Читать книгу "Escort For The Witch: The Mystery of Psyche's Ruby"

I tried to match the festive atmosphere, beaming smiles left and right and shaking hands with constantly arriving guests whom I’d never seen before in my life. Everyone rushed to congratulate me on this marvellous, life-changing occasion, inevitably asking where my better half was hiding. Each time I would just shrug innocently and blame her absence on the hectic last-minute preparations. Though, in truth, I had no idea where my beloved had disappeared to.

Lost in gloomy thought, I wandered through the long corridors of the old castle, mentally rehearsing the upcoming conversation with my bride.The longer I tried to focus, the heavier my heart felt. I didn’t know how long I had spent wandering around, but it seemed like eternity. Suddenly, I came across a tall oak door with a heraldic lily carved into it. I grabbed the gilded door handle and found the door unlocked. A moment later, I was in a spacious, dimly lit library. Wooden shelves laden with antique books were faintly illuminated by the twilight streaming through the tall French windows.

I stepped out into the garden, passed a small decorative fountain and sat down on an ornate cast iron bench, hidden from view by the thick branches of an old pine tree. I lit a cigarette. Memories of my first visit to the castle flooded my weary mind.

Last year when we left Eric here and flew back home to New Orleans, I was genuinely hoping to never return to this cursed place. And yet, despite all the promises I’d given myself, I ended up caving in to Sabrina’s and my parents’ relentless pleas to have the wedding here. What the hell was I thinking?

“Hi, Jack,” a soft voice came from the direction of the library. I turned to face Angelica. She smiled gently, stepping into the garden. “Escaping the chaos?” she sank gracefully on the bench next to me.

“Honestly, I’d been tired of all this long before we even got here,” I muttered, resting my head in my hands.

“This isn’t what you wanted, is it? It’s written all over your face. And Eric’s not too thrilled either, although he’s crazy keen to find out what the cake tastes like.”

“You know, Angelica, I just wanted us to get married. At home, by the Mississippi. No crowd, no pomp and fuss. Neither me nor Eric can remember any one of these ‘guests’, because we never met them before! And – surprise, surprise – my parents seem to know everyone,” I sighed heavily and looked at my companion, who seemed lost in deep thought.

“You really don’t know anyone?”

“My bosses don’t count.”

“Over a hundred people,” Angelica said thoughtfully.

“What?” I could not believe my ears. “Good Lord, where did they all come from? Did Derek hire film extras to make everything look exactly how he had envisioned it?”

“And that’s not counting the ghosts of the long-deceased relatives who simply couldn’t stay away.”

“Holy hell,” I mumbled, dropping my head back into my hands. Yeah, I’m going to need a miracle to get through the next two days.

“Seems like I really hurt Sabrina this time.”

“Then maybe you should apologize?” Angelica smiled.

“Simple as that?”

“Trust me, I know,” the vampiress nodded, standing up from the bench. “In our three hundred and four years of marriage, Felix and I have been through so much that you mortals would be needing a live-in mental health specialist.”

“Three hundred and four years?”

“Yes. Quite a lot, isn’t it?”

“How do you do it?”

“Jack, are you doubting your choice?” Angelica asked suddenly, her gaze riveting me to the spot. I froze for a moment, the painful memories of last year resurfacing once more.

“No, not at all,” I replied firmly.

“Then you should apologize and leave the past behind. The day after tomorrow is a big day. You shouldn’t start a new life with a heavy heart.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk to her right away.”

“Just think carefully what you’re going to say. It’s more important now than ever,”

Angélique whispered, then smiled warmly and disappeared into the shadows of the shaggy pines.

