Ysabelle’s daily routine consists mainly of staying inside the mansion as per the House Master’s order. She of all the members of the family was treated like a prisoner although she wasn’t even one. Alfon’s reason was simple and that was to guard her welfare. She didn’t think much of it though, but sometimes when the moon was so high and mystical, or the rainbow was spouting beautiful colors over the horizon, or the sun was brightly shining in the blue sky, she desired to go out of the mansion with her digital SLR camera in hand.
This was exactly what she did early in the morning with Alfon’s permission. Without any companion, she went straight ahead to the City of Prague where there she knew she would catch numerous lively activities in the streets, establishments, or parks.
The Plaza Citadelli was where she headed for the remainder of her excursion. It was actually her favorite place among the rest of the city’s plaza as it had the one photo subject she had liked so much and it was the center fountain. Click by click, she took as much as she could of almost all she could see inside the garden: the greenery surrounding her, the shrubs full of flowery details, the children’s playfulness, happy families passing her, the colorful balloons in the vendor’s hand, and even one simple gesture of kindness, she was able to capture on film.
The scene showed a man wearing a loose cotton white shirt bending over in front of a little girl and handing her two rolls of pastries without hesitation. He had a warm smile on his face that showed sincerity. Ysabelle knew she just had to immortalize it in a photo.
And immortalize it she did with one click of the camera, smiling when she looked at the shot in the preview screen. She chose the 'protect' icon of her gadget to preserve the photo knowing it was a capture she needed to print. Acting like a professional photographer that she is, she continued her job taking pictures on other sights, turning away from the man and the little girl.
Photography was one of Ysabelle’s fine pleasures when not inside the mansion, but even so, when she is staying in her room, the photos she had captured during the day, she prints it in her mini studio area. It was a hobby she had taken an instant liking since she was first introduced to it...many, many years so to say.
Feeling tired, she decided to sit at a vacant area in the fountain’s base. Although it was a hot weather, she didn’t mind the burn of the sun at all. She even had a fun time watching a group of children playing with a skipping rope.
It was normal for her to observe the happenings in her front. She had always been a silent watcher in many, many occasions of her life; always been the wallflower of her family. However, never had she imagined that by this time — this early morning in particular — she would be the one being watched at. Sensing that someone was looking, she glanced to where she felt a pair of eyes observed her.
She immediately blushed after seeing a man staring intently at her. It was the same man earlier who kindly gave two pastry rolls to the beggar girl. He was handsome, she thought. As handsome as the statue of the Sun God, Apollo, standing meters away from his back. Ysabelle could well admit to herself that he could be a good subject in her photographs. An interesting model to be exact.
Unable to notice his piercing eyes earlier, this time, she found it clearer. For the first time, his gaze made her feel two things. First, it made her feel bare all throughout; as if her soul was a display and he alone could see right through it, particularly all the secrets that she hid. Second is, it made her feel stripped out of her clothes — nude, so to say — but there was no sense of wickedness with it at all. No lust — the usual that she had seen in most men she encountered in her Uncle’s parties. How could a stranger make her feel emotions that she had long thought nonexistent? She couldn’t create an answer, but truly, it unnerved her.
Standing up, she quickly gathered her backpack and jogged away from the fountain. Did her heart race as she did so? Yes, it did, for she could still feel the man’s gaze on her back the whole time she covered the pathway to the exit gate.
***
“Auntie Belle!” a teenager’s voice emerged from inside the foyer the moment Ysabelle entered the double door. She glanced towards the source and found the youngest member of the Rogratiatto Family, Mehaque Maris, sitting in a sectional sofa near the base of the grand staircase. She was wearing her school’s uniform and black shoes, apparently ready to attend class.
The girl was of fourteen summers. She had delightful almond eyes and long chocolate brown hair in delicate curls. Most of her features were from her mother, which was a fact that pleased Regina greatly. Ysabelle did the usual — accepting the warm hug of the girl. She was her favorite niece, in fact, being that Mehaque was the only one who could converse with her openly. No awkwardness, no hint of ambiguity. Well, except for André that is, but he was under an unfortunate possession as of the moment.
