Beauté Dans Blanc

The young woman stood waiting for him in the moonlight. The moonbeams bathed her pale skin, illuminating a carving of ivory. Her hair was jet black and hanging loosely about her shoulders. Her face, so beautiful, so perfect, her eyes, nose, lips all a harmonious gathering of perfection to the senses. 1

He touched her cheek, hand trembling. Soft, cool, and pale, not the slightest blush as he looked upon her. She was clothed only in the warm caress of the night wind. "Julian," she whispered. Her voice was melodious and clear. His heart skipped a beat; this must be the voice of the angels. His fingers probed her face and found her lips. They were so warm, pink, and inviting. He would do anything to place his own against them. Whether it was a soft feathery brush or a hard, forceful demand; he knew he would know the secrets behind their plump sweetness.2

As if reading his thoughts she entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled him roughly to her. "Take me, Julian," she begged, breathlessly. Her lips touched his, softly at first then more demanding as she drew him closer, ensnaring him in her web of lust and anticipated passion.3

"Julian," she whispered into his mouth as her tongue wrapped itself around his own. He marveled at the deftness of such an action, but quickly became lost again within her. "Julian, Julian, Julian," she continued, chanting his name. Seductive at first it soon grated at his nerves; draining the beauty from the moment. "Julian!" she said again, much more demanding this time, with something akin to anger and discontent.4

"What? What do you want for God's sake?" he retorted, anger seething in the pit of his stomach. She gripped his shoulder tightly, her nails digging in, tearing at the skin. He reacted furiously as he pushed her away. His heart leapt within his chest as a he realized his mistake. A scowl of outrage hardened her features. She bared her teeth in a grimace of disgust as she turned her back on him. As she turned Julian saw a glimpse of something ugly and vile.5

"Julian. Julian Delambre!" His name echoed through his ears though she was gone; darkness engulfed him. "You are so infuriating sometimes." 6

Light flooded Julian's vision as he managed to open his eyes a slit. "You promised if I bought you that thing you would help me with your father's things."7

Julian groaned and looked around the room, his mind still fogged with sleep. He sighed and lay very still, the visions of his dream still fresh within his mind. He had dreamt of her every night since Mother had purchased her for him. He had obsessed over her 10 years before that.8

He had first noticed her in an auction catalogue belonging to his mother. Her features were so pale and delicate. She seemed to have been carved from precious ivory rather than the marble the catalogue had described. He slid out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe as his mother watched with a disapproving eye. 9

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Julian asked as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it. His mother turned and left the room with a dramatic sniff. He risked a glance at himself in the mirror his appearance startled him. His skin was ashen and dark circles had begun to form under his eyes. He looked as though he had not slept in several days. The exact opposite was true, he slept entirely too much. The last week he had gone to bed early and awakened every morning more exhausted than before.10

He turned on the water and let it heat before stepping into the steaming stream. The water caressed his skin and again sent him into thoughts of the woman that dominated his dreams as of late. The artist, Jean Fortescue, had proclaimed her Beauté Dans Blanc Julian called her Beauty. No one knew of her until Fortescue died in 1864. He had kept his greatest, and presumably, his only work a secret from the world. Julian thought of it as talent wasted. The hands the created Beauty were gifted indeed.11

Rumor had it Beauty was modeled after Lucrezia Desmarais, a beauty and aristocrat of some scandal. She disappeared in 1856. People believed she had run off with a young English man named Andres Wilder. She turned up alive in 1862 and continued as though she had never gone. For an explanation, no one asked and she did not offer.12

The servants whispered that she had changed and that they never saw her leave her bedroom before dusk. She began a scandalized romance with Jean Fortescue. A year later she disappeared again, for good this time. Fortescue isolated himself from the world. Despair was his closest companion. Fortescue became a recluse and though many of his former acquaintances tried to visit him. He turned them away through a tightly latched door.13

He died within the year. His brother arrived unexpectedly from Greece. He was appalled to find his brother near death. He spent three days raving of things only found in the darkness of the madman's dream. When he died he uttered the name that seemed the plague of his existence, "Lucrezia." Those who knew Jean Fortescue claimed he looked as though he had been a recluse much longer. They said he looked, starved.14

His brother had taken up residence in the house. He began to experience strange dreams. He would awaken more exhausted than he had been the night before. He began to rid himself of his brother's possessions. For some reason, still unclear, it had taken Marq Fortescue three weeks to find Beauty. With her had been a letter declaring her Beauté Dans Blanc. This letter also urged the one who found it to rid themselves of her.15

