The Nightmare Game (31 page)

I wanted a moment alone with Ben to tell him about
my apprehensions concerning the statues. I needed him to calm my fears, to tell
me that the statues had been just an optical illusion and that everything would
be okay, but it was not to be, for we headed immediately toward the same
doorway the women had just gone through. Instead, I merely stuck close to Ben,
hugging his left while Geoffrey flanked his right. Once through the door, we
entered a corridor, following its turns until we reached our destination, a
completely blank wall. Ben reached out his hand and touched a spot in the
center molding, a spot that could not see. Once again, as at the gallery
entrance upstairs, a door handle appeared from nowhere and he slid the door
open. I realized my decision not to search for him earlier had been the right
one, for I never could have found him behind this hidden entrance.

“Looks like everybody’s here,” Ben said, gazing
around the room.

“Of course. You’re the last ones. The rest of us
have just been waiting for the two of you to arrive,” Geoffrey answered as he
eyed me, his remark blatantly insinuating that all tardiness had been my fault
alone.

“And we really do appreciate that, don’t we,
Ashley?”

“Sure,” I said flatly. As before, all sarcastic
intent seemed lost upon Ben. I was beginning to realize that he had quite the
blind spot when it came to his friend.

Geoffrey’s rudeness was pushed to the back of my
mind once he and Ben moved forward, giving me an unobstructed view of this new
room, which revealed itself to be a beguiling, mystical place. Neither
overpowering nor grandiose, in its own way it impressed me much more than any
of the other areas that I’d seen so far. While it was snug, it didn’t feel
small, just cozy and intimate. No mere room, it was, instead, a magical and
bewitching space that could very well have been created for Scheherazade
herself. Instead of walls, windows or ceiling, the entire periphery was
blanketed in rich brocade fabric interspersed with wispy gauze at suitable
intervals, creating the illusion of a sultan’s tent within a fantasy caravan.
It lead my imagination to envision that hiding in a corner somewhere must
surely be a lamp that, for the very small price of a gentle stroking, would
release a powerful genie willing to grant my every wish. At my feet, oriental
carpeting peeked through masses of huge, overstuffed cushions and pillows
strewn about, the greatest concentration of which surrounded a large, low-set,
ornately carved wooden table. In the middle of this dark and heavy circular
table stood a large, elaborate upright pipe with multiple hoses, making the
“hookah room’s” nickname now blatantly obvious.

With interest, I began to study the group that
shared this mansion. They were all stunning, each one of them every bit as
beautiful as Ben and the others that I had already met. From their straight
posture to the elegance of their form, everything about them seemed so
impossibly perfect that within the confines of this exotic room, they were
transformed from mere occupants into actual design elements. Mingling about,
they maneuvered with such fluid, effortless grace that viewing them was more
akin to observing a ballet than simply watching a collection of people
preparing to dine. The silken garments they wore added to this otherworldly
atmosphere, so much so that I felt as if I were about to enter a Hollywood set
for a filming of the Arabian Nights. I greatly enjoyed this people-watching
from my anonymous doorway perch as they greeted Ben and Geoffrey, but it was
far too short-lived. Once their salutations were complete, Ben motioned toward
me and all heads turned, eyes locking upon me, the new element in their world.
While their curiosity was understandable, the comfort level I’d so recently
achieved dissolved in an instant and I suddenly felt enormously uncomfortable
in a room which was so obviously designed to inspire comfort.

“Hello, and who have we here?” said a man I had
not yet met.

“Oh, yes,” Ben said, “Where are my manners? Sorry,
I got distracted there for a minute. Everybody, this is Ashley.”

“Ashley’s the little waif that I found at our
doorstep, but of course you’re all aware of that,” Geoffrey added.

I forced myself to smile, unnerved by being put
into this spotlight. What would these new people be like, I wondered. Would
they be warm and welcoming like Ben, rude like Geoffrey or as odd as the three
strange women?

“Ashley,” Ben continued, going about the room as
he introduced everyone. “You’ve already met Geoffrey and our Three Sisters. Let
me introduce you to the rest. This is Timothy,” he pointed to a young man with
a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion and a head full of thick, wavy auburn
hair.

