that they did not share any real blood ties. James had brought the name Darklighter with him to the States after a short marriage to Anastacia Nathaniel Darklighter, and that was the reason Caroline had had no troubles raising her children as the next Lady for the Lord, or even for his son, who of course was to take over when his father abdicated. And she knew from some of the conversations she had secretly overheard between her parents, that the other young Darklighters from the foreign conclaves or houses even offered themselves to the Lord, without thought of marriage; it was their duty to entertain him when he was abroad and not home at the Core, which the highest ranking members of the family were part of, living in the Darklighter Mansion itself.

No, the Lord could take what he wanted and nobody could disagree, not even the hosts or the children themselves. If you did so, you would be ostracized immediately, lose your name, your value and be hunted by agents until they found you and killed you. Walden said, that he had heard rumours that Lord Darklighter himself tortured captured outcasts in his dungeons and in the attic, where chains hung from the ceiling and instruments of pain were scattered in cabinets and closets. He said that Lord Darklighter himself made "dolls", as people called them; artificial beings that looked like small girls and boys, although their faces were almost like porcelain, their eyes were larger than normal people's eyes, and when they smiled they revealed their sharp-pointed teeth, ready to tear up the throat of any man or woman trespassing the grounds of the Darklighter Mansion.

There were many, many more stories, and they filled her consciousness dangerously rapid as she stood there in the hall, her gaze plastered to her Lord, his son and the little retinue filling up the entrance hall. She bet that not half of them were true, but there was still the uncertainty. There were no accounts of the Lord ever acknowledging any of the rumours, or turning them down with actual proof that they were wrong. She tried to pry the thoughts from her mind and enjoy the moment. And finally, she could clear her heart of worries. He was just professional, not caring for critics and bad-mouthing, not even bothering to give a damn about them.

"I see what my sister meant when she told me of the splendid atmosphere here," Lord Darklighter continued to speak, and Marilyn suppressed another shiver, this time more pleasant than the previous and she watched as he took her mother's hand and kissed it gallantly. "Mrs. Nathaniel, a pleasure to finally meet you," he greeted her and presented his son, the manager and his lawyer. They all followed his example, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"We are honoured by your presence, Your Highness," Caroline replied, and Marilyn saw a tiny hint of pink flush in her cheeks. "Let me present to you: our children."

She felt her knees almost give way under her weight as she saw her mother escort him towards them. Her stomach was bubbling with glee and her feet were numb from sheer excitement; the heavy scent of a sweet, dark perfume followed his wake and dug into her senses, making her almost drowsy, and she imagined how his bed would smell, full of this heavy fragrance. She dropped a curtsy perfectly, her head bowed and her dress held in place.

"Your Grace," she greeted him with the best manners as possible and threw a fugitive glance at her mother, where a proud smile formed the lips.

"Your Highness, our youngest," Caroline presented: "Marilyn Nathaniel Darklighter."

A glove-clad hand shot out from the hiding of the cape and lifted her face slowly. She could as well have been standing on a cotton cloud, her feet buzzing and her head spinning as she raised her gaze cautiously to meet his. The fist in her stomach clenched itself more and more when she saw the thin, perfect lips in a smile, merely a tug of a muscle in the corner of his mouth, less than a centimeter; it could as well have been a scornful grimace of a serial killer waiting for his victim to die from blood loss on the couch, but Marilyn had a fairly good impression that he thought better of his family than of his prey. The gleam in the eyes was amused, kindly inquiring.

"Marilyn," he repeated and released her chin. "How old are you, darling Marilyn?"

"214, Your Grace, blessed with the Gift at 14," she answered as truthfully as she could. Either it was a trick of the light or the smile widened just enough for the chills to become unpleasant again.

"You sure are lovely," he acknowledged before moving on to Walden who bowed deeply.

"Your Grace," he said and Marilyn heard a faint tremor in his voice. Oh, that was no good.

"Your Highness, our second," Caroline said: "Walden Nathaniel Darklighter."

"And how old are you, my boy?" the question sounded like a routine.

"216, Your Grace, blessed with the Gift at 16." At least, this time he was not as nervous. Marilyn felt him throw a sidelong glance at her though no uncertainty was detectable.

"Don't look at your sister, look at me." The command was like a vase smashing against the tiled floor. Walden stirred, but did not back down as he met his Lord's gaze. A few seconds waned until he was released from the wordless strangulation and Lord Darklighter proceeded to Jane who mimicked her little sister's moves. Their brother's uncertainty had, however, flung her out of control of herself and her fingers fiddled helplessly distressed with the seams of her dress.

"Your Grace," she repeated the greeting perfectly though and received a contended smile.

"Your Highness, our eldest," Caroline's hands were itching to send Walden in the floor, but she knew better than to start dealing out a beating at the presence of her Lord. "Jane Nathaniel Darklighter."

Oddly enough, there was no question of age as Lord Darklighter scanned Jane's figure from top to bottom, before he turned to Caroline, a fiendish gleam in his eyes.

