Part Two

Chapter 8

 

These terrible dreams. These terrible, nauseating, pain-inducing dreams…

Gabrielle rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around her pillow. Curling her legs until her knees met her elbows, she turned the pillow around so she was holding it like a small, squishy person. That was better.

Ouch. Why did her forearms hurt so much? They felt burnt, or…

Burnt!

In her mind’s eye, she saw the fire. She smelled that strange scent of burning curtains, bubbling paint, singed carpets. A house fire smelled nothing like a camp fire. Camp fire was comforting, controlled, contained. House fire was toxic, disintegrating, destroying. Murderous.

Pushing that memory away, Gabrielle rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling.

Wait a minute…

Where was she? This wasn’t her apartment. This wasn’t her bed. It also wasn’t the place she’d dreamed of, with the witch and the beast and the machine and the monkeys. This room had a window, which looked out on a sculpture garden. The walls were painted hospital green and the floors were the same dark wooden slats she’d walked on when she’d arrived.

Loindici Manor.

Her mind was unbearably hazy. She couldn’t tell reality from fiction. She remembered talking to her father on the phone, then entering the premises. A town car pulled up and a girl ran out. “You’re Suzanne now.” She was taken inside and she went along with it because maybe she’d spot a celebrity or two. And then the men in scrubs, the ones who looked like those figures in the sculpture garden below her window, they’d drugged her and she’d had strange sexual dreams about a man, about a beast.

Strange, strange fictions…

Her bed looked as old as the mansion. It had a curved iron headboard, a firm mattress, taught white sheets. As for her, she wore a white cotton shift with buttons on the cuffs and ribbons woven through the collarless front. Who’d dressed her in this? How long had she been drugged and dreaming?

What day was it? She had concert tickets Thursday.

Ooh… I need to pee. Where’s the bathroom?

The large wooden door stood front and centre, and Gabrielle cast her legs over the side of the bed to go to it. When she put weight on both feet, her legs collapsed beneath her. They felt like they were made of spaghetti.

That’s weird.

Gabrielle reached for the iron rail at the foot of the bed and tried to heave herself up. Easier said than done. Her muscles seemed incapable of cooperating. She kept telling them to do this, do that, get up, walk to the door, but they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

What is wrong with me?

Her most recent dream streamed to mind like a black-and-white movie: she’d thought the beast would kiss her, but instead he plunged a needle in her neck.

Had that really happened?

No…

Was that why her muscles didn’t work? Because her body was full of drugs? Because she’d been bound in stirrups for days?

No… impossible! Things like that only happened in horror flicks or paperback novels. Not in real life, and certainly not to her.

Letting her head fall onto the white sheet, Gabrielle moaned. “Owww…”

What hurt? Just everything. Her arms and legs and back and butt and head and down there and, god, she needed to pee!

“Okay,” she said to herself. “I’m getting up. Hear that, legs? I’m getting up… NOW.” Her arms trembled as she heaved herself to her feet, but her legs didn’t hold. She fell flat on the bed. “Damn it.”

Rolling on the stark white sheet, she gazed at the dark wooden door. Where did it lead? Hopefully a bathroom. If only she could cross the room without falling flat on her face. What else was in this bedchamber, anyway? A large writing desk with the drawers removed. A trash bin. A metal chair with a vinyl chair pad. Looked like it was from the 60s, like something from an asylum.

I’m in an asylum.

Gabrielle didn’t know whether to laugh or cry until an idea came to her. She reached for the chair, pulling it close to the bed. Turning it away from herself, she used it as a walker and, step by step, made her way to the door. Placing her limp hand on the bronze knob, she turned, turned, turned…

Locked.

Maybe those dreams were real. Maybe she was being held captive in this place. Maybe the only way to escape was to make a run for it.

Gabrielle’s heart raced. An bead of sweat broke at the small of her back. Using the chair for support, she made her way across the room as quickly as her useless muscles would let her. Climbing onto the bed, she sat on her knees with both hands wrapped around the iron headboard.

The window was old. Lead glass. The kind that opened up rather than out or to the side. Oh god, could her weak arms handle this? Only one way to find out: she slipped her fingers under the moon-shaped grips.

