Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 07

I had left my aunt's estate at about 10:00 AM, having seen neither hide nor hair of my aunt or Angelique. I had a quick breakfast then showered, dressed, and called for a cab. I arrived at her house just around 11:00 AM, anxious to meet with this beautiful and enigmatic woman.

As the cab pulled up to the house, I noticed that the front yard was festooned with a variety of flowers, which ran along the periphery of the lawn bordering the street. To the right stood a splendid-looking rock garden and several small pieces of statuary, including a winged Cupid that stood in the center of the garden. The entire yard had a meticulous look to it, and the heady fragrance of the flowers put me in a wonderful mood.

I arranged with the driver to pick me up in a few hours and made my way up the stone walk. I had chosen to wear only a blouse and a pair of cutoffs as the weather was terribly hot and humid, but regretted this choice when Charlotte answered the door in a formal, dark blue, business suit, looking every bit like a CEO preparing to address a meeting of stockholders.

"Bon jour, Holly!" she said kissing me on both cheeks. "Entre donc! Entre donc!"

She led me into a room immediately off the hallway to the right, which was more or less a sitting room that possessed a very lived-in quality to it. The décor was simple but elegant: a green, upholstered, antique couch; two similarly styled sofas, but in burgundy; two end tables and a coffee table all with pink, marble tops designed in Italianate fashion, and, in one corner next to the room's large bay window, a magnificent grand piano with a pile of sheet music resting on the stool next to it. There was a four-tiered, lawyer's bookcase that sat against the wall directly behind the piano, which was full of law books and other various legal tomes. Some books on music had somehow found their way onto the top shelf. Despite the heat outside, the room was perfectly cool and pleasant.

"The trees," she explained. "They cover the whole house. That's why it's always so nice here in the summer."

Motioning for me to sit down, she excused herself and went into the kitchen. Moments later she came back with a tray of croissants and other assorted pastries and two large glasses of ice tea.

"Thank you," I said, as she handed me the glass of tea. "You have a lovely home."

"Merci. I think it is. It belonged to my parents and it was left to me after they died. Some people think because I'm an Anjou that I have a lot of money, but it's not true. Everything in this house, except for the furniture in this room, I earned myself from practicing law."

"I noticed the law books in your bookcase," I said.

"And the music books! That's my true love—the piano!" She laughed gaily as she glanced at the instrument across the room. "I have the analytical mind of a lawyer and the sensitivity of a musician, so my father used to tell me. Do you play?"

"I play guitar a little. But I'm not all that good," I admitted.

"I'm not that good either," she confessed, "that's why I took up law."

Her manner was so easy and relaxed that I immediately felt at home in her presence.

"So, how is everyone back at the chateau?" she asked.

"I wish I could say they were fine, but they're not."

"Oh?" she replied, searching my face. "Why is that?"

"Well, I don't have to tell you that Angelique hates my guts. Last night she finally admitted it."

"You confronted her?"

"I had to. She hadn't spoken to my aunt or me in several days. I wanted to know why."

"And what did she tell you?"

"She told me that she regards me as her enemy, and that I should go to Hell."

Charlotte's face grew dark. "She said that to you?"

"Yes."

"Because you defeated her in the test?"

I nodded. "Because I didn't help her to win."

My gracious host's smile quickly turned into a frown. "Help her to win? Espèce d'imbécile! This girl is beyond arrogant!"

"She's not the same person," I said, my eyes downcast. "She hates everybody now. She hates Lenore for naming me her successor. She hates her mother for supporting Lenore. And she hates me...most of all."

"She hates you because you are the true leader, not her. Lenore is a very wise woman. She chose you because she believes in her heart that you are the right person to lead the Sisterhood after she resigns. I had dinner with her a few days ago and she told me as much. From what I know of you, I have to agree with her assessment."

"I never wanted this honor. I don't really have any desire to be a leader."

"That's why it must be you," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "As sad as this may sound, with the exception of your aunt Phoebe and a handful of others, Lenore really can't trust anyone within the Sisterhood. There's too much divisiveness; too many cliques jockeying for power; and one very angry and disillusioned girl who sees her chances for achieving power diminishing day by day because of you."

