The Lady and the Apocalypse

Latressa Haberdash bustled to the parlor, but had to wait until the butler bowed deeply and stepped aside before she could squeeze through the doorway. Regardless of a few inconveniences of her size, she prided herself on being as big-boned and well-endowed as she was, if only for the fact that she could finally fit into her mother’s old black ballgown.

It was a gorgeous garment, the pride of Latressa's belongings – which was quite an achievement, considering her vast fortune and innumerable possessions. The train of the night-black skirt made her feel regal. She wore her long black evening gloves, a large silver feathered hairpiece in her tightly coiled hair. She topped the look off with a necklace she’d re-discovered in her grandmother’s jewelry box; a large, opaque silver gem set into a black pendant. Latressa’s mother used to tease that Grandmother thought the pendant protected the lake manor. Grandmother would always retort that the pendant had energies that allowed the wearer to see the truth of things. Latressa didn’t believe in such nonsense – but now was not the time to potentially anger any magic or ancestors that might be at play. More importantly, it went wonderfully with her gown.

She brushed past the potted elm tree, causing the nightingales nestled there to shoot out of the branches with a cry and flutter thought the open terrace doors. She stood poised beneath the squat trophy her late husband had won for his excellence at surviving some game involving hitting a ball. She’d always told him that one day someone was going to mistake his abnormally round nose for the ball and take a swing at him. He hadn’t listened.

She sighed daintily and resumed puffing on her long cigarette as she surveyed the strangers taking refuge in her parlor. There were so many of them, and she knew they’d introduced themselves when they came ashore, but she’d forgotten their names just as quickly. No one socially notable – just regular people from the surrounding towns. They huddled in small groups, voices hushed and movement stilled. Some, like the girl with the stylish afro, were turned away from the center of the room, heads hanging in either weariness or prayer. Same thing, really. Others were shut up in their guest rooms, and a few restless souls wandered about the island, blinking up at the cloudy red sky.

Smoke clouded around Latressa’s head as she tutted. They’d been like this for a week now. They should be thrilled she was hosting them here on her lonely little island manor in the middle of a dark lake. Yes, the nuclear explosion was unfortunate. Yes, frightened armies were pillaging houses for supplies, which caused a few stirrings of discomfort. Yes, most of these people had fled their homes, been chased by strange creatures, or stumbled upon one another quite by accident as they sought shelter. But they were in a fancy house – and SHE was here! That alone should have brought a smile to the lips of the old man with cracked glasses holding an icepack to his head, should have made that cute couple supporting each other out on the terrace quit their crying and make something of their time here. It wasn’t every day Haberdash Hall was open to the public.

Actually, it hadn’t been open to the public for a few decades. The manor had been in her family for generations, with the Haberdashes and the staff living all together on this island. Grandmother used to throw great galas for all the rich and famous people in the country – at least, that’s what Mother always said. Mother tried to keep the events lively, but she lacked her own mother’s knack for hosting, and fewer and fewer people showed up, rude as they were. And once Mother passed away, Latressa just hadn’t felt right hosting social events without her, and made due being the life of the party at her husband’s outings. Now that she thought about it, Latressa couldn’t recall leaving the manor since her husband passed away. How odd. She should plan a holiday soon. Well, after things on the mainland had calmed down.

The island was very fertile, and they enjoyed two healthy gardens – one for food and one for flowers and ferns, both of which were attended by the staff. Among the foliage, several twisted trees clawed their way out of the flower garden. They were unsightly to Latressa, but the staff seemed quite taken with them, so she let them be; the staff always seemed a little off, a little discomforted, so she was happy to let them have their little pleasures.

The lake was quite large, with the shore on all sides only scarcely visible. When she had seen people swimming in the water towards the manor, Latressa had told her butler to take the boats and pluck them up, along with anyone on the shoreline who didn’t look dangerous; anyone desperate enough to swim here had to be interesting.

A shadow slid up beside her. “You seem perturbed, Mistress,” the butler murmured. Dressed in standard attire, his black jacket and slacks starkly contrasting his crisp white shirt. Polished and professional, his white-blond hair was slicked back and held with a hair-tie. His skin was as pale as hers was dark, his eyes an icy blue. He was a handsome fellow, all things considered.

She waved a hand at her guests. “They’re all being such downers. It’s so quiet – you’d think there was a funeral!”

The butler tsked. “It’s rather rude of them to act so demure in your presence; you light up every room you walk into.”

Latressa beamed, as she often did around the butler. He had been in her husband’s employ when they married – no, that wasn’t right, the butler had been on her mother’s staff – but that didn’t seem right either. Truth be told, Latressa couldn’t remember how she first became acquainted with the butler, but that was neither here nor there. He had stayed on after her husband died, and seemed thrilled to serve her every beck and call. She’d long suspected he fancied her. She didn’t return his affections, but then he didn’t seem to expect her to.

