Not too entertaining, but you meet someone new. :)
Chapter 22
“Brandy!” I held in a complaint as I heard Master Carthwrite's voice echo through the mansion. I wanted nothing more than to leave, but part of me was curious about what he wanted. He never called out for me like that before. Usually Gretta, Patrica, or one of the guards came to get me. “Brandy?!” He yelled again, more demanding this time.
“Coming, Master Carthwrite.” I yelled back. “I'll be back in a minute.” I called to Patrica as I ran up the spiral stairs. There was no way I wanted to give Master Carthwrite another reason to punish me.
“Brandy!” I sprinted down the hall.
“Yes, Master?” It came out in heaved breaths. I swore, I could see a small smile form on his face as he watched me attempt to get my breathing under control.
“I need you to take this over to Mr. Mason's immediately. I meant to take it to him the other day, but it just didn't get done.” He shoved the folder in the crook of my arm and turned me around, ushering me out the door. “Take Callum and Henry with you.” With that being said, he slammed the door shut, letting it barely miss hitting me in the back.
Pulling the folder out of my arm, I stared at it angrily. Another thing to deliver to Mr. Mason.
“I hate that man.” I grumbled while making my way down the hallway. Halfway down, Master Carthwrite's door opened and his head poked out.
“Remember, you come back injured, they will receive severe punishment.” With a creepy smile on his face, he closed the door once again.
Gulping, I sent a silent prayer, hoping nothing would happen to any of us.
As I made my way down the stairs, I remembered what I had wanted to do. I let out a sigh, knowing it would probably have to wait till tomorrow. It was already almost five, by the time I'd get back, it'd be at least seven.
“What did Master Carthwrite want?” Patrica asked, eying the folder tucked back under my arm.
“I'm sorry, Patrica. It's gonna have to wait until tomorrow. I have to run an errand for Master Carthwrite.”
“Who's it for?” I'm sure that she could tell I wasn't happy about whoever it was by my slightly grave facial expression.
“Mr. Mason.” Her eyes widened while she nodded her head in understanding.
“I wish you all the best.” She offered sourly.
“Thanks.” I replied with the same amount of bitterness. “Could you call Lyle to bring the car around?”
“Sure.” I offered another thanks and set off to the Callum's room. Pausing at his door, I knocked two times and waited for an answer. Moments later, his door opened. For a moment, I thought it was a different person. His raven black hair hung down his shoulders, making him look younger. His grey eyes met mine, with a confused look.
“Hey Bran-what happened to your face?” His hand grabbed my chin, turning my face to the side to get a better look at my cheek.
“Master Carthwrite. I guess it was my fault though.” He raised an eyebrow, “really, I slept in by accident. I should've known better.”
“Sounds like something he'd punish you for. Does it hurt?” I shook my head.
“Nah, it did at first, but now it's a little bit numb. Anyway, Master Carthwrite is making me take something to Mr. Mason's. I'm supposed to bring you and Henry with me.”
“I wonder why he's only sending two of us?” Puzzled, he rubbed the back of his neck before pulling his hair into a ponytail.
“Not sure, but I think I rather not know. I'll go get Henry and you can meet us at the front. Patrica's getting Lyle to bring the car out front.”
“Sounds good, see you a in few.”
After I told Henry, he seemed as puzzled as Callum about it, but just shook his head.
“You never know what he's thinking.” Henry scoffed. “I don't understand how he can hurt a girl just for sleeping in. Makes me wish I could give him a piece of my mind.”
“But you won't. I don't want you to get hurt again.” I gave him a pleading look.
“I won't, but don't be afraid to run to one of our rooms if he's going to hurt you.”
“You know I can't. He'll just punish us both.” It was hopeless to even think about running away from getting punished, more people would get hurt and the punishment would end up being more severe.
“We could at least try and prevent more damage being done to you.” Callum added in after he joined us and followed Henry and I to the car.
“He'll just make it so we can't talk anymore, period. What if he got different guards? Then I couldn't see you guys at all.” The car grew silent as neither of them responded. “Let's just not talk about it?” I offered.
After dropping the subject of horrible things that could happen, Henry and I played I Spy till we grew bored of it, three minutes later, since everything in the car was either gray or black.
“How about we tell stories?” Callum suggested.
“Stories? What kind of stories?”
