The Nightmare Game (47 page)

“Why?”

“Your essence trip ended in a very unique way.
It’s never happened before and it got us all scared. Do you remember what it
was that frightened you so much at the end?”

“No. I don’t even remember being frightened. What
would make you think I was?”

“Well, just before you passed out, you screamed.
It wasn’t just a little scream either. Blood-curdling is more the word I’d use.
It scared the crap out of us.”

“No, I don’t remember that at all,” I responded,
puzzled. Wow, you’d think I would, if it was that bad, but I’m drawing a
complete blank.”

“That’s probably for the best. Forget I asked and
don’t even think about it anymore. You probably don’t want to remember,
anyway.”

But once brought up, I could not stop thinking
about it. I continued in silence trying to dredge up what might have frightened
me enough last night to make me scream, but nothing came forward. Too soon,
though, my thoughts were once again cut short by the activity of the household.

Ricky stuck his head into the open doorway and
said, “Hey, babe. I waited and waited, but you didn’t come down. Still up for
bowling tonight?”

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry. Ashley and I got to talking
and I lost all track of the time. Of course I still want to go. Ashley, now are
you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m sure. I know it’s still early, but I’m ready
for bed. It’s been an eventful couple of days.”

“Another time, then,” she said, wrapping a chiffon
scarf around the band holding up her pony tail. “Just go on to bed and don’t
worry, I’ll be really quiet coming in. You want me to close the door on my way
out?”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

“Good night, Ashley,” she said upon leaving. Ricky
waved.

“‘Night, Illea. ‘Night, Ricky.”

As soon as they exited the room, the contact high
that I’d gotten from Illea vanished more rapidly than it had after I’d left Ben
at the swing. I was more fatigued now than ever. Too exhausted even to stand
for much longer, I kicked off my slippers and plopped down onto the bedspread,
forced to rest a few minutes before I could get up to fetch water and change
into my nightgown.

As time went by, however, it seemed that I’d
become increasingly incapable of accomplishing even such a deceptively easy
task as rising from the bed. Lowering my ambitions, I blew off the nightgown,
rationalizing that my robe was both comfortable and clean enough to make due.
All I really needed was water. My body was crying out for it and I wasn’t
willing to hunker down for the night without it. Recognizing that my only
option was mind over matter, it was with greatest clarity that my mind’s eye
visualized myself getting up to perform said task repeatedly; but as the
minutes passed, the rest of my body mutinied and it became glaringly apparent
that it had determined that disobeying my mental commands was definitely the
way to go.

Lacking now the steam required even to crawl
between the sheets, I pulled out my pillow from beneath its cover, stuck it
under my head and turned to one side. It was only a moment later that, against
both my will and my knowledge, I slid into a deep, peaceful, dreamless slumber.

I had no idea of how long I’d slept or what had
awakened me. I wondered about the time, but other than the one pocket watch Ben
had shown me earlier, I’d seen no time pieces in the building at all. Illea’s
soft breathing as she lay sleeping in the other bed indicated that I must have
been asleep for at least a few hours.

All of the lights were off, including the one on
my nightstand, and I was no longer lying on top of the bedspread, but was
instead underneath the covers. Apparently, Illea had tucked me in when she’d
returned from bowling. Bless her heart; I was starting to like her more and
more.

I got out of bed for a bathroom trip, examining
the mirror to check for any new progress on my rejuvenation, but I looked about
the same as I had this morning. I’d probably have to wait for next essence
before turning eighteen again, but hey, I could be patient. I chuckled at the
thought, recognizing that I’d really landed on my feet when fate had brought me
to this mansion.

After climbing back into bed, I realized I’d
forgotten to pour myself a glass of water. It was funny, because even though I
was craving it earlier, I really didn’t want it anymore. I tried to go back to
sleep and tossed and turned for awhile but I was wide awake now. I couldn’t
exactly get up, because everybody else was asleep and I didn’t know what I’d do
if I did get up. I didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to go exploring by myself
in the middle of the night because I didn’t even know where the light switches
were in the public areas of the mansion. Come to think about it, I hadn’t even
seen one. Maybe, like the disappearing doors, they too were invisible until you
knew the trick.

