Chapter 5 Astra
FIVE
Astra
Something’s wrong.
I feel like I’m getting weaker, and all I want to do is sleep. It doesn’t feel like I’m about to die, but it’s… not right.
If I don’t start to feel better soon, I’m worried I won’t be able to wake up one of the times I fall asleep.
Like most days, there’s a knock on my door that forces me to be social. Or as of late, forces me to get out of bed.
“Yes?” I call out. It’s the same song and dance. One of the house staff will open the door, stand just on the other side of the threshold, and urge me to get moving.
The door opens, and the house staff steps inside this time.
“Hello?” I ask, sitting up straight as the back of my neck prickles. Her face leaves me with a sense of familiarity.
“Astra,” she says. She looks to be in her late forties or maybe even early fifties. Her black hair is streaked with gray in a few places, the thick strands pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. “Good afternoon. I’m here to take you shopping.”
“I know you…” I say as I attempt to clear the fog from my brain. Her eyes flare wide, but her expression is put back into place in a blink. “You…” It’s right there. “You were there when Mr. Aubert picked me up.”
Her face relaxes, and she smiles.
Yes, she was with Mr. Aubert—my father when he came to pick me up. She rode in the front of the town car next to the driver and didn’t speak. I thought it was odd but chalked it up to a kind of life I wasn’t familiar with and customs I didn’t know.
“Right.” Her head nods once. “I was there to assist Mr. Aubert.” Her smile is tight now.
Assist him with what? Did he think it would be so hard getting me to leave?
I mean… Now I’m having a hard time remembering why I did go with him so easily.
“How about some shopping? I thought it would be nice to take you to the heart of the city. We can walk around outdoors, and all the shops are locally owned.”
I stare at her because there is an odd way she’s going about this. It feels a little disconnected. Like my reality isn’t quite right.
“There are a lot of nice places to get appropriate clothing,” she rushes to say, but I’m not sure why. “Mrs. Aubert shops down there, too. There are quite a few boutiques which cater to—”
“No, thank you,” I cut in and try to smile, though I feel like my expression shows how horrified I am at going to a place where my father’s wife would shop at.
I’ve met the woman in passing. She’s cold and looks through me when we’re in the same room.
I suppose I can’t blame her. I might feel resentment if my husband brought the child of his dead mistress to live with us.
She lets out a small laugh at the look on my face.
“Maybe we’ll just see when we get down there. I’m sure you’ll find something to fit your style. You can go into any shop you like.”
It sounds really nice, but just the thought about walking around has my legs feeling like jelly.
“Come on. Up with you. Go get ready. I will wait for you in the hall,” she says, her tone is friendly, if not a little motherly.
“Okay,” I say as I get out of bed and head toward the wardrobe. I can’t help but notice how she hasn’t left the room yet.
“And, dear,” she says as I turn to face her with wide eyes, “might be wise to have a wash.”
My cheeks heat. I suppose it has been a couple of days. I just haven’t had the energy.
I say nothing as I head for the bathroom. I close and lock the door, hoping she will be true to her word and wait for me in the hall.
The shower helps to revive me somewhat. Maybe if I get some coffee or tea while we’re out, I’ll be able to make it through the shopping excursion without feeling like I’m in desperate need of a nap.
It will be nice to get out. I haven’t seen much beyond this house and its property.
I get a glimpse of how lively the center of the city can be from my bedroom window, but it only leaves me longing to see more.
I want to see it up close, be in the middle of it.
Especially at night. I can almost feel the cozy warmth of the houses and streetlights lining the streets.
I’m nearly giddy over my first taste of freedom, which is funny, considering I haven’t left the house yet.
I didn’t think I was allowed to. I hadn’t exactly talked about it with my father, but since I’ve been here, I’ve felt very…
how should I put it? I feel like an afterthought and a forgotten trinket all in one. Only to be remembered when he needs me.
I want to like him so badly because being without some kind of blood family bond all this time has left me feeling a little lost and lonely, but I’m finding it hard to do. There are all these unsaid things, but I’m understanding the bigger picture quite quickly.
I was never meant to be. Not just here, but period. My mother was his mistress, I was a mistake, and I’ll never have my place in his life like his sons have. I’ll always be the shameful secret.
