It was raining when he got home, that Saturday night. His mother was waiting for him at the table in Lavender's drawing-room. Nobody else was around, a sign his mother wanted to talk to him. Ferry knew all too well what she wanted to talk about.
He took off his wet coat and put it to dry on a chair in front of the fire dancing in the fireplace with smaller or larger flames, animated by the wind coming down the chimney. He hated to see his mother sad, but above all, he hated to know she was sad because of him. He sat down at the table next to her and took her hand into his.
"I'm sorry, Mum," he softly said.
"Ferry, what were you thinking? You know you're not allowed there."
"I know," he said, looking away. "I just wanted to—"
"Your curiosity could make us both without jobs. And we can't afford that. We need to have enough money for when ..."
And his mother got up from the chair and headed for the fireplace. From her voice, Ferry could tell she was crying. He went to her and looked into her eyes.
"What's wrong, Mum?"
"They want to take you away from me ..." she softly said.
"Who?"
"A gentleman from Social Welfare came the other day. He wanted to see what conditions you live in, and if you are well taken care of, if I allow you to grow up in decent conditions ... And—I want to adopt you, Ferry, to be my child properly, even though I knew you were my child the moment I laid my eyes on you. But I'm a single parent now, that I've separated from your father. That's why I can't divorce him. If I don't meet all the conditions, they'll take away from me, " she said and burst into tears.
Ferry felt his heart broke. He held his mother in his arms just as she did when he was younger and scared, or sad.
"Nobody and nothing will take me away from you, Mum," he said. "I promise."
Her mother wiped away her tears and smiled, "You're a good boy, Ferry. Try not to get in trouble. That house ... it's giving me the chills. Those people ... are not like us."
"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.
"Money and power can destroy one's soul. That's why I never wanted it. It may seem like they have everything, but they're empty inside. I am sorry that, running after greatness, they destroy the innocent souls that meet on their way. Billy ... he's not a bad boy. His mother, the other Mrs. Pride, lived too little to be able to care for him properly. And the current Mrs. Pride is too lost into her world to see how much her son needs her. And his father is always gone ..."
"What about his grandparents?" asked Ferry.
"Well, his grandmother, Mr. Pride's mother, died in a misfortunate accident before he was born. After that, his grandfather, Mr. Albert Pride Sr., retired to a private island, away from here. No one has seen him since."
*
"You mean the mysterious stranger from the third floor is Mr. Pride's father, and he's twenty-something years old?" Ben asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he rose from the pillow of his bed. He was tousled and still in his pajamas when Ferry came to his room, that Sunday morning.
"I'm sure I heard it right, Ben."
Ben scratched the back of his head, "Maybe he had plastic surgery to look younger. Rich people do that, you know."
Ferry shook his head, "I don't know, I don't think so..."
"Anyway, I don't understand why Billy's grandfather would hide. Why do they keep that floor locked? What are they hiding?"
"Whatever it is, it has to do with the Quest. It seems to be very important for the future of the family and for their business partners. It's like the well-being of the Pride family depends on it.""No one knows what the Quest means," said Ben. "From what my father said, Mr. Pride is part of a select club that meets at the mansion every seven years, during the summer solstice. All the employees are free that night, but my sister heard from a girl working at the mansion that, each time, the maze is almost destroyed after the Quest is over. Gardeners are brought from the Big City to restore it and replant the shrubs that have to grow back until the next Quest. I think they bring animals and they hunt for pleasure," said Ben, shivering. "It seems the greatest cruelty to kill a defenseless being with cold blood. But I guess that's how rich people are, more eccentric. Which is not an excuse. I wonder if..."
"What?"
"If Celia and Billy will take part in the competition, this year. Seven years ago they were too young for that. But now..."
"What difference does it make?" Ferry wondered.
Ben looked away, "I wouldn't want to know she— they ... are capable of this."
"Rich people are not like us," said Ferry, remembering his mother's words.
"Rich people are still people," Ben softly said. "They still bleed if they got cut ..."
Ferry was lost in thought. He had noticed something at the guest. "But what does it mean if they don't bleed?"
"What do you mean?" Ben asked.
