Evening Primrose
Prologue: Alone
By Baine
Finished: October 25, 2006
Posted: September 14, 2010
Author’s Note: So begins a new story. This one consists of four chapters in addition to a framing Prologue/Epilogue. This story will be a Usagi/Mamoru romance, though to give it “book” form, I have Minako “reading” Mamoru’s journal in the Prologue, so don’t be alarmed when you don’t see our main characters until Chapter One. I’ve been sitting on this story for a really long time, and never seem to get a chance to post it in the fall. It’s the perfect sort of story for this time of year.
There will be more author notes and credits later on. For now, I present you with:
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Evening Primrose
Prologue: Alone
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She felt as though she was being watched. Drawing her cardigan closer to her body, Minako Aino shivered as her eyes darted around the kitchen, searching for anything out of place. She frowned and gnawed at her lip before turning back to the stove. The heat of its fire did nothing to warm her.
She watched numbly as her chicken began to sizzle. The grease in the frying pan bubbled and splattered onto the wall, leaving behind murky brown splatters that reminded her of blood.
Her breath caught as she heard a creaking floorboard in the hallway. It had always annoyed her, but they had never gotten around to fixing it. Tonight, she was glad that they hadn’t, for it alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. Her shoulders tensed as she heard a soft, rhythmic noise that reminded her of someone trying too hard to be quiet.
She glanced at her surroundings once more. There was a knife on the counter from when she had been preparing the chicken. She had a scalding pan brimming with hot grease on the gas stove before her. She glanced down at her waist. If someone was in the house with her, she wasn’t about to let him find her wearing something that could easily double as a strangling device. She slowly brought a trembling hand to her back and untied the knot holding her apron in place, shrugging out of it and allowing it to fall to the floor. She kicked it into the corner and grabbed for the knife as she heard the soft creak of the door behind her as it slowly began to open.
Her breath hitched and she wanted to do nothing more than flee, but she felt frozen. There was nowhere to go. She didn’t have a back door, so her only exit was through the door currently swinging toward her. She glanced over at the table. She had done the laundry today, so there wasn’t even a tablecloth to shield her from view were she to hide. Her eyes narrowed as they fell on the small marble notebook lying innocently in the middle of the table.
That book...it was the source of all her problems.
Why hadn’t she thought to hide it when she was through instead of leaving it out in plain sight? She dashed to the table and reached out to grab the book, only to freeze as the door banged against the wall and a man stepped into the room, his dark mask shielding his face from view as he reached towards her with a gloved hand.
Her eyes widened, but she found herself unable to move. It felt like her heart was exploding in her chest. It was beating at a speed that would rival a hummingbird’s, slamming wildly against her ribs as it strained to leap from its resting place and into her throat. She brought a hand to her chest in an attempt to steady it, only to realize that she was still holding the kitchen knife. She stilled as the man before her froze and gave her a calculating glance. She swallowed in fear. That had been a stupid mistake, hadn’t it? Now he knew she was armed.
Her body still shielding the notebook on the table from view, her eyes widened as he pulled away the knit-mask that concealed his face, revealing himself inch by terrifying inch. He was the type who wanted his victims to know him before they died, wasn’t he?
Her turquoise eyes widened as he pulled the mask over his eyes and off of his head, shaking out his mane of pale hair.
“Man, it’s cold out tonight.” He glanced from her knife to her face, then back again. “Mins?” he asked, giving her an odd look. “What’s going on?”
She slumped backwards in relief, the table supporting her as she drew in a deep breath. She glanced up at her husband, fighting to remain calm. “You scared me half to death,” she exclaimed, still clutching at her heart. “What were you sneaking around for, anyway?”
He eyed her skeptically. “I wasn’t any quieter than normal.” He looked once more at the knife she was still cradling to her chest. “Why are you so jumpy tonight?”
“I—I just—”
He eyed her shrewdly. “What are you hiding?”
“N—Nothing!”
He gave her a once-over. “Then why are you trying to hide the table from view?” He tilted his head and tried to peer around her. “Is there a man hiding under there I should be aware of or something?”
“Of course not!” She flushed with indignation and moved away from the table.
“Dinner’s burning.”
