Iridian

11. ASHBROOK

.memory (fragment #10)

I shifted in and out of dreamland, peripherally aware of the motion of the car to the shadowy visions of tall ornate bronze gates swinging silently open. My dreams were infused with the impressions of a large mansion, its walls and long windows reflecting the pale moonlight, thin mist curling along its base. It was the darkened scenery of a period movie, and I was waiting for the doors to burst open and a gothic heroine in a fluttery white nightgown to run out onto the misty lawn.

To my disappointment, the mansion was soon hidden by a copse of tall trees, looming over a driveway that was partially concealed from the main road. At this point I was aware that I was no longer dreaming but stirring from a deep tired sleep. I felt the car roll to a stop but I was leery of opening my eyes, wishing to return to that pretty dream. The driver's door clicked open and a gush of cold air swooped in as Dante stepped out, to be greeted by a male voice in a clipped English accent. I couldn't make out the words they spoke, content to keep my eyes closed and return to my snooze.

"Arden, wake up. We're here," Dante shook my shoulder gently. The car had become much colder because he'd opened the door on my side too.

"I'm so f-ing tired," I mumbled. "Let me sleep here. Fetch me later. Just close the damn doors."

I heard a chuckle from Dante's companion.

"You can sleep inside. There's a nice warm bed. Come on." I felt him grab hold of my elbow to pull me out of the car. Dante had a bad habit of grabbing my elbow whenever he was insistent that I needed to go somewhere.

"Goddamnit. All right." I yawned as I rubbed my eyes blearily, squinting into the darkness. There was a house a few steps ahead, the doors open to emit a welcoming heat and light. Getting there was going to be a chore though. My legs felt like lead, and it was just so damn cold. I was going to be an icicle by the time I hit that porch.

"Go on. I'll bring in your luggage. You had better send her to bed before she falls asleep on the doorstep," the English accent said, obviously amused at my expense. I couldn't make out the owner of the voice in the darkness, only a hint of pale hair. All I recall after that was the warm light, a set of wide stairs and a soft bed. I was so bone tired I could barely pull off my coat and shoes before I collapsed fully dressed onto the pillows and sank into a deep dreamless sleep.

I woke up to the sensation of sunlight on my face. I turned around, trying to get away from it, only to topple off the bed in a tangle of sheets with an audible thud. There was no way to avoid waking up after that.

With a groan, I sat up, stifling a yawn as I took in my new surroundings. It was a nice bedroom, done in pale creams and rose with modern furnishings. The carpeting I was sitting on was a deeper rose, plush and thick. The cream jacquard curtains with a pattern of climbing leaves were partially drawn, letting in the late autumn light.

The tepid sun was high up in the sky, indicating the time was close to noon. I gasped, wondering how I'd managed to sleep in so late. I'd never been so tired, that even a bomb going off nearby probably wouldn't have woken me. Pushing myself to my feet, I quickly made up the bed, noting my bags sitting just inside a partially open sliding doorway to the right. The door to the left probably led out of the room, if the hazy memory from the previous night was anything to go by. As it turned out, the sliding door led into a walk-in closet lined with rows of empty shelves and racks, directly attached to a bathroom.

The bathroom was spacious with a tub and shower, and a pile of towels sat on the beige counter beneath a wide mirror. I didn't hesitate. Digging out my toiletries I blasted on the warm water, feeling much more human after I was dressed, allowing my hair to air dry. I wasn't sure what to do with the bags, whether I ought to unpack or not, so finding my host was the next logical step especially since I'd slept in so late.