The Ghastly Variable

Christine rises from bed, gasping for air. The woman looks around, realising that she is back in her room. The early morning casts its cooling air onto her. However, this does nothing to soothe Christine's paranoia.

She checks her phone and sees that it is Sunday at 6:43 am.

Her chocolate eyes close as she recites her morning prayer.

Domine Deus, gratias tibi ago pro vita quam mihi donasti.

Gratias ago tibi pro matre mea et patre meo, qui me ad lucem tuam duxerunt.

Dum me tibi subicio, oro ut Spiritus Sanctus me protegat a tenebris.

Oro ut me adiuves vincere peccatricem cupiditatem sanguinis humani, et ut numquam alicui noceam.

Quaeso, permittas me tibi plene subicere et me ad maius propositum meum perducas.

In nomine Iesu oro:

Amen.

The prayer revitalises her spirit, and she gets refreshed from bed. Her feet take her to the bathroom sink. Christine walks up to the mirror and runs the tap water, splashes her face, and looks up. One look in the mirror erupts a ghastly scream through her. In the glassy pane, the beastly figure from her dream reappears. The three-dimensional fragment stares back at her.

Instead of Christine, a grotesque humanoid bird replaces her reflection. Its eyes resemble a scheming hawk. The human-bird abomination has hawk-like eyes staring deep into the woman. Raven-black feathers cover its entire being. Christine moves her head, marvelling at how the bathroom light refracts off the feathers in a sparkly sapphire blue hue.

She lifts her hand; the beast copies. Christine's eyes widen as she touches her face and observes the duplication manifest before her.

The beast is replicating her actions.

She looks down at herself and sees her sleepwear covering her skin, not at all resembling the mirroring deceit. Despite this, the creature reflecting at her cannot be anybody else but her.

What is happening to her?

Christine moves her face from side to side, watching the hideous reflection copy her moves. Unfortunately, this will be a problem for another day.

Christine has to go to church.

She runs the tap water, splashes her face, and brushes her teeth. Christine runs the shower and cleanses her body with cold water and soap. The woman returns to the sink and brushes her wet hair before tying it in a clean bun.

The young woman decides to wear a floral dress with pink heels.

Christine walks into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and takes out a slice of bread. She places the slice on a plate and walks to the tap. Christine grabs a glass cup and fills it halfway with water. She makes her way to the kitchen island and then prays.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum, adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie. Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

Christine grabs the cup and pours the water over the plate, soaking the bread. Once saturated, Christine eats the delicacy with her fingers. When nothing is left but the murky water, she brings the plate to her lips and sips the remnant in satisfaction. The loud slurps echo through the empty air.

Once Christine finishes her breakfast, she cleans the plate, leaves her home and makes her way to church. The walk from her home to the church is only twenty minutes. Usually, she'd participate in a prayer walk, but her mind keeps going to what she saw this morning. However, the Lord must come first.

She walks into the chapel with the morning sun casting down onto the glass panes, filling the place with its multicoloured beauty.

She makes her way down the aisle. An older man sits by one of the benches. Something compels her to sit next to him.

The sermon is wonderful. However, her mind is not focused. She doesn't realise that it is over until the other church attendees make their way outside.

"You're very beautiful, my dear," a soft voice says. Christine turns her head, looking at the source of the voice. The man has a smile with full cheeks, forecasting his dentures. Christine smiles and nods.

"Thank you so much, sir," Christine responds. Her voice is minimal, not too sweet or too overbearing for his hearing aids. A laugh escapes his lips.

"You can call me by my name: Norville," he says. Christine nods and holds her hand out. He accepts it with a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Norville. My name is Christine."

"Christine. That's a wonderful name," Norville says. "Are you single, by any chance?" He asks. Christine turns to him, confused as to why he is asking that.

"Yes, I am single. Why?"

"Well, my master is around the same age as you. I do believe that you are a fantastic match for him," Norville states. This intrigues Christine.

"Really? Well, I'll have to see him myself. Does he have trouble finding a companion?" Christine presses. Norville shakes his head.

"No, no. He is quite a ladies' man. However, I expect him to grow out of it, find a woman to settle down, and have children," he explains. Yuck. Christine cannot imagine the idea of carrying offspring for a man who might have... diseases.

"Well, I guess we will have to wait and see," Christine retorts. This makes Norville laugh. They both get up and make their way to the door.

"You know. He will be picking me up today. Despite the half-hour drive from York Mills," Norville explains. Christine smiles. They walk down the aisle and follow the gathering crowd outside.

"Interesting. Looks like the master is driving his servant," Christine jokes. Norville turns to her with a glare.

