By Any Other Name

By Any Other Name
By Alex DeMatteis

Three sharp raps against the old wooden door shattered what little silence Rose had found hidden away in an unused bedroom. She had been so careful to close the door gently, and now years of dust cascaded off the oak panels and swirled through the air, only visible as it floated through the last fractured rays of sunset.

“Madame Andormi,” a strained, male voice called from the other side.

Rose didn’t budge from her place in front of the bay window. She wrapped her azure-tipped nails around her glass. The aroma of wild blackberries filled her senses as the wine touched her lips, and her eyes fell shut as the sweet, velvet liquid flowed across her tongue.

Three more knocks — louder this time, more urgent — sounded against the door. It creaked and moaned under the force, the rusted hinges and lock straining to keep it within its frame. 

“Madame Andormi,” the voice repeated. “I apologize, but it’s urgent.”

Rose swirled her glass, staring at the wine. It glistened in the sunlight and splashed against the sides of the glass like the waves of a purple sea. She took another sip.

“Come in,” Rose said. A sigh escaped her lips. “If you must.” 

The door squeaked open. The top and middle hinges were slightly loose, so the corner of the door grinded along a well-worn rut carved into the wooden flooring. Rose shuddered and shook her head. She hated that sound. Her nails dug into her palm until the chill went away.

An elderly man clad in black, pinstripe pants and a white, button-up shirt half covered by a black blazer entered the room, his steps light enough to not disturb the dust layering the floor.

“Madame Andormi,” he said as he bowed. One gloved hand adjusted his bowtie as he straightened out. “A man has snuck onto the grounds.”

Rose sipped her wine. A moment passed in silence.

The man swallowed and cleared his throat. “W-we believe it’s the same thief that broke into the mansion a week prior.”

“We, Grégoire?” Rose said, as she set the empty glass upon the windowsill. A hollow chime rang out as it connected with the wood.

“The g-guards, M-Madame,” he sputtered.

“What use are guards if they can’t stop a single man from breaking into my home.” She wasn’t asking, nor did she expect an answer. She let the words hang in the air for a few moments.

“W-well —”

Rose cut him off. “I suppose this means you’ll want to escort me to the safe room again?” 

Her eyes darted to meet his own in his reflection in the window. His near-colorless eyes shot to the floor. Though he no longer bowed, his head hung low and revealed the few wisps of silver hair refusing to fall out. Dark liver spots covered the rest of his head, leaving very little of his light-depraved skin to be seen.

“I believe it would be in your b-best interest, Madame,” Grégoire said.

“Very well,” Rose said.

Her body trembled as a cold gust of wind blew into the room. Strands of long, copper hair wrapped around her face.

“Are you alright, Madame?” Grégoire asked. He slowly looked up.

Rose rubbed her bare arms as goosebumps crawled across her skin and turned to look at him. “Did you not feel —” She stopped herself short when she saw the concern in his expression. “I’m fine. There must be a crack in this window. After the thief is caught, I’d like you to look into it.” 

“Of course, Madame,” he said. “Now, if you’ll—”

“Wait for me in the hall,” she snapped. She brushed her hair from her face and threw it over her shoulders.

Grégoire bowed again and scurried from the room, shutting the door behind him. Rose ground her teeth as the door screeched across the wood. 

She turned back to the window. Far below the darkened glass, a field of flowers painted every color of the sky reached toward the horizon. Beyond those laid miles and miles of forest. Her eyes followed them to the edge of the earth. 

Another gust of biting air blew into the room, and Rose took a step back. Her focus shifted to the glass. She traced the grilles, scanning every panel between, but could not find any damage. 

Her eyes drifted until they fell upon her own reflection. She could not discern the light blue of her irises from the darkness of the glass, and she could tell her vibrant red lipstick had started to fade. Her head cocked to one side as she looked closer. After a moment, she gasped.

“What happened to my…” The words fell short as she looked down at herself. “Dress.” She looked back into the glass.

Her pale blue dress in the reflection looked filthy and tattered, but what she wore was clean and freshly pressed, just as she remembered. She could see no dirt upon herself nor tears of any kind. To be sure, she ran her hands along the length of her dress and pulled on the shoulder straps. 

“Madame?” Grégoire said, accompanied by a single knock. 

The sudden noise made Rose jump.

“I’m coming,” she called out after a deep breath. 

With a last glance at herself in the glass, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and turned to open the door. She braced herself for the screech, but it didn’t come. It swung open silently.

“Did you do something to the door?” she asked, swinging it back and forth. He didn’t answer. “Grégroire?” 

She turned to look at him, but found only an empty hallway.

“Grégroire?” The name came as a whisper this time. “Are you there?”

