Except that the man of her dreams never came. There was only the flight attendant she had crossed earlier and the woman remained just as taciturn as before.
No answers to any questions Sara posed her. Nothing about where they were headed, other than a brief reply that the flight would be a long one before telling Sara to buckle her seatbelt.
Sara had tried to introduce herself but the woman had stopped her cold, saying that the plane’s log indicated there were no passengers on board before turning away from her as if she did not, in truth, exist.
Her stomach flip-flopped during the take-off, but once the jet had stopped climbing, Sara was surprised at how smooth the flight was.
Later, there was a glass of champagne then a meal the flight attendant had named “Un Tournedos Rossini au foie gras et à la truffe.”
Sara was famished and the golden brown medallion of beef was so tender she could have cut it with her fork alone. It had been placed upon a delicately grilled slice of French baguette and drizzled in a rich, buttery red wine sauce. It was accompanied by a generous morsel of foie gras which made a perfect marriage with the slightly sweet wine reduction. Finely julienned truffle leant the whole an elegance that went far beyond any meal that Sara could remember.
Full bodied bordeaux wine followed the initial glass of champagne, once again, in French, the woman had named it, un Saint-Emilion grand cru, but whatever its name, the full bodied red was the meal’s crowning moment.
Fine pastry and more champagne followed, of which Sara could only manage a little, savoring the luscious cream slipped between two thin sheets of crust made up of what appeared to be hundreds of fine, buttery layers.
By the end, she had forgotten that she had dined alone. They had flown up over the clouds and into the night sky and before long, sleep came to claim Sara while the ocean rolled gently on in her dreams.
Someone was shaking her awake. No, not someone, her entire surroundings trembled and then Sara heard and felt the jet’s landing gear touch ground.
She stretched and looked out the window next to her seat. Darkness reigned outside, a few dim lights visible through what appeared to be a mist ridden night.
The flight attendant bustled by. Sara was about to question the woman one last time as to just where exactly they had landed, but the woman had made an art of acting as though Sara was not there.
She watched through the spotted window as the boarding stairs unfolded and the woman and two men climbed down. They were met by several others and Sara saw that they stood in a rough circle while red coals glowed around their darkened faces then dimmed again as they smoked.
After what seemed an eternity, the flight attendant made her way back in to the cabin.
“You will be leaving us now,” she said, her voice coldly professional, “A driver is waiting to take you to your destination.”
Sara had grown very tired of the woman’s treatment and snapped, “Of course he is. And, I don’t suppose he’ll have anything more to say than you.”
Without waiting to see the woman’s reaction, Sara got up and pushed past her. She climbed down the stairs to see that the smokers had disappeared with only a large car waiting in their place, its engine idling.
Sara sighed.
I’ve come this far.
No one came to open the door for her, so Sara simply let herself into the back of the car.
A man wearing black gloves slipped the car into gear, then said over his shoulder, “Bonsoir.”
More French, then. Ok, this is definitely starting to feel European around here.
“Ummm...english?” she asked.
“Sorry,” the man said, his accent thick, “Buh, I doan’ speak ahngleesh...désolé.”
Fine, Sara thought, no point in asking this guy where in the hell I’ve ended up.
Then, she did anyway.
The man hesitated, then replied, “C’est la France, Mademoiselle. Ici, on se trouve sur la côte atlantique, au Pays Basque.”
Sara’s French was very rusty. But, among the sounds that rolled like magic off the man’s tongue, she had picked out a few words.
France. Basque.
Maybe something that meant AtlanticEuropean coast....
Ok...so not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
“Installez vous. Nous en avons pour une bonne heure du route.” The man broke off then, apparently realizing that Sara’s French was worse than his english.
With nothing else to do, and no idea how long it would continue, Sara settled back and waited for the next thing.
The highway leading from the small airport quickly turned to simple two lane roads, then two lanes became more like one and a half as the car wound its way up and down the countryside.