“Three, two, one…”

She tried pushing, but her body declined. The window didn’t budge. What a weird feeling, knowing her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. She’d carried two cans of paint home last week and now she couldn’t even lift a window.

Wait—was it locked?

No. There were locks, but she could see that they were unlatched.

Tracing her finger along the windowsill, Gabrielle noticed that she couldn’t get her fingernail in the gap that should have been between the casing and the window itself. They’d been painted together, over the years.

She was trapped.

Just my luck.

The wooden door moaned, and Gabrielle’s synapses kicked into gear. She snapped her head around so fast her spine made a clicking sound. She looked up, to where a face might appear behind the door, but saw nothing.

“Who’s there?” she asked, in a panic. She had no underwear on beneath her nightgown, and the cotton was thin enough to see through. “Who is it?”

“Ooo. Ooo. Ooo?”

Gabrielle clasped her hand to her heart as she spotted the monkey at her bedside. “Oh my god!”

Hopping up on the chair beside the bed, he extended a shiny pink hand. “Eee. Eee. Ooo?”

He was real. All those dreams, all those encounters, that tiny white room… it was all real?

Gabrielle slumped against the headboard as the monkey took her hand and tugged.

“I don’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t… no, I can’t handle this, Samuel.”

He looked up into her face, and for a second she worried he would slap her because she’d confused the monkeys again. But there was a striking amount of care in his face as he tugged her hand.

Her body slumped as she eased toward the edge of the bed. “What now?”

He held her hand to his cheek, and it reminded her of the beast. The beast is real. All that stuff… it really happened! Then Samuel turned his head and nuzzled her palm. Gabrielle couldn’t help giggling.

“Don’t make me laugh! I have to pee.”

Nodding as if to say, “I know,” he said, “Eee! Eee! Eee!” and pulled her toward the open door. If that was a hallway out there, it was an exceptionally dark one.

Gabrielle gulped as the monkey butler led her over the threshold.

“What fresh hell is this?” Gabrielle asked, as her eyes latched on to a sliver of light.

A lamp clicked on, and Gabrielle screamed as a grotesque face showed itself bathed in the subtle light. Her heart pounded and she tried to flee, except her legs were barely supporting her as it was and, anyway, where could she go?

“Ooo. Ooo. Eee?”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s only you, Gerard.”

Laughing without making a sound, he moved his little shoulders up and down in an exaggerated show of mirth.

“You got me,” she said. “I almost peed myself.”

Climbing down from the large wooden dresser, Gerard took the hand Samuel wasn’t already holding.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as they led her into the relative darkness of a small alcove with a little door.

“Eee! Eee! Eee!” Samuel pointed up the wall, and she trusted him enough to touch the tile. It felt cool and clean, and when she traced her fingers across it she found a button and pushed.

The lights popped on and the monkeys left her alone, closing the door on their way out.

A bathroom.

Inexplicable tears filled her eyes as she lifted her night dress and fell down on the lav. She’d never been so happy to see a toilet, even if it was a very old-looking one. It even had that English-style pull above it to flush. She’d never seen one in real life, only on TV. She didn’t think they even existed in this country.

As she relieved herself, Gabrielle glanced down at her bare legs. She’d waxed fairly recently, so at least they weren’t hairy after days of no shaving—how long have I been here?—but that wasn’t really her focus. The red marks, the bruising where she’d been secured to her stirrups—that’s what caught her eye.

Everything felt real when she saw the physical marks her captors had left on her body. Look how dark that bruising was, how extensive. She touched her leg and a bolt of pain ran through her like lightning.

She unbuttoned her fancy cotton sleeves and rolled them up. They wouldn’t stay rolled for long because of all the lace, but when she looked hard she realized she could see her bruising through the cotton.

Wasn’t the first rule of medicine do no harm? Whoever this Mme de Villeneuve was, she was certainly no doctor. And, if she was a doctor, she should have her license revoked.

Maybe it already had been. Maybe that’s why Gabrielle hadn’t found Loindici Manor online.

The monkeys knocked at the bathroom door and squealed impatiently. Gabrielle rushed to wash her hands. No sink? Okay. She dipped them the small tub of water sitting on a wooden pedestal. The mirror above it was so degraded she couldn’t see herself properly, so she gave up primping and opened the door to see what Samuel and Gerard were after.