“Any story, I guess. A story from your childhood, a memory, or one your parents told you from when you were little.”
It was silent for a few moments. I tried to wrack my brain for a story or anything I could really recall.
“I guess I have one.” I muttered, trying to remember every detail of it. “It isn't really an entertaining story, but it's something I remember from when I was younger.”
“We're all ears.” Henry said with a smile.
“Every year my family would make a trip to Michigan. My Pop's always knew the perfect time when apples were just ripening. We'd buy tons of bushels of different kinds of apples and take them over to my grandparents where we'd make homemade apple juice.” Pausing, I closed my eyes for a second, remembering all the sounds and smells.
“I loved the smell of apples in the air. The sound of the crusher rumbling angrily as the apples chunks fell through into the pan below. My favorite part was always turning the handle as hard as I could till the juice only fell in slow drops. By the time we finished, it would be late and everyone would be sticky and smell of apples. We would shoo all the bees out of the garage and hose down the floors before we'd settle inside for a sip of the fresh apple juice. My Pop's didn't believe in washing up before having a taste of the outcome of our hard work.” I could feel the small smile that began to appear on my face.
“One year, we ended up getting a bushel of sour apples. Really sour apples.” A small laugh left my throat as I reminisced on the look on my parents faces as they took a sip. “My parents could barely swallow the first gulp, it was so sour it was almost bitter. Thankfully we had only one bushel of it, so whenever we opened a jar of apple juice, my parents would look at it wearily and have my brother or I try it first since we liked sour things.” Callum and Henry chuckled lightly with smiles on their faces.
“I've always hated most apple juices for that reason.” Callum's smile changed into a grimace as if he remembered the last glass of apple juice he had.
“Apple juice bought from a store doesn't compare to homemade apple juice.” I told him firmly.
“I believe you.” Henry nodded with Callum in agreement.
Henry suddenly looked out the window with a slight smile. I looked out the window and immediately understood why he smiled. The snow-covered trees passed by quickly, but I could still spot the glitters of sunlight that reflected off of the snow. The snow clung to the trees as if it was afraid to touch the ground, making their branches bow low towards the ground. Yet, it added a new refreshing look to the trees that they get only once a year. The whole scene was pretty. Almost like we were inside a snow globe after it had been given a few good shakes.
“We're almost there.” Callum commented, pulling me out of my fascination with the snow. The car grew silent while I wondered what Mr. Mason would do this time.
“Please don't.” I muttered unthinkingly.
Henry and Callum looked at each other without answering me. They knew what I meant. They didn't even need to ask.
“I just don't want you guys to get hurt again. If he does something, please, just let me take the blame.” Swallowing a breath that was caught in my throat, I distracted myself from looking at them by straightening out the already straight folder in my hands.
“Brandy,” I looked up at Callum who spoke, “you do realize that we're bodyguards, right?”
“It's our job to protect you. Asking us to not do anything is like telling us not to do our job.” Henry added with a smile. “We're your friends too. We want to keep you safe.”
“But keeping me safe just ends up hurting you.” I hissed. I couldn't understand why they wanted to protect me when it was practically their lives on the line. Most people wouldn't even consider giving their lives up for someone else, let a lone putting themselves in harms way for them.
“It's part of being a bodyguard.” Callum stated simply, but with a tone that said the conversation was over.
Frowning, I let out a huff and turned to look out the window. In the distance, I could see Mr. Mason's dangerous abode spread across a big piece of land. I never realized how big it was till now. From being inside, I knew it was huge, but outside it looked monstrous. There had to be at least fifty windows just on the front of the mansion. They were all dark and engulfed by the charcoal colored bricks surrounding them.
When we pulled up the long driveway right in front of the main entrance, I began to wonder how Master Carthwrite could do business with such a person. Master Carthwrite was sadistic, but didn't seem to have anything to do with poison.
What kind of business did they run, I wondered. Mr. Mason was the only person I had ever actually had to hand deliver a folder to. Master Carthwrite had mentioned another man that he did business with, but I couldn't recall the name.
“Ready Brandy?” Callum's voice pulled me away from my thought's as he offered me a hand to help me out of the car. I gratefully took his hand, not wanting to slip on any ice, but as my right foot came down on the black top, I took notice of how there wasn't even a hint of ice. Looking around, there wasn't any signs of snow or ice anywhere on the black top except where the car had drug some off of the tires from the roads beyond Mr. Mason's driveway.
