Chapter Three
Yup, I was definitely in way over my head. I realized this the second I stepped foot inside the stunning mansion.
Everything within was overwhelmingly luxurious. The ceilings were at least eleven feet high with crystal chandeliers hanging from them like long diamond earrings. The glow from the twilight sun flooded the rooms through the tall windows while gentle orange rays glistened against the glassy surface of the indoor pool.
Abraham led me deeper into the estate. Every room we passed by blew my mind with its extravagance—beautiful custom furniture, glorious modern works of art, and elegant and vintage décor. I felt like I was in a resort rather than someone’s house.
Finally Abraham stopped in front of a room on the second floor. “Here at last,” he said as he pushed open the large cream-colored double doors. “This is where you’ll change. You can find your complete outfit inside the walk-in closet,” Abraham said, “Along with a unique piece of attire that you’ll be required to wear for tonight’s festivities. There is also a piano in the room if you wish to warm up until all the other guests arrive. If there’s anything else you need, feel free to page me on the intercom.”
I was astounded by the sheer size of the room. It was larger than most condos or apartments I’ve seen. At the centre of the room was a baby grand piano; a Yahama from what I could tell.
“You guys sure know how to live it large,” I said.
“I do admit, we tend to violate many of the seven sins; greed, vanity, and pride at the forefront,” Abraham said, glancing at his golden watch which I figured to be worth more than all my measly possessions combined. “Oh darn, I’m running behind of schedule. If there’s nothing else you need, I shall take my leave. I’ll have someone send up some snacks and beverages within the hour.”
When I was finally alone, I did what any other curious girl would do. I began to touch everything—the glorious bed, the mahogany dresser, the full-body mirror, the bathroom’s glistening marble countertops—I ran my fingers across it all just to make sure it was all real.
It was.
I walked over to the piano next and lifted open the cover and pressed down lightly on the ‘C’ key in the upper octave, allowing the note to echo throughout the grandiose room.
I could seriously get used to this.
I had no idea how I was going to return to my three hundred square foot hovel after spending an evening in this glorious room. Perhaps someday, my music would allow me into the social elite and I too could enjoy the magical experience of both wealth and power.
Glancing into the mirror, I realized I looked like a poor university student with my ripped and faded jeans and ridiculously tacky t-shirt that sported a picture of a giraffe hugging a brontosaurus. God, I must have looked like such a kid.
Despite Calisto telling me to come casually and they would dress me up to the nines for the event; I still wished I wore something more presentable. But the only thing ‘dressy’ I had was my little black dress that I wore to the China White, which I hadn’t washed yet.
I strolled over to the walk-in closet and opened the door. Inside was a lavish golden mermaid gown with an elegant neckline and decorated with intricate beadwork. The dress was radiating with beauty. It was love at first sight and I tore off my ruddy clothes post-haste in order to slip into this outfit made for a goddess.
I was astounded by how well the dress fit me. Every curve was tight as the dress accentuated my best features while hiding the parts of my body I was the most self-conscious of. The dress was almost as comfortable as my yoga pants—though not quite. Along with it came a pair of matching heels, which also fit perfectly. They had my shoe size down pat as well.
Finally, there was a neat little felt box wrapped in a dainty silk bow tie, resting on top of the dresser with a note on it.
For tonight, it read.
I shrugged my shoulders and tugged on the bow lightly, unraveling it. I lifted off the cover and gasped.
Inside was a golden Venetian mask, decorated with tiny jewels that formed an intricate pattern. Despite it being a stunning piece of work, it gave me the creeps.
This was what I was supposed to wear for tonight? Was I part of some twisted party worthy of Kubrick’s imagination? I couldn’t handle something like that.
I paged the intercom, hoping to get into contact with Abraham so I could get some answers from him.
“Yes?” I heard his voice echo from the intercom speaker.
“You gave me a mask to wear for tonight,” I declared.
“Indeed I did,” he replied.
“It freaks me out.”