Oh, well, I thought, at least this would be a good
time to sort out my thoughts about staying or leaving. After all, it was the
first time that I’d been alone since my arrival that I hadn’t been either sick,
asleep, or totally exhausted, so I fluffed up both my pillows and propped
myself up in the bed. Yes, this would be the perfect opportunity to begin
weighing my options, since I didn’t have much time to make such an important
decision. My short answer to the conundrum would, of course, be to stay. I was
having too much fun to leave. This place had a lot to offer and my decision
would have a been simple one if my stay would have involved only a few weeks or
maybe even a few months. But this was the rest of my life which hung in the
balance and that was quite a different matter indeed.

Unfortunately, as always, the catch continued to
be my amnesia, which remained as pervasive as ever. It really was unfair of
anyone to ask me to come to such a permanent, life-altering conclusion in such
a short time without the benefit of being able to consult my own memories.
Maybe if I jogged them a little bit, something might start to come back.

I thought I’d begin with the obvious questions.
Top of the list was, how did I get here in the first place? No one seemed to
know. Why was I even here? No one seemed to know that, either. Where was I
before I arrived here? No answer there. Crap. I was just a little bundle of
mysteries, wasn’t I? I was finding out that being a woman of mystery was a lot
less fun than it was cracked up to be, especially when the primarily a mystery
was yourself.

Okay, then, maybe I should just play it safe and
take Ben up on his offer to get me home. I didn’t want to do that, but how
could I possibly give myself permission to leave everything behind until my
memories returned? I couldn’t. But what if they never returned? Ben said that I
wouldn’t get a second chance at this opportunity and if my memories didn’t
appear, then where would I be? I’d be out in the cold, hard world with amnesia
for goodness knows how long, maybe even forever. I didn’t like that outcome one
iota. Damn, why couldn’t I remember my own life? This was so fucking unfair!

In an attempt to quell a growing frustration
inside of me, I made a conscious effort to concentrate on the positives.
Considering my memory loss, maybe this mansion was the most protective
environment for me, when all was said and done. Why not stay? After all, I’d
found the fountain of youth here, hadn’t I, and mankind had been looking for
that since forever. What more did I want? I’d never get any older if I stayed
here, just younger and younger until I reached my perfect age. On top of that,
I’d just keep getting prettier as well.

This place had so many perks. On a very practical
level, as far as I knew, there was no paperwork here and no taxes. I didn’t
even need an income. Everything was provided and it was all first class. This
was a storybook lifestyle, simple, uncomplicated, filled only with pleasure and
privilege. This should have been a no-brainer, but I was stressing. I’d found a
gift utopia, so why was I looking it in the mouth? I’d never find a better deal
than this one anywhere because there was no better deal anywhere. Why not stay?

The answer always came down to only two things: my
memory, which was beyond my control, and their religion, which still disturbed
me. While I’d never been a particularly religious person, this goddess-worship
thing bothered me deeply for a reason I couldn’t even comprehend. Maybe it was
because I’d always been warned of cults and let’s face it, you could slap
lipstick on this place and call it normal, but when all was said and done, it
was still a cult, wasn’t it? Then why wasn’t it setting off alarm bells with me
right and left? Maybe it was because it was such an unusual cult. Everybody was
so casual here and no one had asked me for my life savings yet. Instead, all
they wanted to do was to give me things, and very nice things, as a matter of
fact. They’d made no attempt of any kind so far to force me into their beliefs
and had actually promised me that they never would.

Oh, I hated this going back and forth. It was time
for me to make up my mind. The heck with all of my arguments. This place was
agreeing with me and there was no denying it. I felt good here. I liked it and
I liked the people. They were friendly and nice and they really wanted me to
join them. If I stayed, I’d never be lonely again; and even though I couldn’t
remember it, something told me that I was lonely a lot of the time back home,
wherever home was.

Of course, there were the obvious drawbacks, which
continued to be Geoffrey and the three odd women. If the Sisters were really as
harmless and easy to redirect as Illea maintained, however, I could work around
them. That left only Geoffrey, who remained not so easy to ignore. Would he
keep his promise to Ben and mind his manners? If not, would Arrosha actually
step in to straighten him out? Oh, wouldn’t he just love me for that! I was
sure he’d find a way to blame her intervention on me as well. No matter how I
looked at it, the Geoffrey scenario left a lot to be desired. My instincts told
me that no matter how it played out, he could make it uncomfortable enough for
me to regret staying. It never took much too much sabotage to wreck an
otherwise good thing and the right kind of hostile person could make or break
an entire situation. Geoffrey struck me as that right kind of person. After
all, it took only one snake to ruin the Garden of Eden.