The floorboards creaked as she closed the door behind her and stepped outside the room. In front of her laid the staircase leading down to the second floor. The narrow hallway held nothing else, and the only light came from beyond the doorway past the bottom step. She paused at the top and listened. A door slammed shut in some distant part of the house. It was far enough away that Rose felt safe tiptoeing down the stairs.

When she reached the bottom, she peeked out past the doorway. Most of the light fixtures on the walls looked burned out, though a few scattered bulbs still shone. The red and gold wallpaper looked discolored in the dim light.

“Grégoire?” she whispered as loud as she dared. 

She was again greeted by silence with no one in view. To her left, she saw the entrance to the foyer. On the right, a few shut doors lined the peeling walls until it turned a corner. The safe room, she knew, was only accessible from the hall adjacent to the master bedroom, which itself was past the grand staircase on the opposite side of the foyer. 

Rose waited. A door squeaked open from somewhere around the corner to her right. Heavy footfalls echoed from the same direction, and a lumbering shadow crept onto the wall, steadily growing larger. The footsteps were getting louder, closer. Her head swiveled as she looked from the impending shadow to the stairs behind her then to the foyer. It was now or never.

She bolted into the hallway, nearly slipping on the faded carpet lining path.

“Who’s there?” a deep, grisly voice boomed like thunder from behind her.

Rose looked over her shoulder to see a mountain of a man crash around the corner. She ran faster.

“Wait!” the man roared.

Rose slid into the foyer and momentarily broke the man’s line of sight on her. If she ran for the master bedroom, however, he would certainly see her. She needed a new plan, but her mind was blanking. There were three other paths she could take — up or down the stairs, or through the dining room. None of it seemed familiar. She couldn’t remember where any of them led. 

“Madame!” a hushed voice said from behind her. “In here.”

Rose spun around and saw Grégoire standing behind half-shut double doors she hadn’t noticed along the wall toward the dining room. Without hesitation, she slipped inside and slowly closed the doors. Grégoire slid a fire poker between the handles. They were in what looked to be a nursery. The walls were painted a light pink, and various pieces of untouched, white furniture were spread around the room. Empty picture frames adorned the walls.

“Madame, hurry. You must hide,” he said.

Rose didn’t move, but simply stared at the aged man.

“Why did you leave me up there alone?” she demanded. Her anger rose to match her fear.

“Apologies, Madame, but what are you talking about? Up where?” he asked as he turned to meet her gaze. The last bit of color seemed to have drained from his eyes.

She opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say.

“Where are you?” the thief’s voice came from just outside the door.

Rose’s fear took over again as her breath caught in her throat. Grégoir mouthed the word “hide” to her and held a finger over his lips. She looked in every direction, her eyes bouncing off the walls to find a place to hide. Finally, she noticed a large, ornate armoire standing in the corner. The doors shuddered as the man outside tried to force them open. She knew she was out of time and dashed inside the armoire. It was tall enough for her to stand comfortably, but it was difficult to squeeze between the clothes hanging inside. It didn’t leave her much room to breathe, and she could feel her own hot breath with every exhale. The pungent smell of ancient mothballs nearly made her gag, but she held it in.

Within seconds, she heard the doors burst open with a sharp crack. She tightly shut her eyes and tried to sink as far into the clothes as she could. Crash after crash exploded around her. Blood pounded in her ears until it was all she could hear.

The armoire doors flew open. Her breathing stilled. A little bit of light spilled inside, but she couldn’t see past the clothes. She hoped that meant he couldn’t see her, either. An eternity passed as she held her breath, waiting for a sign to tell her she could move again. 

The light vanished as the doors shut. Rose exhaled. The man let out an angry cry and the armoire started to shake. Before she could move, she felt it tipping forward. She outstretched her hands to try and catch herself. A heavy thud echoed within the room as the armoire collided with the floor. 

Rose’s head slammed into the thick wood as it landed. Her left hand got caught between her own body and the back of the armoire. She heard a crack as her fingers slipped, forcing her pinky and ring fingers to snap backward to be parallel with the back of her hand. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming. The taste of blood filled her mouth as her teeth broke skin.

She laid in silence as she tried to breathe through the pain. The darkness was suffocating, though. There was so little room. She couldn’t breathe. The air inside felt thick and hot. Her breaths quickened to match the drumming of her heart. She felt as if she had been buried alive, and this wooden box was to be her coffin.

I have to get out of here. The words filled her mind, drowning out all other noise.

