Book Eight, Chapter 21: Side Story: The Astralist Part II

The men sat in the smoking room, continuing to talk about their lives, but Logan could see that Simon’s heart was not in the conversation. He was fidgety and distracted, constantly looking toward the door as if wondering whether his wife might need his aid. Logan couldn’t imagine being in such a position. He almost spoke out and gave Simon permission to leave the group, but he figured it was better to let Simon come up with the idea himself.

It didn’t take long.

“You’ll forgive me,” Simon said as he stood up, placing his whiskey down on the table between the men. “I should check on Anastasia. The weather agitates her. It won’t be long.”

He gave a faint smile and left the room.

“You have to wonder if being dependent on her caretaker agitates her as well,” Logan said in a whisper.

Time went by as the men waited for Simon to return, not wanting to exclude him from any of the riveting conversation about the war or the current state of astral science and the speculation that it might even be used as a method of spying on the enemy abroad. But Simon didn’t return. Logan continuously glanced up at the clock.

“Feels like he’s been gone longer than he promised,” he said.

Still, they waited as the wind howled and the castle managed to creak as the air pressure from the storm moved through the place, rattling doors and billowing curtains.

“Surely Avery would have come and gotten us if there was a problem with Anastasia, right?” Logan asked.

“She would,” Andrew said. “She is a sensible woman. I imagine Simon is simply taking his time to get back here. It is easy to wonder which one of them is more dependent on the other by this point.”

He crossed his legs and took a big sip of whiskey. Logan thought he looked ashamed at what he had said, but didn’t see why he would. It was a good question. There was no way that caring for his ailing wife hadn’t changed Simon, and possibly for the worse.

“Anastasia has always been a social butterfly, ever since we were kids,” Michael said. “Her conva… convasl… the time it’s taken her to get over this sickness in this castle in the middle of nowhere, must have been driving her crazy. I’m glad you could bring Avery to keep her company.”

“Yes, Simon and Anastasia were an odd match at first, weren’t they?” Logan asked, eyeing Michael with a hint of a smile. “It seems she was the only woman he was ever willing to change for… I wonder where they are.”

Logan finished his glass and set it down on the table.

“Alright,” he said. “Field trip.”

The three men wandered the halls of the great castle, checking all of the logical places for Simon, Avery, and Anastasia to be. The Conservatory, where the women had been listening to music, was abandoned, and the record player was still spinning soundlessly in the corner.

The other likely rooms, the parlor, the sitting room, and the study, were all empty as well.

“Avery!” Logan called out, listening to his voice echo through the stone halls. “Avery!” he yelled louder, to no response except the wind.

“Maybe Anastasia was tired,” Michael suggested. “They could have gone upstairs. They did come from the master bedroom, didn’t they?”

At that suggestion, the three men quickly climbed the great staircase and found themselves at the ornate door of the master bedroom, which opened easily to reveal a dark room.

“Avery,” Logan whispered, fearing that he might wake Anastasia if she was there.

When there was no answer, he flipped on the light to reveal that the bedroom was in a state of untidiness he could not have imagined. There was dust everywhere, including on the made bed, cobwebs on the ceiling, and covering the banisters.

“I’m starting to think they overpaid the maid,” Logan said.

Andrew ran one of his fingers across the top of a dresser, creating a distinct streak and cutting deep into the dust.

“No one has used this room in months, years even,” he said.

“Then where has she been lying sick this whole time?” Michael asked, worry and annoyance covering his face.

Logan went and opened up the closet to find moth-eaten clothing.

“I am going to guess that there is some kind of infirmary,” he said. “In Anastasia’s state, navigating the stairs would be an unneeded burden.”

“But they arrived from upstairs,” Andrew said.

“Simon is as blue-blooded as they come,” Logan responded. “He would try to keep up appearances for Anastasia’s sake.”

Around them, the castle seemed to creak once more.

“All I know is I would feel a lot better if I knew where they were,” Michael said.

~

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All Avery could see at first was white.

And then, as that faded, all she could see were the stars. They hung up above her, so brilliant and shining, but unlike the stars she had seen before, they were moving. A quizzical look came over her face as she tried to understand what she was looking at.

As she rose back into consciousness further, she realized that she was lying down on a metal table with straps keeping her held steady and immobile. She did her best to move her eyes, with her head held in place, to get some sort of idea where she was. All she saw were large machines with blinking lights and other metal tables like the one she felt beneath her.

Above her was a stone ceiling, much of it covered by a strange collection of mirrors that, from what Avery could tell, contained vast galaxies. She struggled to free herself from the straps but was unable to.

“Help!” she cried out. “Who’s there?”

She did her best to turn her head to the left and right until she finally saw someone when she pushed hard enough.

It was Doctor Simon Halle, the host of the evening. He wore a lab coat over his clothes; his eyes were hard, though they strained from exhaustion. Anastasia stood next to him, holding herself up against a machine, doing her best to stare down at Avery while also keeping an eye on what Simon was doing. Under the lights in this room, her skin appeared like wax paper.

“Simon!” Avery called out. “What is this? Let me go!”