Her eyes widened again as she hurried over and turned off the stove, removing the charred scraps of chicken and dumping them onto a nearby plate. She watched in fascination as black flakes scattered across the plate, reminding her of ashes.
“What’s this?”
Minako turned towards her husband and her eyes widened as she saw him reaching out to pick up the notebook. “No, don’t!”
He paused to look at her. “Why not?”
“It’s too horrifying.”
“What is it?”
“Well, today I went to Macy’s to get a new notebook, but it wasn’t until I got home that—well, I realized that there was something wrong with it.”
He blinked rapidly, glancing at her as though she were insane. “Like what, a crease in the cover?”
“No.” She glanced around the kitchen, once more feeling a prickling at the back of her neck. The windows, perhaps? If someone was there, they were well-hidden by the inky veil of night. She licked her lips nervously. “Can we, uh, go into the living room or something?”
“What for?”
“I’d just feel more comfortable.”
“Mins, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Please.” She stared at him, pleading with her eyes. “I’ll explain everything in there.”
“Alright...” He reached out a hand and brought it to her forehead as she came closer to him. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
She licked her lips again and her eyes darted towards the notebook now clutched in her husband’s large hand. “Honestly, I’m not too sure of anything at the moment...” Following him into the living room, she sat beside him on the couch in order to share his body heat.
“So what’s so wrong with this poor notebook?” he asked, giving it a cursory glance.
“I was—That is—” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Somebody had already written in it.”
He stared at her, perplexed. “Is that all? Just take it back to the store and get a new one, Mins.”
“It’s not that simple. I—I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll find me.” Her voice was barely audible as she glanced once more towards the windows, her inner voice whispering, ‘If they haven’t already...’
“They won’t care if you exchange the book for another. Honest. Stop being such a drama queen.”
“That’s not it. I mean, I just—Maybe you should read it after all.”
“What?”
She reached over his shoulder and took the book from his grasp, opening it to the first page. A dark, flowing form of cursive sprawled across the page, a few words smudged here and there as though a hand had brushed against the ink while it was still wet.
A sense of foreboding engulfed her as she shakily handed it to her husband. She shivered against the cold air permeating the room. She turned her head and stood up, making her way to the window across the room. It was shut tight. The only thing she saw was a skeletal tree branch hanging from a nearby tree, smaller branches curling towards her like bony, misshapen fingers. There was no one there. She shivered again as she made her way back to her husband, curling against his side as she fought to keep the cold at bay.
He glanced at her once more before wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her closer to himself. Slowly, he began to read, his eyes growing wider with every turn of the page...
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Evening Primrose
Chapter One: “If You Can Find Me, I’m Here”
By Baine
Finished: October 27, 2006
Posted: September 14, 2010
Author’s Note: I didn’t want to leave you with just a frame and no introduction to our characters, so I stuck the prologue and first chapter together.
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Evening Primrose
One: If You Can Find Me, I’m Here
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It was Darien Chiba’s first time living in a department store, so he still wasn’t used to his surroundings. He frowned as he climbed across the ground, brushing the edge of a carpet away from his face as he left the cocoon of safety he had created for himself. Stepping back to look at his hiding place, he gave a low whistle of appreciation. He had done a good job putting it together—if he did say so himself. A stack of carpets lay piled before him, their designs faded with age. They were dusty, and he knew he’d have to beat the rugs before the night was over or he’d wind up inadvertently killing himself. Over the years, customers had rejected them in favor of newer, more modern styles. It worked for him, though, because it meant no one would come to this corner of the store and discover his existence. It was imperative he remain hidden during business hours. If anyone were to find out that he was living in a department store, things would get complicated.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he made his way toward the escalators. Before he did anything, he would go down to the food department and get something to eat. He glanced around and slowly began descending the stairs, taking care not to make any noise. As he made his way through the accessories department, his footsteps echoed through the store. He moved onto the soft, carpeted area of the Hat Department. Taking a deep breath, he started to move once more, only to freeze in alarm as he realized that he could still hear footsteps. The night watchman! He quickly scanned his surroundings and grabbed a top hat and cloak before positioning himself on a display with two mannequins. He breathed slowly, hoping the night watchman didn’t have super-sensitive hearing.
