Pillage, Page 4

  The house was made of brown stone, and on each side of the mansion a tall bulb-shaped turret rose into the air like a tethered balloon. Wicked and mysterious-looking gargoyles

  circled each turret and lined the stone railing of the balcony. Centered on the very top of the mansion was a round, window-lined room capped by a large copper dome.

  The car pulled around a spectacular fountain shaped like two huge serpents wrapped together. Water shot from their stone mouths in long strands, looking like wet forked tongues. We drove through a large breezeway to a back door that easily dwarfed every front door I had ever seen. It was obvious my uncle wasn’t just wealthy; he was two steps beyond filthy, stinking rich.

  I smiled, feeling happy for the first time in weeks.

  Thomas stopped the car and got out. He shuffled around the car and up the steps to the back door of the manor. I had expected him to help me get my luggage, but he only popped the trunk.

  “Okay,” I said to myself, stepping out of the car and onto the brick drive.

  I looked up and marveled at the sheer height of the home. I felt like a toy action figure outside a playhouse. I half expected a huge hand to reach down and begin moving me around. I could see the gargoyles way up above, hanging out over the edge of the balcony, glaring down at me.

  I got my luggage out of the trunk and stood there. Thomas appeared at the door and told me to hurry and come inside. I climbed the seven steps and entered. I shut the door behind me.

  Inside, the walls were a dull blue. The ceiling was carved with what looked to be a map of the world. I was in a large hallway that stretched at least fifty feet before turning a corner. To my right was a square doorway that opened into an enormous kitchen. I could see a fire burning in a spacious fireplace and a large wooden cutting block covered with dead birds. I wondered if they had been shot like the others I had seen.

  Thomas clapped.

  A woman with a lazy right eye and well-stained apron crawled out from a far corner of the kitchen and stared Thomas down with her one straight eye. She wasn’t super fat, but she was completely padded, so much so that I felt she would have been perfectly unhurt if she were to be dropped from a six foot tall tower.

  “Did you clap at me?” she asked Thomas with disdain.

  “I wanted you to meet—”

  “You clap at horses. Or after a decent show,” she snipped. “This house has long since lost the opportunity to act snooty.”

  “The boy is—” Thomas tried to say.

  “I can see that the boy’s here,” she simmered. “And thanks to you, he thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to clap for my attention.”

  “Sorry, Millie,” Thomas tried.

  “Sorry?” Millie tisked, wiping her hands on her apron and turning her attention to me. “So. You’re Francine’s boy?”

  “I am.”

  Millie looked me up and down like I was a piece of abstract art. She cocked her head and closed her bad eye.

  “Smile for me,” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Smile for me,” she insisted.

  I smiled as wide as I could.

  “There it is!” she said happily, clapping her own hands. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a Phillips’ smile—blinding if done right.”

  “Thanks,” I said, confused, but liking her all the same.

  “Where are the others?” Thomas asked, trying to sound dignified again.

  “How should I know?” Millie glared at him with both eyes. “Why don’t you go clapping for them?”

  Thomas stepped to a long rope that hung against the wall just inside the kitchen door. He pulled on it four times causing bells to ring throughout the house.

  I thought about informing him that there were more sophisticated ways of communicating these days, but Thomas rang the bells with such authority that I didn’t dare say anything.

  In fact no one said anything. Thomas and Millie and I simply stood there in silence until I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Is there a bathroom?”

  “More than thirty of them,” Millie said proudly.

  “I only need one.”

  “Wait a moment,” Thomas insisted. “Once you meet the staff you can go.”

  I couldn’t wait to meet the staff.

  Two minutes later a young woman with short hair and a shorter apron came walking quickly around the corner. The second she caught sight of me she smiled wide.

  “Is this Beck?” she asked, walking right up to me and putting her arm around me.

  “Of course,” Millie said.

  “Welcome,” she smiled, looking at me like I was a horse she was thinking of buying. “I’m Wane.”

  “Really?” I asked without thinking.

  “My father never really wanted children,” she explained. “His feelings waned even more after my birth.”

  “Oh,” I said, not understanding at all.

  Wane smiled. “Look it up in the dictionary,” she said kindly. “It’ll make more sense then.”

  I had never used a dictionary in my entire life, but now I felt compelled to start.

  “Wane will look after you,” Thomas said.

  “I will?” she questioned.

  Thomas gave her a look that could have turned helium to stone.

  “Of course I will,” she agreed. “I’ve already contacted your school.”

  “School,” I complained.

  “It’s in Kingsplot and you’ll be expected to go,” Millie spoke up. “You can’t just spend your days roaming the mansion.”

  That was exactly what I wanted to do.

  “Show him to his room,” Thomas said to Wane. “Millie will bring him something to eat later.”

  “I will?” Millie complained, sounding like an older version of Wane. “Why not? Send the aged woman up the stairs.”

  They obviously needed to get together to work out who did what to me when. Thomas and Millie began to argue about age and responsibility while Wane grabbed my suitcase and began to walk away. It seemed like a good idea to follow her. We stepped through the hall and into what looked to be another kitchen. This kitchen however was cold and dead, as if no one had cooked anything in it in sometime. Once through the second kitchen, we entered a wide foyer with stairs that climbed up both sides of the walls.