“Mr. Mason isn't a fan of snow.” Callum told me, while he watched me look at the black top in wonder.
“Or winter, for that matter.” Henry muttered in annoyance.
“I'll be waiting in the car.” I almost jumped in fright from Lyle's voice. For a moment, I had forgotten that he even existed. It made me feel bad, but with him being in the front of the limo, I couldn't help but forget that someone was driving.
“Thanks, Lyle. I'm hoping we won't be long.” Henry replied wishfully. He raised his hand to the door, grabbing the door knocker and banged it against the door three times.
Within seconds, the dark looming doors opened wide, but even as they opened, the air from inside seemed overly uninviting. The walls were a deep red, reminding me of the bloody red carpet from his office, sending a shudder down my spine. The lighting was dark, but light enough, you could just make out the shape of the furniture that matched the crimson walls.
Taking a small step inside, I noticed a random couch sat next to another set of doors, with another matching chair on the other side. There was even a large painting hanging on the wall just off to the right, with a light shining up on the painting just below it.
No one would make the mistake of realizing who was in the picture standing, tall and confident, yet looming over a small child who had tears in her eyes. You couldn't bare to miss the evil smirk on his face and the gleam in his eye as he held a small doll in his hands by his side.
The little girl was strange though; couldn't have been a day over seven with deep brown hair falling in curls down her back. She was crying, but her eyes weren't closed. Those brown eyes stared at him with a challenging look as she cried. Not from being hurt, but from anger. Her hands were clenched, painted a shade lighter than the rest of her skin, as if she was balling them into a fist in anger.
I was about to look away from the picture as I heard footsteps approaching, but something else had caught my eye. In the background, a dark figure stood watching. His hand lay on the back of a chair while his head faced forward. His silhouette looked stiff, shoulders held high as he rose to his full height. I almost missed the hand that was gripping his shoulder, but whoever the artist was, didn't think it was necessary to paint who's hand it was.
None the less, whoever had painted the picture, paid well attention to detail.
“I see you've taken an interest in my painting.” A clear deep voice announced next to her, almost sounding pleased.
Without taking my eyes off the picture, I couldn't help but ask, “who's hand is on his shoulder?” The room stayed silent for a few moments before I couldn't stand the silence and looked at him.
Shocked at the sight of his deep red hair, I stared at it for a minute before looking at his face. His dark eyebrows were furrowed together puzzled. The way his lips were pulled in tightly, I guessed that he was almost chewing on the inside part of his cheek thoughtfully. Lastly, I found his hazel eyes locked on me with a strange look. He suddenly smiled, catching me off guard, showing his nearly white teeth.
“What's it to you?” There was a strange mysterious look in his eyes as he asked. Narrowing my eyes, not liking the look he was giving me, I crossed my arms.
“It was just a question.”
“Obviously.” He chuckled, a smirk appearing on his face. “Ah, Henry.” His shoes lightly tapped against the cherry oak floor as he made his way to Henry and shook his hand.
“Bruno, I thought you were in France?” I stared at the two in confusion. How did Henry know this man, and if Henry knew him, why would the man be hanging out with Mr. Mason?
“I was, but it was boring. I missed the woods and everything here. Uncle Fredrick's place is much more entertaining than France will ever be.” Henry just shook his head.
“Your uncle's place isn't exactly entertaining. More like torturing. I don't understand how you could leave France to come back here.” Bruno chuckled.
“Oh Henry, you've only seen the worst of this place. Given the fact that it's always had to do with Michael's business with my uncle, but if you didn't have to deal with my uncle or his guards, you'd see this place is better than it looks.” Again, Henry shook his head.
“Whatever, Bruno. Is your uncle here?”
“He's gone for the week. So I have the run of the place.” At his words, both Henry and Callum's bodies let go of their tension and let out a breath of ease.
“Thank goodness.” Callum muttered under his breath. “I wasn't in the mood to deal with your uncle's games today.” Bruno smiled at him with a knowing look.
“Allen, right?”
“It's Callum.” His deep red hair shook slightly as he nodded.
“It's hard to remember all your names. Which” he turned to me, “I don't believe I know yours. I'm Bruno.” He held out his hand invitingly.