He found himself worrying over nothing, however, for his breath caught in his throat as a beam of light passed over him. It wasn’t until the man had disappeared that he began to breathe again. That was close, he thought, determining he would have to be even more careful in the future if he didn’t want to get caught.
He quickly placed the hat and cloak where he had found them and turned back to the display, freezing as he realized that someone had been watching him the entire time. One of the mannequins was now facing him, his skin a pale, glowing white and his eyes an almost-inhuman shade of red. The mannequin stepped down from the display and glided towards him silently. He stopped a foot away and removed his top hat to reveal a shock of bright red hair.
The mannequin bobbed his head. “You’re pretty quick. Not just anyone could pull off a save like that their first time out.”
“Excuse me?”
The man held out his hand, revealing long, alabaster fingers. “Forgive me, I have horrible manners. My name is Rubeus.”
“I’m Darien. Darien Chiba.” He licked his lips nervously. “Um—are you the other night watchman?”
“Heavens, no.” Rubeus grinned and gestured around the store with his hand. “I live here.”
“You—what?” Darien’s eyes widened in alarm. Had this man been sent here to mock him before taking him into custody? He winced as he heard the other man chortle.
“This is where I live, Darien. You know, it’s my home?” He gestured again, his arm making a wide sweeping arc around the store. “This is where we all live.”
“There are more of you?” Darien gulped and subtly pinched his arm, wincing in pain at the action. He definitely wasn’t dreaming. Maybe he was hallucinating? He brought a hand to his forehead. He didn’t have a fever...
“You’re not imagining things. I’m really here.” Rubeus gestured around the store once more. “We all are.”
Darien skimmed the store with his eyes, but saw nothing. It was only upon looking around a second time, really looking, that he saw them. There were two females descending from a display over in handbags, mournfully patting at the designer labels as they returned them to their rightful places. The cardboard display advertising a diamond ring sprang to life before his eyes, separating into the form of a man and a woman. Everywhere he turned, people began to emerge, surrounding him until he began to feel suffocated.
“But—aren’t you—mannequins?”
“No more than you are.” Rubeus held out his hand and reached for Darien’s palm, grabbing onto it and gripping tight. “Could a mannequin be this strong? Could it grip you at all?” He lightly moved his fingers across the younger man’s skin.
“Could you feel flesh and bone when I touched you just now?” He let go and stepped backwards. “We are as real as you are, Darien. It’s just been a heck of a lot longer since we’ve seen the light of the sun.
A frail woman with curly brown hair placed a hand on Rubeus’ shoulder and frowned, her ruby lips shining brightly against her milky skin. “Who’s your new...friend?” She bared her teeth. “He’s too tan. He stands out like a beacon!”
The tall woman beside her nodded. “He must be a detective.”
The group began to murmur in fear.
“A detective? Have they finally discovered us?”
“A detective...”
“A detective...”
The curly-haired woman latched onto the red-head in front of her, eyes wide with fear. “Our worst fear has come true! Rubeus, call for the Dark Men! Bring them here at once!”
A shot of fear ran down Darien’s spine. What was a Dark Man? He shook his head as he watched everyone around him nod in assent. “No! That is—you have it all wrong. I’m not a detective!”
“You’re not?” The woman’s eyes narrowed in accusation. “You must be a burglar, then. That’s even worse! Rubeus, please, call for the Dark Men. I can’t bear to look at him any longer.” She whimpered and hid her face in his shoulder. “His skin hurts my eyes...”
Darien’s heart beat wildly in his chest. Who were these Dark Men everyone was telling Rubeus to find? Why did everything feel so...ominous all of a sudden?
He trembled as he felt frail hands latching onto him and holding him still. He could feel every bony finger, each one poking at him obtrusively. His skin crawled and he yearned to shrug them off.
“Everyone, calm down. You’re getting much too loud. We don’t want the night watchman to hear us, do we?” Rubeus moved forward, roughly clamping his hands onto Darien’s shoulders. “Why are you here?” His eyes were dark and calculating.
Darien licked his lips, but they remained dry. “Please,” he whispered. “I’m no burglar!”
“Then what are you, Darien?”
“I’m just a writer. I didn’t even know anyone was living here!” He held a hand to his heart. “I researched the different department stores for three days before deciding to live in this one!”