"I much appreciate what you have achieved here, Caroline," he said and glanced at the children one last time. "Beautiful creatures, they sure are."

"Your Highness," James walked over and bowed again. "I am afraid our capacity is low seeing that we had such short notice of your arrival, but we have prepared rooms for you and your companions. You must be tired from the long flight. If Your Highness wishes to retreat, I will have my wife escort you to your respectable rooms. Unfortunately, we have only two guestrooms, forgive us our lack of resources."

"I think we'll manage, thank you, James," Lord Darklighter nodded gratefully, his gaze shortly darting to his son before returning to James. "And we would be much pleased to retire. Flying has never really been my favourite means of transportation. If man was supposed to fly, he would have been created with wings."

"Truer words never spoken, Your Highness," James nodded. "Caroline, escort them to their chambers."

"As you wish, my dear," Caroline smiled and gestured for Lord Darklighter and his son to follow up the staircase. "This way, Your Highnesses."

"Gabriel, come along," Lord Darklighter called for his son, who stepped past the others and went with his father up the staircase, the two agents following their wake like silent shadows. No room was needed for them. They were to guard the door all night.

"Walden, will you care to escort Mr. Darklighter and Mr. Corona Darklighter to their room?" James' voice snapped like the crack of a whip and Walden bowed his head.

"Yes, dad," he replied, knowing that this was punishment for his failure at the parade. "This way, gentlemen," he said and the manager and lawyer followed him out of the entrance hall. A servant closed the front door and the footsteps disappeared in the distance, doors slamming somewhere in the house due to a draft. Marilyn stumbled to a couch by one of the windows turned towards the yard and Jane followed her example and sat down, shaky and speechless.

"I never knew anyone could be so..." she lacked words, staring into the air in front of her.

"No, I know," Marilyn agreed. "And that smile... And those eyes..." she glanced at her sister. "I never thought I'd actually ever see him, like in real life."

"Yeah, what'd ya know," Jane moistened her lips and leaned back with a heavy sigh. "Poor Waldo," she flattened her dress across her lap. "And," she shook her head despondently. "That was a bad mistake to look at you."

"I know, righ'? But I ain't made him do it, I swear on the night's darkness!"

"I know, I know," Jane smiled half-heartedly to her little sister. "You think we're gonna see them tomorrow?"

"I guess so, they're dining here, ain't they?" Marilyn tilted her head and let her eyes wander along the path where Lord Darklighter and his son had walked up the stairs.

"Let's get to bed, Mary, no more's coming out of tonight, I think," Jane took Marilyn by the hand and they ascended the stair as well. They both walked past the big guest room and the two bodyguards, knowing that this was where their Lord and his son slept. Like all the other rooms in the house, it was soundproofed, so there was nothing to hear, and they set off to their bedroom where they closed the shutters and lay down to sleep. It took a while before they drifted off.

※

A single candle flickered on the bed side table, illuminating the surroundings. The guest room was nothing compared to those in the mansion, but it was descent and neat, just what they needed for the time being. They had no choice. The Nathaniel Branch of the Darklighter family was the largest in New Orleans, and the other options involved lesser houses or conclaves in the area.

Matthew stood by the window, looking out across the dark mass of trees, towards the road which wound off in the distance, leading towards the suburbs of New Orleans. Their luggage was scarce, he knew that they were not staying for long, but he had not been able to part with the black, velvet gown with the golden embroidery and strings holding it in place, revealing but his bare chest and the bare feet against the thick carpet. In his hand he held a goblet with the finest wine the servant could procure from the wine cellar.

"This is a mess," he said quietly, sipping down the wine before turning to look at Gabriel, who lay in the broad bed, his short, cream-coloured gown flung carelessly around the naked body, displaying almost as much as possible instead of hiding it. Matthew could not help smirking.

"How long do you think we have to stay?" Gabriel asked and bit his lip as his father turned his attention to him.

"No more than a couple of days," Matthew went to the bed and placed the goblet at the bedside table before settling down beside his son. "I can't risk the police investigation at home to start while I'm not there to deal with it. Thomas will call if there are any news."

Gabriel closed his eyes as he leant in against his father's shoulder and chest, and let the arms embrace him as he was rocked forth and back gently, his fingers wandering along the golden embroidery of the soft velvet gown. How many thousand times had he not lain and let his fingers trace the lines, memorising them, a pattern in his mind for his thoughts to drown in.

"You could have just let those kids live instead," he said quietly with a shrug.

"Are you questioning my actions?" It wasn't as much a snap as it was disappointed disbelief, the worst tone his voice could possibly procure. The boy stiffened for a moment before shaking his head without a word. The blue eyes pierced him although they weren't in his field of vision, showering him with a cold, prickling sensation all over his body.

"Good." A firm hand slipped up behind his neck and the fingers tighten their grip. Gabriel had no other option than swallow and close his eyes. He could not back away, he could not escape.

"I would never question you, father. You know, I love you."