“Where have you been Auntie Belle?” Mehaque asked, looking up with twinkling eyes.
Ysabelle smiled and patted her niece’s head. “In Plaza Citadelli, Sweet. I took a lot of pictures there.”
It was Ysabelle’s unique endearment for the girl. No one used it except her and Mehaque of course was more than willing to be called one.
“Oh, really? Can I see it?” The girl’s giddiness immediately surfaced. She was known to adore the work of her Aunt, finding every bit of photo a masterpiece.
Ysabelle smile and nodded. “Sure, you may, ” she said and took out the camera from her backpack.
Mehaque immediately focused her attention on the pictures on the screen, looking at them with great fascination. Pressing the scroll button, the photos one by one slid down. She saw the happy children, the lively vendors, and the detailed stream of water from the fountain. She also saw the many faces of the subjects, including one picture that was in the Protected List particularly. “Wow, these are beautiful Auntie, ” she exclaimed after the slides ended. “I sure wished I was able to join you there.”
Ysabelle gave her a lopsided smile. “Hmmm... yes, I know, but your mom doesn’t want you late in class again.”
“Maybe next time Auntie?” Mehaque quickly bargained. Soft pleading eyes she consequently used in order to receive a yes from her Aunt. “I really want to see your photo subjects in person.”
Gathering a sigh, Ysabelle nodded again. “Sure, sure. Next time it is, ” she answered, thus receiving a big white smile from her niece.
“Yes!” the girl immediately celebrated, embracing the older woman in response.
This was always what Ysabelle desired ever since she was admitted into the family tree, but it seemed the members weren’t as keen on showing this warm emotion to her other than the teenager herself. She wasn’t begging for it though, but sometimes, there are instances that she wished for this kind of warmth from the whole family. A warmth as sincere as the one that the man in the plaza showed to the young beggar.
“Father wants to talk to you by the way, ” Mehaque informed after she withdrew from her embrace. “He says it is very important.”
Ysabelle cocked her head. “Really now?” she said in disbelief, and the girl only responded with a short nod. “Oh well, that’s not new at all, everything is important for him when it concerns me, ” she added, whilst shoving the camera inside her backpack.
“You better go now, Auntie Belle. Father is waiting for you in brother’s...uhmm...in the Altar room, ” Mehaque expressed with a tone that left a sense of fear. Never was she a fan of anything scary, but her older brother’s demon possession was one thing that she was shit scared the most.
Sensing her trepidation, Ysabelle patted her head once again and answered before walking up the grand staircase, “Yeah, thanks Sweet.”
***
After producing a knock on the door, Ysabelle heard a low voice from the inside of the Altar room bidding her entrance. She stepped in slightly, still hiding from behind the varnished mahogany door.
“You called for me?” she said, looking at her Uncle with clear confused eyes.
Alfon bobbed his head. “Yes, I need to tell you something, ” he replied and gestured for her to advance. “Come, sit.”
Ysabelle obediently complied, crossing the room towards the Victorian furniture set close to the fireplace.
“You look serious Uncle, ” she remarked by the time she sat on a chair across the Master’s one.
“Because it is warranted, ” Alfon expressed rationally. He crouched forward, putting his elbows in his knees and gazed at her with great depth. “Dear Ysabelle, I did tell you how sorry I am right? I am supposed to be a man of my word, but right now, André’s life is in dange--” He abruptly stopped after realizing he was choking up his words. After taking a deep breath to relieve himself, he started once again, “This demon possession is strong. If we prolong his agony, it wouldn’t be good.”
“I know, ” was Ysabelle’s quick reply. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at the still flaming body of André in the marble table. A thought crossed her mind and she cringed because of it. “I understand Uncle. André...he...he is more important than my silly final wish. Do as you thought best for him. He doesn’t deserve to die like this.”
Alfon stood up and graced to where she sat. Gathering up her trembling hands, he knelt in her front and stated stiffly, “We will find a way, I will make sure of it.”
