If Morning Never Comes - Episode Six
If Morning Never Comes - Episode Six
In Which: Charles Encounters the Raines Family
Welcome to “If Morning Never Comes,” a serial adventure from and proudly published by . If this is your first time, catch up before you begin this chapter:
Episode One | In Which: We Meet the Ashley Family
Episode Two | In Which: Charles Makes A Grisly Discovery
Episode Three | In Which: The Subject of Vampires is Introduced
Episode Four | In Which: Charles Encounters a Fight, a Girl, and an Invitation
Episode Five | In Which: We Arrive at a Mysterious Manor
Please enjoy!
~ The Editor
Edgar Raines held the attention of the room. No one whispered or turned to gauge anyone else’s reaction. He stood tall, chin up as he appraised his guests. The fire popped and flared. Behind him, the hallway was in shadow.
The host strode into the dining room, his feet making no noise on the ornate carpet of red and gold. His hands were at his side, then he extended them to the room as he smiled another icy smile and began to speak.
“Welcome. We are humbled that so many of our estimable neighbors have chosen to grace us with their presence tonight. I fear that until now, we have been less than hospitable.”
He walked to the fireplace and stood beneath the portrait. Charles was close enough to touch him.
“It is trying to leave behind all that one has ever known for a new beginning. At first, I worried that we had made a mistake by coming here. But now I feel as though I had come home. As though we have made this journey before. Everything is so,” he paused and his thin lips spread in the most surreptitious of smiles, “familiar. The time is right. We have nothing to fear here.”
Charles studied the man. Edgar Raines was older than him, perhaps thirty. His hair shone from pomade, not a strand out of place. His burnsides reached just past the end of his ear, and they were trimmed close in perfect symmetry. The blackness of his clothing, he now noticed, was broken by the faintest of gray patterns twisting and writhing all across the man’s body. He was struck by how very pale he was. And yet he did not appear weak. On the contrary, the intensity of his gaze spoke of a character that would brook no argument and would not hesitate to crush the slightest opposition.
But the room was not about to oppose him. Charles looked at his fellow dinner guests. Ordinarily a prattling bunch, no one spoke a word. They were not offended at the man’s previous lack of hospitality, nor his rather obtuse apology. Even Charity was quiet. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape. Next to her stood her sister. Eleanor’s countenance bore a look Charles had never seen from her before. The rest of the room was fascinated by Mr. Raines. Eleanor was overcome. Her neck trembled and her delicate cheeks were flushed. Her lips parted gently.
Edgar Raines began to walk along the gathered crowd, making his way slowly down the line. He spoke more words of welcome, but as he passed Herr Stryker, Charles heard the German hiss under his breath. No one could have heard it but the young Mr. Ashley. He looked at the old man. Stryker met his gaze. In that fraction of a second Charles saw the age fall from the bristling face, eyes full of sad determination. He quickly glanced back to watch their host taking slow steps around the room. Only Stryker seemed unmoved by the mesmerizing display.
As Raines neared the end of the line he said, “And no doubt this night shall be only the beginning of our never-ending friendship.” He slowed and stopped in front of Eleanor. He was close enough to kiss her. “Our eternal love,” he finished.
Charles blinked his eyes and let his champagne drop to his side. Raines took Eleanor’s soft hand in his gloved fingers and lifted it gently to his lips. As he did, Eleanor drew breath and closed her eyes. It was only a moment, and then he stepped away. But Eleanor stared after him, breathing deeply. Her soft gasps were the only sound.
Charles looked around the room. The man truly held them all spellbound. He took a drink from his champagne and squared to face him. How dare he single out his sister that way? He hoped his posture would communicate his displeasure without interrupting.
But Edgar Raines paid him no heed. He returned to his place by the entrance and turned around with an expansive grin.
“Now, my friends. Beloved fellow-travelers to the grave, I would like to present to you my dearest treasure in all the weary world.”
Charles had had about enough of this arrogant dandy. He might fool everyone else with his dashing demeanor, but Charles was not so easily deceived. He would catch him alone tonight. Perhaps he would challenge him for his impudence. That was his place as the master of Ashwood, was it not?
But then the man in black said, “Ladies and gentlemen: my sister, Amelia Raines.”
All other thoughts were driven from Charles’ mind as the most stunning woman he had ever seen glided out of the shadows and into the firelight.
Truly she was a celestial beauty. Long golden curls were styled atop her head, falling down her back. Her face shone, white alabaster with no hint of rosy blush. Her eyes were bright; her lips full and red, with a smile of amusement. Here was a woman aware of her allure and in full possession of her charms.
She wore a maroon gown, flaring only a little beneath her slight waist. The dress fell past her long neck, hinting at a woman’s full figure. As she stepped to her brother and allowed him to kiss her bare hand, Charles spied her feet peeking from beneath her skirts as she walked.
He caught his own breath as she spoke, “Thank you. You are all too kind.” She looked at her brother and beamed that same smile at the room. Her perfect teeth flashed as they stood out sharp against her red lips.
