Irena's Shadow

Throughout this conversation, Irena had been getting more and more worked up. She felt like crying and screaming at the same time. She hated being so goddamn helpless! It was like being a little kid again, with no control over any of her destiny, no decisions that couldn't be overruled by a guardian. She turned her head to the window again, trying to keep herself in check, trying to stop from breaking down completely. She felt Soto slide closer to her, but she didn't look at him.

"Miss Marshal?"

"What?" she snapped. He put a hand on her shoulder, and Irena jerked away just as the limo went over a bump in the road. Her head smashed against the window, and her teeth clicked together on her lower lip. She cried out in pain and shoved herself backwards, her lip stinging and welling blood.

Soto pulled a long scarlet handkerchief from his breast pocket and tried to hand it to her. When she refused take it, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. "Let go of me!" she shouted, trying to wriggle away.

"Hold still," said Soto calmly, tightening his hold. He raised the handkerchief to her lips and dabbed away the blood, continuing to hold her in place with his other hand. "Really, Miss Marshal," he said as he released her. "You're acting like a child." Irena shrank back against the window, focusing on the scenery once more as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

After a few minutes Soto spoke again. "Perhaps we should talk business, or rather I'll talk business and you will listen as you do not seem to be in a very talkative mood this afternoon." He straightened his tie, and looked at her, but Irena kept her attention focused on the window

"The paperwork declaring you my ward states that your mental faculties are impaired to an extent which renders you incapable of looking after your own wellbeing. By law, I am now Guardian of the Person to Miss Irena Louisa Marshal and am to serve the functions of a parent by providing you with shelter, food, clothing, and discipline. Essentially, I am allowed to make most of your decisions for you."

Irena didn't want to hear any of this. She wanted to curl up into a ball and be swallowed by the earth. Her head ached where she'd crashed into the glass, her lip stung where she had bitten it, and she was sick with fear about the fate that awaited her as Soto's ward. Why didn't he just leave her alone? But Soto continued, either oblivious of, or simply ignoring her discomfort.

"My home is entirely at your disposal. You will have a set of rooms to yourself, and if there is anything that you desire, you have only to ask for it. You are free to do what you wish during the days, but I expect you to dine with me in the evenings and to spend an hour with me after the meal. Is that clear, Miss Marshal?"

Irena stared at Soto, trying not to tremble as he focused his full attention on her. She felt as if all of her mental resources had been drained. There was nothing she could do but nod. Soto looked satisfied and without saying another word, he reached beneath his seat and produced that day's copy ofThe New York Times. The rest of the ride passed in silence except for the occasional crackle of paper as Soto turned a page. Irena simply stared out the window for the remainder of the two hour drive, watching her old life being left further and further behind.

The next time Soto spoke was when the limousine stopped in front of a towering set of wrought iron gates guarding a narrow road which led into the forest.

"These gates mark the beginning of my property. My land is entirely encircled by a security fence, and this gate is the only way in or out."

As Irena watched, the driver hopped out of the limo and pressed in a code on the keypad. The gates swung slowly open, and the driver got back into the car and drove them through onto the strange narrow track that Irena guessed must be Soto's driveway. The gates shut behind them with a deep, ominous clang.

"Welcome to my estate, Miss Marshal," Soto said, before returning once more to his newspaper.

Irena had begun to calm down during the long silence of the drive, but now her anxiety returned. She sat tense in her seat, waiting for her first glimpse of the place where she would now be living. It took them a lot longer to get to the end of the drive than she expected. For twenty minutes the limo drove through old, dark forest, the trees making a kind tunnel over the tiny road. When she finally saw a clearing up ahead, Irena was half-convinced that she had fallen into some kind of twisted fairy tale, and that the house which awaited her would be an enchanted castle, home to perhaps an evil sorcerer or an ogre. This turned out to be rather closer to the truth than Irena was comfortable with.