“Nice to meet you,” he said shyly in a Boston
accent.

“These two partners in crime are Antonio and Kenny,”
he said. Antonio was muscular and swarthy in an earthy, romantic way. Kenny was
Asian and of a slimmer build; he was the most exotically beautiful person I’d
ever seen.

“This is Illea and her boyfriend Ricky.” With the
same sandy blond hair, blue eyes and fine bone structure, they were such a
perfectly matched pair that they could easily have posed for the couple on a
wedding cake.

“Ben told me that you looked after me a lot while
I was sick, Illea” I said. “I appreciate that.”

“Don’t think anything of it. It was the least I
could do because we were all so afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

“Thanks anyway, though. It means a lot to me.”

“And over here we have Robert,” Ben said, “He’s
been very interested in meeting you, Ashley.”

“It’s marvelous to see you so up and about, my
dear,” he said. Taller than any of the others except for Ben, Robert was an
elegant young black man with a delightful English accent. “You look wonderful,
far better than when last I saw you.”

“That’s good to hear, because from what I
understand, I looked more than little like death the last time you saw me,” I
said, tripping over my words a bit. He was so incredibly charming that just
speaking to him was making me blush.

“True,” he said, walking over and taking my hand
into his own; his skin felt like fine velvet. “But still, seeing how much
you’ve improved already, I think you may very well become extremely lovely
after a few essence sessions.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my blush deepening.

“That’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think,
Robert?” Geoffrey countered.

“Why no, Geoff, I honestly don’t. Pay no attention
to him, my dear,” the charming man said. “The essence has the most marvelous
restorative qualities and I can assure you that you will absolutely love it.
Everybody does. You haven’t been transformed yet, it’s true, but even after
Arrosha transforms us, the essence continues to refine and beautify.”

“Transformed? What do you mean?” I asked.

“You haven’t told her, Ben?” Robert asked.

“I didn’t have time to explain everything. I
promise to do it tomorrow.”

“You did tell her about the purge, though, right?”
Kenny added.

“Of course I did,” Ben replied. “I couldn’t leave
that out.”

“I’m really dreading it, the purge, that is,” I
admitted. “It’s the one reason that I would avoid this ‘essence’ stuff if I
could.”

Soft murmurs of protest followed my admission.

“Oh, no, Ashley, you mustn’t let fear of the purge
keep you from taking essence,” Illea explained. “I don’t know what Ben told
you, but it really isn’t that bad, certainly not something to dread.” The look
she gave Ben registered her displeasure at whatever horror stories he may have
told me concerning the essence after-effects.

“What? Why shoot me the hairy eyeball?” Ben
objected. “I told her that it wasn’t that bad. Isn’t that right, Ashley?”

“Oh, yeah. Ben explained it fine. I guess I’m just
a worrier.”

“Enough of these ‘pleasantries’,” Geoffrey said
with disgust as he sat at the table. “Are we going to take essence or not?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ben said. “Let’s all take our places.”

“Well then, Ben, darling,” Geoffrey added, his
impatience growing. “Do you mind closing the door before we start?”

“Not at all. Thanks for reminding me, Geoff, I
almost forgot.” Ben walked over to the door and pulled it closed, where again
it appeared to become a part of the wall. He loosed the sheet that was tied
back and the illusion of the caravan’s tent became complete.

“We have to be careful about not leaving that door
open,” remarked Illea’s boyfriend, whose name, along with some of the others,
I’d already forgotten. “None of us want the essence to get out again like it
did that one time,” he explained. “Catching it was a real bitch – took us three
hours to do it. Man, were we hungry by then!”

The others mumbled in agreement as they took their
places at the floor around the low table and I was left to wonder what kind of
a meal could possibly escape for hours. I resolved not to think too much about
it, because I could imagine nothing along those lines that sounded the least
bit appetizing.

“So, ready for din-din, Ash?” Geoffrey said as he
laughed. I didn’t like his laugh much; it wasn’t clean, like Ben’s.

“Don’t call me Ash,” I bristled, for I found his
manner insolent.

“You surely can’t mean that no one’s allowed to
call you Ash?” he challenged me.