After a moment’s hesitation, I walked around the fountain and onto a narrow path that wound its way between the fluffy fir trees. Soon, I emerged onto a big lawn that housed elegant, ornate gazebos, adorned with white chiffon and fresh flower garlands. At the farther end of the lawn, away from a small stage, my father was sitting on a white limewash Chiavari chair. He was chatting animatedly with a woman I didn’t recognize and laughing loudly. Trying not to draw their attention, I quickly turned around and headed toward the castle’s main entrance. I had barely made a few steps when I nearly ran into the pensive Felix Timmons who suddenly appeared in front of me. He seemed oblivious to my presence, his eyes riveted on an old envelope with a dark wax seal that he was holding.

“Good evening, Felix,” I greeted my new acquaintance. “Did you just arrive? I haven’t seen you today.”

“Hello, Jack,” the vampire replied, raising his tired eyes to meet mine. “I was in Paris for an auction. Look what I bought,” he handed me a time-worn wax sealed envelope, and on the seal were peculiar lines, barely visible now, that looked to me like sun rays.

“It’s a royal seal,” Felix declared proudly. “Dating back to King Louis XIV’s court at Versailles.”

“So what’s so special about it?” I asked, out of politeness rather than interest.

“Look closer,” Felix said softly, his long, claw-like finger pointing at the perfectly preserved seal. I lifted the envelop to eye level and squinted at it in the dim light of a nearby lantern. I could now see the faint outlines of a smiling face styled as the sun sitting inside a rose.

“Wow! That’s the emblem of our Order!” Now it was me turning the strange envelope over in my hands and staring at it, puzzled. There was no address written on it – just a single word – or to be more precise, – a name.

“Why, Felix, curiosity won’t kill you!” I exclaimed, noticing that the envelope hadn’t been opened. “Don’t you want to know anything about this Armand guy?”

“You’re mistaken, my friend,” the vampire replied, pointing at the seal yet again. I followed his finger carefully and this time I noticed a small crack running through the center of the seal. Someone already broke it once to read the letter and then tried to stick the seal parts back together with glue.

“So, what’s it all about?” I asked, assuming it was Felix who had done it.

“No idea,” was his reply. “What interests me more is how the Order comes into all this, and what ties it could have had with the King or his court.”

“Well, that’s something to spice up your immortal existence. A bit of mystery to solve, huh? Now I’m curious too. Will you tell me when you find out?”

Felix ignored my question and pulled a gold ribbon-tied black velvet pouch from his pocket.

“You know, Jack, I’d be very grateful if you could deliver this letter and this ring to Monsieur Armel Dumourier. He’s arriving in Île-de-France tomorrow morning.” The vampire untied the pouch and produced an old-looking gold ring with a massive ruby in the center. “Just look at this symbol of power and grandeur! A totally unique piece of jewellery. A genuine masterpiece.”

“I’ll bet it was stolen from some cardinal…” I muttered under my breath.

“What?” Felix looked hesitant, clearly second-guessing his choice of trusted courier for the delivery of such a valuable item.

“Sorry, it’s just this ring evokes certain associations. You know, the ruby reminds me of a French cardinal’s hat… and I just can’t help but imagine one, with an arrogant, perpetually dissatisfied face, and his hand adorned with a ring like this one, stroking an equally dissatisfied cat while waiting to be bribed…”

I noticed Felix become slightly worried and suspicious at my rant.

“I mean, of course, I’ll deliver it,” I hastened to reassure him. “However… You’re the curator of the ancient letters department. Shouldn’t you be handling such ‘correspondence’ yourself? And who is this Dumourier anyway?”

“You see, Jack, the reign of Louis XIV is a rather controversial and ambiguous period in French history. The letter itself isn’t that important. But if my hunch about this ring is correct, we might make another groundbreaking discovery.”

“I don’t mean to sound like a bore, but, coming back to my question – why can’t you deliver this to him yourself? And… who is he, really?”

“He’s one of the leading experts on French history and has been studying the legend of the mysterious ruby Psyche for many years.”

“What does this ruby look like then?” I asked, examining the ring again. “Do you think this could be it? I remember reading something about it, but honestly, I can’t remember the details now.”

“Ah, Jack, I so wish I could answer all your questions. But alas, it’s beyond my power.