“What are you two so excited about?” she asked as they each raised a hand.

She let them guide her through the dark room. When she’d first come in, she’d been so blinded by the need to relieve herself that she hadn’t noticed the luxuriant beauty of the space. The walls were curved, making the room perfectly round. She’d never seen anything like it.

“What is this place?” she asked, in awe.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the low light, she could make out the sparkle of gems and the lustre of fine fabrics. Her heart welled as she took in the fantastic sight of gorgeous gowns hanging on racks and over furniture pieces, of shimmering necklaces strewn carelessly about.

Samuel and Gerard screeched jubilantly as they escorted her to a round table in the middle of the room. There were only two chairs, and she sat in one while Gerard jumped up on the other. Plucking a note from the table, he handed it to her over heaps of pearls and gold.

“What is it?” Her hand trembled as she took the small envelope from him.

“Eee! Eee! Eee!” he replied, pointing as if to say, “Open it up and see!”

Gabrielle turned the envelope over. It was sealed with red wax. She tried not to tear it, but there was no other way. Lifting the flap, she pulled out a folded piece of paper and struggled to read Madame’s strange calligraphic writing.

“What does this say?” she asked, not that the monkeys would be much help. Unless they could read.

Could they read?

Poking her hip, Samuel said, “Ooo. Eee. Eee!” He motioned to the dress rack.

“Am I supposed to choose one?”

Gerard reached across the table to tap the note with his finger. “Eee! Eee! Eee!”

Read! Read! Read!

“I know. I’m trying. This writing is hard to understand.” She squinted, and the scribbles began forming themselves into words.

“Suzanne,” Gabrielle read. “Please pick out a gown to your talking… no, that’s not right… to your liking. I have or…ganza? No, wait, organized. I have organized a special date for you tonight. The monkeys will help.”

Gabrielle looked from Gerard to Samuel. “I have a date? Who’s it with?”

Samuel rolled his eyes. Gerard did as well, crossing his arms to punctuate his impatience.

“What?” she asked. “Is that a silly question?”

The monkey butlers nodded.

“It’s not with Mme de Villeneuve, I hope.”

Tossing their little heads back, they laughed.

Gabrielle’s belly flip-flopped. “It’s with the beast, then. My date’s with the beast?”

Samuel looked at Gerard and Gerard looked at Samuel, and then they both looked at Gabrielle and nodded.

Her heart had one thing to say, but her mind disagreed completely. She didn’t know why, but she’d developed an odd attachment to this man… to the beast.

And yet the last time she’d seen him, he’d shoved a needle in her neck. Not exactly a kind and caring act. But what did she expect? After all, he’d been put in that beast mask for a reason. He was supposed to stand for her—well, for Suzanne’s—unhinged desires.

“He wouldn’t… I mean… he’s not going to hurt me, is he?”

Samuel curled his lip slowly. Gerard did nothing.

“Do you know him? Who is he?”

Why was she asking the monkeys? They weren’t going to answer. Anyway, Gerard and Samuel were in Madame’s employ as much as the beast was. They weren’t going to rat him out even if he was pure evil.

Gabrielle rose from her chair, forgetting how weak her legs had gone. She tumbled down, catching herself on the corner of the table, then directed her bum back into her seat. “How long am I going to feel like this? My muscles won’t do what I tell them to.”

The monkeys gazed at her sympathetically. Samuel took one hand and massaged it with his long, waxy fingers. When he moved up her arm, Gabrielle screamed, shaking him off. He tumbled across the room like an acrobat, coming to rest against the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry! Oh, I’m so sorry, Samuel. I didn’t mean to strike you, just my arm…” Rolling up her sleeve to reveal the deep bruising, she said, “It hurts. A lot.”

Samuel picked himself up and warily crossed the room to inspect her wound.

“I’m so sorry.”

He looked at her sympathetically, and nodded.

“So,” she said, trying to lift the mood. “I’m supposed to pick out a dress, am I?”

The monkeys jumped into action, climbing the rack and holding up one dress after another.

A low-cut satin gown?

“No. I want something that’ll cover my bruises.”

Samuel picked another sleeveless number and dropped it to the floor without awaiting Gabrielle’s response. Gerard did the same.

