THIRTY-TWO – Rose House

Arous wasted no time racing to her mother’s last known place of residence: Rose’s House.  Tennant-12 couldn’t tell her where her mother was now, that, he said, was classified.  Within the past year she had lived at Rose House.  He tried to show her interviews with her mother and appearances but she was uninterested.

Tennant-12 wrote directions to Rose House on a dot and the ID3-Wall spit the dot out.

“Okay,” she said to Arcadia. “I’ll take you.  You’re the only friend I have right now.  Don’t try any funny stuff.”

She stuffed Arcadia into a shoulder bag and took off on foot.  Arcadia nuzzled her head just over the rim of the bag. Arous cupped the dot to her ear every other block to check her directions.

Arous walked unto unfamiliar streets. These streets looked and smelled similar to the streets below her loft. The smells of animals and cars mixed. However, in addition, this street had a faint mixture of fresh baked bread and herbs.  The sidewalk got wider. More people walked through the fresh markets.  She crossed the street and turned another corner.  As her breath got more labored and so did her thinking.

The next cross street was Broad Avenue. She froze.

She thought that she would be happy. She thought this would feel right. It didn’t. She turned down Broad Avenue. After four eternal blocks she was there.

 “607 Broad Avenue,” she read aloud.  She looked up at the imposing building, boasting four roman columns atop a mountainous set of steps.

“One, two, three,” she laughed, “twelve, thirteen … “All the way to 52 she counted each step.  “Now that is something to write home about.”

Arous looked up at balconies of wrought iron above the columns.  The heavy, black ironwork contrasted the stark whiteness of the stone building.  At the top of the steps was a great marble landing and two large doors less than half of the height of the roman columns.  The doors were made of a cold brown metal that seemed to neither be copper nor bronze.  Rivets framed the doors’ edges.  Arous put her hand on top of one of the large handles but a stray glance to her right stopped her.

A button.

She pushed it.

“Please stand clear of the doors as they swing to the outside.  Thank you.” The automated voice rang.  As Arous stepped back the doors swung open and out making not one creak or moan.

She walked inside.  The marble landing extended inside as the floor of the foyer.  She faced a large winding stairway in front of her and a double doorway to her right, there was a single door to her left.  Looking up, she noticed a glass ceiling.  The marble staircase rose all the way to the top where a glass roof welcomed in all the sunshine available.  Roses wound and climbed around the staircase all the way to the ceiling. Their perfume enchanted Arous.

“Hello, Miss.  The first Lady is waiting for you,” she said and disappeared through a door.

Arous heard her voice on the other side of the door. She came back through the door in an instant. A dry forced smile spread across the receptionist’s face that did not quite match her light voice.

“This way please.  She will see you now.”

She led Arous to the right into what looked like a sitting room.  Sundry types of rustic wooden chairs lined the walls. An unused fireplace decorated the far wall.  The next room was a kitchen of stark whiteness that put the pale facade of the building to shame, a competition of white.  Black and silver pots and pans hung overhead too far for a normal person to reach.  It was quiet but for the smooth rhythm of a couple men dicing vegetables in a far corner. They were tall, among the tallest men Arous had ever seen. Once muscular, their strength had faded, traded in for another life.

           

            “Those are Nephilims in Rose House. What are they doing there?” asked Edlawit.

            “They are often found in pairs but I have never heard of them in the City,” I said.  “It’s strange.”