"But why did she suddenly become psychotic? I don't understand how her personality could have changed so much in such a short time."

Charlotte removed her hand from my shoulder and sighed gently. "The seeds of dissolution were planted in her at a very early age, and your uncle had a lot to do with it. I know because I was there during those days and I saw it myself. Her contempt for men, her insolence toward authority figures, and the hatred she shows toward the whole world is a direct result of the way your uncle treated your aunt Phoebe. She saw your aunt suffer. She witnessed the arguments, the threats... and, of course, the beatings..."

She saw the look of sudden bewilderment on my face and shook her head.

"Oh, yes, Holly, trust me. I know for a fact that he hit his wife...and Angelique too. Pierre always had an affinity for the wine, and he often took out his frustrations on them both. Phoebe taught her daughter to keep all the resentment she had for her father locked up inside her—just as Phoebe did, but Phoebe had coping mechanisms that Angelique did not possess. And your aunt wanted to preserve the illusion of family cohesion at all costs. So Angelique, you might say, became a walking time bomb. And failing this test is the thing that finally set her off. That's because Angelique sees the Sisterhood as a vehicle to get back at those who have hurt her. You are, in effect, responsible for standing in the way of her vengeance. When viewed from this perspective, her psychosis becomes much more understandable...and disturbing."

It took a while for me to absorb the full impact of her words. On the surface, my cousin had always projected a proud and confident demeanor to the world. It was certainly true that she was also arrogant and contemptuous of men, but I had no idea how deep the resentment flowed. My uncle's character, which I had always viewed as beyond reproach until his dalliance was discovered, took on a new and frightening dimension when viewed in the light of Charlotte's exposé. It went a long way toward explaining my cousin's aberrant mind-set.

"I would have never believed my uncle to be so cruel. No wonder Angelique's so screwed up."

"Pierre wasn't much of a man then, but he is even less now," she said, disparagingly.

"What do you mean?"

"He's sinking. Years of guilt and self-loathing have finally caught up with him. He's a shadow of his former self now. His businesses are losing money hand over fist because he can no longer cope with reality."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I'm his lawyer."

"You?"

"Not that I feel any particular obligation to him, but we are related by blood after all. We both carry the Anjou name."

She said this with a sense of pride, as if the name itself were worth preserving even when the person himself was no longer worthy of it.

"But you're a member of the Sisterhood."

"He knows that."

"But doesn't that present a conflict of interest?"

"The truth is, he poses no real threat to us. But more importantly, all his one-time associates are tending to desert him now that his financial problems are slowly becoming public. I'm the only one he can trust, so he's turned to me."

"How badly is he in debt?" I asked.

"If we can't find a way to keep his creditors off his back, he'll lose everything."

Now I understood why my uncle seemed indifferent when my aunt threatened him with a lawsuit. If he became ruined financially, it would not make much difference if she went to the police or not. It would just be so much more wood upon the fire. In his tortured mind he might regard such an action as divine retribution for his past offences against his family—a fait accompli of such sublimity that only the gods could have orchestrated it.

But did he really think he would find inner peace in trying to seek absolution from his daughter? Did he truly believe that he could redeem himself in her eyes for years of abuse? With his world potentially on the verge of crumbling down around him, why reach out to someone who wouldn't think twice about removing the last stone from his teetering financial foundation?

"My uncle paid a visit to my aunt last night," I said.

"I know. I spoke to him this morning," she replied. "I told him not to go but he insisted upon seeing Angelique."

"Why? What does he want from her?"

"He's seeking forgiveness," she replied. "It's a noble but feeble gesture. I would say the chances of her forgiving him are almost nonexistent."

"He told my aunt that he's trying to save her from the Sisterhood."

"Oh, he doesn't think much of our organization, that's for sure. But he won't admit the truth to Phoebe. He's too proud to humble himself like that before her."

I folded my hands and placed them in my lap. "This whole situation is so messed up. I wish I had never come here."