“It’s a nickname I reserve for my nearest and
dearest friends. Sorry, but I just don’t know you well enough yet,” I answered,
trying hard not to lose my temper with him, knowing that the day would never
come when I might welcome any familiarity that stemmed from him. In the same
way I knew that it was rare for me to like someone as thoroughly and
immediately as I had Ben, I knew that it was equally rare for me to dislike
someone as quickly as I did Geoffrey.

“Oh, my,” he feigned offense, “it seems we have
quite the prude in our midst.”

The three odd women giggled but everyone else
glared at Geoffrey.

“That’s enough, Geoff,” Ben ordered. Apparently,
even he had reached his limit. “She’s our guest, so mind your manners. Besides,
you’re working even my nerves today.”

“Yeah, man, what’s wrong with you?” the sultry,
swarthy youth asked.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Ashley. I have to
apologize to you for Geoffrey,” Ben continued. “This seems to be what passes as
his sense of humor more and more these days. It’s not attractive, Geoff. I’m
beginning to think that your mother dropped you on your soft spot when you were
a baby.”

Geoffrey pretended to be shot. “Oh, Ben, my love,
you wound me! You positively wound me!”

Ben shrugged him off and turned to me once more.
“Just sit next to me here.” He motioned to his right, directing me to my seat,
where, like all the others, I sank down into one of the huge, oversized
cushions that replaced chairs around the low table. Immediately upon sitting, I
felt snug and cozy on the thick, impossibly soft seat cushion. Sinking back
easily into the mass of oversized, overstuffed pillows that encompassed the
cushion, I surrendered myself to the comfort upon comfort that seemed to be the
hallmark of this room. I would have felt contented sitting here at Ben’s side
had not Geoffrey sat at his left. While I began to detest the man, I resigned
myself to ignore him whenever possible, because the table was large enough to
provide plenty of room for all. For some reason, the rest of the group had
spaced themselves more closely together than needed, leaving a gap on my other
side between myself and Illea, who smiled sweetly at me. Geoffrey pointedly
disregarded me for the moment, making me quite happy not to be the object of
his attention for awhile.

“I’ve heard so much about this essence,” I said to
Illea as we all settled in for dinner. “I’m anxious to try it,” I added to be
polite.

Before she had a chance to say a word, Geoffrey
interrupted.

“It is, as Ben so aptly described,” he boasted, “a
true delicacy, the likes of which you have never tasted. Of course, no one has
except for Arrosha and our chosen few, for she graces us with it generously. It
is truly the Food of our Goddess.”

“Thank Arrosha,” Illea said softly and reverently.

“Thank Arrosha,” the rest said, more or less in
unison.

I felt a little out of place because I said
nothing. A few of the others glanced at me with expressions that suggested I
should, but instead I just asked, “Exactly what is this ‘essence’, anyway?”

Geoffrey pointed to the hookah on the table.

“Oh, good grief. Are we going to smoke something?”
I moaned. By now I was quite hungry and the last thing that I needed was a case
of the mean, mad munchies with no food whatsoever to be had in the house.

Geoffrey shot a wicked smile my way. “Nothing
quite that mundane, my dear.”

“Hey, who gets to load it this time?” the auburn
haired youth asked.

“Certainly not you, Timothy!” the Asian man said.
Turning to me, he then added, affectionate humor in his voice, “Tim’s the one
that let it go that time the door was open, the time we had to chase it. It
wasn’t very strong anymore those three hours later.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” the red-head said to me.
“One time my hand slipped and they still won’t let me load the hookah which, by
the way, is harder than it looks. But tell me, really, how am I supposed to get
the hang of it if they won’t let me practice, right?”

“Since this is Ashley’s first time, why don’t we
let Geoffrey do it?” Ben suggested.

“That sounds good,” Robert agreed, “There’s one
thing about Geoffrey, Ashley, and that is that no one, I mean absolutely no one
is better at loading essence than he is. The man positively has magic fingers.”

“I’ll say,” said the first dark haired woman.

“He certainly does,” added the second.

“Oh, yes, very magic, indeed,” the third chimed
with enthusiasm. In unison, they then giggled suggestively.