“Wow,” Gabrielle said. “You guys really get me. You listen and you know what I’m saying.”

“Eee! Eee! Eee!” Of course we do! Now back to the task at hand.

Gerard held up a white dress that gleamed with crystal beading. It had a scalloped scoop neck and lovely long sleeves, which were as intricately beaded as the bodice. She had to admit, it was a gorgeous gown. Samuel obviously thought so too, because he stood on the dress rack and applauded.

“Guys, don’t be silly. That’s a wedding gown. I can’t wear that on a first date. The beast’ll run a mile!”

Gerard shook it as if to ask, “How often do you get the chance to wear a gown like this?”

“I know,” she said. “But no, I can’t wear white. I don’t want to wear white. What else have we got?”

Samuel shrugged, as if to say, “Suit yourself, lady.”

A smile bled across Gabrielle’s lips as he held up an atrocious orange crepe dress. “That is wrong for sooo many reasons!”

Samuel shook his head as if to say, “Would you quit being so difficult?”

“I’m sorry.” Gabrielle giggled as the ugly dress fluttered to the floor. “I’ll pick something, I swear. What else have you got?”

Gerard started to lift one gown, but faltered. It must have been too heavy for the little monkey. He needed Samuel’s help to hold it up.

“Wow. That is… wow!”

The monkey butlers smiled with pride as they showcased a dark blue gown with a Victorian bodice. It had a cream-coloured lace overlay that would cover her arms. That and the huge, luxurious skirting made it pretty much perfect.

“What material is that?” She leaned far enough forward to take the heavy fabric between her thumb and fingers. “Is it silk, do you think? Raw silk? Wow, it’s so beautiful. Reminds me of a cross between Scarlet O’Hara and Downton Abbey. Don’t you think?”

The monkey butlers gazed at her, wide-eyed.

“You don’t get to watch much TV around here, huh?” Cocking her head, Gabrielle asked, “What do you guys do for fun? Do you ever get to be just… monkeys? Do you ever get to play?”

They didn’t answer, of course, and she couldn’t read the looks on their faces, so she turned her attention back to the dress. “Do you think it’ll fit me? Only one way to find out, I guess.”

Pressing her palms down on the table, Gabrielle eased her weight forward and heaved herself toward the dress. Samuel and Gerard dropped it to the floor so she could step into the middle.

“I guess I need to take off this nightgown, huh?” Gabrielle laughed nervously as the monkeys swung down from the dress rack. “Feels a little weird, you know, the idea of getting undressed in front of you two. Which is stupid, I know, since you’ve seen me naked before.”

Standing on either side of the dress, the monkeys covered their eyes with both hands.

Gabrielle’s heart sobbed a little. “Oh, you guys! You are so sweet. I’ll tell you when you can look.”

When Gabrielle lifted the cotton night dress over her head, she caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. The sight of her naked body made her feel odd and uncomfortable. Look at those bruises! How could you have let this happen to yourself? Why didn’t you fight back when he attacked you? Or when she did?

“I couldn’t fight back,” Gabrielle whispered at her reflection. “You know I couldn’t. Don’t be so mean to me.”

Why are you just standing there? This is your chance! The monkeys aren’t looking, so make your escape!

“There’s nowhere to go.”

You’re making excuses. Get out!

“I don’t know where.”

Find a door!

Gabrielle teetered around in a full circle. “There isn’t a door in here.”

Then how did the monkeys get in?

“Through the heating vents? I don’t know!”

You’re making excuses.

“No I’m not!”

Samuel parted his fingers to look at her. “Ooo. Ooo. Ooo?” Who are you talking to?

“The voices in my head,” Gabrielle muttered as she bent her knees. Reaching into the gown’s lacy sleeves, she pulled it to her naked chest. The heavy silk bodice felt cold against her nipples and she shivered. “Not sure how I’m going to stand in this thing. My legs are so wobbly.”

“Eee! Eee! Eee!” Sit! Sit! Sit! Samuel brought her a low ottoman and helped her sit while Gerard set one of the chairs behind her. He jumped up and started yanking cords, closing the open back of her gown.

While Gerard dressed her, Simon leapt into her lap, making her laugh as he clung to her thighs with his naked toes. “What are you doing, silly monkey?”