The dwelling before her was no castle, but it wasn't something you could call a 'house.' It was a mansion, or maybe a better word was 'estate,' as Soto had called it. The building reared up from a clearing in the trees, and her mind flashed on a picture she had seen in Conan Doyle'sThe Hound of the Baskervilles. Gargoyles perched on the roof, elaborate arches soared over the entranceway, and an enormous stained glass window depicting a single red rose towered over the estate's double front doors.

The building actually seemed to loom over them, making Irena's flesh break out into goose bumps, and her pulse quicken with a mixture of awe and apprehension. She would be living here? Her emotions must have showed on her face, because she heard Soto laugh and turned to find that he had put down his newspaper and was observing her.

"Impressive, isn't it? The estate was built by a rather eccentric millionaire in the early nineteenth century. He had rather too much of a fondness for the gothic, but then again so do I, so I hold no grudge against him." The limo cruised to a halt in front of the mansion's entranceway, and the driver came around to open the car door for Irena and Soto before going to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk. She slid out of the car, and Soto followed her, climbing out with almost surreal grace.

"Come with me, Miss Marshal, I have had rooms prepared for you." Soto took Irena's suitcase from the driver, and then walked up the steps that led to the doors, beckoning for her to follow. She did, wishing now that the limo ride had taken longer. The massive doors swung back easily enough when Soto pushed them open, and Irena had to stop and gape as they entered the massive foyer. The glistening parquet floor, the elaborate wainscoting and the half-dozen statues and paintings decorating the walls made this room look as if it had cost more than Irena's entire house.

"You have no idea how becoming you look when you are over-awed, Miss Marshal," said Soto, looking back over his shoulder at her. Irena tore her gaze from a painting and felt herself beginning to blush as Soto resumed walking.

He led her up richly upholstered staircases, through decadent corridors, and finally stopped outside of a door set into a niche in a hallway on the third floor. Irena was panting slightly from the trip, and she knew that she would never be able to find this place again on her own. "Here are your rooms, Miss Marshal," Soto said, opening the door and ushering her inside.

She walked slowly into a large room with dark wooden flooring and walls done in an elegant green paper. It was furnished as a sitting room, with two sofas, a coffee table, an armchair, bookshelves, a desk, and a television.

"There is also a bedroom and full bath," said Soto from behind her. Irena jumped, and then nodded.

"I'll put your suitcase on the bed."

Nod. Soto disappeared through a door, and returned a moment later, no longer holding her suitcase. "You seem to have lost your ability to speak, Miss Marshal," he said after a moment.

"I haven't lost the ability, I'm just deigning not to."

"Ah, well, as you are deigning not to make conversation, I have business to attend to. Dinner is at seven thirty. Someone will be sent up to collect you." Then he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him. Irena simply stood in the middle of her opulent new sitting room, staring at the closed door. It occurred to her briefly that she could try to run; he hadn't locked the door, but she discarded the idea. She would probably just get lost trying to find her way out of the house, and even if she did manage to get out, she doubted that she would be able to scale the fence that Soto had said surrounded the grounds. Instead, she went into the bedroom to unpack.

The room she entered was about half the size of the sitting room. It contained an enormous four-poster bed complete with a canopy, a large carved armoire, a vanity, a full length mirror, and a nightstand. Irena went to the bed and began unpacking, wincing at how tawdry her jeans and t-shirts looked inside the extravagant confines of the armoire. She realized that she was carefully avoiding thinking about her situation, but that was just fine for now. After she had finished unpacking, Irena lay down on the bed thinking that she would rest for a few minutes and then try reading a bit more ofInterview with the Vampire. Five minutes later, however, she had fallen asleep on top of the bed's green silk coverlet.

She awoke at a knocking on the outer door, and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. When she did, all of the fear and rage which she had been suppressing for the better part of the day bubbled to the surface, and she groaned. She rubbed her eyes, and stretched, then went to go answer the door. It opened on a woman dressed in a black uniform with a white apron over top of it, a maid judging by the odor of pine-sol that hung about her.

"Mr. Soto sent me up to bring you down to the dining room, Miss," said the maid.