She sucked on the end of her cigarette and wandered out onto the terrace, the butler following in her wake. Her dress slid behind her like tendrils; it was an elegant feeling. In the distance, sickly green lights flashed between the clouds. She watched them with mild interest.

“You know, when I imagined the end of the world, I thought it would be quicker. More extravagant. Watching from a distance as things slowly fall apart is rather… anticlimactic.”

The butler tilted his head to the side, his white-gloved hands clasped behind his back. “Does my Mistress wish to experience it first-hand?”

“Goodness, no!” she laughed. “Perish the thought of me being caught up in whatever ghastly affair is going on out there!”

He bowed deeply. “My apologies, Mistress.”

“None needed, dear,” she replied.

The butler’s face glazed over with the ghost of a smile at the term before quickly resuming an appropriate expression.

“I must admit,” she continued, “I’m unsure what to do now. They have beds to sleep in, food to eat, ample space to exercise. And they just… linger.”

He scrutinized a pair of guests shuffling along the shoreline in the distance. “What would you have them do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something.” Latressa looked back over her shoulder through the open doors. “Dance or sing, perhaps. Put on a puppet show. Make up some convoluted game. I can’t be expected to provide all of the entertainment.”

“Dance?” the butler repeated, an odd note in his voice.

“Oh yes, a dance would be marvelous.”

A sudden gleam shone in the butler’s icy eyes. “Just a dance, Mistress? ‘Dance’ is too plebian of a term. What of a great gala, like the ones of your foremothers!”

She snapped her fingers – unsuccessfully because of the gloves – and beamed. “Genius, my dear! A gala! Oh, why didn’t I think of that?”

“You have had other pressing concerns,” the butler soothed, “but your desire for festivities can never be doused.”

“I have always desperately enjoyed gatherings,” Latressa acknowledged. “It won’t be the same, since no one else has any fancy attire – apparently, they all neglected to grab their formalwear when they fled. But we’ll make do.”

“Leave that to me, Mistress,” he said, a smile splitting his lips and revealing sharp teeth – Latressa blinked. No, no, silly her, it was just shadows from the overhead clouds. He had a perfectly nice smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“You always do,” she replied fondly. “Thank you, darling.”

He strode away with a sweep of his coattails, looking giddier than Latressa had ever seen him.

She stayed on the terrace for a while more, smoking on her cigarette as she cloud-gazed at the hazy red sky. This was just what they all needed: a gala to lighten the mood. What a delightful idea! It had been so long since she’d been the belle of the ball; she giggled in excitement.

It didn’t take long to organize. There were no invitations to send out, and no decorations to order and hang up. The staff had stubbornly insisted that it wasn’t a good idea to throw a banquet, even though Latressa pouted and bemoaned the fact that a party was nothing without a full spread. They seemed to think it was a better idea to conserve food. Once the butler showed up, they stopped their nonsense, immediately deferring to him, as they always did. He commanded the servants handily. They lit up when he told them to prepare a special treat, exchanging mischievous grins with one another. Good on them, having fun with the request. That settled, she tottered off to find someone to bring the instruments up from storage.

As it turned out, the old man with the cracked glasses used to be a concert pianist, and she plopped him on the piano bench with a moth-eaten box of sheet music. When she noticed one of the high school students hovering around the rusty trumpet, she pushed it into her hands and shooed her away to go practice. It was satisfying to see a few people creep forward and pick up instruments, starting to smile as they remembered how to play.

Once she was able to get him to stop crying, she had the largest man of the lot bring the ancient phonograph from the depths of the attic and set it up at the far end of the grand hall. It hadn’t been used since her grandmother’s galas, but it played just fine, if a little tinny.

By the time she and the butler had corralled everyone into the grand hall, most of the tears and moans had stopped. They gazed around in awe. The butler had instructed the staff to clean the unused room, and they’d done a wonderous job. Long tables stood alongside one of the walls, overflowing with delectable food and drink. Chandeliers high above them twinkled like the stars that could no longer be seen, a massive stained-glass window dominated the back wall, and high-arching windows lined both sides of the ballroom. The walls were gilded in ornate gold designs, a gorgeous mural Latressa didn’t remember painted on the ceiling. Murmurs of appreciation washed over her. Haberdash Hall in all its glory was a sight to behold. This was her element. How she had missed it.

And she didn’t know how the butler had managed it, but everyone was dressed in full gala attire. Dresses, tuxedos, suits, heels, elegant hairstyles – everyone, even the children and staff, were dressed to the nines. Of course, no one looked as elegant as her, but that was to be expected.