All I can say is: for as long as I can remember, the hunt for Psyche has been ongoing.

Why? That is the question, my friend! Perhaps, Armel knows and might shed some light on this mystery for us.”

“And you?”

“I won’t be at your wedding, as I must leave for Rome immediately. The matter can’t wait. In fact, I came here to deliver the envelope and the ring to Armel myself, but as it turns out, his flight has been rescheduled for next morning. Angelica is busy with wedding preparations, and keeping Derek’s creative juices in check, so I didn’t dare approach her with this. So, Jack, I want to apologize for not being able to attend such an important day for you and Sabrina. Nevertheless, please accept my best wishes. And once again, I ask for your forgiveness.”

“No problem. You can count on me,”

The vampire nodded to me curtly and turned to go, but hardly made a few steps before stopping suddenly.

“And, Jack,” he added, “make sure the ring doesn’t end up in Brenda’s hands.”

I smirked. Everyone knew Brenda was a trouble magnet. She couldn’t leave the house without falling into some sort of adventure, mostly unpleasant. I turned around and rushed back to the castle. Ahead of me lay a conversation with my future wife, who has been more distant today than ever, and not even trying her usual tricks of ‘accidentally’ running into to start an argument. Usually, she would try to appear extremely hurt over my actions and make me go crazy with guilt. I have learnt now to keep my cool and ignore her antics. But in the end, I always cave in to her mind games and start apologizing, causing yet more tears and complaints that I don’t love her and like to drive her to hysterics. She would eventually accept my pleas and promises to do better in future and would be all hugs and smiles again – for a few peaceful days. Today, however, we seemed to have set a new record in not talking to each other. I haven’t even glimpsed her once since this morning, when she told Eric I was annoying her. But, as Angélique rightly said, I needed to pull myself together and leave all grievances behind.

I had to talk to Sabrina.

I put the letter and the ring into my jeans pocket, gathered what little willpower I had left, climbed the massive staircase, and set off in search of my bride.

“You’re not lost, handsome, are you?” a playful voice came from somewhere on my right. I turned around, but no one was there. “Definitely lost,” the same voice now sounded in front of me.

The air shimmered and sort of rippled, and there appeared in front of me a slender silhouette of Stella in her vintage, embroidered, beaded beige dress. The phantom was lounging on a small sofa, its legs elegantly crossed, a glass of Martini in the ghostly hand, as transparent and shimmering as the phantom itself. I shot Stella a sideways glance and walked on, not thinking it the best time to socialise.

“Ah, how I loved parties,” Stella sang thoughtfully, suddenly appearing beside me.

“Where are you off to? Maybe you’ll keep me company?”

“I’m looking for Sabrina,” I replied quietly, trying to make it clear I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, let alone drinks.

“Oh, Jackie, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you! You’ll survive one night without her,” Stella drawled, taking another ‘sip’ from her transparent glass.

“What was that?” I asked, not getting her point.

“She’s talking about the old tradition of not seeing the bride before the ceremony,”

Alex’s ghost interjected, suddenly materializing before us.

“Oh! Mr. Venters! Punctual as ever! I’m already on my last legs!” Stella giggled and dissolved into the air like a wisp of smoke.

“Can you imagine how much idle noise that lady made in her lifetime?” Old Venters grinned at me warmly. “You could use some sleep, Jack. The day after tomorrow is a big day, and you look terrible.”

“I promise to shave. And I’ve got all of tomorrow still,” I muttered, forcing a pathetic smile. “Have you seen her?”

“She’s in the farthest bedroom. But you can’t go in there! Respect an old tradition, Jack.

The groom and bride must spend the night before the wedding apart,” Alex preached.

“One night, not two. Remind me about this tomorrow,” I said calmly.

“She’s been asking about you.”

“I have hurt her today. Any advice?”

“Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and make the first move. She loves you very much and has been waiting all day,” Alex encouraged me. “You know whose blood runs in Sabrina’s veins. Accept it and go to her. She’s too proud to admit she’s wrong.”