Charlotte placed her hands over mine and leaned in toward me. Her tone of her voice was soft but emphatic.

"You have a decision to make. You can stay and continue your training or you can go home to America. But if you do leave, the Sisterhood will denounce you, and all those Sisters who believe that Lenore was wrong in choosing you as her successor will be vindicated. It will also open the door for other, less desirable, candidates to make a bid for the leadership, and Angelique will be the first in line."

"If she wants it that bad, maybe she should have it."

"Never!" she said, suddenly raising her voice. "She must never become its leader. It would mark the end of the Sisterhood as we know it."

I shook my head numbly. "I feel like I'm having that horrible dream all over again."

"What dream?"

I was not sure if I should divulge the contents of my recent nightmare to her, but I needed to speak to someone about it. And her warmth and interest put me sufficiently at ease to make the attempt.

"I haven't told this to anyone, but I feel that I can share it with you. All is ask is that you keep it between us."

"I will. I promise," she said softly.

"I had a dream several nights ago that this woman—she called herself Yvette, and she looked a lot like you—took me on a journey to this dark, underground cavern. She called it the 'Masturbatorium,' but it didn't look anything like the one we know. She said that it was a vision of what it might look like in the future if I neglected my duty to the Sisterhood..."

In the midst of my speech my host unexpectedly looked away from me and gazed worriedly out the window, forcing me to stop in mid-sentence. At first I thought she had noticed something outside that was demanding her attention, but I soon realized that it was my words that were producing the troubled look upon her face. I resumed speaking as she continued to look away, and when I finally concluded my speech she rose from her seat and walked over to the bookcase and withdrew an oversized, leather-bound book. She rifled quickly through the pages and when she finally found what she was looking for she handed the book to me.

"Is that the woman you saw?"

On the page was a black and white line drawing done in ink of a woman who looked very much like the one I had seen in my dream. She was holding a glass orb in her hands and her head was covered with a veil. Underneath the illustration were some words written in Latin, which I could not decipher.

"Audaces fortuna iuvat," Charlotte said. "Fortune favors the brave."

"That's the motto of the Sisterhood," I said.

"That's right," Charlotte replied. "And that is the likeness of Yvette Anjou, the founder of our Order...and my distant ancestor."

I looked at the picture again and then at Charlotte and was amazed at the similarity of their facial features. "You look just like her!"

"The resemblance is uncanny isn't it? You say this is the woman you saw in your dream?"

"Yes."

Charlotte resumed her seat beside me and took a sip of tea. "Prescience runs strong in my family," she began. "And Yvette was the first and the greatest of clairvoyants. During her lifetime she predicted many events that ultimately came to pass: the French Revolution, the rise and fall of Napoleon, and a prediction yet to be fulfilled—the establishment of a new world order governed by a Sisterhood of women dedicated to the abolishment of war."

I told her that this prediction was highly unlikely to come to pass.

"War seems to be the natural impulse of men," I informed her.

"Of men, yes, but not of women. With women in control, the incidence of war would be lessened and eventually terminated altogether. But that can only happen with females in power. As long as men continue to rule the world, war and all its attendant evils will continue."

I shut the book and put it down on the table in front of me. "Look, I'm all for peace and everything, but I don't see how the Sisterhood will ever attain such power. Men are still firmly in control of everything."

She smiled. "Yes, right now they are. But things will be much different a few hundred years from now."

"A few hundred years?" I said, doubtfully. "I don't think so."

Charlotte looked at me with some measure of disappointment, as though she had expected a different response from me.

"I want to ask you something and I hope that you will accept it with equanimity." Her face took on a more contemplative expression as she carefully sought to choose the right words. "Do you believe that there is more to this life than that which you experience via your senses?"

"Our senses are the only means by which we can interpret the world."

"Yes, that is true. But as wonderful as our brains are, they are also limited. Do you accept the proposition that there may be things in this universe that are, as of yet, beyond our knowledge and comprehension?"

"I would say so, yes."

This earned me an even bigger smile. "The dream you had was not so much a dream as it was a vision. And what you experienced was something very unique in this world. It is my belief that Yvette has been in contact with you."

