House of Mirrors

"I can't believe you dragged me out to this wasteland of trees just so you could get laid," Emma said as she shouldered her bag and slammed the door to the crimson coupe shut.

"Look at that house!" Her friend said, locking the car with a beep and pointing past the trees and up the driveway, "you won't see something like that back in Fart Town."

"I hate that name," Emma said, lifting her eyes upwards to find a mansion drilling a dark shape against the sky like a three story coffin. She drew her jacket tighter around her, "geez, it's huge. What kind of place is this, Maddy?"

"See, you won't even know Greg and I are here," Maddy said, "you'll have the whole weekend to yourself to do whatever it is you do when you're alone."

Emma trekked up the driveway and stamped her feet as she stood at the foot of the front steps. A singular red lamp rattled in the wind and dripped with a flickering glow across the entrance. She placed a foot on the first step of seven which seemed to spill out from the door like ripples in a pond. At the top of the stairs, a set of iron double doors with tasteful rusted engravings of roses and vines stood. The light from the lamp highlighted the edges and made the designs stand out in the dark like red scratches on black velvet.

Emma halted, "where are all the windows?"

"The guy on the phone said the lady who built this place was some real famous architect and this house was her masterpiece," Maddy said, joining Emma on the first step, "though he used another word for it, I forget what it was." She shrugged, "so I guess she didn't like windows," her lip shivered, "let's get inside already."

"How much did renting this place cost?" Emma asked, advancing another step after her friend.

"Not much actually," Maddy said, "probably because it really sucks to get here; you saw how long and twisting the drive was. I'm surprised we made it. I just hope Greg doesn't get lost when he drives up."

Emma dragged her fingers along the railing as she climbed; the frozen iron stung her skin.

"What were you saying in the car about this place?" Emma asked, shoving her hand into her jacket.

"What, you weren't listening?" Maddy said. She squatted and lifted a potted plant, revealing a silver key.

"I guess I didn't really care at the time," Emma said, watching her breath curl under the red light above the door. Two moths thrashed about.

"The guy on the phone," Maddy huffed as she stood with key in hand, "who was very particular about who stays here by the way, said it was the heaviest dwelling ever constructed for its time, he said the walls of the house are a skeleton of hand-forged iron draped in shells of obsidian." She fought with a branch of the plant that caught on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, "what is this nasty bush?"

Emma's attention left the ornate door and rounded on her friend's struggle, "looks like Myrrh to me, though it's hard to tell."

"Whatever it is, it nearly tore my Clemon top, this was a Christmas gift from Greg, you know!" Maddy groaned as she pawed at the synthetic fabric of her over-sized pale pink crop- top.

Emma rolled her eyes, "does your mom know he bought that for you?"

"Of course not," Maddy smiled, "are you nuts? That would be too obvious." She lined up the key with the keyhole in the right door and turned the knob, "I told her you bought it for me."

"Thanks for roping my name into the labyrinth of your perverse love affair," Emma said.

The door clicked and Maddy grunted as she struggled to pull it open, "fuck, it's heavy as hell."

Emma helped by slipping her fingers in the gap and prying on the edge of the door until it gained enough momentum to swing open on its own.

"Wow, look at this place!" Maddy said, rubbing her dirty hands off on Emma's jacket, "looks like he got it all ready for us. I can see the fireplace is on in the other room." She dropped her bags and ran off towards a drawing room that was open on the left of the main hall where they entered.

Emma stepped inside and the space took her breath away. Walls of black lacquer trimmed in rippling rosewood streaked out in front of her. She sniffled as the warm air made her cold nose run. Slipping out of her sneakers, she padded over to the nearest wall. A dark reflection of her own pale cheeks and red lips regarded her as if she were peering into a pond. Emma pressed her right hand flush against the glassy wall, leaving hazy lines of condensation where her fingers had touched. A red glow haloed the top of her hair and she looked up to see a warm lamp flickering in glass.

She stepped away and saw the back of her black head reflecting infinitely in the opposite wall.

"What a strange house..." Emma whispered to herself.

"Emma!" Maddy poked her head into the hall from the drawing room, "come check this out!"

Emma wandered into the drawing room after her and found Maddy reading a card. A wine bottle with two silver chalices were standing on a narrow table in the center of the room.