A hunched-over man raised his cane towards Darien. “What made you decide on Macy’s?”
Darien shrugged. “It had the biggest food department. You need food in order to survive, right?”
The old man scratched at his chin. “That is true. He nodded slowly. “Macy’s is the best department store around. We have history.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re a writer, are you here to do a story on us?”
“No, of course not! I told you—I didn’t even know that anyone else was here. I just want...I just wanted to find a place where I could get away from everything.”
He rubbed his hand through his dark hair in frustration. “I didn’t want to hear my mother harping about how I need to find a job that makes money so I can get married and start a family. I didn’t want to hear the landlord complaining about the rent. I just wanted to be by myself.” He signed and looked around as his voice became quiet and subdued. “I just don’t want to deal with life anymore.”
The curly-haired woman’s eyes softened as she glanced over at Darien. “That’s why we came here, too. We all came to get away.”
The group of people began to mumble again, but instead of a wild chant that sent chills down his back, Darien heard the more pleasing rendition, “He’s one of us now.”
Breathing deeply to steady his heartbeat, he felt a cold talon of fear run down his spine as the crowd grew silent and split in two, making way for a shriveled old woman who didn’t look a day under eighty. She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes hazy under the veil of cataracts.
Darien’s skin crawled just looking at her. Her face had sunken in on itself; her eyes were too large in comparison to the size of the rest of her head. She had a long, skinny neck and her clothes hung from her frail body. He secretly named her “Turtle Lady,” for that was the vision that came to mind when he looked at her.
“Who might you be?” she asked in a soft, airy voice.
“This is Darien Chiba, Lady Nehelenia.” Rubeus bowed at the waist, almost touching the ground in his desire to please her.
“Darien?” She rolled the name on her tongue, caressing it as she sought to discover its flavor.
“He claims to be a writer. He wants to live with us.” The curly-haired woman stepped out from behind Rubeus, making herself known as she placed herself slightly in front of him.
The older woman gave her a disdainful look. “Avery, if I don’t ask you to speak, then please—don’t. Your voice hurts my fragile ears.”
The younger woman frowned at the insult, but refrained from saying anything further.
“I am Nehelenia,” the older woman said, holding out a slender hand lined with the contours of her bones. “I have lived here longer than anyone else. I have been here since my father lost his life savings back in the 80s. With no dowry and no shot at a decent beau, I came here so I would still be able to wear the latest fashions, even if I could no longer afford to own them.”
Darien stared at her skeptically. She had lived here for almost sixty years? How had she not gone mad?
She chuckled lightly. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, dear. Fortunately, it’s far from the truth! I had plenty of things to do that kept me occupied. As you can see, I haven’t been alone here the entire time.”
She gestured to a group of men and women whose torsos had begun to cave in on themselves. “This group came after the Panic of 1907.” She moved her hand so that it pointed towards a group of middle-aged people. “That group over there came after the Crash in 1929 when our economy was at its lowest. We have men who came here to escape enlisting in the two Great Wars, women who wanted to escape from arranged marriages, writers such as yourself who came here to get away from the world... In essence, we have many types of people living here, Mr. Chiba. Right now, we have men coming to escape being shipped out to Vietnam.”
Darien looked at her, chagrined. His idea really hadn’t been original, had it? “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve all lived here for over thirty years and never been caught?”
“Indeed.” She grinned proudly. “And now, you are one of us. I do hope you will fit in over as short a transition period as possible, Mr. Chiba.” She gave him a sharp glance, peering into his soul, a sinister look in her eyes.
He gulped nervously. Was she threatening him or was he merely being paranoid?
“The first thing you must do is lose that egregious tan. It stands out and hurts my eyes. You are much too dark to fit in without getting caught by the Night Watchman.” Her eyes narrowed in calculation. “Once you’ve been out of the sunlight for a few months, you’ll start to lighten up. Until then—”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully and glanced around the room. “Serena!” She tapped her foot impatiently and spoke a little louder. “Serena!” Her eyes narrowed as a scowl darkened her face. “Oh, where is that girl? I swear, she’s much more trouble than she’s worth. Ser-ENA!”
“Yes’m?”