“Not to worry Ms. Aria,” he said calmly. “Tonight’s event has a beauty and the beast theme to it. The women are all ravishing beauties and we men are to portray silver-tongued beasts. All the guests will be in masks.”
“Great,” I muttered. His answer didn’t make me feel any better. I decided to come out with it. “Is this one giant secretive sex party?”
“Ah,” Abraham sighed. “I assure you, there will be no open, public sex. We are simply having a party tonight to celebrate a very important milestone for our organization. You will play the piano, grace us with your musical talents, and entertain us. In fact, you don’t even have to say a word to anyone. Your only interactions tonight would be with our marvelous piano, if that’s what you wish.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“That sounds good to me,” I said. “Thank you for your patience while I act like a paranoid nut. I guess I’m on edge. It usually takes me a while to adapt to new situations.”
“Not a problem Ms. Aria,” Abraham said. “I always enjoy hearing from you. Your presence is…refreshing.”
I allowed Abraham to return to his preparations for the party and decided to calm myself by playing some Bach fugues on the piano.
Everything was going to be fine.
While my hands filled the room with Bach’s charming Baroque sounds, I fantasized on how tonight could unfold. I was going to go out there dressed like a Venetian Goddess, play my heart out on the piano, and then sit back and wait for my career to truly begin. It was all going to be a piece of cake.
However, hidden underneath this layer of optimism was the feeling that there was more to this night than Abraham and Calisto led on; that I was going to be a part of something big whether I wanted to or not.
#
The party started shortly before midnight, which gave me plenty of time to get ready. I started off by waxing and shaving every inch of my body, ridding myself of any stray hairs that weren’t on my head. The last thing I wanted was to come out looking like a gold-faced Sasquatch. When I was satisfied with the purge, I proceeded to curl my unruly hair into pretty little locks. Finally I applied a healthy dose of mascara and blush on my face, which was probably a waste of time since it was going to be concealed behind the golden mask anyways.
But just in case.
A few minutes before the witching hour, there was a knock on my door.
“I’m ready to party,” I replied.
Abraham entered, dressed in an elegant custom suit that fit snuggly on his thin frame. His graying hair was slicked back and he was clean-shaven. In his hand, he was holding a mask as well.
“Let’s see what yours looks like,” I said, pointing to his mask. He raised it to his head and slipped it over his face.
“How do I look?” he asked.
The mask was smooth and polished grey and its features reminded me of an elegant looking wolf, both feral and beautiful to look at.
“You look like a handsome wolf,” I replied.
“Excellent,” Abraham said. “That’s what I was going for. I feared my mask strayed from my original design and became too beastly looking.”
“You were going for the big, bad wolf look?”
“The wolf is the symbol of my family,” Abraham explained, the mask still on his face. “It has become synonymous with the Constantine family name.”
“Is everyone’s mask at the party going to be unique?”
“Yes,” Abraham replied. “Every person tonight will have symbols on their masks that tell a rich story of their family’s background.”
“What about mine?” I asked as I examined the golden mask again. On closer inspection, I noticed that the patterns formed the outline of twin doves interlocked together. “What do these doves symbolize?”
Abraham smiled. “The doves symbolize your legs my lady,” he said, “And to have them intertwined together tells everyone that your legs are closed. This is the myth of the Golden Virgin.”
“But I’m not a virgin,” I protested. “It’s just a bold-faced lie.”
“And my family wasn’t a pack of wolves either,” Abraham replied. “Remember what I said about stories? Some of the most powerful empires are built through stories.”
“You also said that some of the most powerful empires are destroyed through stories.”
“Touché.”
From downstairs, I heard guests being welcomed at the door. Abraham gestured to the mask in my hand.
“Well Aria, the golden angel of chastity and virtue, are you ready to meet your destiny?” he asked.
“I’m never ready,” I replied. “But what other choice do I have but to keep on moving through life?”
“None,” Abraham replied calmly as he ushered me through the chamber door and out into the hallway.