"Who's it from?" Emma asked, pulling the strap of her bag over her head and discharging it on a chair near the door.

Maddy shrugged and wiped her face with her sleeve, "looks like a spell or something, pretty handwriting though, probably the owner being fancy. If he owns this kind of house, I could see him writing something like this."

"What do you mean?" Emma said, reaching out, "let me see it."

Maddy passed the card to Emma and busied herself with the wine bottle.

"Loci..." Emma said, running a finger over the curving lines of ultramarine ink. The fire crackled and hissed.

There was a muted popping sound and Emma glanced up to see Maddy with her nose over the lip of the wine bottle.

"It smells expensive," Maddy said, "at least I think it does." She lifted the bottle and rotated it in her hands.

"What does 'Loci,' mean, looks like Latin doesn't it?" Emma asked, joining Maddy at the small table and placing the card down next to the stained cork.

Maddy looked at her with squinting eyes, "you're joking, right? You think I know anything about Latin? It probably means something like, 'enjoy,' or 'welcome to the party,' or something like that." She shrugged and poured out two glasses of wine in heaping spurts.

Emma took up her glass and Maddy dinged it with hers, "to a passion-filled weekend!"

Maddy laughed and took a large gulp. Emma stared at the elegant handwriting on the card and sipped on hers. Tangy bitterness burned along her tongue and made her cheeks tingle. She sniffled.

"Wow, it's really good," Maddy said.

Emma revolved the silver flute in front of her and saw her reflection in the polished cylinder, "it is, isn't it?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Maddy asked, she plopped down on a couch near the fire with such a bounce, her chestnut ponytail jumped onto her shoulder, "look at this place, have you ever seen such a fancy room before?"

Emma perched on an armchair across from Maddy and the heat of the fire welcomed her with licks of warmth. After a sniffle and wriggle of her frozen toes, she sat back and took another sip of her wine.

"I guess this could be nice," Emma said, "I'm sorry I was being such a bitch about it."

Maddy giggled into her glass, "we've been best friends forever, I know how you work. You always have to be won over, like some kind of princess, pacified into submission."

"You make me sound so high maintenance," Emma said.

"You are," Maddy said, "but in all the weirdest ways."

The heat from the fire and the fire from the wine flushed through Emma's body. She unbuttoned her jacket with one hand and worked her way out of it. Scooping in her right bra strap and pinching down on the neckline of her low cut t-shirt, she straightened herself out.

"So what time is Greg supposed to get here?" Emma asked, plucking a stray hair from between her cleavage with black nails.

"Later tonight," Maddy said, "he has to slip away as if he's going to be out on a job somewhere for the weekend."

"I still can't believe you're doing this," Emma said, brushing dirt off the sleeve of her jacket, she cocked an eyebrow, "don't you think it's a little, I don't know, gross?"

"It's complicated," Maddy said, crossing her legs.

Emma shrugged and looked up into the ceiling, her eyes traced interlaced fractals of lines that reflected the shimmer of the fireplace, "it always is with you."

"What about you?" Maddy said, "you're so pretty Emma, surely there's a hundred guys out there interested in you?"

"There are..." Emma said, "but I'm not interested in any of them."

"Then who are you interested in?" Maddy asked.

Emma shrugged and took a deeper swig of her wine, "I haven't met him yet." She sighed deeply, "he probably doesn't exist. Did you look at this ceiling? What are those crazy patterns up there?"

"Don't try and change the subject," Maddy said, she gestured with her wine glass, "weren't you dating that one guy?"

"Yeah, but he was a creep," Emma said, she took a gulp of her wine and pretended to study the silver flute.

"I thought you liked creeps?" Maddy said.

"Not that kind of creep," Emma said, she rotated her glass and discovered a word etched into it, "banphrionsa." She scratched at the script with a nail.

"What kind of creeps are you into?" Maddy said, "I never understood what you meant by that."

"Well..." Emma said, she lowered her wine and smiled at Maddy, "it's complicated."

Maddy laughed and upended her wine. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and groaned.

"What?" Emma asked.

"No service," Maddy said, gripping her forehead, "like none at all. How am I going to know if something happens with Greg?"

Emma sunk further into her chair and rested her glass on the arm of her chair, "guess we'll just have to wait for him to show up. He's a grown man, isn't he? If we found our way here, he should be able to do the same."