Darien turned his head towards the soft voice that came from behind him and his eyes widened. Standing by the hat rack was a woman not much younger than himself. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like twin waterfalls composed of liquid gold. Her pale face wasn’t emaciated like the wraith-like figures that surrounded him. Instead, it reminded him of hand-carved porcelain. Big, doe-like eyes the color of the sea spared him a fleeting glance as she glided towards Nehelenia, her billowy lavender dress swishing at her knees. She looked as though she had stepped out of a book, an elusive fairy from days long past.
Nehelenia frowned crossly. “Where have you been? If I had to call your name any louder, the Watchman would have heard!”
Serena curtsied gracefully and bowed her head. “I apologize, Ma’am.”
“Go to the makeup counter and find the palest powder we stock. Bring it here at once—I don’t want you dawdling around anymore tonight.”
“Yes’m.” She straightened and scurried out of the apartment towards Cosmetics.
Darien stared after her in shock. “Who was that?”
Nehelenia waved her hand dismissively. “Her? She’s a nobody. She’s just my maid.”
“She’s—pretty young, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. That’s why I have to be so harsh with her, of course. She joined us very early on in life.” She smiled at Darien. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m not harsh to all of our newcomers. Serena is just...different.” She grinned widely, baring yellow teeth that had long since begun to decay. “Stay on my good side and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
He loosened his necktie discreetly and mopped the sweat forming on his forehead with the back of his hand. He was saved from her unwavering gaze by Serena’s return. He turned to observe her once more, comparing her naturally small frame to that of those around her. She really was a wisp of a thing, wasn’t she?
Nehelenia turned her sharp gaze toward Serena and frowned. “That took much too long, Serena. I expect to see more instantaneous results in the future. Is that clear?”
“Yes’m.”
“Give this to Darien. He’s the newest addition to our blossoming family.” She turned her attention back to him. “You do know how to use this, don’t you?”
He eyed the powder strangely. “N—No, I can’t say that I do.”
She sighed again, the noise expelled from her lungs in a tremulous whoosh of air. “Serena, go powder his face for him. Darien, pay attention to what she’s doing. You’ll have to do this on your own in the future.”
He held his breath as he watched her move towards him, afraid he would blow her away if he so much as breathed the wrong way. He smiled wryly. With her hand so delicately brushing against his face, how could he not be paying attention to her?
“Hello,” he murmured, fighting the urge to sneeze as he felt powder fly into his nose.
She glanced up at him, but said nothing as she continued to bat at his face with the puff.
He frowned and tried again. “My name’s Darien. This is my first night here. I, uh—Well, I guess you know that already, don’t you?”
“Mr. Chiba!”
Darien looked up, startled.
“I would appreciate it if you restrained yourself from speaking with my maid. She is not like us.”
“You speak as though she’s dumb and can’t understand you. Maid or not, that’s no way to treat another human being.”
Her eyes narrowed and became beady. Her lips tightened with disapproval. “I will remind you to remember your place, Mr. Chiba.” Her voice was icy and sent chills down his spine.
“This is only your first day here. It would not do to assume that you have more knowledge regarding the way things work around here—especially since you are on probation yourself.” She snapped her fingers and walked away from the department, two frail women tottering after her and struggling to keep her long gown from trailing the floor.
Darien let out a soft whoosh of air and closed his eyes, ignoring Rubeus, whose eyes never left him, waiting for the instant he made a wrong move. He tried to ignore the tingles that ran through his skin every time the powder puff brushed against his skin. He wanted to turn around and flee the store then and there, security system be damned.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
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Author’s Note: A lot of people need to be thanked for their help in looking this over, especially because it’s a little different from the other romances out here. I also need to credit original source material, because this idea did not come from me. However, I also don’t want to say anything to spoil the story for anyone right now because I want there to be a good amount of suspense. I’ll credit everyone after the epilogue all at once. Send me a PM if you have a problem with that and we’ll chat. :)
Also, sorry that I’m using Western names for the characters. This story takes place in Macy’s, an American department store. It would be weird if the characters had Japanese names, especially during this time period. I hope the purists will continue to read this, esp. since I normally do use the Japanese names for the characters.
Like it? Hate it? I’m the one to talk to! Hit the little review button or Email ladybaine at gmail dot com today!
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