"I saw the stranger cutting his hand. But he didn't bleed. Not even a drop."
"You mean he has some kind of superpower?"
"Something like that," Ferry said thoughtfully. "I'm telling you, Ben, something's wrong with that man. And I have to find out what."
"But you promised your mother you wouldn't go in there."
Ferry nodded. Walking across Ben's room, he saw at the telescope his friend had built, which was standing by the window.
"Ben, can you borrow me your telescope?"
"For what?" he asked.
"I promised my mother I wouldn't go in again. But that doesn't mean I can't watch that room from the distance," Ferry said, a grin appearing on his face.
Ben shook his head, "Ferry, this curiosity of yours will get you in big trouble one day. Wait to see when Matt finds out ..."
But Ferry cut his short, "Ben, Matt doesn't have to find out."
"What? Why?" Ben wondered.
"Because she'll want to come with me, as usual. And last time, I was a fool and put her in danger. Promise me you won't tell her."
"She'll be angry if she finds out. I wouldn't want to be around when that happens ... Besides, I don't like to keep secrets. I'm not good at keeping secrets."
"Don't worry ... I'll take all the blame on me."
"I don't know, Ferr ... Given what happened between you two..."
Ferry was confused, "What do you mean? What happened? Did she tell you anything?"
Under the storm of questions that no longer stopped, Ben looked away, "No ... I was just talking about what happened last fall ..."
"--because lately, I keep finding out that she is more open to others than to me. To you, to Sage ... She should trust me. She should talk to me. I'm supposed to be her best friend. Are you sure you know nothing about this?"
"I'm sure," Ben replied, refusing to look him in the eye.
Ferry sighed and stopped bombarding his friend with questions. Ben was a bad liar, anyway.
*
The sun came out of the clouds when Ferry left Ben's house. After the rain the other day, the town shook off the monotony and the gray hues that always colored it when the snow melted.
Now, Ferry was walking around without any purpose. The cold weather of the latest months had kept him from wandering night after night over the town. He could do it now, even if he couldn't fly. The cold yet fresh air invigorated him. It brought along signs the spring was near. A smell of fresh sprouts and grass. The cold was still present, a sign that it wasn't ready to move away from the hills too soon. Maybe that was why there were few people on the street at that time of the afternoon. He inhaled the crisp air and started for Lavender's house. He had decided he should spend more time with his mother. With all the events that had happened lately, with all May's indifference, and Matilda's confusing ways, he had neglected his mother.
He picked up the pace. But the road to Lavender's house passed by Widow Jones' house. Ferry clenched his fists, determined to move on. But the house came in his way, crooked, pointy, and grey. His heart was racing for some reason as if in front of danger. Last time, things had gone terribly wrong when he visited that house. He didn't even remember what really happened. But when he was about to leave it behind, he saw something moving on the roof. He turned and found Anne on the roof of the house, facing the shy sun above. And the sun seemed to spotlight on her, ignoring everything else around. As usual, she was wearing those black sunglasses. Her hair, the color of a starless night, was dancing in the wind as if it had a soul and a will of its own. She was smiling. It was the first time Ferry saw her smiling.
Then she saw him and retreated somewhere behind the tall chimney. Ferry entered the garden of the house without thinking about what might happen. He rested Ben's telescope on one of the walls. He stepped closer to the house and looked again at the roof. There was no one there. Then, he remembered the promise he made to her. And promises had to be kept.
He looked around, then, in one leap, he climbed in flight on the house's roof. The hatch in the roof was covered with a thin, moist layer of fungus and lichen. Ferry opened it and looked inside, then took a deep breath and jumped. The hatch led to the main hall of the house. When the tips of his toes touched the floor, he stood still in the middle of the hall, listening. Behind him, however, he could hear a faint screak like a cricket's chirp. With the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow watching him. When he turned, the shadow disappeared around the corner. Ferry followed the shadow from which he could see only dark strips like black wings, fluttering around every corner of the house. The shadow led him on a twisted corridor that went down to the depths of the house. He arrived in front of an open door through which a stripe of light slipped outside. He recognized the place— it was the basement of the house where once, long ago, as if in another life, he had thought he was being held captive with his friends by an old, mad woman. What if this time, he would become captive once he stepped inside? He noticed that the door, like all the doors in the house, didn't have a lock, but a wooden latch that closed with a plank. He pushed the door slowly, and it opened with a faint sound like a word from an unknown tongue. Everything in the house was deceiving, and he had to keep his sharp senses alert.