"Oh, ok." Irena stepped out of the door and closed it behind her. The maid eyed her rumpled clothing, and her lips tightened, but she said nothing. Irena was led down corridors, through doors, and down staircases, and although she tried to memorize the route they were taking, she was sure that she'd never be able to remember it all. Five minutes or so later, the maid led her through a towering, curved archway and into an enormous dining room. A table big enough to seat at least fifty had been pushed up against the wall to make room for a smaller one, just big enough to support two places. Soto stood at one end of the table, smiling at Irena as she walked towards him. The maid disappeared back through the archway, leaving the two of them alone

"Please sit down," Soto said, walking around and pulling out a chair for her. She made herself walk towards him, standing up straight and doing her best to act haughty. This was made difficult by the fact that she was wearing torn jeans and Soto was wearing a suit which looked as if it had cost more than most people made in a month. She sat, automatically reaching for her napkin and depositing it in her lap.

"I see that your father did manage to teach you some table manners," commented Soto, as he took his own seat. "Although, it seems as if he neglected to go over the fact that it is impolite to show up for dinner dressed in rags."

"Excuse me?"

"Your father may have let you get away with such behavior, but I do not find it to be the least bit endearing."

"These are the only kind of clothes I have, and they're not rags, thank you very much. Pardon me if I didn't bring along my evening wear."

"I will overlook it this time, but in the future, you will dress more appropriately."

Irena flushed, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Soto spoke again.

"You are living in my home now, and you will abide by the rules which I set down for you. I think I will make rule number one, 'Dress appropriately when in the presence of your host.'" He poured himself a glass of red wine and raised it to his lips. "Your figure is far too charming to be hidden behind ill-fitting clothes. I will look into getting you a new wardrobe"

Irena gaped at him. "You—you--" she didn't know what she had been planning to say next, but just then a uniformed man came through a door at the other end of the room carrying their dinner on a silver tray.

"Thank you Patrick," Soto said, and then dismissed the servant after he had put their plates on the table. Irena decided to keep quiet for the rest of the meal, and began eating without bothering to see if Soto was doing the same.

"Do you find your rooms adequate?" he asked after a moment.

Irena didn't respond, only stared at her plate and concentrated on eating. Soto allowed the silence to draw on, and Irena's stomach began knotting before he spoke again. "I will have to make rule number two, 'speak when you are spoken to.' Really, Miss Marshal, I didn't think you were so childish."

Irena chewed her food, trying to ignore the silence spinning on and to look as at ease as Soto did. Eventually, though, the tension was too much for her. "You don't know anything about me," she blurted

"Ah, she speaks!" Soto said in mock jubilation, toasting her with his glass. "And yes, you're right; I know almost nothing about you. This is something I was hoping to remedy with conversation."

"I don't see why you should care."

"And why shouldn't I care? You are my ward, after all."

"You traded my father for me. You think I'm an object."

"That's a rather unfair accusation."

"Well its true isn't it?"

"No it isn't. I fully acknowledge your humanity, Miss Marshal." He raised his glass again in another mock toast. "Some might even say that I rescued you from a despotic, drunken oaf who would sell his child to save his own worthless skin."

"And some might say that you're a hypocrite trying to justify his actions."

"Some might say that, yes, but only if they were not privy to the information that it was your father's idea to exchange you in the first place, not mine."

Irena had thought herself beyond further surprise, but now she felt as if someone had snuck up and punched her in the stomach. "My father was the one who suggested it?" Her voice had suddenly gone hoarse.

"Of course he was the one, Miss Marshal. I would have thought that you'd know what kind of man your father is by now. He witnessed our little meeting in the hallway, and with amazingly little segue told me that he would be willing to give you to me in exchange for the dissolution of the rest of his debt. Now, I'm not saying that my motives were entirely pure, but in part, I agreed to his offer in order to take you out of your father's reach. As for my other motives...well, I promise you that I won't lay a finger on you unless you ask me to. I have no plans to rape you, despite your father's assumption that I would do so." Soto had stopped eating and his entire attention was focused on her.