  “This isn’t the main floor,” Wane said informatively. “This floor has the kitchens and the servant’s quarters.”

  The walls and ceilings were ornate and rich looking, but the rest of the floor was empty. There were no chairs or pictures or decorations of any kind. I figured it was because it was the servant’s floor, but as we ascended the stairs to the main floor I could see that it too was incredibly bare and void of furniture. I wished Mr. Claude had had the sense to pack my skateboard so I could skate around the house.

  “It seems empty,” I said.

  “Your uncle has sold many of the furnishings,” Wane said.

  “It looks like he sold them all,” I said innocently.

  “I wouldn’t mention that to him,” she said. “He’s touchy about it. This is the main floor. You’re welcome to spend time here, but I suggest that if a door is locked you leave it be.”

  It was such a stupid thing to say to a bored fifteen-year-old.

  “Come on,” she insisted.

  We climbed another set of stairs, this one incredibly more lavish than the last. The rail was covered with intricately carved leaves and branches and the edge of each step was gold. The stairs took us to the third floor. I was surprised to see a few pieces of furniture hulking under dusty white sheets.

  The entire house was gloomy and dark. The only light came from the hundreds of undressed windows along the walls. I couldn’t see a lamp anywhere.

  I followed Wane down a mustard-colored hall to a large bedroom that faced the front of the house. The front corner room had large windows on two of its walls. A big, fancy, high bed stood against the back wall and two thick rugs lay on the wood floor. Near one window sat a
soft-looking chair and a small, square table with a lamp on it. I could also see two closet doors.

  “This is your room,” Wane said kindly, setting down my suitcase by the door. “Kinda lonely, but it should stay warm enough. There’s a bathroom right across the hall.”

  “Who else lives on this floor?” I asked nervously.

  “No one.”

  “Just me?” I panicked bravely, not exactly comfortable with occupying an entire creepy floor by myself. “Where’s my uncle?”

  Wane looked around cautiously and then closed the door, trapping both of us in the room.

  “Listen,” she whispered. “I know from what Millie’s been telling me that you’ve had a bit of a rough spot but there are a few things you should be careful of while you’re here. Your uncle will call for you when he wants to. Understand? He’s best not bothered. Lately he seems even more confused than usual. You’re welcome to wander the house, but the top floor is off limits. Your uncle resides above it in the dome, and he doesn’t like surprises. Also, as I’ve said, leave locked doors locked. You’ll be perfectly safe right here. Millie will bring you food and collect your laundry and Thomas will take you where you need to go. You can spend time outside, but there’s no going behind the mansion. Understand?”

  “Why?” I had to ask.

  “There’s nothing back there but unmanaged landscape,” Wane answered. “Scott, the gardener, can barely keep up with the front. You could hurt yourself or get lost.”

  “Lost?” I laughed.

  “Your uncle’s property goes on for miles,” Wane said harshly. “There have been more than a couple of people who have wandered off and never made it back.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Wane looked at me in such a way that I no longer doubted her sincerity.

  “Is there a TV?” I asked, looking around the sparse room.

  “No,” she said quickly.

  “No TV?” I asked, as panicked about that as having to stay here alone.

  “I’ll see if I can find you one,” Wane said sympathetically. “There’s probably one somewhere in this drafty house. Until then I’ll bring you some books.”

  “And a dictionary?”

  Wane smiled and nodded.

  “Oh, and a skateboard.”

  Wane tilted her head and scrunched her face. “I’ll see what I can do,” she finally said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I moved my suitcase to the bed and looked out the front window. The outdoors were still wet and green.

  “Beck,” Wane said softly. “I’m sorry for your situation, but we’re glad you’re here. It will be nice to have a little life back in this house. I know we can’t replace your mother, but we love your uncle and feel as if we’re all family. So, if I can help, just pull the bell rope hanging by your bed. I might not come instantly, but I’ll make my way here as soon as possible.”

  “Is there a phone?”

  “In the kitchen,” she answered. “Do you need to call someone?”

  I thought about it a second and realized that I had absolutely no one to call.

  Wane looked around the room and tried to smile a comforting smile. “You going to be okay?”

  I nodded my head, wondering how in the world I could ever find enough words to express how uncomfortable and un-okay I actually was.

  “Good,” Wane said, opening up the door. “Welcome to the house of Phillips. Thomas will take you to school tomorrow morning. I’m sure gaining a few friends will make things easier.”

  Wane exited the room, closing the door behind her. I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands. The black T-shirt I was wearing expressed my feelings perfectly.

  I had never felt so alone.

  Chapter 5

  Tonight I Am Aware

  Don’t get me wrong, I was still completely uneasy, but more than that, I was bored. No TV, no computer, nothing. Millie had brought me some delicious food at about five o’clock—half a roasted chicken, orange-flavored rolls, some green things I’d never seen before, and mashed potatoes so buttery and soft I was tempted to rub them on my face—but now the only thing occupying my time was digestion.