He held up a necklace, beaming like a five-year-old, supremely pleased with himself.

When the crystal gemstone sparkled in the dim light, Gabrielle gasped. “What is this thing? Not a diamond, I hope.”

Grinning ear to ear, Samuel nodded.

“Can’t be. It’s huge.” She touched the cool stone, touched the warm gold backing. “A diamond this size would have to be worth… I don’t even know how much!”

Leaning forward, Samuel hooked the jewel around her neck. When Gerard finished cinching her into the heavy gown, she grasped the table and stood up. Her knees quaked under the weight of the silk dress, but when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her spirit soared.

“Wow,” she said. “I look… I look… wow!”

If the gem sitting against her chest wasn’t a real diamond, it certainly shone like one. And the dress! It pushed up her breasts to a spectacular degree and curved out at the hips, making her body look every bit as luscious as the fabric. She could feel that she’d lost weight over the past few days, considering she’d barely eaten a thing, but her body still curved in all the right places.

Her stomach chose just that moment to gurgled, and she covered it sheepishly with her hand. “Oh man, I just got really hungry. Is there anything to eat around here?”

Samuel pointed to his head, and then to hers.

“I don’t get it. You want me to eat… what?”

Samuel shook his head in exasperation.

“What? I’m sorry! I don’t understand.” And then it occurred to her that he was referring to her hair, which stuck up in every direction. It was the one thing that didn’t look prim and refined. “Oh, I get it. You want me to work on my hair?”

Flicking his finger over his head like he was saying “Eureka,” Samuel led her to the dimly lit mirror above the low dresser. The dresser itself was covered with a long sheet of lace. On top of that, a silver brush and comb set with inlaid gemstones sat alongside antique hairpins and clips.

Leaning her weight against the solid dresser, Gabrielle fingered the accessories. “This stuff is beautiful. Whose is it?”

Gerard tapped her left hand, which hung at her side, and then pressed one finger against it, as if to say, “Yours. All this is yours.”

Gabrielle wasn’t sure how to respond. “But whose was it before? Where did it come from?”

Both monkeys looked away, furrowing their brows, and yet trying very transparently to act casual. Gabrielle had always thought it was only humans who could obfuscate, but obviously monkeys could do it too. Were they Madame’s clothes, she wondered? But no, they were too old, and they came in so many different sizes and styles. It seemed like a cross-section of women’s formal attire since the turn of the last century, and even before. Since the 1800s, at least.

Whose dress am I wearing?

Gabrielle picked up the comb. Was it ivory? Wow, must be old. There’d been a moratorium on ivory since… well, probably since before she was born. A good long time, for sure.

She ran it through her hair, then played with the clips and hair pins until everything agreed to stay put. Cocking her head, she looked herself in the eye and smiled. “What do you think, guys? Do I look good or what?”

When she found them in the mirror’s dull reflection, she realized they were both cleaning the room—tossing gowns on the rack and then moving a Japanese room divider in front of it, placing jewels in antique cases, tidying every surface quick, quick, quick.

“What’s going on?” she asked, but they ignored her and carried on tidying. “Do you want help with anything? Want me to… I don’t know…”

Gabrielle turned her attention to the mirror, wondering if she should find a cloth and remove the fine layer of dust covering its surface. And then a memory of the subterranean cell struck her like a punch in the gut. Mme de Villeneuve had been watching through the mirror. Was she watching through this one now?

A nauseating dizziness spiralled through Gabrielle’s gut as she edged to the side of the dresser. There were a good two inches between the mirror and the wall. She felt behind it with her fingers, just to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the eye. Nothing there. It was just a normal mirror.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Gabrielle spun around, resting the bustle of her dress against the dresser. Samuel and Gerard stopped moving simultaneously and looked to the bookshelf, as though they were hearing something she wasn’t. Moments later, the shelves began to rattle and the books trembled, threatening to jump.

“What’s happening?” Gabrielle asked the monkeys. “Is it an earthquake?”

The floorboards trembled as the entire wooden shelf inched forward like a door. The lamp at her side flickered as a misty haze filled the room. Gabrielle dug her nails into the dresser. She couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t breathe. She ached to know what was emerging from the haze, but at the same time she was afraid to find out.

And then from the darkness, he emerged.

The beast unchained…