"Butler. I am a butler," Norville corrects, his voice curt. Christine nods.

"Right, of course. My apologies," She says. Butler and servant are all the same in Christine's eyes. She had many back in her youth, but she prefers the isolation and solitude. Norville looks at her for a few more seconds before reverting to his warm self.

"Well, I suppose you're correct about the absurdity of the master driving the butler. I always tell him that I can walk home, but he insists," Norville says with a smile. They don't say anything after this. What else can they say?

When they walk outside, Christine scans the road, looking for Norville's driver. When he comes out of the black Dodge Viper, Christine isn't surprised.

When Norville spots him, he waves him over to them. Christine smirks, seeing the familiar come closer towards the pair.

It's Calvin.

The man is much more casual than at the postgraduate event. He has a simple white t-shirt, grey pants, and sneakers. Christine can see beneath the clothes that his physique is impeccable.

"Mister Culebra. This is—"

"Christine," Calvin interrupts. Norville's eyes widen as he points at him.

"You know this beautiful woman?" he asks incredulously. Calvin nods.

"We know each other from the Science Committee. She is new," Calvin explains. Norville turns his head to Christine, a sparkle in his eyes.

"So your beauty comes with brains. Marvellous," Norville laments. Christine smiles. Calvin also smiles, but it doesn't reach his green eyes. Such beautiful eyes, and no emotions behind them.

"Thank you, Norville. It was lovely meeting you." Christine says. This makes the older man smile.

"Likewise. Please be sure to visit Calvin and me for some tea," Norville offers. Christine can feel Calvin's eyes boring holes into her head, but she ignores him.

"Thank you for the offer. However, I will need to come another time. I have more pressing matters at home," Christine explains. Norville's smile twitches. The light in his eyes slightly dims. But he still is warm towards Christine.

"I understand. At least let me drop you home. It's the least that I can do," Norville insists, his blue eyes gleaming with joy. Saying no to a man like him isn't right. Christine nods, much to the dismay of Calvin.

Christine walks towards the black Dodge Viper. Without a second thought, Norville opens the door for her. She curtseys in appreciation before entering the car. Norville closes the door behind her and makes his way to the other side.

The soft squish of the leather seat sinks beneath Christine. She looks around, taking in the black interior except for a red steering wheel.

The door opens, and here comes Calvin. He takes his seat next to the woman. His smile is charming, but Christine isn't budging.

Norville sits in the driver's seat and starts the vehicle. The exhaust of the vehicle roars through the air, disturbing the church members. Christine can't help but laugh. The woman glances at the mirror and sees a cheeky grin from Norville.

Christine is beginning to like Calvin's butler.

"Was that necessary, Norville?" Calvin asks, sucking the joy out of the air.

"Suppose not, Mr Culebra," Norville says. His smile dissipates from his master's voice. Norville glances at the mirror where his eyes meet Christine's. Calvin glances at the mirrors, raises an eyebrow, but doesn't do or say anything.

Interesting.

"Where do you live, Christine?" He asks.

"I live at 379 Huron Street," Christine states. Norville looks towards her in bewilderment.

The drive towards Christine's estate is about two minutes. It's short, sweet and straight to the point. Once they arrive at her estate, Norville turns his head towards her.

"The invitation still stands. I'd love for you to have tea with Calvin," Norvilles says. Christine smiles before her goodbye to the men.

She opens the door and makes her way back to her estate. Once there, she sits on the couch. In silence. Quiet. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

A solemn hymn rings through the house. Christine turns to the door, and the pressing of the doorknob disturbs her from her extensive research.

She stands up and makes her way to the oak door. She turns the doorknob and opens the door.

The forest cobra stands across from her with a devilish smile. His deep brown hair shines in the light. The man's outfit comprises a fuchsia dress shirt and white business pants.

It is no secret that Calvin is a handsome individual. However, that silk smile is faltering.

"You know you don't need to continue your charismatic charade," Christine says coolly. Her words peel off that fake facade, devoid of emotion. The exuberant green eyes disappear, and a cold vacancy replaces them.

Perfect predator.

Christine takes a step back, opening the door slightly. Calvin takes the invitation and lets himself in. The man looks around the estate, disinterested in the decor.

Christine leads Calvin to the living space. He takes his seat while Christine prepares some beverages between them. She grabs a pot and adds some bottled water. She then crushes dried hibiscus into a pot, adding ginger, cloves, lime juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, kola nut, and pepper.

The woman turns on the stove and places the pot. While the drink heats up, silence permeates the air. A few minutes go by, and the pot is finally boiling.