By this time the mansion was already filled with a fair number of guests. The men wore full facial masks, painted in dark colors, some resembling animals while others were smooth surfaces with beautiful patterns and symbols etched into them. Meanwhile the women wore simple white masks that covered only the upper half of their face s, some decorated with feathers and jewels and others plain. It seemed like I was the only woman displaying a full mask that concealed my mouth.
For a moment, I was worried that breathing was going to be an issue but the air holes in the mask were crafted in such a way that airflow was not restrictive.
Abraham led me to a wide-open area of the mansion, a circular foyer where all paths converged. It reminded me of the center of a labyrinth, with the exception that instead of a massive man-killing Minotaur waiting for me, there was the most beautiful and rare piano in existence sitting on an elevated circular stage.
The angelic glow from the ceiling lights enveloped the entire stage, accentuating the beauty of the nine-foot Heintzman Piano.
It was so very surreal.
I couldn’t believe that I, Aria Valencia whom only four days ago was eating peanut butter and pickle sandwiches—not because I liked them, but because there was nothing else in my fridge—was going to play music on an extravagant work of art valued at over three million dollars.
I almost wet myself in front of everyone. Thank God for my mastery over my urinary tract. They would have had to change my nickname from the Golden Virgin to the Golden Shower otherwise.
A familiar voice echoed throughout the hallways, captivating the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
“What a special night it is for all of us,” Calisto said, standing at the top of the banister overlooking everyone. She looked ravishing in a cream colored dress that was embellished with tiny diamonds at the bust. The end of her gown seemed to flow like a river of milk as she strolled down the winding marble staircase, making her way to the ground level.
Whereas all the other female masks (aside from my own) were white in color, her s was black with an exotic flower tattooed onto the left cheek.
“Because of the importance of this celebration, I have flown over the rarest of talents from the most rural regions of Easter n Europe—the small town of Anastasia.”
I turned to Abraham and whispered into his ear, “Where’s Anastasia?”
“I doubt it exists,” he replied. “Calisto enjoys playing games with everyone, stretching her stories to the realms of impossible just to see who she can fool into believing her.”
It made me second-guess whether or not she actually did fuck a Chilean carpenter rather than a Chili-eating carpet seller.
“I cannot tell you what a treat it is for the Golden Virgin to grace us with her beautiful music tonight,” she continued. “She is a mystical entity that will set the entire music world on fire. She is the start of the new era of provocative classical. To give you some history, I heard a tale just last week from a very reliable source that simply stunned me.”
Oh God, I thought to myself. What the hell was Calisto doing? I looked around and saw the entire crowd of faceless masks drawn to her speech like addicts; her eloquent words the opium that seduced them.
“Word has it that a man knocking on death’s door, dying from an incurable stage of cancer had the final wish of listening to the Golden Virgin play on his old, run-down, out-of-tune piano,” she began. “Being the saint that she was, the Golden Virgin rushed as fast as she could to his home, making it just in time before the cancer stole him away into death ’s arms. She played for him a heartbreaking song that she wrote for her own father when he passed away. Taofie Cyhmore Mag-pubr Tynwon she called it, which translated to ‘Breathless’ in her native tongue.”
The people of Anastasia used too many words , I thought.
“Despite the dismal state of the man’s upright piano, the sound s escaping from its wooden husk were never more beautiful. It was as if the winds of heaven were carrying her melody through the old man’s ears and filling his soul. For a brief moment, just before he died, he no longer felt pain. He only felt peace. It was her music that ushered him through the gates of heaven and into a life of eternal bliss.”
There was a moment of silence as Calisto allowed her preposterous story to sink into the hearts of everyone in the room. I’ll give her credit; she definitely knew how to captivate an audience.
“And now, without further ado, I am honored to present to you the lovely and mysterious Golden Virgin,” Calisto said, turning in my direction.
All eyes in the room, hidden behind enigmatic masks, fell upon me.
Though I had played to large audiences before and dealt with the pressure of pleasing hundreds of judgmental ears, it felt different this time. First off, I couldn’t see anyone’s face, so I had no idea what type of response I was going to receive from the audience. Usually I could judge by facial expressions.
