Opulent Obsession – Breaking Belles

“Rafe Jackson, Fallon Perry, follow me,” the Elder announced as he led us out of the ballroom, down a hallway and to a small sitting room.

I had been in this room a couple times as a child, so I recognized the rich mahogany furniture, the gray velvet couches and chairs, and the faint smell of cigar smoke that lingered in the air. There were even fainting couches near the windows for all the women of the past who would faint due to a corset too tightly laced to allow an easy breath.

Though the room was smaller than most in the Oleander, it still held all the Elders and the members comfortably. Everyone either sat or stood with drink in hand as if tonight were any ordinary evening having cocktails with your buddies.

“Fallon Perry, follow me,” the same Elder who led us into the room said.

I considered taking Fallon by the hand and insisting I go wherever she did, but knowing her mood right now toward me, I didn’t think my action would be appreciated. I just had to remind myself that she was strong—much stronger than I gave her credit for—and she could handle herself.

The Elder brought her to a small coat room off to the right of the room. I only knew it was a coat room because as boys, we would use the room as a hiding spot during hide and go seek. Pushing her inside, the Elder then locked the door with padlock after padlock. There were so many padlocks, and though I didn’t like the idea of Fallon being locked away in another room, I also didn’t understand the purpose for all the locks.

“Care to have a drink?” my father asked as he approached me with a glass in offering.

I took it and nodded, surprised he talked to me. Odd that as a son, I always was taken aback every time the man spoke a word to me.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he complimented for the first time in my life. “I’ve watched you handle each Trial with a level of poise and grace that makes me proud that you’re a Jackson.”

Swallowing against the lump that instantly formed in the back of my throat, I barely croaked, “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

“I know this isn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for me either. But I just wanted you to know that I’m impressed, as are the other Elders. You’re going to make a fine member of the Order of the Silver Ghost.”

I took a drink as we stood in awkward silence before he raised his glass to me and then turned to go join the Elders. I wasn’t used to such praise—any praise—and the feelings rushing through me were foreign.

Not sure what I was supposed to be doing, and not trusting that Fallon simply stood in the coat room and nothing else, I took a few steps toward the door so I could be closer. I wanted to be able to hear her if she needed me and called out.

“These are for you,” an Elder said with a large silver ring full of keys that no doubt belonged to all the padlocks on the door. There had to be over twenty of them, maybe thirty.

Before I could ask what was going on and figure out what I was supposed to do with the keys, I heard a blood-curdling scream from inside the coat room. The scream was so loud, and so ear-piercing that I almost couldn’t believe it came from Fallon.

“No! Get me out of here. No!” Fallon cried as she began to rattle the doorknob and then bang on the door. “Let me out! Let me out!”

My natural instinct was to charge toward the door, but I stopped mid stride when it dawned on me that I wouldn’t be able to just open the door. The padlocks would make it very difficult and time consuming.

“Fallon? What’s going on? Fallon?” I shouted back deciding to ask her rather than the room full of men who didn’t seem the slightest bit disturbed by the howls of a woman desperate to flee the coat room.

“Rafe! Help me out of here. Get me out. Oh God. Get me out!” Her words were followed by squeals and high-pitched screams. “Oh my God they’re everywhere! Everywhere!”

An Elder’s voice broke through her screams and said, “There’s an old Southern belief that finding a spider on your wedding dress is good luck. It can chase the bad spirits away. And since we need all the luck we can, and help in chasing the spirit of Timothy Jackson away, we added a few more spiders to the mix.”

It was then that I looked down and saw hundreds of little spiders seeping from beneath the crack of the door. Hundreds were escaping, but if there were hundreds fleeing… how many were still inside?