Fiction, The Tall Man, and Flower Photography
Tall Man
The contrast now between the woman’s seeming age and her demeanor was understandable. She was a Clâvigen warden.
“Dr. Riel is a very old Clavigen,” Wort whispered into Bara’s ear. “The oldest I know. She surrounds herself with her pets, not one for people beyond the patients here.”
Dr. Riel? Mathew had used this name when talking with Daphne at St. Paul’s. Did that mean that Daphne had been a patient here? The Clavigen world was a small one.
“Monsieur Worthington. Mademoiselle Cavanaugh, I’m Doctor Riel. This is Yvonne.”
Apparently some Clâvigen named their Conjures. Yvonne nodded his head but said nothing. Conjures didn’t talk. Riel extended a small hand with short-clipped nails. Bara noted an iron charm bracelet with no less than four amber pieces hanging from her thin wrist. A Clâvigen in possession and then some. Wort took the offered hand and stiffened from the power of the grip. Riel gave Bara a forced smile, with no sense of duplicity, but no sense of welcoming either. “If you will follow me,” she said.
She didn’t wait for agreement but turned on her heels and made her way back through the large doors. Bara and Wort followed. Yvonne brought up the rear.
They entered into a large wood-paneled foyer. Each panel was over six feet in height and featured embossed gargoyles. Grimacing faces escaped from the walls. Gargoyles in an insane asylum? A bit on the nose. They were said to ward off evil. Their presence here felt more oppressive and menacing than protective.
Hardly honeyed-dream material.
The late-day light shown through the stained-glass above. Multi-colored specks bled onto a very large display of white roses in the center of the foyer. Their scent were there a dozen, or even two dozen, would have been heavenly, but close to a hundred flowers blossomed on the circular table. Their smell threatened a migraine.
Bara took in the glass dome above. Pomegranates everywhere. An expansive scene featured the ill-fated Persephone and her would-be husband offering a slice of pomegranate. Demen and demented cherubs cheered-on the trap Hades lay. Off to one side was Persephone’s mother. Demeter was bathed in light. She offered an extended hand. Who in the Hades, indeed, thought up the decor in this place?
Riel continued to lead the way. She took them up a massive winding staircase. Yvonne maintained his shadowing steps. They escaped the influence of the oppressive entryway.
“Your aunt goes in and out of lucidity,” Riel told them. “Some days she is quite communicative. Others, she refuses to eat. She falls into a trance. Today is not a good day, but she did know you were coming and she may, how do you say …” Riel threw another forced smile over her shoulder. “ … snap out of it.”
They started down a long hallway lined with doors on each side. They stopped when one of them opened. Another Conjure, the twin to Yvonne, emerged. He pushed a cart full of blood-filled phials. From the room came the unmistakable smell of tea roses, a scent not anything like the smell below in the entryway. Combined with a touch of musk, it was seductive and pleasing, alluring and enchanting, in the real sense of the word.
The scent of a vampire.
Bara looked inside the room. It was heavily shaded. A set of operating room lights shown on a small bed that sat against one wall. Upon the bed, shackled, was a pale and gaunt man. He stared without focus. In addition to the chains were a multitude of tubes, pulsing with blood. He wasn’t receiving intravenous. The blood flowed not to but from him. They were siphoning blood from a vampire. Why?
Paul’s blood had healed her. Were they using vampire blood as medicine? Bara looked at the pitiful figure that doubled as a pharmacy and shuddered. Healing powers or not, it wasn’t right to take the blood against his wishes and certainly not at the rate they were doing so. What kind of place had Wort brought her to? She threw him a perplexed look. He returned a grimace, understanding her concern, but then shrugged it off.
Riel looked back and saw the open room, Bara and Wort looking in. She retraced her steps, reached out, and closed the door. She didn’t bother with pretense. “Vampire blood has its medicinal uses and gardening ones, aussi, the reason our roses smell so fine and are willing to bloom even in the winter. Much life flows from death. This is always true, even with vampires.”
***
Words and Images are my own.
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Awesome flower pictures.
Thanks:) Love the owl avatar:)
Thank you :)