Edgar spoke again, raising his voice a little, “And now, my friends! Let us break bread in sweet communion together.” Amelia laughed – a high, glittering giggle that lingered in the air – at her brother’s naughty joke.
It took a moment for the party to shake themselves free and take their seats. There would be no more reproach for the Raines’s failure to enter society before today. Charles found his seat, next to an old man with a monocle and his mother. He collapsed into the chair, breathless.
He had torn away his eyes from the angelic Miss Raines with the greatest difficulty. Now all that was within him begged to be allowed but one more look, one more moment to take in this Venus before she ascended again. Charles drained his third champagne glass and tried to compose himself.
He barely tasted the food or drink. He kept looking at the gorgeous creature seated near the table’s head. Every time she smiled, he felt his stomach turn over. The redness of her mouth, the way her eyes narrowed as she smiled, almost a smirk, at every compliment aimed her way. Already the men of the room were finding excuses to come and introduce themselves; supplicants come to offer sacrifices to the goddess. Charles thought of doing the same, but he couldn’t. He would not be just the next in a long line of mindless suitors.
Besides, he knew he had nothing to offer this vision. What, would he fascinate her with his stories of seedy boxing matches and quarrels with his mother? He was no man for her. He was just a boy. A boy who had missed the train to manhood. The courses came and went and he found himself coming to the end of yet another glass of wine. Miss Raines’s laughter carried to where he sat. His head swam as he sat there drinking and sinking further into gloom.
After dinner, Mr. Raines stood and announced the commencement of further festivities. The party rose and made their way through large double doors, opened by unseen servants, into the dance hall. Charles struggled to keep his feet in order as he walked. The hall had vaulted ceilings, reaching impossibly high above the dance floor. A small ensemble played on a dais at the opposite end of the door, beneath a grand stained-glass window. All around the room was a balcony where gargoyles lurked, observing the revelry down below. Beneath the balcony were many supporting pillars. Charles was glad for the support they gave him.
The dances began as the musicians played a lively tune in a minor key. The floor filled up, but Charles did not want to dance. He did not want to watch. He could not bear to see Amelia Raines with anyone else. He focused instead on the room itself.
Enormous paintings stretched from floor to ceiling, some almost as wide as the wall itself. The depictions were eerie. The one before Charles was in a style unfamiliar to him. It was hard to make out the exact image, the paint smearing and smudging to obscure what the artist had intended to depict. Charles thought he could see great creatures and flashing swords, but perhaps that was just his head swimming. The pillar on which he leaned bore carved chimeras and various other grotesques. As the song ended to polite applause he turned back to the floor. Eleanor was making a curtsy to Edgar Raines as he bowed following their dance.
Charles was enraged, the champagne doing its work to boil his blood. She was not his to dance with. Not his dear, demure sister. Charles felt his body lurch towards them, but he stopped as he saw Amelia Raines squeezing the hands of her last partner and turning towards her next with another of those knowing smiles. For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw her catch his eye and wink. He felt his melancholy return and he took another drink from a passing servant in livery.
He swallowed half the flute in one go and then shook his head to clear the buzzing. He wanted to go home. This place – that smell. And everything was dim, dark, in shadow. The room spun in slow revolutions as he returned to the haze of the bloody painting. He closed his eyes and leaned against the pillar. In a moment of clarity, he hated himself for drinking so much.
“Charles?”
He heard the lilting voice and opened his eyes. His vision was alternating from single to double, but there was no mistaking it. There she was.
His lips felt thick, but he managed, “Hello, Genevieve.”
Jenny smiled and blushed. Her hair was pinned to fall in looping rings to her neck, on top of which was a small veil and in it a large white rose. Somewhere in Charles’ muddled head someone was screaming at him to be a gentleman and not ruin the moment he had been waiting for, but the intoxication of the wine, the party and Miss Amelia Raines was too much for him. He said nothing.
She looked down and held the sides of her gown, smoothing it and spreading it out to show it off. “Do you like my dress?” she asked. It was deep blue, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Her neck was graced with a simple black band with a single pearl.
Charles nodded and hummed. “Hmm, yes very nice.” His sibilants were heavy, like a bee buzzing. He took a sip to steady himself. He pointed to the blond tresses fluttering on the dance floor. “Have you seen her dress?”
Jenny’s smile faltered, “Miss Raines?”
Charles nodded. He looked at Amelia for another moment then looked back to Jenny, who was wringing a finger in her other hand. Suddenly he felt angry with her. If she was there to meet him, why couldn’t she look more like that? More like her? Surely it could not be that hard to make a little effort. He scoffed but said nothing.
Jenny’s forehead wore a frown, but she gamely spoke up again, “I was really very sorry to miss the supper. I’m sure it was lovely.”
Charles hummed again, nodding. He answered, and noticed he was speaking like his servant Tom. Wasn’t that curious? “Here now, what took you so long, anyway?”
Jenny did not react to his strange accent, “Oh. It was my father. He really...he’s not well, you know. It’s difficult to tell sometimes whether he should stay at home or not.”
