Someone Like You

Chapter 25 - The Sleeping Dragon

I was standing in front of a wall of windows, afternoon light shining through, casting the room with a warm glow. The house must be facing west, I thought, to have such beautiful afternoon light. The windows seemed to be 12 feet tall, unimaginably large, until I realized that the ceiling must be at least 16 feet high and was adorned with beautiful crown molding.

The room was ornately decorated with large tapestries hung on either side of the central fireplace, which was flanked by imposing, white pillars, resembling the columns of the Parthenon. There was a painting of an old, white guy in a black hat, hanging above the fireplace, in a style that I always associated with the Dutch Masters, and which reminded me of an afternoon spent at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.

Several more paintings of richly dressed aristocrats were hung in depressions above the doors on either side of the room. The wall above the fireplace had two large, s-shaped plaster embellishments which curved elegantly towards the ceiling, not quite touching in the middle. This created the impression of an arch, and the pattern was repeated with similar, although smaller, versions on either wall, surrounding the paintings.

In slight contrast to the grandeur of the room itself, the furnishings looked somewhat more modern, and even quite comfortable. There were two couches, several tables with lamps, and a large carpet, probably Turkish, on the floor, which gave the space a very lived-in, almost cozy, impression. I turned back to the open window, and looked out over a vast expanse of manicured gardens, relishing my good fortune to be living in such a house.

There was a slight knock, and a bewigged servant in full livery entered, carrying a silver tray, upon which was a single, cream-colored envelope. He approached me, bending low to place the tray at my level, and I picked up the envelope. It smelled of Andy, woodsy with a hint of pine and maple, and I knew immediately it was from him.

The letter was closed with a wax seal, and upon breaking it, I realized that there was no envelope, just the letter wrapped over on itself. I unfolded the crisp paper, marveling at its weight, and was surprised to find three words scrawled ornately in the middle of the page: Come find me.

I stood up, noticing suddenly that I was wearing the most fabulous, red, taffeta silk, early Victorian-era dress. The whalebone corset was cinched tight, pushing my breasts up so far they were practically pillows for my chin. Given the period of the room, I was certain this was a completely anachronistic amount of décolletage. The overlying bodice came to a point in the front and had delicate ¾ length cap sleeves. The skirt was full and round, and surprisingly light, and was likely constructed of a framed hoop because I could tell I wore nothing but stockings and a garter underneath.

The servant exited through the door he had come, but left the door ajar. From the other room I could hear the soft cries of a cat. As I approached the opened door, I felt a shift of energy from within me, like a gravitational force had been engaged and I was being pulled, rather than propelling myself, towards the void beyond the open door.

The room was dark, despite the abundance of windows, but unlike the previous chamber, this one was cloaked in darkness, as if lit by moonlight alone. There was a great blaze in the fireplace at one end of the room, but this did not significantly increase the visibility of the interior. I stood in the room for several seconds, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness, opening my mind to my other senses for the purposes of reconnaissance.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, appreciating the charred wood smell of the fire. I walked further into the room and breathed deeply again. Layered over the smell of the wood was the faintest hint of an earthier aroma, musky and arboreal. Letting my olfactory sense guide me, I stepped still further into the room, tracking this newer scent like a bloodhound.