So, yeah, a day away from this place and my father sounds wonderful.
Remembering that there had been a slight chill in the air last night, as if Fall is finally creeping in, I pull on a sweater and a pair of jeans.
My eyes snag on the bedside table. In a stupid move, I pull open the drawer and snatch up the vial, holding it in front of my face to make sure the green liquid is still there.
Touching it makes my skin crawl, but I don’t want to leave it here, so I shove it in my pocket as I spin and head for the door.
“I’m ready,” I say as I step out into the hall.
The woman sends me a warm smile and leads the way down the stairs.
“I don’t even know your name,” I say as we walk out the front door.
“It’s Sandra, dear.” She smiles warmly.
Sandra. That’s who my father had called for yesterday after I told him…
My face heats as I think about it.
Something is going on, but he won’t tell me what. I wonder if I can get Sandra to fill me in.
I study her. She has a friendly smile and warm eyes. It might not be a bad idea to see what I can get out of her.
One of my father’s many drivers takes us to the heart of the city. It’s not a long ride, maybe fifteen minutes, and before I know it, Sandra and I are standing on the street as the car drives off.
I shuffle onto the sidewalk and resist the urge to spin slowly as I take it all in.
The buildings are old and beautiful, reaching two and three stories tall.
Most of them are painted bright colors, with a few darker hues scattered between.
Beautiful ironwork makes up the top balconies, and some have scrolling decorations adorning the covered porches.
Most of the buildings appear to be storefronts on the street level, but I wonder if people live above them.
Something clatters to the ground beside me.
I whip around a little faster than my head can handle at the moment, and a wave of dizziness overtakes me.
When my eyes are able to focus again, I see a woman sending me an apologetic smile as she tries to juggle a huge cardboard box, which appears to be overflowing.
My eyes land on the ground, where it looks like something has fallen out and landed. A decoration, maybe?
I bend to pick the object up. A little black, wooden skull stares back at me, its sunken-in eye sockets painted vibrant pink.
“Oh, here,” I say, rushing to put the skull back in the box.
“Thank you,” the woman says and continues on her way after giving me a genuine smile.
My eyes follow her for a minute before I go back to looking around.
Now I see all the decorations hanging in the shop windows and lining the streets.
At first, one might think they’re for Halloween.
They certainly look spooky, and the holiday is a week away, so it makes sense.
But I know this celebration well. I grew up celebrating the Release of the Shadows all my life.
Granted, at the cabin, the celebrations tended to be much smaller. There were only four of us after all.
I count the days in my head, only now realizing that Halloween and the Release of the Shadows share the same day this year.
The aunts weren’t big on Halloween, not like it would have mattered since I couldn’t really trick-or-treat in the middle of the woods.
I wonder what I’ll be doing on that day.
Maybe I’ll be allowed out to see the city and take in the festivities.
I also wonder how big the Release of the Shadows celebration will be.
Looking around, I see tons of skulls and shadow figures all in dark colors with brightly colored circles for eyes.
I’d say the celebration is going to be grand, and it makes me smile. To open the eyes of the dead who hold themselves in our shadows and release them to a better place is always a beautiful thing. It might be one of my favorite holidays.
I get a brief flash of a memory, but it’s gone before I can study it.
I step over to a shadow ghost hanging from a lamppost. I stop it from dancing in the breeze and turn it so it faces me. There’s nothing there. No smile. No expression. Nothing except sky blue circles for eyes. The opening of the eyes so they can see their way.
I drop my hand, another memory itching at the back of my mind. I wish I could recall whatever it is my brain is trying to share with me.
“What’s that?” Sandra asks, causing me to jump. She grabs my hand and turns it over so my palm is facing up. My sleeve slide halfway down to my elbow.
“I-I don’t know. I noticed it on my chest last night, but it wasn’t on my arms like this.” I’m looking at the vein-like lines running down to my wrist. They’re dark, so deep purple they almost look black.
Her brows pull tight as she studies the lines. When she looks up at me, there’s nothing in her expression. I find it very odd, but I don’t open my mouth to point it out.
“Do you know what it is?” I ask frantically.