Second, if what both Calisto and Abraham said was true, someone here was either going to help me realize my dream of becoming a world-renowned pianist, or obliterate it. It was a lot of pressure and the idea of spending the rest of my career playing drinking songs in local dive bars for pennies was too much to handle.
I needed to dazzle this crowd and give them a performance they’d remember for a lifetime.
As I made my way to the Heintzman piano, I sensed the anticipation from this eclectic crowd, and the excitement of hearing that first note resonate throughout the mansion. They craved to hear the sounds of my playing, and I vowed to deliver it to them.
I closed my eyes and brushed my fingertips across the cool, smooth piano keys, worshipping the craftsmanship of this majestic instrument. As I hit the first note, I heard and felt the perfect balance of sound and weight from the piano. I lost myself to the music, allowing it to touch me like a mysterious lover, the reverberations of the instrument reaching deep inside me as I let loose a long sigh. I released the haunting and pleasurable sounds of Liszt’s Benediction de Dieu dans la Solitude from the piano and played it with an absolute reverence.
Every beautiful note was a blessing from Franz Liszt’s creative genius.
When I was finished, I paused for a moment, and then went into another one of the composer’s masterpieces, Harmonies Poetiques et Religieuses, using the full range of the Heintzman to weave together sounds of this absolutely stunning work.
A few times I looked up from the keys to see the crowd’s reaction, but only saw the chilling sight o f expressionless masks gazing in my direction. It was unnerving, and I decided that it was best to focus on the music alone, and not allow the people and the surroundings distract me from the music.
After I finished playing an eight-piece set, I had to stop and take a small break. My wrists and forearms were on fire from the sheer complexity of the pieces and to play another one right away would end up a butcher’s mess.
I glanced at the audience, many of them still focused in my direction. I had no idea if people were receptive to my playing, or if they were gawking at me like a sideshow attraction. I was glad that I was wearing this golden mask. At least they couldn’t see the nervous expression on my face.
“That was simply stunning,” said a voice from behind me. I turned around to see a tall man with blonde hair, his face hidden underneath a red Venetian mask resembling a fox. “Your combination of virtuoso playing and eloquent grace is a marvel to watch. I’m just surprised that I haven’t heard of you prior to tonight.”
“Thanks for the compliments,” I replied. I was excited to hear someone acknowledge my performance. “I’ve been kind of keeping a low profile lately, you know, preparing for my big North American debut.”
The fox ’s eyes glanced over me. “Your European English sounds very…North American.”
“I spent a lot of time studying in North America,” I was quick to reply. “I’ve assimilated the language pretty fast.”
There was another long pause from Mr. Fox. “Speak in your native tongue over in Anastasia.”
What was with the twenty questions? Why was he so concerned about my background and where I came from?
“Tranqata oblingonata kaliquicky ayamana,” I replied, ranting off gibberish from the top of my head.
“Translation?” Mr. Fox asked.
Go away, I wanted to say. However what actually came out of my mouth was, “You’re a curious one Mr. Fox.”
“Calisto is storytelling again, isn’t she?” he said.
Damn it. Was there any point in continuing this ridiculous rouse any longer? I knew that the further down the rabbit hole I went, the smaller the tunnel would become.
“Look,” he said. “I personally don’t care which way the wind blows and how far the story goes. I appreciate talent, which you have an abundance of. However, there is one aspect of Calisto’s story that needs to be proved, and any failure to do so will be a poor reflection on your capabilities as an A-list artist.”
“Oh?”
“Play your father’s song,” the fox said. “Play Breathless.”
Perhaps the one thing about Calisto’s yarn that had some fibers of truth to it was that I did write a song for my dad shortly after he died.
His passing away wasn’t an easy thing to get over. He was the only family I had. My dad was the pillar that held me up when I wanted to crumble emotionally.
I remember on one snowy evening, not long after my father died, my loneliness and depression felt like a gun pressed up against my temple. I decided to head over to the university’s conservatory and found myself an old upright piano that was outside one of the examination rooms, waiting to be tossed out the very next day.
