Authors: Suzanne Lazear
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Steampunk
Innocent Darkness (8 page)
Noli nodded, having been slapped several times and caned once for answering when she wasn’t supposed to. Dr. Martin’s smarmy smile and memories of yesterday’s exam made her shudder. She followed him, twisting her hands as her belly fluttered in anxiousness.
Treatment Room A held a small room with a box resembling brass coffin with some sort of crank attached.
“This is a sensory deprivation box,” Dr. Martin told her as she stared at it in disbelief. “Your body needs to be kept busy with meaningful work, but your mind needs to be taught to relax. In this box you will see nothing, hear nothing. You’ll be completely alone. All you have to do is relax and breathe deep. There is no need to think or do anything.” He smiled in a creepy way that made her skin crawl. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Yes, sir.” A blatant lie. It sounded dreadful.
He turned the crank and the lid retracted. “Into the box you go.”
Noli did as she was told even though parts of her screamed at the thought of climbing into that small box. Lined with soft red fabric, the box was large enough to lie down in, but just so. At least she didn’t need to undress. When he closed the lid, there wouldn’t be much more than a few inches between her nose and the lid.
Panic rose within her. What would happen once he closed it?
“Don’t worry, you’ll have enough air. Just relax and breathe deep, clear your mind of all your thoughts and worries. I’ll be back for you in a little while. He turned the crank, closing the lid over her.
Complete darkness blanketed her. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind of the many thoughts crowing her head. Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath as weariness consumed her.
“Well, well, fell asleep, did we?” Dr. Martin disapproving tone made Noli’s eyes fly open. He stared at her with his unnerving beady eyes. He always seemed to look at her as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes,
“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Her entire being braced for the worst.
“Don’t worry, Magnolia. I won’t tell … this time.” His voice held sinister notes that made her tremble inside.
“However, you’re not supposed to be sleeping.”
“Yes, Dr. Martin.” She sat up and he helped her out of the brass box.
“Be a good girl and run along. Miss Henderson is waiting for you.”
The crack of a whip echoed through her mind.
“Thank you, Dr. Martin.”
His hand caught her wrist. “What do we have here? An unauthorized piece of jewelry? Do I even want to know where you hid this to keep it from Miss Gregory?” The doctor’s beady eyes sparkled with delight as he fingered the pendant around her neck, which had worked its way out from under her dress, his hands brushing lightly and deliberately against her tightly corseted breasts.
“Please, Dr. Martin.” Her knees shook under her thin, grey dress. What could she tell him? “It’s an amulet to protect me against the ill effects of aether.”
“You fear aether yet aren’t afraid to hoverboard?” A bushy white eyebrow rose.
“My father disappeared here in San Francisco right after the earthquake. He’s an engineer. His whole team disappeared.” She hiccupped. “They say the aether caused it.”
“You’re trembling. You fear aether?” His expression softened. Once again, he tried, and failed, to appear fatherly.
“Of course.”
Nodding, the doctor tucked it back into her dress in way that sent shivers shooting up her spine. He smiled an unnerving smile, eyes crinkling sinisterly. “I see. I’ll permit it for now. Certainly we don’t want this fear to over stimulate you.”
Relief washed over her like spring rain. “Thank you, Dr. Martin.”
“Take some deep breaths, and go on to Miss Henderson.” He made her inhale and exhale deeply, then watched as she left in a way that left her feeling sullied.
Noli fell into a tiring routine of chores, lessons, and abuse, of rough sheets and shapeless clothes. Her muscles always ached from hard work and whippings, and she continued to fall asleep in the sensory deprivation box.
Findlay possessed two saving graces that kept her from curling into a ball and refusing to get up. Charlotte was the first. They could seldom talk, but all she needed was a smile, a stolen whisper. They did laundry together, laboring side by side, putting clothes though the hand-cranked washers and hanging sheets up on the line. It allowed them to talk on occasion.
Charlotte’s family grew tobacco in Georgia. Technically an orphan, her aunt and uncle raised her. She claimed she’d really been sent to Findlay because her aunt found her “inconvenient.” Whenever she spoke of her uncle, the light went out of her eyes. Privately, Noli wondered if that was the reason she wasn’t in a hurry to leave.
The second saving grace was gardening. Unlike many of the other girls, Noli didn’t mind weeding or tending the garden for hours because she could be outside among the plants. The matron left her alone as long as she worked and didn’t dally.
The rose garden in the back corner quickly became her favorite. The first few days Noli missed it, thinking it the wall to the estate behind them, instead of a separate little garden. Fragrant, climbing rosebushes, not yet in bloom, grew wild around the stone walls, mixing with ivy and honeysuckle. This concealed the hidden garden from the rest of the grounds and the fence dividing it from the house next door. Faery lilies, rosebushes, sweet peas, foxglove, bluebells, lady slippers, milkweed, and fragrant herbs like thyme, lambs ear, and lavender filled the garden with fragrance and colors. The whole place seemed wild and abandoned, which only added to the garden’s magic feeling. She could practically see the faeries dancing among the blossoms.
Magic? Faeries? Bah. She sounded like V, all fancy and no practicality. They were far too old to believe in such nonsense. But he’d like this place and she could see him coming here to read one of his dusty old tomes.
A giant oak tree stood guard in the center of the garden, reminding her of her own
faery tree
back in Los Angeles. A sharp pang of homesickness shot through her. No tree house hid among the foliage, but an old rope swing dangled from a branch. Someone had once loved this place. The tree’s huge branches made for perfect climbing. Ivy and honeysuckle festooned the trunk, adding to its magical appearance. A ring of toadstools circled it.
Her hands itched to climb the tree, but memories of Miss Henderson’s whip made her legs burn at the mere thought. Hoyden-like behavior would earn her extra private lessons.
Instead, she cut bouquets and brought them into the house to arrange in vases in the front hall, the fancies sewing room, and Miss Gregory’s office. She’d been praised for her thoughtfulness and skill at arranging. Good—a reason to go back often. She had no desire to tame the wild garden, but the roses certainly could use some attention.