But instead of the sad room he once knew, he discovered a warm one that welcomed him with open arms. Candles were scattered all over, and under their warm light, the crumbling walls looked like covered in the most enchanted wallpaper in which the mold took the form of flowers and birds. In the middle of the room, he could see a round carpet made of colored garments as if a piece of rainbow lowered from the skies to bring a cheerful shade to a place that had known only tears. A wicker rocking-chair swung into a corner of the room with no one sitting in it. An old mattress, covered with a blanket of colored patches, was placed on the opposite corner. They were all old things of Mrs. Cobbs that somehow came back to life in that forgotten little room.
Ferry tiptoed inside the room, paying attention to everything around him. He slowly moved toward the swinging chair. He found Anne crouching behind it.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I just wanted to see if you're all right, as I promised. If I disturb you, I can go. Do you want me to go?"
Anne shook her head, "No," she said as soft as a summer raindrop.
Then, she came out from behind the rocking-chair and sat down on the edge of it as if she was ready to burst into a run at any time.
"Is this your room?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "They don't know about this place."
"They? Who are they?" Ferry wondered.
"My mum and ... the Monster."
Ferry frowned. He didn't understand anything anymore, "What do you mean?"
But Anne began to shiver so hard, Ferry thought she might have a seizure. She then sat on the corner of the mattress with her knees against her chest and began to swing. She mumbled a song Ferry had heard from her mother the last time he visited the house. What if she tried to charm him too?
He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and the girl suddenly calmed down at his touch. He sat next to her on the shredded mattress.
"What song is this?" he asked. "How do you know it?"
"I know it from my mother. She sings it often ... It's just that I— I don't know the words. She sings it in another language," she whispered.
"You mean she's not from here?" he wondered. "I thought you lived in the Big City."
Anne shook her head. The black, shiny strands of hair covered her white forehead.
"I lived in many places. All dark and hidden. My mother says this is because the light is hurting me and making me ill. But she doesn't know ... Sometimes—"
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes, in my dreams, I see a beautiful place with sun and warm weather. With flowers shining and trees as tall as mountains, touching the pink sky above. I think I met you there, sometimes. But my mother says this is just in my imagination."
Ferry smiled, "That's what my mother tells me. But maybe it's not so bad to live in the world in your head. Maybe in your world, people can't hurt you."
She turned her face to him and smiled, "Maybe you are right. There are not too many good things for me in this world ..." she said and touched her left wrist. Ferry then noticed a reddish streak dug into her thin, white skin like a tattoo of blood.
Ferry tried to look beyond the dark lenses of her glasses, "Is anyone hurting you in this house, Anne? You can tell me."
The girl covered her scar, "You have to leave," she said and stood up.
Ferry also got up and stepped close to her, "Anne, I can help you."
But the girl shook her head, "No, you have to leave. They're here," she said, her voice soaring like a roar of the storm.
Then, she touched her hand with her frail hand, "But will you come back for me?" she asked in a voice in which Ferry read despair.
"I'll come back for you," he promised.
He then followed her on the twisted corridors which led the roof hatch. From the ground floor room, he could hear voices, and Ferry knew it was time to leave. But there was no ladder to the hatch. How was Anne going up there? So Ferry had no choice but to get up in flight, right under her gaze hidden behind the glasses. When he looked down, she was gone.
Once outside, he hurried to the side of the house to retrieve Ben's telescope. He rested for a second near the window, and couldn't help to look inside. In the soft light that came from the fireplace, he saw Andrew crying like a child in Mrs. Jones's arms; her hands were caressing his hair, and her lips were kissing his forehead and eyes. And without knowing why, Ferry's heart broke a little.
Well, what do you think about this new chapter? I was listening to some sad music while writing this one, hence the sad tone of the chapter. I hope you liked it, anyway :)