Rose turned onto her back, careful not to let anything touch her broken fingers. With what strength she could muster, she raised her knees and pushed against the ground. The wood groaned as it fought against her. She took a deep breath and pushed again. A bit of light crept inside as the nails holding the wood in place started to give. Cool air rushed inside between the gap, but was cut off once her strength faded. Her head felt light and started to spin. Spots of light formed before her. She shut her eyes as nausea washed over her. 

“Madame, is that you?” Grégoire’s voice came from somewhere nearby. “Are you in there?”

“Yes, please help me!” Rose nearly choked on her words as tears of relief rolled down her cheeks.

The armoire shifted ever so slightly as Grégoire grunted. “I don’t think I’ll be able to turn this over, Madame,” he said between a coughing fit. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said. The world turned upside down as the spinning in her head grew faster. “I’m going to push it open. I just need you to put something between the gap.”

She heard him shuffle away and return a moment later.

“Ready, Madame,” he said.

Rose breathed in and pushed up with everything she had left. The wood groaned again as it bent away from the frame. A white plank slipped inside, and a moment later, the wood snapped as the back of the armoire flew off. Her body shot upright as she gulped in the fresh air. 

“Thank you… Grégoire,” she said, taking deep breaths between the words. 

“Of course, Madame,” he said and extended his hand for her to take. “It’s likely the thief would have heard our ruckus. We should hurry to the safe room.” 

Rose took his hand and crawled out of the armoire while cradling her tender fingers against her chest. They were both severely bent to the side and had started to swell. It was only then she noticed her wedding band was missing, but she didn’t have time to worry about that now. As she looked around the room, she noticed most of the furniture, aside from the crib now laying on its side, hadn’t actually been moved or even touched.

“Where did you hide?” she asked. “How did he not find you?”

Grégoire, who had been peeking into the hall, turned to face her.

“It’s often easy to miss what you’re not looking for, Madame.” He looked back into the hall. “I see no sign of the thief. We should be safe.”

Rose took tentative steps toward the doorway. She couldn’t see much through the crack, but she trusted Grégoire’s senses.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He carefully opened the doors, and they slipped into the foyer. The house seemed darker than it had previously. Through the vast windows above the entryway, they could see the deepening purple sky overtaking the last hints of red and orange. 

They snuck across the second floor landing, past the dining room and into the opposite hall. At the very end, the carved oak double doors of the master bedroom were illuminated by dying lights on either side. 

“Almost there,” Grégoire said.

They raced down the hall as fast as they could without making any noise. Just before they reached the bedroom, they turned a corner and came face to face with another set of elegantly designed double doors.

Finally, Rose thought. 

She took the lead, rushing for the doors. They opened with only a slight push, and she stepped inside the pitch black room. The doors shut behind her.

“Grégoire, can you get the lights?” she asked. 

Silence. 

She waited, her breathing frozen. A cool breeze wrapped itself around her. The sound of shuffling feet came from the other end of the room, and then metal on metal as curtains were pulled back, revealing floor to ceiling windows. Starlight flooded the room and bathed the marble flooring with a purple glow. Chandeliers above her sprung to life.

“Wait, this isn’t the —” Rose stepped backward and ran into something solid. She yelped and turned around, coming face to face with the thief.

“You!” she yelled, as she backed away. “Please, I have nothing on me for you to take.”

“Rose, please. Wait,” the man said. His voice didn’t sound as deep as before. “Listen to me.”

“How do you know…” Her words trailed off as she stopped moving and looked at the man’s face. He wasn’t the giant of a man she thought she saw before. His eyes were soft and sad, and the light reflected in the deep brown betrayed the tears he so obviously tried to hold back.

“Everything’s going to be alright.” His voice cracked on the words. “No matter what’s happened, you’re still my wife, and I still love you.” He reached into his pocket and slipped out a golden wedding band and held it out to her. “I’ve kept it safe.”

Rose reached for it automatically, and he dropped it into her palm. It felt warm against her skin. She wrapped her hand tightly around it.

“I knew I would find you here,” he said, the words barely more than a whisper. A hint of a smile formed on his lips. He looked around, taking in the room. “The ballroom was always your favorite part of this house. It’s a shame it got hit the worst.”

Rose blinked, her mouth ajar. “What do you mean? It’s beautiful in here.” She followed his eyes, and as she looked again, the room changed. The pristine, white walls turned black and charred. All the glass in the colossal windows cracked and fell away, and the cool, night air rushed in to meet her. The elegant double doors cracked apart and fell from the frame. They laid on the floor among a pile of ash. 

“Everyone knows it was an accident, Rose. There’s no way anyone could have saved him.” The man took a step toward her. “It’s not your fault. But we need to get you back now, okay?”

Rose didn’t hear him — didn’t even know he was there anymore. She was too focused on Grégoire standing in the doorway, staring at her as he burned.