Free Tenebrae Manor by P. Clinen Page B

birthday! Busy yourself with something, anything . Bordeaux would no doubt appreciate it."
    "Ah he he! Busy. Yes, yes. Bumblebee-busy, to be certain. A proposition, yes! A comedic performance, starring me - Deadsol! And of course the plucky assistant, Comets!"
    Libra was indignant, "You will do no such thing. The thought of you two deplorable harlequins poisoning my celebrations pushes the bile to the back of my throat."
    "Then what, miss? Oh please let me down!"
    The demon fell in a heap on the floor and continued to weep.
    "I want you out of my way, Deadsol. Colloquies with you are most vexing."
    Libra stood pondering a moment. "You will decorate the auditorium. Go. Take that hideous imp with you. I do no wish to see you until the event. And fear my reprimands should you perform poorly at your task!"
    Deadsol peered up from the floor at the hefty lass, "Decorate! Yes! Colours abound, light and sound! At once, my dreary deary!"
    "Good. Leave."
    "Very good, Lady Libra. Most benevolent are your reasonings!"
    "I find that you've drained me proficiently of said benevolence. I say again, leave."
    Deadsol made for the door. "Why yes! Rest, my dear; regain the reasoning! The sleep of reason produces monsters!"
    The door slammed, its voluminous blast taking all sound with it, so that only echoes were left reverberating in the now silent room.
    ****
    The jester and Madlyn lingered on the stairwell. Their gazing upon one another was intense, wide-eyed and silent, that is until Madlyn wrested the energy out of the dreamy atmosphere and uttered, “Who are you?”
    As though Comets were indeed her reflection, his reply came. “Who,” he mimicked, “Are you?”
    “I am Mad,” said the girl.
    “So am I.”
    “How is that so? When we are so very different?”
    “Who says we are different?”
    Madlyn had to think. “Why… Nature. In our appearances. We are different.”
    “You saw the black rose,” said Comets.
    “Yes. It was very pretty.”
    “I saw it too. We are the same in that way… If only that way.”
    But their reverie was broken by the emergence of Deadsol. He raced by them and swiftly swooped up Comets by the ear of his cap.
    “Come along, my boy. Bustle, I say! We’ve errands!”
    Madlyn watched as they sailed off down the hall, Comets never removing his gaze from her.
    ****
    Edweena and Bordeaux had returned to ground floor, away from the stifling air and into a realm much dryer, arid even. The dust of neglect clung to every surface in Tenebrae’s foyer and cutting through the melancholia came an anguished wail from the direction of the rooftops. A spider stirred, a suit of knight’s armour rattled, an ancient portrait of a forgotten baron appeared to incline his painted face in the direction of the noise.
    From his vigil post at the front door, Usher turned his head slowly and emitted a barely audible grunt.
    “That sound,” Edweena whispered.
    Again there was a shout, preceding a rumble like that of a great stone column tipping over. Bordeaux stood and focused on the noises echoing through the mansion.
    There was no doubt in his mind who the perpetrator of such obnoxious volume was, as he and Edweena begun the ascent of the central staircase. Bordeaux’s leather shoes clicked rhythmically on each step, washed over with the hush of Edweena’s long black scarf trailing behind her. The years of unending movement about the house and its surroundings had left both of them in peak physical condition, svelte and tiring not to the overwhelming summit of stairs.
    The noise was coming from the auditorium, its expansive brouhaha increasing evermore as demon and vampiress drew closer. It became discernible that there were a multitude of voices, rumbling about the other, trying to gain dominance through increased volume.
    The great door to the theatre was ajar and Bordeaux, taking a look at the face of Edweena, who stood bemused, pushed it open.

 
     
     
     
     
    8: Decorating The Auditorium
    The auditorium - an