Christine turns it off and grabs two teacups, saucers, teaspoons, and strainers. She pours the liquid through the sieve and into the cups with precision and skill.

She holds the drinks by the saucers and walks over to Calvin. She sits down, handing him the drink. He grabs the drink from her. His eyes scan the drink before looking at Christine.

The electricity between their gaze was a silent conversation between them. One that normal people will take a long time to decipher.

Calvin brings the cup to his lips, and the tart drink bursts into his tongue. His dead eyes light up momentarily before going back to their hollowness.

"Not bad. Reminds me of Agua de Hibisco from my homeland. The tartness is sharp enough to distract from the aftertaste of mediocrity. But then, you already knew that, didn't you?" Calvin says with a slight hum. Christine nods and sips from her cup. The soft sip that comes from her is soothing.

The mental games begin. Delightful.

"Thank you. The drink is Zobo, a Nigerian drink passed down from my father's side," Christine explains. Calvin nods, retaining the information.

"This house suits you. All shadows and sharp edges. Like a spider's web—pretty until you realise you're stuck," Calvin comments. Christine shrugs while seeing through him.

"And yet, here you are. Voluntarily trapped." Christine retorts. A slow blink. Then, a chuckle—dry, mirthless. A small smirk slips from Christine's lips.

"I suppose so. Not surprised by the way you carry yourself." Calvin agrees. "Looking like a nimrod, if I do say so myself," Calvin jabs. Christine tilts her head, bemused by his insult.

"Genesis. Chapter ten, verse nine. Thank you for comparing me to such a powerful hunter," They share a silent moment. He licks his lips before biting down on his lower lip. He looks up and down Christine's body.

Christine can sense his insinuation, and she's not interested. How can you insult someone you want under your bedsheets?

"What is your purpose of being here, Calvin? Insulting your host is juvenile. Didn't your parents teach you proper etiquette?" Christine says curtly. The man shrugs, bringing the drink to his lips once again.

"I came here to give you my thanks. My renewed relationship with Jessica is marvellous; however, our future is unknown. Let's say… I'm auditing my options," Calvin says with a wink. Curiosity piques Christine. Bringing Jessica and Calvin together was easy; too easy.

Looks like Calvin's eyes are wandering in her direction. Sometimes things don't go the way you expect them to go.

"Really, what makes you say that? Did you miscalculate?" Christine asks with faux innocence.

If looks can kill, then Calvin will do a lot more: torture her slowly, burn her, tear her to shreds, and break bones; all with a stone-cold face. Christine can feel discernment warn her about Calvin: a man who hates admitting that his target is getting away.

"I wouldn't say miscalculate–"

"But you did," Christine states candidly. The interruption causes him to smile at her, but it doesn't reach his soulless eyes.

"Perhaps. Time will tell. You see, people are equations. Solve it, then move on to the next. Most of the equations I have encountered have been so easy that I can do it with my eyes closed," Calvin says with his manufactured smile.

"Jessica is complicated, which is why she intrigues me," Calvin says.

"And what about me? Do you believe that you can solve me?" Christine asks with curiosity.

"You're still an unknown variable. That's rare." He leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me, Christine—when you look in the mirror, does the thing looking back ever smile first? Or does it just watch you, waiting to realise you're not in control?" Calvin taunts. Christine's eyes widen as the man exposes Christine's monstrous duality.

Calvin brings the cup closer to his lips. A slow, methodical slurp escapes his lips. The air between them thrums with something dangerous. Calvin clicks his tongue as he finishes the drink. He hands the dishes on top of Christine's unfinished drink with a smile.

"You're not as clever as you think, Calvin. You're treading in very treacherous territories," Christine warns. The man stares into her eyes, his green eyes shift into those intense, narrow eyes. A blink and it's gone.

Calvin smiles. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Cleverness is relative. But you already know I don't play by the rules, don't you?" Calvin asks. Christine sits in silence. Shocked about the loss of an intellectual battle.

Christine gets up from her seat and walks to the kitchen with grace. The mental games are over, and Calvin has won. She places the stacked dishes inside the sink and returns to the living space.

"Well, thank you for your… company, Calvin. I would love to visit you to play again," Christine says with a fake smile. A slow, razor-edged smile creeps up Calvin's face.

"Likewise. Haven't had this much fun in a very long time," Calvin says. He slowly gets up, and they walk together towards her front door.

Christine stands by the door, watching Calvin enter his gold Urus and drive away. She looks up and sees the yellow, pink and orange colours blend in the sky.

Christine closes the door in front of her. She inhales and holds it in for a few seconds before exhaling. The taste of defeat coats Christine's tongue, and she doesn't like the flavour.