I looked at her askance. "I don't believe..."

"The life energy of the soul can exist beyond the mortal realm, and can sometimes communicate its intent over vast stretches of space and time."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course," she assured me. "You must open your mind to the possibility at the very least, Holly. Can you do that?"

"I suppose so," I replied doubtfully.

" From what you told me, it seems that she has shown you a glimpse of one possible future reality, and not a good one."

"It wasn't good at all," I said, recalling the vision of the myriads of men tortured mercilessly by their female captors. "There was lots of pain and suffering...it was a horrible vision."

"But that reality need never exist. Yvette told you that."

I nodded. "She said that if I did not shirk my responsibility to the Sisterhood then that vision of the future would never occur."

"And do you think she was telling you the truth?"

"I don't know. It all seems so fantastic. How can my decision to remain in the Sisterhood or leave it affect the outcome of future events?"

"Each of us makes our imprint upon the future by what we do in the present. Some people's imprints are more pivotal than others, making them the conduit through which great changes are effected. I don't know why this is, but I believe you are one of those people."

"So what are you saying? The fate of the entire Sisterhood rests in my hands?"

"As with all things concerning the supernatural, one cannot say with any certainty what results will occur from any particular action in the here and now. There are simply too many variables. I think Yvette was simply issuing you a warning. She was trying to help point the way. It is up to you figure out the rest."

I didn't mean to laugh, but I couldn't help myself. "Oh, that's very convenient! And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know," she said. "But my instincts tell me that the answer will reveal itself to you in a very short time."

"Well I hope it's soon because I don't know how much longer I can stand to live in that crazy household."

"Your aunt loves you, even if Angelique doesn't. If only for her sake, don't leave her alone in that chateau with your cousin."

"Why do you say that?"

At first Charlotte seemed hesitant to offer an explanation.

"Charlotte? What is it?"

"I don't want to alarm you, Holly," she said gently, "but when I talked to Angelique during that session with Mr. Villon, I felt a cold and menacing presence in the room with us. Now I'm not saying your cousin is possessed, or anything like that. But for a split second I saw her spiritual aura emanating from outside her body. It was only for an instant, and what I saw terrified me."

Charlotte reached for her glass and drank the remainder of the contents in one gulp. She seemed visibly shaken by her recollection.

"You see, sometimes being a clairvoyant is not such a wonderful thing."

"But what was it you saw?" I asked, curious to know the truth.

She reached out her hand, grasped the leather book, and placed it gently in her lap. It seemed to me that she found some sort of comfort in it.

"I don't know how to explain it," she said. "I saw an image of... something dark and indistinct moving within a radiant golden light...it was blinding...and I felt as if it wanted to... devour me..."

As she described what she had seen, I let out a stifled cry.

"That can't be possible," I said, trying to avert the sensation of terror coming over me.

"You've seen this too?" Charlotte said, pressing me for information.

A sudden, awful realization was reflected in my face, a look that made my host reach out a trembling hand to me.

"You saw what I saw!" she exclaimed.

For a moment all I could feel was my own terror and her cold, shaking hand upon mine.

"Holly, tell me what it was you saw."

"It was when we reached the bottom level of the Masturabatorium," I said, envisioning the ghastly image once more in my mind. "That's when I saw it. It was hungry... and it wanted to devour me, too, but she reached out her hand...and willed it away. 'The Beast,' that's what Yvette called it."

"The Beast ..." Charlotte uttered, her face turning pale.

For a long while we regarded each other in silence. The coincidence (or was it?) of a shared vision was too astounding for either of us to easily accept. With tears welling in her eyes, she finally excused herself and went into the bathroom. She didn't come out until a few minutes later, and she seemed quite distraught.

"Holly," she said, sitting down next to me. "I don't know what all this means, but the fact that you and I saw the same thing means that your vision—my vision—must be taken seriously. I do know that Angelique is somehow involved in it, but to what degree I can't tell. My advice to you is to stay out of her way and don't do anything to provoke her."