Opening the door to the terrace of her suite Alicia waits for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moon casts enough light for her to see into the small courtyard and the bordering forest. Clad in a light blue nightgown and matching robe, she tries to carry a conversation with her husband on the phone. The moonlight graces her beauty as the night air seems to flow through her. For a moment the light material hugs her voluptuous form. Standing at the threshold of her room she watches the shadows shift the summer breeze cools her flushed cheeks.
Her soul was free just moments ago now becomes trapped in a box of ugliness as the strong baritone voice steadily berates her. Nervously she tucks a stray ebony lock behind her ear. Her husband is displeased once again. Even thousands of miles away he reins her in. Slowly the faΓ§ade of the quick-minded well respected executive crumbles revealing the desperate, lonely battered woman. Her gentle brown eyes shifts worriedly as she bites down on her bottom lip. Shame fills her as she listens to him breaking her character down into mere shadows of herself.
Leaning on the door she tucks her head into the crook of her arm. Turning her head she sorrowfully looks to the moon, tears glisten against her cheeks. Her mind struggles from the edge of despair as her lips tremble.
Memories flood her mind of how they first met to the day of their marriage. His fraternity brother introduced them. From that first day she was swept off her feet. The courtship was filled with romance and the wedding was a dream. Only after the ink was dry on their marriage certificate did she find out about his true nature. The monster he kept in hidden jus below the surface.
His appetite for brutality was always followed by apologies. Then the cheating, excusing it with her inability to please him causing her humiliation. Some how she lost her strength, her sense of worth.
Replying with a polite but monotonous voice she masks her pain, "Yes Dexter, I should be home in the next couple of days; if not sooner. No, I have to stay to check out the rest of the competition. Yes, in time for your parents' dinner party. Yes, I will pick up a souvenir from London for them before I leave."
Oh, sweet gods in the heavens, please help me. I just don't want to be alone.
Her plea is heard by the silver goddess, outside a room in the west wing of the same hotel a man steps out into the night air. High among the stars draped in her silver robes her belly is full. In her ever-smiling face she calls to all her night-children. Secrets are spoken and hidden agendas are reveled. The thin barrier that hides the supernatural is lifted. Those who can accept the truth are allowed into an epsilon of the wise or disturbed. Stepping into the darkness he answers the silver goddess running deeply into the forest his body sheds its cloak to frolic in its true form.
Calling his brethren, he searches for another after some time something answers a short distance away. Shifting his form from a shadow of eight feet he changes to a looming wolf that haunts centuries of folk tales. Hours later as the moon hangs in her zenith the wolf heads back to the hotel from the east. He catches a sent, a woman his human side covets, she has a mate but that shall soon change.
Crossing the threshold she welcomes the incoming night fog. Like a drone Alicia bids goodbye. Hanging up she leans against the stone banister idly looking into the night. In the background she heard another's voice. No doubt his newest conquest. In the beginning he was discreet now he was blatant. Knowing none of his actions were her fault was the only reason for her surviving this long. Just when she thought she had the strength to leave he would pull her back with sweet words and promises. He wasn't going to change only become worse. Shaking her head in disgust of her lack of self-preservation she clings to her anger.
Caressing the stone in appreciation the stillness of the night helps quiet her thoughts. This was one of the oldest hotels in Westchester, comfortable and pleasant. One could see why the sponsors of the Information Convention picked this out of the way place. The air was crisp and the only noise was from the hotel itself. Now that the hotel was only a quarter full not much activity was taking place. No traffic sounds just peaceful quiet.
Remembering the brochure the architecture of the hotel was old, full of history and folklore. Sitting on twenty acres of land the structure hasn't been changed since the rein of Louis the fourteenth.
Whispering "The land of Shakespeare and magic."
The corners of her lips curve up as she mentally pushes her dilemma to the side. Thousands of miles away she shall enjoy her time alone without his shadow. Biding welcome to the night she whispers a prayer:
Holy is the god and parent of the Entirety
Holy is the god that wills to be known and is known by its own
Holy are you of whom all the natural order is naturally an image
Holy are you whose form the natural order has not been able to represent