Julian hurriedly toweled off and dressed. He spent way too much time as of late thinking of Beauty and her origins. The story was so mysterious and exciting. This made him adore her even more. He walked slowly in to the study, dreading another encounter with his mother. She had been riding him all week about his appearance. 16

He made it into the den undetected and closed the doors quietly behind him. He crept toward the bust and knelt in front of it so that his eyes met with those of Beauty. His eyes moved over the flawless texture of the marble. It was the strangest hue of pink. He had never seen marble with such a color. In fact, he had noticed in several of the pictures online the marble appeared a much deeper pink. At other times, it was very white.17

He had first noticed her in an auction catalogue his mother had been looking over. He was fifteen at the time and was instantly in love with her. He had kept track of her throughout the years. She had been sold many times, often very quickly, and was gaining something of a reputation. The price on her declined steadily as rumors began about the true origin of Beauty. To Julian she was invaluable, no matter what her current price.18

Ten years ago, though his family had been well off, were unable to afford the investment required for Beauty. Julian persevered to do anything within his power to gain her. 19

He was already one of the top in his class in high school. Despite this, he began to work harder bringing himself into the top two percent of his class. He received a scholarship to an Ivy League school; graduating with honors and a business degree.20

He joined his father’s existing company. The company flourished with the ideas and suggestions of his young, fresh mind. It grew more in two years than it had in the previous ten. His father was delighted and soon retired, turning the company over to Julian.21

This was not Julian’s intention. He did not want the company or responsibilty for it. He wanted merely to amass enough to obtain Beauty. His father had shown distaste for Beauty. Something about her repulsed him. He claimed he could not explain it; Beauty repulsed him just as she drew Julian ever closer. His father swore he would never allow that thing in his home.22

His father had died two weeks before. He had not retired soon enough and his body had given out. His death was ruled ‘natural causes'. The company was divided between Julian and his mother. Julian immediately made his favorite cousin president of the company. Julian knew he could handle it. This cousin had been his father’s choice to become president in his stead. That changed when Julian graduated college and gave the company new life. 23

He had come home early that first evening to find his mother fidgeting about nervously. “Is something wrong, Mother?” Julian inquired casually. He was certain something was going on. He wondered vaguely if he really wanted to know.24

His mother clasped his hand tightly and led him to the den. She paused at the door. “Close your eyes, Julian. I have something for you. It is something very special.” Julian felt the dull itch of annoyance grating at him. He could think of a million things he would rather be doing.25

“Okay look,” his mother was saying. He opened his eyes. His breath caught in his throat. His fingers closed tightly around his mother’s small hand. “Julian, that is very painful,” she complained as she attempted to loosen his grip on her.26

His mother had bought him the one thing his heart desired. Everything he endured up to this moment was a fleeting memory. Beauty stood upon the pedestal before him. Her marble skin was a blushed pink. Julian released his mother, who immediately rubbed her hand to get the feeling back in it, and moved toward the bust. His fingers ached to touch the cool stone. He longed to feel the exquisite creature that had captivated him ten years.27

“Beauty,” he whispered as his fingers made contact with her cheek. He recoiled instantly. The stone was not cool as he imagined but warm and soft. He shook his head it could not be possible. Smooth, perhaps, and cool. It had to be his imagination. So long he had imagined her real that now his mind refused to accept otherwise. Then again, he reasoned, if he believed that firmly surely he would not be aware of it.28

“Julian,” his mother’s voice ripped from the depths of his thought. “I do wish you would not spend so much time looking at the thing. You need a girlfriend,” his mother said as she turned to leave the room. “You are going to take that thing with you when you return to your apartment, aren’t you?” his mother asked, her back to him as she stood in the doorway poised to leave. Julian thought she seemed almost eager to be rid of Beauty.29

“Of course,” Julian said matter-of-factly, “Why would I leave something here that I have wanted so badly for so long?”30

“I was just making sure. That thing terrifies me. I almost wish I never saw it, Julian,” she said in a rush as she fled. Once in the hall she paused looking back and the doorway. “Please be careful, Julian. Something is not right about that thing.” 31

Julian waited until he was certain his mother would not return. He did not understand her fear of an inanimate object. His mother found her as appalling as his recent haggardness, that much was clear. Could this be the reason she feared Beauty? She was concerned for his health? Perhaps. Perhaps she changed her mind about the purchase and hoped he would sell it.32