There was a minute of contemplating silence between the two. Ysabelle opted not to reply immediately, but when she did, it was one of relief, “Thank you, Uncle.” It was low, barely audible, but Alfon knew that it was enough for him.
Clearing his throat, he stood up from kneeling and watched the growing blue and violet flames; watching it with disgust in his eyes.
“I have already sought out the help of the Vatican Office to rectify this issue, Ysabelle.”
The somber woman quickly glanced up and stated in disbelief, “You did?”
“Yes, an exorcist priest is on his way here as we speak to exorcise the demon out of André’s body.”
She may not be as happy as the Mistress of the house of this news, but still, it gave her relief that her Uncle had finally decided to ask for help other than the brotherhood. “That’s...that’s a relief Uncle!” she exclaimed.
“Hmm...knowing that only a Vatican exorcist priest can do the job, I have to set aside any differences of beliefs this time.”
Alfon returned to his master chair and willfully admitted to himself that this would be a good decision above anything else. He took out a stick of black cigar from its Cuban box and lit it up with a lighter all the while looking at his niece’s present clothing. He shook his head shortly and furrowed his brows.
“Now, you should change clothes, ” he initially stated, tone undebatable. “Be at your best to meet the priest.”
After hearing it, Ysabelle felt disheartened. It wasn’t her taste to dress up fancy clothes for any guests of the mansion, a priest, in particular, wasn’t exempted too. She preferred herself the way she is -- always showing her tomboyish side with regards to clothing. Anyway, what does a priest have to do with her dressing up? Priests don’t reproach a person’s fashion style at all. They aren’t even permitted to be judgmental.
“But Uncle, is it that necessary? I am at my best, ” she announced with her voice unintentionally pleading.
Alfon shook his head rigidly. “No, dear. Sneakers and sweaters don’t look good on the most important woman of the humankind, ” was his stiff answer.
Retreating her eyes in another object - the burgundy carpeted floor in particular - she felt herself a prisoner once again. She wanted to argue more but decided to follow his will in the end. “Very well...” she said, looking forlorn.
“Good. See you in the receiving room later.”
It was a sign of dismissal and Ysabelle was glad to take the hint. “Yes, ” she stated and stood up quickly, never looking at her Uncle again until she exited the room.
The two priests arrived in the residence at exactly eleven-thirty in the morning. It was lunchtime, of course, so the growling of Marcus’ stomach was understandable even though he just had four rolls of pastry an hour ago. Luckily enough, the moment they entered inside the mansion’s foyer and after exchanging pleasantries with Madame Regina and Master Alfon, they were directed straight all the way to the family dining room. They were important guests, so no one except the Mistress and the Master planned to dine with them. And Ysabelle, supposed to be if she decides to show herself up on time.“Please, make yourselves comfortable, Father Marcus, Father Julien, ” Madame Regina stated, gesturing for them to sit in their reserved seats.“Yes, Madame, thank you.” Marcus was the one who answered politely.On the right side of Alfon’s center chair was where he sat, and beside him, Fathe
Father Marcus placed himself on the right side of the marble table, his waist in line with André’s chest. It was an odd position for an exorcism ceremony as normally, priests, rabbis, imams, and other religious leaders either place themselves on top of the head of the victim or at the foot. Nevertheless, no one was complaining.Regina, after pushing the button, returned to her husband’s side and sat rather anxiously on the solo sofa next to him. Still, Ysabelle continued to silently observe the development, keeping her breaths deep and controlled.Yes, as per the report, the blue and violet flames didn’t burn when Marcus placed a hand on André’s chest. He didn’t feel anything at all. No tingling sensation or searing pain. It was odd, but Marcus found it beneficial for him. True enough, the Holy Pope was right that this exorcism might be easy; however, Marcus chose not to let his guard down. After d
Black sky. Black earth. Black sea. Marcus found himself again in the same dream, but this time, not in the same way. He was lying on the sand, gazing at the sky with the blankness that was comparable to the barren place. Emptiness filled his mind. And yes, he had been like this for what seemed like hours until a wave of water came rushing towards him and when it touched his bare feet, this somehow pulled him out of the void state.His thoughts and emotions ran wild then as if it was freed from being imprisoned, and with this, confusion immediately clouded his mind. His lips tensed and his brows furrowed as he contemplated all of the recent events.He was confused because ever since he had exorcised the demon in André’s body, this dream came into full swing. How? Why? Was it possible that this was the work of the demon? Most likely not for he was sure he exorcised the damn entity into oblivion. Very sure of it.