Maddy hopped off the couch and squatted next to Emma's chair.

"Smile," Maddy said, holding her phone at arms length in front of them, "I need this to look official for when I get back home."

Emma made an exaggerated smile and Maddy clicked a few pictures. The glow of the screen illuminated Maddy's face as she checked the photos. She stood and rested her knee on the arm of Emma's chair. Emma poked her thigh.

"You're so much prettier than me now," Maddy said, zooming in on a picture and grimacing, "I hate it."

"Shut up," Emma said, "you always were the prettiest one when we were growing up, maybe it's my time to reign now." Emma laughed.

Maddy shook her head, "no, I hate it." She snatched Emma's wine glass from the other arm of the chair and finished it off. She let out a sigh and wiped her mouth, "okay, shall we explore this place a bit?"

"Remember, you said I could have the master bedroom," Emma said, extending her arm playfully as if she were a princess.

Maddy curtsied in an unbalanced way, retrieved Emma's hand, and helped her out of the chair, "yes, your majesty."

"Wow," Emma said, "you must really want this guy if you are treating me like such royalty. What's he look like? Show me a picture, he's older right?"

Maddy placed the wine glass on the table on top of the card next to the wine bottle, "I can't show you any pictures of him."

"You're fucking this guy, but you don't have any pictures of him on your phone?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No," Maddy said, "just in case my mom needs to use my phone or something, I don't want to risk it."

They walked out into the main hallway and their voices echoed a little louder as they talked, "well, describe him to me at least," Emma said.

Maddy shook her head, "no, he'll be here soon, I might as well keep it as a surprise at this point."

"Suit yourself," Emma said, "does he find it a little weird that you brought me along?"

Maddy shook her head as she turned the knob on a door, "no, it was his idea actually. Look! I think I found the master bedroom. Shit, I'm jealous!"

"Too late!" Emma said, pushing the door open further and flicking the lights on.

They walked in and Emma scratched her head, she looked at Maddy.

"What?" Maddy asked.

Emma pointed at the bed in the center, "the bed is smack dab in the center of the room." She walked over to it and ran her hands on the creamy duvet, "it's on a raised platform and everything, how weird. I've never seen that before."

"More of those shiny black walls in here too and no windows here either, trippy," Maddy said, walking around the outskirts of the room, "nice paintings though, I feel like they would really set the mood. Are you sure you don't want to switch?" She squinted into a scene of nymphs and fawns trumpeting through an ancient Greek wood.

Emma was studying the chandelier that hung above the bed, the warm light pulsed softly like it was breathing; little golden roses curled out at the tips of the crystal fixture and stared down at the bed beneath it.

"No thanks," Emma said, "this room is for royalty." Her hands embedded themselves in the rich silk of the duvet and she inhaled a faint aroma that shifted loose the sediment of a memory. The bright, musky scent tickled her mind for an instant. Emma wracked her brain trying to remember the scent. Highschool... She lifted her fingers to her nose but the fragrance was no longer there.

"What are you doing?" Maddy asked, watching her from a chaise.

"Nothing," Emma said, "I just thought I smelled something familiar."

Maddy shrugged, "do you think the guy who owns this place is gay or like one of those fancy rich guys?"

"Maybe he's a rich fancy gay guy," Emma said, "didn't you say some woman owned and built this house first though?"

"Oh yeah, that would explain it. I wonder if I've ever been in a house designed by a woman before." Maddy stretched and hopped off the chaise, she checked her phone again, "still nothing."

"Shall we continue our tour?" Emma asked, stepping down from the stage of the bed.

Maddy grimaced and pocketed her phone, she looked up at Emma and bit her lip, "yeah, let's."

Across the hall from the master bedroom they found a library mirroring the size of the drawing room and at the end of the hall, two more bedrooms faced the front door.

"I'll take this room," Maddy said, switching off the lights and closing the door to the bedroom on the right.

Emma opened another door, "a bathroom." She turned the light off and shut the door, "all that's left is that door which must be the dining room and kitchen right?" She pointed with her thumb down the part of the hall that cut into the left.

"I guess so," Maddy said.

They made their way through a dining room that was a pure black cube with a circular table in the center draped with a white cloth. Eight matching chairs lined the walls. Emma watched her ghostly reflection ripple in the obsidian as she passed through and emerged out a swinging door into a stone-walled kitchen.