Oh, the heck with Geoffrey. I was tired of that
little prick. I was staying and if he didn’t like me here, I’d just let Ben
deal with him. I’d made up my mind and that was that. Unless something drastic
happened to convince me otherwise, the next time I saw Ben, I’d tell him that I
was staying.

Now that the crucial decision was made, I was
ready to go back to sleep again, my mind clear. As I rearranged my pillows to
lie down, though, I heard a voice whisper. It was so soft at first that I could
make out only my name. It gradually became louder and louder, until I was
finally able to hear what it was saying.

“Ashley, Ashley, get up. Get up now,” the voice
whispered to me. “You’ve got to get out of here before it’s too late. You have
got to escape.”

With a start, I sat up in bed, expecting to see
one of my new housemates, but when I looked around, there was no one there.

“Hello? Who are you?” I asked, keeping my voice
down to avoid waking Illea, but I heard no answer.

I rose from my bed and, careful to be quiet,
searched the room, the closet, and the bathroom, but found no one. The voice
had been so soft and seemed to come almost from within my own head. Could I
have imagined it? Before settling on that answer, I stepped over to the window
to check if the voice could perhaps have been coming from the garden below and
peeked out from behind the closed drapes. While it was still pitch dark
outside, my enhanced night vision combined with the outdoor night lighting to
reveal no one in the open. Unless the mystery man was hiding in the bushes, I
had, indeed, imagined the voice.

I remained at the window for a few moments,
transfixed by the small, soft, twinkling lights that adorned the garden. From
this angle, I could not see the light sources themselves, but I could tell that
most of them seemed to be coming from the statuary that decorated the estate.
The effect was beautiful, almost as if stars had fallen from the heavens for
the sole purpose of adorning the grounds. As I stood there, entranced by the
beautiful illusion, my reverie was broken short by another plea from the
disembodied voice.

“Ashley!” the voice, still just a loud whisper,
called again, this time its plea more emphatic. I still could not fathom its
source, for it seemed to be coming from all directions simultaneously.

“Ashley,” it continued, “The third floor
conservatory. Come here, please come here. I need to talk to you. I’ll explain
when you get here. There’s not much time. Please. Be quiet and use the
staircase. Don’t wake anyone.”

I’d been surrounded by too many strange things
since my recent return to consciousness at the mansion to question my own
sanity, so I decided to do as the voice directed, since its urgency seemed
sincere.

Barefoot, I left the bedroom, closing the door
behind me without noise, and walked out upon the thick hall carpet. Once
outside, a soft, ambient light illuminated the way, emanating from the general
direction of the Great Room.

“Ashley, Ashley, hurry. Please, hurry,” the soft,
low voice called once more. This time, though, it seemed to be coming from the
same general direction as the light ahead. Again it instructed me to go to the
third floor, the floor I had not yet seen, the floor that I was told was still
forbidden for me to enter. I would never have thought of entering that floor of
my own volition, because I did not want to violate Ben’s trust, but I seemed to
have little choice. I didn’t know if it was because the voice seemed so urgent,
as if my cooperation was a matter of life or death, or if this voice had cast
some kind of spell upon me. Either way, I felt compelled to comply.

I continued to tip-toe down the hall, careful not
to disturb the sleep of the others. The soft light became more and more bright
as I grew closer to its source. The spell the voice had cast over me was
suddenly broken as I stopped in my tracks just before reaching the turn-off to
the elevator. I saw the source of the light that had been leading my way and I
was horrified. My mind returned to Ben’s admiration of Arrosha’s ability to
hide certain features of the mansion from viewing until one took a few more
steps and saw them grandly unveiled. This, apparently, was one of those grand
unveilings. The paintings and sculptures of the mansion’s gallery area came
suddenly into view, there all along, unseen until this very second. The gentle
illumination which was lighting my way originated from the dozens of glowing
eyes of the paintings and the sculptures which now seemed infused with life,
watching and studying me. While my eyes remained locked upon the paintings out
of fear, my muscles froze and my legs became capable of moving my body in one
direction only, and that was backward, away from the gallery. The railing
stopped me when I reached it and it was with trepidation that I peeked down at the
Great Room in hope of a place to flee, only to find all of its sculptures and
frescoes, eyes glowing, staring at me as well.