An understandable silence fell on the room for a moment when Ysabelle left. Marcus was still standing near the table, the empty glass still in his hand. Remembering what she said about a tattoo on his arm, he decided to ask Father Julien out of curiosity and in order to break the silence. “Have you noticed anything unusual with me Father?” He turned to face his colleague and stood ready to be inspected.As if it was a normal routine, Father Julien did as expected, scanning him from head to foot. “Hmmm... not that I can see, Father Marcus. You look just the same. Why do you ask?” he answered after a minute.“My arm. Do you notice anything peculiar about it?” was Marcus’ clear inquiry. Might as well go straight to the point than have his poor secretary decipher his words.“Hmmm?” But still, Father Julien was oblivious, so Marcus raised his right arm and displayed it in
Exhilarating.That’s what Marcus first thought of when his eager lips met Ysabelle’s. He had almost convinced himself that he was already devouring the lunch table’s dessert as she tasted of sweet honeyed strawberries and the curve of her lips were moist and velvety like a chocolate cake. With all the willpower he could muster up, he didn’t use it to stop this moment. Instead, when he found her unsteady, trying to push him lightly away with both of her hands, he snaked a hand in the small of her back and pressed her closer to his body. His back was against the balustrade to stabilize them at least for any possible imbalance. A fall down to the base of the stairs would be unlucky indeed, not to mention painful.There was still some tiny pang of guilt a priest like him was expected to feel when treading on restricted boundaries, but true enough, it didn’t rack his mind. His logical reasoning was already clouded in
Dinner started at the stroke of seven with all of the usual attendees present, but there was a new addition to them now and it was the youngest member of the family.Father Marcus and Father Julien were in their same seats and so were Sir Alfon, Madame Regina, and Ysabelle. Mehak, who just arrived from an art class, decided to sit beside her Auntie on the left.“I would like to make a toast, ” Madame Regina suddenly announced before their meal began. All of their attention was now on her. She stood up, took her glass of champagne, and raised it in the air. “To Father Marcus, for saving my son’s life.”Alfon somehow looked troubled, thinking whether to take his glass or not, but in the end, he did after Regina added, “And to my son, André, for staying strong and for his good health.”Cheers!All of them chorused happily but mostly,
Ysabelle stepped backward, stirred by his daring words. “Ple-please take the envelope. It contains your picture, ” she blurted out, her cheeks in a maddening blush. Good thing the light was red, otherwise, he would have seen how red her face was.“You are escaping again, Ysabelle, ” Marcus, on impulse, remarked grimly, but that didn’t hide how her name flowed smoothly in his tongue. Although he wasn’t irritated by her swift avoidance of the topic, he was unhappy about it. He thought that they had an equal understanding of the Question and Answer portion of their conversation and for her to keep evading it definitely was the opposite.“I am what?” Ysabelle clarified, unconsciously lifting her chin more.“You are intentionally dodging yourself on my questions. They are not interrogations lovely lady and yet you act very hostile about it, ” Marcus answered. He move
Father Marcus retreated to his chamber as quickly as he could. The whole course of it wasn’t simple though for his mind was in a whirlwind. The scenes inside Ysabelle’s room just kept popping out of his thoughts like a countdown.5—The kiss on her forehead...He slapped a palm on his face as he sat on a stool near his bed.4—Her seeming dislike on his touch...He cringed upon remembering it.3—The lightning-like slip of his cool and calm disposition...He clenched his teeth in disapproval.2—His impatience, the sudden surge of anger, and the burning feeling of his arm and eyes...He forced a long, deep sigh and tightened his balled-up fists.AndAnd