Chương 6: The Things We Treasure
Chapter Five
The Things We Treasure
Darkness.
All she could see was darkness. Darkness and warmth. It filled her with a slow and sweet feeling, one she did not remembering feeling in a long time. A moment later, her sleepy brain realized that she was wrapped in a blanket, on a bed of some sort. Turning her head, she tried to untangle herself. Briar moved, her side hurting as she attempted to switch sides. It stung as she stretched, causing her breath to hitch and her form to spasm.
Her body hit something. Something warm. There was somebody next to her. Her breath caught in her throat, scared. Silently, she poked her head out from under the covers, and peeked at the body next to her.
The cloak covered him from head to toe, shrouding his features. Fear caught her again. Quickly she pulled her head back under the covers, trying in some infantile way to protect herself from this unknown man.
There is a strange man laying in bed with me. Laying in bed WITH ME! Many, many scenarios ran through her mind, playing out kidnappings and murders, and wild horrors that could never happen. Why had this happened? Exactly what happened? How am I supposed to explain this to Adam? Briar gasped. Adam. It came back to her as memories are oft to do, in flashes. She remembered that she had led her down to the sewers, he had lead her on some twisted game of hide and seek, and then he... and then he stabbed her. Wait.. what? Briar remembered, her eyes narrowing in anger. The bastard STABBED me! What the hell was he thinking! Wait until I get my hands on him, he would beg for mercy. That was something she was damn sure of.
Frustrated and trying not to cry she rolled over, forgetting the pain such movements caused. She hissed in pain and clutched her side, writhing under the covers. Above her, a soft voice like a whisper echoed. "The wounds should not be causing her such pain still. The anesthetic in that poultice was quiet potent..." the man next to her sat up, causing the bed to sink under his weight. "Perhaps I need to apply more salve to the wound." Silently he got up from the bed, and Briar heard him messing around with something close to her head. A quiet, "Ah, yes." was followed by the unmistakable sound of someone approaching, a click following each footfall of her capture.
Closing her eyes, she feigned sleep as well as she could. The covers were removed, their weight lifting from her body, silk and cotton unwrapping from around her. She felt her body being moved, smooth and gentle movements forced her over on her back. A strange sensation hit her every time the man tried to move her, He must have been using something like a tool to turn her over. The edges of the tool felt hard, and almost like cartilage.
Finally on her stomach, she chanced opening her eyes just a slit. Now that the covers had been removed, she saw what she had thought as a bed was actually a pile of old cushions. They seemed to be stacked on one another balanced on a rug and an old futon. A musty smell came from them, mingled with the odor of fresh flowers. Three old and torn comforters adorned it, making it seem old and almost elegant.
Across the pile of cushions she saw the rest of the room on her side. The walls were cement, and may have once been bare. Now they were adorned by curtains and draperies that reached the floor. None of them matched, some shorter than others and most were somewhat full of holes and rips. Shelves constructed from milk cartons, and planks of wood placed between cinder blocks were full of leather bound and paper back books and against every wall. The massive library spilled onto the floor, papers, pencils and pens joining the pile. Candles, hundreds of them were set on top of the books, lit and lighting the room almost as if a lamp was on. A circular doorway at the end of the lead to a room blocked from her view by another set of drapes.
Above her, the man once again laid the odd tool on her back. This time it hooked itself under the bandages that adorned her side. Briar felt the cloth tighten for but a moment, then loosen as they ripped, falling from her side and onto the bed seconds later. Talking to himself in that melodic whisper he used, the man talked to no one in particular. His voice was that of honey and gravel, almost a whisper.
"This should do it. All it needed was a little adjustment." a warm sensation came over her as she felt something sticky and smooth being poured onto her back, moving forward and downward as the sensation covered her entire body. Once again the tool touched her skin, only now it moved back and forth, rubbing the delightfully warm substance on her back. Clacking sounded as the warmth spread even further, and Briar groggily guessed there were many of the odd tools he used tied together.
Drug dulling her senses and unable to control herself, Briar sighed, placing her hands under her chin. "That feels so good." she muttered lowly. Suddenly the hands stopped, and the warm sensation no longer radiated down her back. Briar turned her head, to take in her savior. He stood tall in the rounded room, larger than anyone she had seen in many years. A tattered and battered cloak enshrouded him from head to toe, the hood shading his features from her. One single long deadlock lay in the opening of the hood, as if he had hastily put the hood back on his head.