The sense of unease that so often seemed to
accompany Ben’s absence began to make sense along with a flash of memory that
had deserted me following the essence. I now remembered the episode with the
statues when Ben had left me for a few minutes yesterday to check on whether
the essence was ready. It had frightened so me terribly, how could I have
forgotten it so soon? Along with that incident, how could I have possibly
forgotten so many vitally important things? I realized now that this was no
ordinary amnesia I suffered. Someone wanted me to forget. But why?

Correcting my angle somewhat, I continued to back
away toward the direction of my bedroom. I needed to get away from this art
that was no longer beauty but was now instead monstrosity. I wanted to go back
to my room, close the door, crawl back into my bed and pull the covers over me.
I wanted to forget completely what these objects turned into at night. So this
was what the lights outside in the garden were, the lights that only minutes
before I had thought were so beautiful. They were the eyes of the statuary and
they had seen me as I’d peeked out from behind the drapes.

Afraid to turn my gaze away from the eerie,
glowing eyes, I continued to inch backward toward my bedroom, never turning
around, never taking my eyes off the paintings that refused to take their eyes
off of me.

I’d retreated only a few feet when I heard the voice
again calling me.

“Ashley,” it implored me. “You can’t go back. I
must speak with you. You must come to the third floor. You have to enter the
temple.”

“No,” I whispered aloud. “Leave me alone. This is
as far as I go.”

“Please Ashley. There’s not much time. I have to
show you something. It’s important.”

“If it’s that important, tell me here.”

“I can’t tell you. You need to see it, you need to
do it. You’re safe for now, but I don’t know for how long. You must hurry.”

“No. Those eyes…”

“They can’t hurt you. Please Ashley, lives depend
on you, many lives.”

“Are you sure they can’t hurt me?”

“Yes.”

“But they all look so angry.”

“They’re angry because they’re trapped, captives
of the artwork in which they live. Even if they had the ability to hurt you,
they wouldn’t use it. You’re the only one that can help them, that can free
them and they all know that.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, but hurry. You must leave this mansion. You
must get out of here now.”

I don’t know why I trusted the voice earlier, but
after seeing all of these glowing eyes, I knew now. It was right, it spoke the
truth. Of that I was certain. I did have to get out of here before it was too
late. I shuddered to think that only a few minutes earlier, I was ready to
remain, to throw my lot in with the group at this estate. Before Ben had
convinced me to stay, I wondered what the catch was and now I knew. All of this
luxury and indulgence was too good to be true, for it was dead evil which dwelt
here, wasn’t it, not divine goodness. A part of me was relieved, despite my
fear, for I had dodged an ultimate temptation and found out the truth before it
was too late.

I stopped my retreat and began to move forward
once again into the recessed gallery. I kept my eyes cast downward, staring at
my feet to avoid chancing eye contact with the unnerving artwork. As I guided
myself by my peripheral vision, I was unable to block out the light of their
stares completely. I could feel the glaring paintings bore into me from all
sides, but managed to keep going despite the knot in my stomach.

As I approached the spiral staircase, I was forced
to look up again in order to orient myself within the room. For a few seconds,
I was mesmerized by the eyes of the otherwise still works, as if they were
collectively willing me to look directly at them. As I moved, wherever I moved,
they followed me with their eerie, living eyes. I noticed that while the
paintings had remained still, the facial expressions had not. While some of the
art appeared to be in the throws of tremendous terror, even pain, the rest of
it now looked angry, furious, even murderous. I clung to the promise from the
voice that they were not able to hurt me, because they knew I was their only
hope for freedom. I sensed, however, that were I able to free them this very second,
while some would thank for it, others would only kill me for my efforts.

“Ashley,” the soft voice spurred me on once again.
“You’ve got to keep going. You’re almost here. Don’t stop. Hurry, there isn’t
much time.”

I continue my walk toward the spiral staircase,
giving a wide berth to the statue they called The Saints which stood so near
the spiral staircase, for I feared it would come to life and grab me, since I
had to pass right by it. Their eyes, which had been closed were now wide open
and staring straight at me. But when I looked at them, instead of frightening
me even more, they actually calmed me. I understood now a new reason why their
name fit so well, for of all the works here, they seemed to have accepted their
fate with extreme peace. Their eyes seemed to be encouraging me, urging me on
to continue my journey up to the third floor and whatever it held for me.