  I had already unpacked my things and even straightened my closet, pretending I actually cared about the few clothes I had. I changed out of my black T-shirt into a red one thinking it might make my life less dark.

  Nope.

  I looked in the large mirror next to my closet and ran my hands through my long brown hair. My ears poked out and made me think of Thomas.

  “I gotta get out of here,” I whispered to myself.

  I opened my door and stepped out into the hall. With the sun going down, the entire floor was quickly filling with dark shadows.

  “Hello?” I called softly, my voice creating a dull, haunting echo.

  I looked across the hall at the bathroom. I had been there earlier and thought it was the biggest bathroom I had ever seen. It had taken forever to bring up any sort of warm water.

  The large empty hallway of the mansion rattled in spots and moaned in others as the wind moved around outside and through the cracks in the walls. I reached for the light switch on the wall, but it didn’t work. It seemed the only electricity on the entire floor was in my bedroom and bathroom. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

  I took a flight of stairs going up and came out on the fourth floor where there was a giant room whose walls were lined with massive floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The fading daylight reflected nicely against the glass and made the place sparkle.

  Somewhere very far away, and perhaps a few floors down, a door slammed. I quickly crossed the mammoth mirrored room, exiting along another lengthy hallway. I thought about leaving breadcrumbs or some sort of trail so I could make it back, but I had no bread or pebbles on me. I tried opening a few doors, but most of them were locked. The doors that did open only exposed empty rooms and dusty closets.

  I took the stairs to the fifth floor. There were a few more pieces of furniture on this floor and tons of rooms. As with the other floors almost half the doors were locked. It would take a long time to check every one of them.

  The sixth floor had even more furniture than the fifth floor. Most of the windows had drapes, and there were lamps on the tables and pillows on the hard, formal-looking couches. I found another set of stairs, but the door at the top was locked.

  “Stupid door,” I said, bothered that it was blocking my progress.

  As I descended the stairs and walked across the sixth floor, it struck me that the only windows I had seen were the ones facing the front of the estate. In the larger rooms there were no windows, only large mirrors covering the openings instead. I noticed too that all the locked doors belonged to rooms that faced the back of the house.

  I knew I could not go to bed until I had gotten at least one glimpse of the back of the house. I ran down the next set of stairs, feeling the diminishing light of day chasing me. I got to my floor and made my way down to the next. The bare floor was easy to jog across. I jumped down another set of stairs.

  The first floor was dark, but there were a few lights glimmering in the hallway. I couldn’t see anyone around. I found a door that lead out the side of the mansion, so I exited.

  My feet scraped across the stone walkway as I walked back along the side of the house. At the front corner of the mansion there was a wall of tall, thick shrubbery at least fifteen feet tall. It extended past the house as far as I could see. I tried to push through the branches, but the hedge was too dense to even reach through.

  I walked along the tall shrubbery, looking for any sort of entrance or gap. The sun was down and the mist-filled air made my hair wet and cold. I turned to go back inside the house, but stopped, taking a stronger look at the bush. I wanted to see what was beyond the bush more than anything. As I gazed at the shrubbery, the short branches sank inward, creating a depression in the foliage.

  I rubbed my eyes, certain I was seeing things. I wasn’t. The depression was still there. I touched
the bush. The leaves and branches closest to my fingers curled back like the wicked witch’s pointed shoes after her wicked sister reached for them. I pulled my hand away and the shrub filled itself in. I reached out again, but this time nothing happened.

  “Are you okay?” a voice said.

  I turned around quickly, my heart beating as fast as my mind was racing. I had not expected to hear anyone and I felt like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t be.

  “Who’s there?” I asked the dark air.

  “You the relative?” the voice asked.

  I tried to see who was talking to me, but thanks to the wind, I couldn’t even discern the direction the voice was coming from.

  “Over here,” the voice called.

  I spun around once more to see a boy drop down from the trees on the other side of the lane. He stood up and approached me. He was a short kid with big green eyes and wide shoulders. He had curly black hair and flat ears. His legs looked as long as his arms, and he was smiling in a way that normally I would have made fun of. However, seeing as how he had just dropped from a tree, and I had no idea who he was, or if he was trouble, I decided not to give him a hard time just yet.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Milo,” he answered authoritatively. “Milo Flann. You the loon’s offspring?”

  “By loon, do you mean my uncle?” I said irritated.

  “Hold on,” Milo said, showing me his palms. “I didn’t mean to give you grief. Have you met him?”

  “My uncle?” I asked.

  Milo nodded.

  “Not yet,” I admitted.

  “Well, if after you meet him, you don’t think he’s a loon, I’ll apologize.”

  “That bad?”

  “Not many people speak fondly of him,” Milo said. “I’ve heard all kinds of stories in the short time I’ve been here.”

  “He let me come live here,” I said defensively.

  “He had nothing to do with that,” Milo scoffed. “He probably doesn’t even know you’re here. Thomas and Millie are the ones who let you come.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I know it sure wasn’t your uncle,” Milo said. “And it certainly wasn’t me. So, do you have a name?”