It was a little out of tune and missing the F sharp key in the lower octave, but at that moment in time, the piano was perfect for me. This lonely, broken and abandoned instrument was an exact reflection of me, both physically and mentally.
I closed my eyes and my fingers unearthed a simple and sad melody that had long been buried inside me. It was a melody that had haunted my imagination before, but up until then, I lacked the raw emotions to do it any justice. I stored the tune in the back of my mind until the time was right—when I felt the most vulnerable.
I played the song on that old piano with my heart bleeding out into the music while tears streamed down my cheeks. I allowed the world around me to dissolve into nothing, imagining that the only thing left in the universe was that old piano, a heartbroken daughter that played it, and the spirit of her father listening to her one final gift to him.
Since that day, I never played that song again. There were too many raw emotions associated with it and I feared that playing it would tear open deep wounds.
“I don’t think I can,” I replied to Mr. Fox. “I’m sorry.”
The fox shook his head. “Please,” he said. “I wish to hear it. It would mean a great deal to me and everyone here as well.”
I looked around and noticed that Mr. Fox had effortlessly drawn the attention of the room to us.
“What do you say?” he said aloud to everyone. “Wouldn’t we love for the Golden Virgin to bless us with her beautiful tribute to her father?”
The applause and the cheers of everyone provided a definite answer. But I just wasn’t ready, was I?
Oh dad, what would you like me to do? I silently prayed to him. That song was like a secret message to my father, one that was meant for his ears only. The idea of playing it for anyone else felt blasphemous.
No. That wasn’t true. It was just an excuse I was making. I knew exactly what my dad would have said to me.
“Enchant them all,” I whispered aloud. Without another word, I turned my attention back to the Heintzman piano, closed my eyes and allowed the feelings of loss and hurt to overtake me. In my mind and heart, I was no longer at the mansion but sitting in front of that broken old upright on that lonely winter night a couple of years ago.
The music that resonated all around me was filled with pain, as if the loss of my father were still a fresh wound. It would always feel that way.
I played that song with my heart torn apart; the ache of my dad’s passing now at the forefront of my thoughts. It sounded sad, lovely, and wounded. As I reached the finale, I realized that I was crying underneath the mask. My fingers fell on the final chord and I held my hands there and allowed the note to linger until it eventually faded away into silence.
The entire room was hushed. The only sounds audible to me were those of my heavy breathing.
I bowed my head, closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I had bared my heart to everyone in this room, and I was met with silence.
It wasn’t until Mr. Fox began clapping that I realized that the silence was a result of the emotions everyone felt after listening to my father’s song.
Like a musical chorus, the applause started off softly at first but it didn’t take long for it to crescendo into cheers and praise.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Abraham, still in his wolf mask.
“My heart is breaking with that haunting piece you’ve just played,” he said, “And though you cannot see it, I assure you that I am tasting my bittersweet tears.”
“Thank you Abraham,” I replied. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. This is the first time I’ve played it for anyone.”
“What an outstanding job you’ve done,” he replied, “Simply outstanding.”
For the next ten minutes, I was met with continuous adoration and praise. My heart was racing and I felt delighted every time someone showered me with kind words.
“You’re a treasure,” Mr. Fox said as he took my hands in his. “I would kiss your priceless hands, but alas, this mask stands in the way between my lips and your skin.”
“I guess you liked it huh?”
“I won’t lie, I’m a cruel and cold hearted man and the emotions I identify with the most are jealousy and greed. But listening to your music, it stirred something inside me,” he said. “But don’t let these kind words get to your head, Golden Virgin from Anastasia. I see a lot of money being made between the two of us. I’ll have someone call you.”
“Really?” I beamed.
“Yes. As beautiful as your tune was, nothing sounds better than money raining down from the wallets of the public,” Mr. Fox said. “Now if you excuse me, there’s a lovely lady in this room that I’ve had my eye on for a while.”