"The pain has gone away." she sat up, moving slowly as to not bring the pain back on herself. "What did you do?" There was no reply. He just stood there, facing her, silent and stoic. Growing irritated, Briar looked down and saw that she was naked except for her panties. "You undressed me?" she asked, a smirk tugging on her lips. A blush crept up her face for some unknown reason, and lingered even as the man left the room. He had turned abruptly from her, not speaking a word and walked out into the room beyond the drapes. Passing silently through them, he returned shortly.
In the mans hands were a set of folded clothes, a green t shirt adorned with some high schools mascot, and a large pair of sweatpants stained by some long forgotten accident. He tossed her the new clothing, and turned his back. "I shall await your consent to return. I wish to.." he paused. That whispering voice he had contained some hoarseness, as if it was barely used. "examine you better. Now that you are awake, my questions can receive answers." Again he slipped through the drapes, and the odd clicking noise followed, leaving her to her own devices.
*****************************
Slipping one leg into the pants provided for her, Briar decided to have a look about the room she currently found herself. She pulled the pants on the rest of the way, and threw on the large t shirt she had also been graciously given. Padding along slowly, she looked at the lay out of the room.
It was larger than she had expected. The whole room must have been round, and by the fact that it all seemed to be concrete, she deducted it must be an abandoned part of the sewer tunnels. Gripping the shelves that lined the entire room, she hobbled her way over to the far end.
There sat a table top, its leg having long ago been broken off. It sat on top of two cinder blocks, and was surrounded by more cushions. A chipped tea kettle rested on a torn piece of cloth, accompanied by a set of chipped matching china. Not far from there, a small pit had been made in the cement, and piled with ash.
Smiling, she turned toward the small pit. "That must be the stove." Above it, a spit sat, a grill placed over the top of the pit. Briar continued around the room. In another corner sat a drawer. She looked behind her, to make sure he was not there, and pulled one of the drawers open. Inside she found pants, many of them ripped and stained. Jeans, all of them. Next drawer held shirts, each one with out sleeves, and torn in places as if by claws. Not thinking much of it, she continued to dig through his clothes. After going through the underwear, she was interrupted by a soft knock on the cement wall across the room.
"Are you ready?" the voice of her savior called roughly.
"Just a moment." she called, shutting the drawer and hobbling as fast as she could back to the bed.
Once she reached it, she took some deep breaths. The room was large, but she should not have been this winded. Her wounds must be worse than she thought. After she had caught her breath, she called to him.
"Okay, come in." The drapes parted, and he entered, cloak raising slightly. He must have seen her labored breathing for he disappeared in a flash, and reappeared next to her.
"What happened?" he began to move her, checking her vitals. "Why are you breathing so hard?" Briar shook her head, too winded to talk.
Tentatively, he lowered his cloaked head to her chest.
"Wha.." she gasped out, but relaxed when he only placed his head above her heart. For a moment, he listened, then spoke.
"Your heartbeat seems fine. Maybe changing winded you." he spoke more to himself than anyone else. Briar once again, noticed the hair falling from the cloaks hood. Long black dreads, shiny in the candle light hung from the hood as if part of the darkness inside the cloak itself.
He stood up, and stepped behind her. She felt the bed shift under his added weight, and she shifted as well.
"I am going to look at your back. Tell me when this hurts." she nodded, and her shirt was lifted to her shoulders. That odd tool was once again pressed against her back, pressing around where she guessed the wound was.
"Any pain yet?" he asked, breath on her neck. It smelt of fresh fruit. She shook her head, and he continued prodding. What is with this guy? Briar stared at the concrete floor more confused than ever. One moment he is cold as this fucking floor, then he is checking up on me? What the hell is his problem? On he went, for minutes, or what seemed like minutes. Finally deciding she could no longer take the silence, Briar tried to start a conversation.
"Where are we?" she asked, looking around.
His hood moved slightly. The man remained silent for a few moments. Briar was about to re ask the question when his soft voice reached her ear. "In my home."
"Is it a sewer pipe, or an old tunnel?"
"Yes."
"Which one?" she asked, not taking the aversion lightly.
"The right one." he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying messing with her.
