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The Hall of Mirrors Kelantha's Diary
My
wonderment at the house was not lessened to the curiosity
drawing me to my host. He was gracious and proud but without the
usual arrogance that marked a man of such evident stature and wealth. An
enchantment lay over the castle, binding all who passed through its
noble doors to a common fate, that of submission and equal resistance,
like a child desiring to awake from a fateful dream yet clinging to
the notion they could fly. With each step, the history of Castle Dracula
washed through me, penetrating the contours of my soul and illuminating
what had been darkness into light. The great
old columns spoke to me, bringing me forth into their timeless world,
seducing my senses and lessening my resistance. The
painting he showed me in the ornate bedchamber was remarkable, for had I
not stood before it for a lengthy time studying its intricacies, I would
have believed a living, breathing woman was captured before us. The
artist had captured the life within, entrapping it within the canvas and
its sober golden frame. She was beautiful but I could tell that when he showed it to me, the count was hesitant at allowing me to linger.
Something in the woman�s eyes beckoned to my soul, but I could not refuse
his hospitality when he shied me out of the room. I would return later
to view its entirety by moonlight, for though our walk had been lengthy
I could still navigate the labyrinth of rooms and corridors between my chamber and these. I presumed that directly across was of his
father�s set of rooms but made no mention of them as he drew open
ornate double doors and showed me out upon the balcony. Our height would have intimidated anyone else, but as a child the nuns
often found me in trees or on the church roof. I was fearless and the
wind sweeping up through the massive chasm, like the gate of hell
beneath us, bathed in blood-red sunlight as it faded into absolution
behind the towering cliffs, welcomed me as an unrepentant sinner. His
hand out swept as he introduced me to his Transylvania. Pride was in every syllable and I did not
displease him in my gasped approval. My hair had come undone with the wind and now blew across my shoulders as I gazed into the depths
below. �Your
home is like none I have ever before seen, Count,� I marveled at last,
turning to him with shining eyes. He looked at
me then truly for the first time without any shred of deception and I saw in his face an aged timelessness. I would not have
wagered on the exact age of the man before me, for while his appearance
was not that of youthful exuberance, there was no tired air to his
manner and his lush black hair was not streaked with silver or white. He
was attractive in the most literal terms, much more settled than my
companions in London, who were contemptible braggarts and notorious
slackers. I sensed Count Dracula would do nothing impetuously, but that precision went into every module of his life, from the careful
tending of the castle to the expressions on his face. �The
height often makes visitors uneasy,� he said, his hand hovering above the small of my back. He was not quite touching me, remembering
how I�d pulled back from his proffered arm, but his
furtive inclination was a reassurance, a security that if I did give in
to any rushing sensation, he would be there to catch me. Whether
out of subtle flirtation or purposeful reasoning, I leaned against the
railing. The wind rushing up from above caught my hair into a raven haze
about my face, and I brushed it aside thoughtlessly. I closed my eyes and longed to throw myself
beyond the cliffs, to defy gravity and lift on wings of exhilaration.
�Have you,� I said suddenly, turning to him, �ever lamented that
man was not given the gift of flight, as some creature of the air? To
scale such heights fearlessly and affront the wings of heaven! To yield
to none but instead be master of the skies!� �I
would imagine many among the ages have held such desires,� he said,
and drew me within. He closed the doors before indicating I
should continue down the hallway. We came to another ornate doorway
and with his hands resting lightly on the handles, he said, �This room
may interest you, Miss Cabrera. It is a marvel to all who enter it, as
well as has the social distinction of being one of the most famous
corridors in the northern world. It was designed in the age of my great
grandfather, when men came from four corners of the earth to offer their
services. The era has now passed but its memories remain, echoing in the
vastness of the house.� He
paused and then swept open the door, stepping aside so I might enter. I passed
into a wide corridor with a vaulted ceiling through which shafts of
light penetrated. The most remarkable adornment of the room was the
gilded mirrors on both sides. Light shimmered in the air, cascading
down the mirrors and dancing across the pale hand that stretched out
toward me as I reached for the glass. I saw not the plain woman of
London but a remarkable creature with unruly locks and shining almond
eyes. It was such a transformation that for a moment I considered myself
under a bewitchment. But my fingers touched the face of the
mirror, connecting with the reflection that reached out to embrace me.
My host stood on the threshold, watching with hands clasped behind his back and a twinge of a smile on his face. No
doubt he�d observed many such reactions in his long familiarity of the
room that it was no longer of interest to him apart from the expressions
of those who beheld it. �It reflects not the psychical, but the spiritual,� I
said, my hand lingering on the glass. �There is an otherworldly nature to this
place, as if a creature sleeps and has
yet to awaken. Do you not sense it, Count, breathing softly?� I knew my foreign ideas puzzled him, and expected no response as
my fingers caressed the framework, exploring the intricate golden spires
networking through the craftsmanship. He was a peculiar figure but not
altogether intimidating; there was an air of resolute, retired elegance
to his presence, as if long ago he had ruled over some heavenly realm
only to fall to the earth among common mortals. He too
seemed altered with the sinking sun; his eyes were more ambient, his
movements languid and self-contented. I sensed we were two souls with a
common purpose and goal, the ability to eclipse out all in the reality
of a single moment. He paused to light candelabra and carried it with
us, allowing a little sphere of light in the darkness. We passed down
yet another long corridor and came to a locked door. At least it was
locked when my hand fell on the latch, but swung open easily
beneath his hand. With the air of an enthusiastic child, the count said, �My laboratory.�
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