“That’s exactly what my problem with her is,” I muttered and walked over to the door Alex had pointed to. I knocked gingerly.

There was no answer. I assumed Sabrina was already asleep, but I turned the gilded handle anyway. To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I peeked inside, hesitating to enter. My princess’s chambers were in complete disarray: on the enormous bed, covered by a gold-threaded brocade throw, were scattered elegant mother-of-pearl hairpins. Scraps of white tulle, silk ribbons, and vintage lace were everywhere.

“I think the veil might not be necessary,” Angelica’s melodic voice came from somewhere on my left. I turned and saw a tall white intricately carved wooden door that was ajar. That was enough for me to peek inside without being seen.

What I saw took my breath away. Sabrina stood on a small wooden podium in the middle of a brightly lit boudoir. She was wearing a luxurious white corseted dress, its bodice lavishly embroidered with pearls. The dress seemed to hug her delicate figure, accentuating the slender waist and all the right curves. She casually ran her hand over the folds of the long skirt which flowed into a dramatic lace-trimmed train. From the side, she looked like a weightless porcelain doll, and I instinctively leaned forward for a closer look. I had to give Derek credit—he really knew how to sew.

“The most important thing is to ensure no one steps on the train. Or the dress – and the wedding – will be ruined,” my future wife sang in delight.

“And I think the veil is a must,” Derek retorted. “But it should be very long. We’ll have to make some adjustments. There’s still time.”

I was so absorbed in eyeing Sabrina in her fairy-tale gown, hidden behind the boudoir door, that I didn’t hear another door creak open behind me, and someone else enter the room. That someone else was the person who always showed up at the worst possible moment.

“Jack! What are you doing in here? You’re spying!” Brenda shrieked, dropping a box of white high heel shoes on the floor and lunging straight at me. Instinctively, I stepped forward and tried to clamp my hand over Brenda’s annoying mouth, but it was too late, of course. Apparently, Brenda decided to put up a fight. She pulled at my zip-up hoodie, desperately trying to shove me out of the room. Silently, I unzipped it and literally slipped out of Brenda’s clutch. She staggered, losing her balance, and fell on the floor. I smirked, reaching down to help her up, but she lunged at me again.

Hearing the commotion, Derek rushed out of the boudoir and froze on the spot. Then he closed his eyes, cursed loudly, and pulled the furious Brenda away from me.

“He saw the dress!” she screeched again, kicking and thrashing, trying to break free from the vampire’s iron grip.

“Brenda, chill,” I said as calmly as I could, though I was fuming on the inside. “Why are you so worked up? It’s not like it’s your dress I saw!”

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck if the groom sees the bride’s gown before the wedding?”

Derek cut in coolly, still trying to contain his companion. “Brenda, enough!”

“Oh, come on! What kind of silly superstition is that?”

“The kind that’s a really bad omen!” Derek grumbled. “Brenda! Calm down already!”

My poor nerves, which I’d been trying to keep in check this whole insane day, finally snapped, unleashing all the anger and frustration that had been building up inside me over the past month. I turned on my heal and forcefully flung open the boudoir door.

Sabrina was sitting on a small pouf, drowning in a sea of lace and organza. She was shaking with indignation and surprise. Suddenly, she started pulling delicate mother-of-pear hairpins from her hair. Behind her stood a bewildered Angelica.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Derek mouthed, leaning over Sabrina.

“Be wise, don’t make any mistakes,” Angelica whispered, then the pair of them left the boudoir, firmly shutting the door behind them.

I took a deep breath, waiting for Sabrina to lash out at me, also known as initiate the conversation. To my surprise, she didn’t. She continued to remain silent, burning holes in me with her deep blue eyes full of tears and resentment.

“If that’s how it is, may I begin then. Firstly, I don’t believe in silly omens and superstitions invented for innocent maidens who faint at the sight of a dead fly.