The kitchen was a modern take on the rustic with high, almost church-like ceilings. Copper and iron shapes floated and glinted as they hung above the stove built into a rectangular island of blue marble.

Maddy stood in the center of the kitchen and put her hands on her hips.

Emma opened a pantry door, took stock of mystery cans and jars sealed with wax, shut the door, and turned towards Maddy, "what's wrong?"

"I just thought this place was bigger," Maddy said, she gestured with her arms, "it looks huge from the outside, like there was a second or even third floor."

Emma shrugged and looked up, a pale orange pulsed through two large shafts, "I mean the ceilings are kind of high."

"They're not that high though," Maddy said.

"Maybe it's all that iron or whatever, makes the house look bulkier," Emma said, "what do we know? We're not builders."

"I suppose so," Maddy said, she dropped her hands from her hips and gripped them in front of her chest with a smile, "but never mind all that... now if you'll excuse me, I have some freshening up to do and I want to rest my body before Greg arrives so I'm nice and pliable." She caressed her neck.

"I don't need the details," Emma said, waving a hand.

"What are you going to do?" Maddy asked.

"I'll probably have more of that wine and just relax in my room," Emma said, "I brought a book to read."

Maddy stepped forward and hugged Emma, "thanks for coming, I know it's weird." She whispered.

"Don't mention it..." Emma said, rubbing Maddy's back softly under her ponytail.

-

Emma sipped her wine while she sat ensconced in a mountain of pillows atop her bed. The chandelier quivered above her with a warm glow that fluttered like the fireplace in the drawing room. She tilted her head as she studied a painting hung across the room above an indigo desk. Around the painting, she saw the blurry reflections of the chandelier shining across the black glossiness of the walls. The reflective surface made the painting appear as if it were floating atop a placid abyss. The gold of the frame reflected in the darkness around it, distorting into foggy yellows the further away from the wall it became.

The painting depicted a young ginger woman with dark butterfly wings pondering over a golden box she held aloft in her right hand. It was a pretty painting where the layers of oils seemed to sparkle in the warm light. The image drew Emma out of her bed; she crawled carefully from the nest of pillows to the footboard and slipped off the end, mindful of the extra step from the platform down to the floor.

Emma glided closer to the painting and stared up into it as she finished her wine. She bent down to place her glass on the desk and glanced up to see a small gap where the painting lifted off from the wall. She tilted her head and spotted a sharp edge under the frame of the painting. Emma stood on top of the desk chair and carefully lifted the painting to discover a recessed shelf in the wall that contained a lone journal roughly the size of her hand.

Emma furrowed her brow and fetched the hidden journal out from behind the painting with one hand. She replaced the painting carefully back over the secret nook and climbed down from the chair.

She flipped the small book over in her hands and a chain rattled. Emma tapped the cover with her nail. The case was golden with inlaid gems and carved patterns of roses and chains. The lack of dust or grime of time made the journal appear brand new. Emma ran her hand over the surface and unclasped the lock which was a miniature rose bud with a stem of gold chain that looped through a hoop on the cover. Tiny welded thorns seamlessly twisted along the links like little golden aphids and tickled like kitten teeth running along Emma's fingertips. The creamy pages unfurled out before her to reveal a woman's handwriting. Emma gathered the chair under her and quickly sat down. She scooted herself up to the desk, turned the desk lamp on, and spread the book out in front of her.

Hunched over the treasure with wide eyes, she began reading with great curiosity:

I guess what you can say I've done here is a grand act of magick. When I set out with the first structure, I didn't intend to do what I've done here by building this one. I wonder if I should have stopped sometime along the way, maybe after the results of the second iteration? But that's never been me, has it? I always have to go the distance, explore the depths of the idea before I can satisfy myself. I must drown in the deeps of the very thing I was searching out. Is it curiosity or obsession? The namesakes of both my cats, can you guess which one died here?

The doors were finally installed today and I know when I light the fire in the drawing room and whisper his secret name, I'll be giving life to this place. In a way, I guess I'm scared. That's why I've been writing this journal because when I saw those doors in place today, I realized I may never make it out of here. If what I've done here is true to all my years of research, then I'm afraid I may never want to leave.