The night hid most of it from Sara’s eyes, but at times she thought she could see the reflection of the moon far below her. She lowered her window for just a moment and the unmistakeable scent of salt air slipped into the car.
It took little imagination for her to decide that they were on a secondary road that followed the coast line somewhere in Basque country. Sara searched her memories and something hinted to her that this meant she was in southwest France.
She smiled a little ruefully as she thought, So much for Paris.
As it was, the farthest abroad she had ever gone was the Canadian side of the Niagara Falls when she was just a little girl. After that, she had only every voyaged in her thoughts while watching television shows of far off places, and sometimes, when she was very lucky, she chanced to dream while deeply asleep that she had set foot in a foreign land, somewhere mysterious and enchanting.
Abruptly, the car slowed then turned off the black top onto what seemed no more than a cow path.
They bumped and rocked on the uneven track in a line perpendicular to the road they had just been on, the one that ran along the coast. And this meant that they were heading in nearly a straight line toward the ocean.
The dirt road began to run steeper and steeper, until the car was practically spitting and growling as it climbed the rude hill.
And as they crested the steep rise, Sara saw the silhouette of something massive and black hanging against the empty air that surrounded them then on all sides.
It was a castle straight out of a fairy tale. Heavy stone walls that rose to turrets framed against the night sky. Sara could make out that there were stones missing in places, giving the tower tops the look of a broken smile.
Or, perhaps, that of a hungry smile.
“Nous y voila,” the driver announced as he stopped the car in front of the old building.
As it was, he had no other choice. The dirt road had come to a dead end just before the castle’s entrance.
Not too dead, I hope, Sara thought, then shivered as she got out of the car.
The driver stepped outside, as well, then tipped his head back to survey the imposing edifice.
“On dirait, que c’est un château de fantômes, n’est-ce pas?” he said with a half a smile as he turned to look at Sara.
She did not understand his words, but the look of worry that came into his face just then was clear.
“You...be okay içi? Yes?”
Sara was not sure how to respond when they both heard a low groaning sound in the darkness.
The Frenchman took a step in Sara’s direction, then both of them froze as they saw a figure step out from behind the immense front doors of the castle, their hinges creaking like voices from beyond the grave.
“Allez vous-en. Ce n’est pas la peine d’essayer effrayer la jeune femme.”
The words were in French, but there was no mistaking that voice and as he approached, Sara saw his regard, as intense as always, flash from the driver to her and back again.
“Vous avez été bien payé. Maintenant, dégagez,” he said to the driver, his tone furious. “C’est moi qui la prends en charge.”
Sara understood nothing but the abashed look upon the driver’s face was explanation enough. He hurried back into the car and wasted no time in starting it before turning it around to go back the way he had come.
Brazier Abraxis came close to her and Sara saw the anger that drew his brows together.
“Follow me,” he said, then turned suddenly away.
Sara had no choice except to follow but she could not shake the feeling of an impending disaster as she came to the great doors of the chateau. They loomed like an open mouth and with a sense of doom licking at her soul, Sara let them swallow her whole.
~~~
Two steps inside and Sara watched as he pushed the enormous doors closed with a single hand. Something told her that if it had been her, she would have had to put all her weight and a shoulder against just one to do the same.
Darkness fell like a cloak as the dim light of the exterior world was cut off. She heard a metallic sound, then a creaking whine before a jittering illumination opened wide just before her.
He held an old fashioned lamp of some kind, it’s opaque faceplate swinging loosely as he moved, creating wild shadows that jumped and capered on the high stone walls surrounding them.
“Foolish local man. They take one look at an american and all they have in mind is how much of a tip they might garner. Little matter that he was already paid more than fairly to see you here.”
Braze’s voice growled in the shadowy entryway.
“I don’t think he really took me for a tourist,” Sara said, “Mostly, he just seemed concerned.”
“Yes, well, my people know how to comport themselves. As for these locals, I have my doubts,” he replied.