Secondly, I did knock before entering. Thirdly… I just wanted to apologize and say that I don’t want our married life to start with resentment and scandals. I love you, despite all your ridiculous antics. And forgive me, sunshine, but you’ve got the most infuriating personality. I love you still. And the day after tomorrow, unless you buy into all that omen nonsense spouted by the crazy duo and don’t change your mind—which I’m still hoping for—I’ll repeat it before God. And before the entire crowd of those strangers!

I’ll smile dutifully, shake everyone’s hands, and shower them with thanks for their congratulations and gifts. Although you know perfectly well how much that annoys me! I always want you to be happy. Even if you’re hating me right now.”

Sabrina remained silent, struggling to hold back tears, gripping the hairpins so tightly that her knuckles turned white. I waited a few minutes, expecting her to lunge at me and try to stab me with a hairpin, but none of that happened. She closed her eyes, letting a tear roll down her lashes. That single tear pierced my heart like a knife. I couldn’t say another word. Hastily, I left the boudoir, leaving Sabrina tête-à-tête with her grief and pride.

I wanted to strangle that omnipresent Brenda for showing up at the worst time to ruin the moment for me, and, potentially, my entire future life with Sabrina. But where was she now that I needed to scold her? Brenda was only where she was not welcome or needed! And now that she had done her ‘duty’, she disappeared. Could this day have gone any worse? What Gods had I angered? Because I must have done. Feeling completely drained, I headed to my room, escorted by a subdued Angélique.

“What are my chances of a happy ending?” I asked the vampiress gloomily. Angelica paused for a moment, then shook her head sadly.

“You did the right thing, Jack. That’s my opinion. If you truly matter to her, she’ll listen to her heart. And don’t pay attention to any nonsense. I’ll have a little chat with Brenda. Derek’s hopeless—he’s always on the edge. But you – you need a rest right now,” Angelica smiled gently and headed away from me toward the grand staircase.

I pushed open the heavy oak door and disappeared into the welcoming coolness and darkness of my chamber, illuminated only by the moonlight. The image of the slender girl in her poufy wedding dress reappeared in my mind. Before that wicked witch Brenda popped up in the room, I could have sworn I had glimpsed a sparkle of happiness in my bride’s eyes. My heart still heavy, I took off my T-shirt, pulled the envelope and the pouch with the ring from my pocket and placed them on a small table by the window. On the table – I now noticed – stood a tall decanter half-full of deep amber-colored liquid, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be proper vintage cognac, and two glasses. I poured myself a glass, took a few sips, lit a cigarette and sank heavily onto my bed.

My life was changing rapidly, and not for the better. Cursing everything under the sun, I closed my eyes, plunging into impenetrable darkness, a darkness that now seemed to symbolise my entire existence. I tried not to think about the upcoming two days, for they promised to be fine fun for everyone, except for myself.

My gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the soft creaking of the opening door.

Someone entered the room and stood there, hesitating, waiting. After what felt like an eternity, my eyes still shut, I heard light footsteps approaching.

Someone stopped by the bed, then sat down beside me gingerly. The next moment I was aware of a gentle kiss being planted on my unshaven cheek, and the familiar tender fingertips ran through my tangled hair.

“I love you too,” whispered the dear voice in my ear. “And my temper really is awful.”

“Hey! You’re here…What about that old tradition? The bad omen thing?”

“I’m a witch, remember? Omens don’t bother me. What could possibly happen?”

Sabrina chuckled softly. “Let’s not fight anymore. I’m so tired of it. Plus, I’ll need to get up super early and sneak back to my room before anyone discovers I spent the night with you.”

“My devious goddess,” I muttered, pulling her closer.

Well, maybe I was wrong, and all was not so bad after all. Destiny, it seemed, decided to remind me that there was still light at the end of the tunnel. And tomorrow morning… Tomorrow morning, we shall start with a clean slate. And I hope the wedding goes without a hitch. Here’s to no more drama and hysterics!