“We’re all wearing masks here,” I laughed. “How do you know what she looks like underneath?”
“These stupid things are a facade and a novelty. True beauty radiates through a simple piece of dried plaster and can slay a man’s heart in seconds,” Mr. Fox said.
“You sound like quite the hopeless romantic.”
“Once again, you mistake me for being a gentleman. I’m actually a sexual deviant,” he replied. “I’ve been dying to taste her skin again.”
As appalling as it sounded, I couldn’t help but laugh. Mr. Fox seemed harmless enough, and the fact that he offered me an opportunity had me on cloud nine.
“Well, I won’t be a cock block any longer then,” I replied. He bowed graciously and made his way through the crowd. I watched him pass by a dozen ogling girls, paying them no attention and finally stopped in front of Calisto and offer her a greeting.
I didn’t blame him. Calisto looked absolutely stunning in her dress. For a split second, I almost felt envy for all that she had and all that she was.
I continued chatting with other party guests for the better part of an hour, playing along to Calisto’s lies as I practiced my storytelling abilities. I discussed the politics and scandals behind the fictional city of Anastasia. It was actually kind of fun pulling the wool over people’s eyes, coming up with elaborate and outrageous stories.
I was ashamed to think it, but I was becoming better at lying.
I was in the middle of telling a story of how the last Mayor of Anastasia was caught in a sex scandal involving transvestite prostitutes and raccoons when suddenly, I heard the heavy chimes of what sounded like church bells.
Everyone’s attention was drawn to the origins of the bells outside in the gardens, just beyond the sun parlor and through the towering French doors. The guests made their way outside towards the sound, bewitched by every vibrant chime.
My curiosity was peaked and I fell in line with everyone else, leaving the warmth of the mansion and immersing myself into the cool air of the night. I looked up and saw the stars fill the sky like tiny speckled diamonds.
It was a magical night.
The sweet scent of blooming flowers flooded my nostrils and I was amazed by how enchanting the gardens looked. It was something out of a fairy tale.
I was captivated while continuing to follow the crowd through the spellbinding gardens.
How odd it was that in a matter of seconds something could go from appearing so lovely to so fucked up.
At the centre of the gardens, three women were kneeling on velvet pillows, worshipping a large stone bell, fiery torches to each side of it.
Something strange was going on here.
Calisto stood behind the three women, each one dressed in elegant white gowns, their faces covered with milk-white masks. She was examining them; no different from how I examined a piece of fruit at the grocery store, running her fingers down every curve to check for imperfections.
What was going on here?
Finally Calisto turned to all the guests and addressed us.
“We have all come today to celebrate a very special time for the Midnight Society,” she began. “Twenty-three years ago on this day, not only were my brother and I born, but the future of our society as well. Over the past decade, we endured harsh times. We’ve had our wars with others, but persevered and came out of it stronger than before. We have also lost people close to us…” she paused, “…But I know if my father were still here today, he would tell everyone that the future of the Midnight Society shines brightly with Shadow leading it.”
There was a round of applause and acknowledgements to the words she had just said.
I, however, was baffled. What the heck was a Midnight Society?
“Tonight Shadow, the prince of our Midnight Society, will choose one of these three women to stand by his side and continue on with the legacy of the Tremaine family name. Because he considers each and every one of you as a part of his family as well, we are invited here to watch as he selects his mate, a worthy queen that will honor both the Tremaine lineage and the Midnight Society as well.”
There was another round of applause followed by a chorus of cheers.
It sounded like this was some sort of arranged marriage.
Calisto raised her hands to the night sky, which silenced everyone. When she was content that everyone was listening, she continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome my brother, Shadow Tremaine, lord of the Midnight Society.”
Out of the darkness of the gardens emerged a tall, muscular man wearing a form-fitting suit, his face hidden behind a solid black mask. His emergence out of the depths of the foliage reminded me of a monster out of a horror movie.
As he strolled towards the three women, I couldn’t help but feel that his eyes were focused on me, and that was more than enough to turn my insides into liquid.
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