“I would never sell you,” he whispered. He leaned in closer looking at the eyes of the bust. He had always been bitterly disappointed the eyes were closed. Looking at her face so close he realized how silly that was. What did he expect to see? A clear azure that rivaled the heavens and brought such warmth into his heart it would burst? It was so in his dreams.33

With such thoughts, he placed his lips to hers. He was surprised by how pliant they were. They were warm, and, he could imagine, moist and tasted of the sweetest nectar. He drew back, his eyes upon her saporous mouth. 34

Weakness threatened as he attempted to get to his feet. He suddenly felt as if the energy had been drained from him completely. This weakness had been constant since just after Beauty had come into the house. He slept long periods and would still awaken exhausted and weakened. He glanced back one last time before exiting the room. In his peripheral vision, he saw her open her eyes.35

He caught his breath and dared turn his head to look at her. A long engaging sigh of relief was expelled as he discovered he had imagined it. He touched her face then hurried to meet his mother before she came back looking for him. 36

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Three days later Julian was back at his own apartment, and grateful for it. His mother, though a wonderful woman, drove him mad. He understood she was lonely now that his father died, but he could not stand the idea of living with her. She disapproved of Beauty, that alone gave him reason enough to choose to remain at his own place.38

He had cleared away space in his bedroom, and made a shrine for Beauty. He had the lighting set to show off her magnificent face. He dimmed the lights around her down. He walked around her examining the effect. At first, he was taken aback. A ghastly visage stood before him! Stark white with eyes so filled with hatred it bore into his very soul. The mouth was contorted into a grimace of evil and malicious intent. From it, two elongated incisors protruded. The tips scarcely touching the bottom lip.39

Julian squealed in terror and turned the light back on. Beauty looked as she always had. He had been thinking too much of her. With his exhaustion, his mind was playing tricks on him. That was it, he decided, he needed to get a good night sleep. Without his mother fussing over him it should be easy. 40

He glanced at Beauty on her elaborate pedestal. He thought of the hallucination he had, he had convinced himself it was just that and nothing more. 41

That night he slept on the sofa. He could not shake the image of Beauty so horrifyingly twisted. He slept badly, while at his mother’s he dreamt of Beauty as if she were a real woman. Now, nightmares plagued him. In his dreams, he could see her face marred with rage. Her eyes blazed with intense hatred. Her lips were rouged with blood. A single drop hung precariously at the end of an extended fang before falling on to an area of the pure white marble. One of the few areas not already completely soaked in blood.42

In his dream, he reached for her. She bared her fangs. Her nostrils flared. However, she could not speak her eyes and expression conveyed volumes to him. Her hatred, her outrage, her desire for revenge. 43

He awoke with a start, sweat saturated his skin. His breathing was rapid and labored. He sat up, trying desperately to calm himself. “Beauty!” he gasped. He moved toward his bedroom slowly, fear welling within his heart. He gripped the knob and swung the door open forcefully.44

Beauty remained upon the pedestal, but as in his dream, her very expression had changed. The lips, once bent in a knowing smile were now a straight hard line, pursed so tightly he would have never believed the were so full. 45

He crept closer, fear squeezing his heart tightly, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. He sat upon the bed, his hand over his heart. Comprehension failed him. How had this happened? Why had it happened?46

“Beauty,” he whispered. A strangled scream ripped from his throat as the eyes slowly slid open. The black orbs brimmed with unfathomable hatred and disgust. Julian threw himself against the wall at the headboard of the bed. It could not be. Beauty could not be alive. 47

The mouth curved into a malevolent smile. The canine teeth slid over the lower lip, a thin thread of saliva hung from one side. Julian placed his hands to his own mouth, stifling back the fear threatening to pour forth.48

Beauty’s mouth opened the closed again as if speaking. Julian felt incredibly weak. As his life slipped from him, he saw the dark images of a vampire hunter and his prey. He had removed her head and kept it. Beauty had drained him off his energy. Occasionally one drew close and she had claimed a drought of blood. It gave her a pink hue.49

Her secrets slowly unfolded as Julian stood transfixed. His eyes could not be averted from the dead black of her own.50

The darkness pulled Julian under like the waters embracing the drowned victim. Beauty returned to her former docile position. Jean Fortescue had fooled the world. 51

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