"Okay, whatever you say."She thought for a moment on something else to talk about, then decided to be polite. "My name is Briar. Actually, its Briar Gantz, but everyone calls me Briar."
"Pleasure to meet you." he continued prodding her back once again.
"So..."she smiled again. "What's your name?"
His prodding stopped, for but a moment, then continued. "The wound seems to have taken to the salve quiet well." his tool now prodded her spine, going up and down, causing her to shiver. "No nervous damage. Good response."
Noting that he did not want to talk about the name subject, she attempted to change the subject again.
"I see you like to read."
Again the odd tool he used to prod her back stood still for a moment. Glancing backwards Briar saw the hood was facing away from her, staring at the shelves against one wall.
"Oh, yes." she could almost hear him smile. "Books are one of my few pleasures down here." Briar looked at the hood, noticing that he wore it down over his face even when not looking at her, as if ashamed of his face. She turned her head back around to face the wall, now wanting to talk about books.
"Really? What do you like to read?"
Again he said nothing for a few moments. In her peripheral vision Briar saw the hood jerk back to face her. Silence ruled the room once again.
After a few minutes of tense quiet, the man spoke again.
"Why do you want to know? Going to make fun of a book worm hermit are you?" his soft whisper of a voice held a very harsh venom to it.
Briar was taken aback. How dare he think something like that of her! She was trying to be nice for gods sake! Biting her lip, she forced herself to stay calm.
"I used to read a lot as a kid. Then, I just sort of had no time for it." she shrugged, brushing off bringing up her past. That little girl was long since dead.
No one spoke for a moment. Briar wondered if this was even worth it. The man did not seem to want to talk.
"Dickens, Shakespeare, Stephen King, Koontz. As of late though, I have had this fascination with Holly Black's faerie world. It is quite intriguing." his voice seemed calmer, less accusing. Yet Briar could still feel the mistrust mixed amongst the shyness.
Briar nodded, sensing that this subject seemed to be one he would answer her about, she continued. "Adam did not like to read, and most of my money went to food, and rent, so I have not read a good book in a long time."
Again, the tool stopped, then began its movements again. Nervousness showing in his voice, he spoke.
"You are not well enough to walk. I would prefer it if you would stay here so I may monitor your wounds." he cleared his throat. "All my books are yours as long as you stay here."
Excited, Briar jolted upright, clapping. The pain, harsh as a shot in the gut, shot through her back, and she doubled over. Gently, she was pulled back up right.
"You would do well not to move too much." his voice was right in her ear, something in his voice causing her to shiver again.
She nodded. "Thanks for letting me stay." He got off the bed, heading to one of the shelves. Returning, she saw he had a book. The black of the cloak obscured her view of his hands, and the book landed next to her.
Briar leaned over, and picked it up. Little scratches no deeper than a needles width ran vertically across the front and back. She ran one hand over it's dusty skin, feeling the age of this book. A delightfully dusty smell, one of attics and hidden ancient knowledge hit her as she turned the book around and around in her hand. The leather bound cover had its title embellished in gold leaf. "The Picture of Dorian Gray." she read aloud.
"It is one of my favorites." he turned to leave, but stopped. For a moment he stood still, then a sigh escaped him once again, and he continued."If it is not yet known to you, you are residing in my bed." a sigh escaped lips hidden beneath the hood. One cloak sleeve gestured to the pile of cushions and blankets. "I feel I must tell you that I slept beside you last night. If it bothers you, then I shall find other sleeping quarters."
Briar shook her head. "No. You can stay."
He nodded, and exited the room. Putting herself in a more comfortable position, Briar opened the cover of the book. Before the main title of the story, written on the back of the front cover sat a small inscription half faded by age. Quietly she read off the words, one fingernail tracing the swirling handwriting across the page. " To my darling Enoch. May your days be peaceful in such restless times." There had once been a name signing the book, giving it an identity, but time and fate had forever smudged that identity beyond comprehension. Carefully flipping to the first page, Briar set to reading the story of vain Mr. Gray. The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, She looked down the page, following the tale of such a divine sitting room. A sound from the doorway took her attention from the text. The cloaked man had poked his head through the drapes.
"My name is Dais, Dais De Beaumont." as quickly as he had spoken it, his head disappeared behind the drapes once again.
"Dais De Beaumont." she breathed, falling back, the Picture of Dorian Gray gripped in one hand.
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