Charles hummed and drank. The room was filled with applause again as the dance ended. Charles deliberately kept his eyes away from the dance floor. He did not care to see who Amelia Raines would partner with next. Instead he looked over Jenny’s head at the painting. He pointed with his elbow as he finished his glass. “What do you think that looks like?”
Jenny looked inquisitive at the change of subject, but she looked at the canvas. She shook her head. “I really don’t know, Charles. What is it?”
Charles shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t know. Looks like a monster to me.”
“A monster? Charles, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Charles did not answer, because at just that moment, he felt a hand on his arm. “Excuse me, Mr. Ashley?”
He turned around and his heart stopped. There, eyes at his level and locked on his, was Amelia Raines. She was smiling with those long, straight teeth. He could not speak. He had to catch his breath.
Her eyes squinted as she smiled deeper. “Are you going to make me wait all night, Mr. Ashley?” she asked.
Her hand was extended. Her fingers were long, her nails painted red. She was asking him to dance. Charles found his wind and his voice and took her hand with a desperate, “Yes.”
As they walked to the dance floor, Miss Raines called over her shoulder, “You don’t mind, do you, darling?” Jenny was left alone.
The band struck up a sinister tune. It ebbed and flowed like a wave as Charles took Amelia’s hands. This was the infamous waltz he had heard of. He had never had the temerity to actually dance to it. He was caught up in the thrill of the moment. Amelia Raines danced with self-assurance. She never broke eye contact. Her lips were as red as the blood from the mutilated beast he had seen on the moor.
The room spun around him. It was all he could do to stay on his feet. And yet he desperately wanted to speak to his angel. He tried once, but only managed, “Thank you.”
At this, Amelia Raines hummed and giggled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Ashley. How do you like my house?”
Charles glanced upward at a tortured stone figure leaning from the balcony with its tongue out. “It’s lovely, Miss Raines.”
She looked as though she were suppressing another laugh as she spun beneath his arm. “Do you really think so?”
In a moment of more sobriety, Charles might have held back what he said next. He thought of the grotesque carvings on the wall and the dark aesthetic of the room, “Well, it is a little gruesome, isn’t it?”
She threw back her head, exposing her white neck and laughed her musical song. “You’re really very drunk, aren’t you?”
Charles felt his face flush. But Miss Raines continued.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Ashley, we are not insulted.” Her eyes raised to the cathedral ceiling and the chimeric guardians of the dance hall. “I take personal delight in the dreadful and the nightmarish. I find it all,” she spun to the bouncing melody again, “exhilarating. Don’t you?”
Charles nodded, still embarrassed. He tried to focus on keeping his balance. They stepped and spun together. Amelia Raines maintained eye contact.
“You’re not much for conversation, are you Charles?”
Charles was stirred once again by the woman’s forward demeanor. He would never have dreamt of calling her by her Christian name, and yet she had done it before he had barely spoken a coherent sentence to the woman. He was lost in her eyes.
“I...I suppose I’m a bit overwhelmed, Miss Raines.”
“Really?” she teased. “And why is that? Mr. Ashley?” The way she paused in between each phrase made everything around them seem to accelerate as they slowed to a standstill. The incense-like smell of the house came in a wave.
Charles could hardly feel his fingertips. Everything except her face was a blur, hazy like the painting on the wall. He answered, “It’s you, Miss.”
Her smile shifted to a look of modesty. Or was it triumph? She leaned close to Charles and whispered in his ear, “What about me, Charles?”
Charles felt his breathing grow deeper. His heart quickened its pace. He closed his eyes. He could smell the perfume in the curls of her hair. It was like the incense of the house, but sweeter. Sweet enough to make a man sick.
“Everything,” he whispered, the wine loosening his tongue. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Everything I need.“
Her breathy voice, “You need me, Charles?”
Charles nodded. He felt the woman lean her head gently against his shoulder. All at once, she was soft and fragile. They slowed in their dance.
“I need you, Charles Ashley.”
His head swam, but Charles couldn’t have comprehended that sentence if he had been as sober as the noonday. Their waltz came to a stop. They stood on the dance floor in what had become an embrace.
“What did you say?” he managed.
She only said, “Charles,” in a breath, barely a whisper.
He didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to reply, but then he stopped. Just beyond them danced his sister Eleanor with the black-suited Edgar Raines. Their eyes were locked as they spun slowly. But as they passed, Edgar raised his eyes to Charles. They bored into him, furious and imperious. Edgar Raines gave him a ferocious smile just for a moment. The points of his teeth glinted. Then the couple spun again in time with the music and Charles could see them no more.
He broke out of his reverie. He pulled back from Amelia. She looked at him, brow furrowed.
“What is it?”
Charles looked around, trying to see his sister and her insidious partner, but the floor seemed to be rising up underneath him.
“I’m sorry, Miss Raines, I just–“
Charles staggered back, the couples around him stopping to look at him.
“Oh,” he mumbled. “Oh no.”
Countless blotches merged into one incoherent blur before his eyes. The smell of the manor bore down on him like a heavy blanket. He was falling. The last thing he remembered was the face of a mocking gargoyle, leering at him from the balcony above.
Oh dear, what will happen to poor Charles now? Can’t wait!