Irena was shocked. She had known her father was a bastard, but she'd also thought that he'd loved her at least a little. Now she found out that he had suggested that his own daughter be sold to a stranger. He had meant for Soto to take Irena as a lover, whether she wanted to be or not. How could her own father have done such a thing? Did Soto think that Irena would let him fuck her? She remembered the way he had looked at her the night before...but he had said that he wouldn't touch her.

"How do I know that you're telling the truth?" Irena asked Soto in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

"You don't. The only thing that you can do is trust me. Compare what you know of me, as little as that is, to what you know of your father. Who seems to be the liar?" Soto's voice held no trace of lightness anymore; now he was grave, and he studied her face intently.

Irena thought about it, and she realized that to the best of her knowledge, Soto had not yet lied to her. Her father, on the other hand, had lied to her more times than she could count. About his drinking and his gambling. About all those little things over the years of her childhood. Irena realized with a confused mixture of amazement and disgust that she thought this stranger more trustworthy than her own father. She might not like Soto, but she didn't think he was a liar.

"I believe you," she whispered, grabbing her water glass and draining it in a single nervous gulp.

"Good. Perhaps now we can talk of other things." Soto looked at Irena, waiting to see if she had anything else to say about the matter. She knew that she should let it go. Her father had sold her to a stranger, but Irena was beginning to think that maybe she was better off. Soto was arrogant and frightening, but she doubted that he was at all like her father. Maybe she would get a fresh start here, if she ignored the fact that her father had intended her to become Soto's mistress, and that her plans for the future had all been ripped away.

"I think that might be a good idea," Irena said. "I need to think of something else."

"Of course." Soto seemed to be waiting for her to bring up a topic of conversation.

Irena cast around frantically for a topic. "So, um...Have you ever readInterview with the Vampire?"

They talked about books for the rest of the meal. Soto had indeed readInterview with the Vampire, and they discussed it for several minutes, moving from Anne Rice to Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, and then Robert Louis Stevenson. To Irena's surprise, Soto knew a great deal about literature, and by the time dinner was over she found that she was actually enjoying talking with him. No one had ever liked to talk about books with her, and it was wonderful to have someone, anyone, with whom to discuss favorite characters and random bits of trivia. Finally, after lingering over dessert for over half an hour, Soto rose from his seat and Irena followed suit.

"If you are not too, tired, Miss Marshal, I could give you a short tour of the house," he said.

Irena hesitated a moment before replying. It would probably be a good idea to get to know where she was going to be living, but a tour would mean more of being alone with Soto, and now that they weren't talking about books anymore, she was starting to feel nervous again. Finally, she said, "Ok...and you can call me Irena if you want. The "Miss Marshal" thing makes me feel old."

"Very well, Irena." Hearing him say her name gave Irena a small shiver. It sent her back to the previous night when he had inspected the curves of her body through her nightgown. She glanced at Soto and saw a smile flicker over his lips as if he'd read her thoughts.

"Can we go?" she asked nervously. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, Irena."

Soto led her through the door opposite the archway through which she had come and they began the tour. He walked her through the conservatory, the library, various sitting rooms, and the recreation room. He showed her the entrance to the gardens, and walked her past the kitchens. On the second floor, they came to a corridor which dead ended in a locked door. "What's behind there?" Irena asked.

"My private rooms," Soto replied. "I could show you those as well, if you'd like." He smiled at her, a slow, deliberate up-turning of the lips, and placed a hand on the small of her back as if to guide her forward. Irena stiffened, color rushing to her face.

"No, that's ok," she said, the words tumbling from her mouth in one quick burst. Soto sighed and removed his hand. "Well, then, I suppose that concludes the tour." He turned back the way they had come, but then he paused. "Unless you would like to see the basement?"

"What's in the basement?"

"Just another lounge. I designed and decorated the room myself. It's where I entertain guests who visit for pleasure rather than business." He actually sounded somewhat enthusiastic. "If you are too tired, I can show you some other time."