I hesitated before slowly sticking my cold hand in his.
“Brandy.” I muttered, as his firm grip engulfed my small petite hand. The warmth radiating from his hand, warmed mine before he let go after a few firm shakes.
“Interesting name. How do you know Michael? I wasn't aware that he had any relatives living with him.”
“Relative? Not even close.” I scoffed. Relative my foot! Though, taking the color of my hair and eyes into perspective, it could lead to thinking I was.
Bruno's face looked puzzled as he stared at me, before a look of realization took over his face.
“I thought Michael was done with Fraiser's?” He growled to Henry.
“I thought so too after Amelia was gone, but he left one day and came back with her.”
“Who's Amelia?” I asked. I expected Henry to answer, but instead it was Bruno.
“She was his last branded girl. My uncle,” he paused, “got a little carried away with his poisons one day.”
“He killed her?” Their silence answered my question. “What happened to the others?” I almost regretted asking the question. Did I really want to know?
“They were usually sent away. Only Amelia and Tiffany were the ones that died by accidents.” Callum's face was solemn as he spoke.
“Accidents? Poisoning someone is not an accident!” I all but hissed at them.
“Brandy, you must understand. My uncle likes to hurt people, cause them pain and suffering, but he never has the intent to kill.” Bruno looked at the floor as he chose his words carefully. “My uncle didn't mean for Amelia to die. It was a new poison, one that caused horrible dizziness. He had it tested on one of his guards and to him it seemed harmless enough. The man only had dizziness for a day or two, but nothing more, and it wasn't anymore painful than a nagging headache.”
His face grew sad, a small frown crossed his light pink lips.
“Amelia had brought in some information from Michael that had made my uncle mad. He knew Michael used his branded girls as assistants, so he figured that putting her out for a few days would affect him. I'm sure you're aware of what my uncle does when he sends a letter back?” Thinking back to when Mr. Mason had lit the blood red candle and asking for my hand, I nodded.
“The candle and...blood.” My hands clenched together at the thought of being cut.
“Right. He barely cut her hand, just enough for a few drops. She instantly became sick. My uncle sent her back, knowing it was just the dizziness causing her sickness. But a few days later, he got a call from Michael, yelling at him for the death of Amelia. My uncle had no idea it would kill her. Like I said, he wishes pain on people, but not death.” He gave me a look as if pleading.
“No one has ever died from the poisons before. He only gives enough to mess with someone. My uncle's not a killer.” Callum mumbled something under his breath, receiving a look from Bruno.
“Wishing pain and suffering on someone is pretty much the same thing as wishing death on someone.” It was the truth. Seeing the look on Bruno's face made me feel horrible, but I couldn't take it back. “Though, from your painting...” I mumbled, trailing off. “I can tell you pay well attention to detail. I'm not saying that I don't think you're wrong about your uncle, but I'm not saying you're right either. Intending to hurt someone is just like saying, 'eh, let's just go punch someone for the heck of it' without the intent to kill them, but that punch could do more damage than they think. What if they fell back and hit their head, killing them instantly?” Bruno's eyes narrowed angrily at me.
“I know that.” He hissed. “I'd prefer to not think of my only living relative as a monster, thank you very much. Henry, you know where the door is.” And with that, he left.
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Well, that's the new chapter 22. What do you guys think? I was kind of mad at myself for making the decision of deleting the last 3 or 4 chapters, but I felt like it had to be done.
Sorry for being MIA for so long. I've been having ups and downs for the last I don't even know how many months. At first, I didn't even know if I'd even get this chapter done since I've been sick and sad. One of my friends was told that he needed a surgery done on his heart and that less than 40% of the people make it.. But, he found out maybe a week ago that he doesn't need the surgery and that everything is back to normal. Thank goodness!
Anyway, thank you everyone for your support over the time I was MIA. I don't know if my uploads will be very consistant, but I'll at least try to write a little bit each day if I have spare time.
I seem to have horrible timing of picking when I want to write because someone always ends up calling me to do something else and then in the end I get nothing done.
If you guys have any questions for me, please pm me. It's easier to answer than having to look through all the comments. I do read all the comments, believe me. They are what has kept me writing.
Anyway, what do you guys think of Bruno? Who do you think is in the painting? Who's hand do you think is on the guy's shoulder?
Thank you all again,
Rue <3