The pianist began playing a lovely piece on the newly-tuned piano and Latressa spun out into the center of the floor, her mother’s ballgown swirling around her. She felt them looking at her with grateful admiration as she danced, their beautiful host enjoying herself in these uncertain times. Slowly, others joined in, until everyone was spinning and dancing and laughing. Even the staff joined in, looking happier than Latressa had ever seen them as they spun their guests around. Actually, she couldn’t think of a time she’d seen all the staff in one place; there were more of them than she remembered.

She lost count of how many people she danced with. As the evening wore on, it was easy to get lost in the music that switched between live performances and old recordings on the phonograph. The faces blurred together and time meant nothing. It must have been the middle of the night before she finally broke away, panting and fanning herself.

Latressa stepped out onto the balcony, relieved as the cold night air blew past her, sweeping the train of the gown all around her. She leaned into the breeze, spreading her arms. The sky was a deep red, the stars gone. Beyond the distant shoreline, something was burning; smoke and fire flickered along the horizon. But it was so far away, it didn’t bother her. She sighed contentedly and gazed out at the dark water, visible from every window in the manor.

“You’ve stopped dancing, Mistress,” murmured a voice at her shoulder. The butler was there, just as he always was. There was that clever gleam in his eyes, and he looked livelier than she remembered ever seeing him. He had danced with her multiple times already, twirling her around and leaving her breathless. He was an excellent dancer.

“I just need a moment. You know, it occurred to me during our last dance,” Latressa said, propping herself against the balcony railing, “but I don’t believe I actually know your name.”

Something grew warm against her throat. His smile froze.

For just one moment – just for an instant – it wasn’t the butler with her, and she wasn’t in her manor home. Instead, a creature stood before her. It stood like a man, and had the same shape, but its features were all wrong. The skin was waxy, ears and nose sharply pointed, its teeth like needles as it grinned at her. Its stringy white hair fell to its jutting shoulders as it extended gnarled claws towards her. And its eyes – oh God, its eyes; white slits fixed in pools of blackness, like some deep-sea creature.

They stood amid decrepit ruins of a once-great house, beams and walls fallen all around. Husks of trees and dead vines throttled the rubble. In the garden, strange lights floated amid the branches of the twisted trees – no, not lights, but tiny glowing creatures, darting through the branches in a frenzy, like wasps. The sky was black as tar, an eerie haze drifting through the rubble and choking her. Beyond the creature’s shoulders, Latressa could see figures dancing – more monstrous creatures, but also human corpses, and people with their eyes frozen wide, glass crumbling to dust as shattered stone and brick crunched beneath their dragging feet. Screeching strings and off-key melodies spilled out of a ghastly orchestra as a woman let out a long drawn-out scream.

Latressa opened her mouth to shriek – and blinked rapidly.

The butler stood before her, dapper and refined. Beyond him, the guests and staff were twirling and dancing in the ballroom as warm music played, accompanying a woman singing.

“Mistress,” the butler asked, concern in his voice, “are you well?”

Was she? Her hand was pressed against her heart, which hammered like it was trying to break her chest. Terror lodged in her gut, in her throat, her mind screamed at her to get away – but from what? What on earth had startled her so? It must have been something, but she couldn’t remember.

“I’m fine, dear, thank you.” She gazed at the stone railing, at the ground far below. “My hand must have slipped and startled me.”

Something seared against her neck and her hand flew to her throat. Her grandmother’s pendant burned against her skin. She frantically tore it from her, the delicate chain snapping.

If she hadn’t been so distracted, she might have noticed the butler’s gaze fixate on the pendant. He frowned, intelligent eyes narrowing as he considered… his expression cleared as Latressa refocused on him.

“Mistress, allow me to take care of that for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Your necklace,” he said smoothly. “The chain broke, so I will hold it for you. There is no reason to concern yourself with it as you enjoy your evening.”

Gratefully, she dropped the heirloom into his outstretched claw – she flinched – no, his hand – and as it disappeared into his waistcoat, the chill in the air gave her goosebumps.

He held his arm out to her. “Come back to the dance, Mistress.”

Her breath caught as he extended his arm, and she almost recoiled – but why? She shook herself, displeased with the sudden downturn of her mood. She took his proffered arm.

“My dear,” she said fondly as they ambled back to the gala, “you’ve always served me so faithfully. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for me?”

“No,” he replied immediately. His voice was fierce and genuine. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Mistress. I am your devoted servant forever. Anything you desire, any whim you command, shall be yours. You need only tell me.”

She swelled with pride as she stepped into the ballroom and everyone applauded her. The butler swept her up in another dance, and she lost track of time again.

She wondered how long etiquette required her to play hostess to her guests. Not that Latressa wanted to get rid of them yet, nor could she, but knowing how long she was expected to coddle them would take a load off her mind. She assumed it wouldn’t be too long, though.

After all, the apocalypse couldn’t last forever.