“Ashley, you have to hurry. Time is running out,”
the voice prodded again.

No longer as fearful because of the love and peace
in the eyes of The Saints, I gathered my courage, and leaving all trepidation
behind, I quickened my pace and began to hurry up the spiral staircase. I had
not gotten even half the way up, however, when something brushed against the
hem of my long nightgown. I had no time to react to it, for it had barely
registered in my brain when a strong hand grabbed my ankle roughly in a
vise-like grip, clamping my foot in place. My heart pounded as I looked down to
see who or what had taken hold of me. My eyes locked with Geoffrey’s cold, hard
stare coming from underneath the steps. His expression was one of
self-satisfied smugness combined with a cold-hearted lasciviousness, a
humorless smile hard upon his lips, his eyes cruel.

“My, my, my,” he said, his voice low and oily. “What
have we here? Bad girl. You know you’re not allowed up there. I know Ben told
you the rules. He’s exceptionally good at that.”

“I – I heard a voice,” I blurted out, not knowing
what to say except the truth. “Didn’t you hear it, too?”

“I heard no voice,” he said, letting go of me as
he came around to the front of the stairs. In a threatening manner that was
almost a slither, he climbed up to me slowly until he was only a few steps
below me, and with our height difference we were face to face.

“Careful girl,” he said, pushing his face nearer
to mine, “I wouldn’t go around telling people I heard voices. They’ll think you
mad.”

“No, Geoffrey, I really did hear a voice,” I
protested. “And it told me to come here. I swear I wouldn’t have come here on
my own. Even so, I wanted to go back to my room anyway because the paintings
scared me. The voice told me not to, though.”

“Oh, the voice told you. And the big, bad
paintings scared our little Ashley? Give me a break. You’ve got to do better
than that.”

“It’s not just the paintings, Geoffrey, it’s the
statues, too. It’s like they’re alive.”

“What kind of lame dribble is this, now?” he said
without feeling.

“Look at them, Geoffrey. It’s the eyes. They’re
glowing! Why are the eyes glowing?”

“Glowing? You really are nuts. They’re paintings.
Just regular paintings. You really are a gem, aren’t you. Hearing things,
seeing things. Just wait until I tell Ben about his newest little favorite.”

“Why can’t you see it?” I pleaded. “Geoffrey, I
swear, I’m not crazy.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you are,” he
continued. “In fact, I far prefer crazy women over sane ones. They’re a lot
more interesting. Take our quite mad Three Sisters, for example. I do, and
quite often, as a matter of fact. But breaking the rules is something very different.
I mean, whatever will Bensy have to say about this?”

“I thought you were all for breaking the rules,
Geoffrey,” I said, finding my nerve.

“Oh, I am, I am. But I’ve never been a fan of
those that allow themselves to be caught. Tish, tish, my dear, and look at you,
getting caught in the act, red handed and oh, so easily. You bad girl, what a
big rule you broke, too. If you’re going to break the rules, you really should
do a better job of it. One might even say that this is a case of corpus delicti,”
he said, running a strand of my hair through his fingers. “And what a
delectable corpse I’m sure you would make. But that’s quite another matter
altogether, isn’t it? At least for the time being. I’ll just have to wait in
eager anticipation for that pleasure.”

He walked up to the step upon which I stood and
grabbed me about the waist, grasping me so tightly I could feel that this encounter
was exciting him. He bent down, placing his face close to mine as if he wanted
to kiss me, his fingers stroking my cheek. “You really are a naughty, naughty
girl. Of course,” he continued, running his right forefinger down my nose and
over my lips, “I always liked naughty girls that break the rules. Like the mad
ones, they’re ever so much more fun. And you, my dear, naughty and mad together
in one package? Why, have I found heaven?” A chill of disgust ran through me as
I felt his hot breath upon me.

His mood changed in a flash as he broke his grip
upon my waist, grabbed my hand harshly and began to pull me roughly up the stairs
behind him. “So, Pandora, you want to open the box, do you? Very well then, why
don’t we just open it together!”

Up the steps he continued to drag me until we got
to the top of the staircase and into the darkness of the forbidden third floor.