Machia Veil Timeline

10 am – July 9th, The Attic, Club 7, Suffox Place, Londoom

Nate stirred.

Whilst stretching, he recalled the Inn and leapt from the bed.

Where am I?

His head was pounding, and he narrowed his eyes in pain. Laying back on the bed as he examined the surroundings.

They drugged me!

The room was a vast change to his homeless weeks.

Mum must have found me! “Mum!” he called out. “Mum?”

The curtains were half drawn. The smells were expensive, although pungent. He was in a snug bed with blue satin sheets. The floorboards were red oak panels. There was an aroma of coffee and scrambled eggs. The clamour of people talking reminded him of his mother’s retinue.

He got up to check for himself when his bedroom door flung open. Instead of his mother, it was a – rock star? He wore an outfit with shoulder flares of aquamarine tinted feathers emerging from a sleeveless red top and trousers decorated with blue polka-dots and sparkling sandals. Nate averted his gaze. The colours blinded him.

“Good morning, Darling!” he greeted with a notable Spanish lilt. “Welcome to the Attic!”

Behind him, another woman peered. “Good morning! I’m Clarice. Castar’s personal assistant,” she said, pointing at the man.

“Which attic am I in? Is my mother here?” asked Nate.

“Mother? But you are homeless, right?” asked Castar. “We want to help. - You have a mother here?”

Nate paused, absorbing Castar’s words. “So she isn’t here,” he said, shoulders slumping. “How did I get here? - Those men took me last night!” said Nate.

“My dear! You are safe now,” he said, with a touch of panache, “which is the most important thing.”

“We have breakfast ready for you. The dining room is down this hallway,” said Clarice.

***

The moment they closed the door, Nate fell back on the bed, extending his arms wide.

What’s happening?

“Well, at least I’m not on the streets!” he said.

His headache was better.

Twenty minutes later, he joined Castar and his entourage down the winding corridor into a grand parlour.

It was an opulent room. In front of an oval mirror stood a tree adornment with a thin gold trunk and flamingo feathers for leaves. He gawked. Next to it, vibrant green felt sofas with rococo dark wood edges. Castar had ancient Japanese portraits of an emperor and empress sitting on thrones, and a photo of a man with f cello holes on his back. Leopard print cushions abounded and the most original antique trinkets. The walls were sleek black wood panels, which brought out the reds, greens and blues.

“How was your night?” asked Clarice.

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“Thank you. It was a good night,” he said. But he fretted. “Do you have connections with the Kinshots? I need to reach Ava Kenler.”

They shook with laughter. “Why, my dear boy, she’s quite unreachable, you know. We haven’t seen her around for years!” he said. Clarice agreed and so did the jittery staff.

Something was off.

“Why am I here?” asked Nate.

More nervous laughter.

“You needed help! You need help, no?” asked Castar.

“How did you know I needed help?” asked Nate.

“Forester told us a young boy was in trouble,” said Clarice.

“Forester?” asked Nate. There was a gunshot. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes, yes, he is a caring man!” said Castar, letting out a small cough. “Clarice will show you around, my dear. The club is the best playground in Londoom. You’ll have a lot of fun.”

“… I never thought he’d care so much. But wait, they took me hostage!” said Nate.

“What nonsense, my dear,” he said, with a chuckle, “we don’t kidnap!”

Their unease was jittery, as was customary in Machia. Something was off, but he played along. It was preferable to the streets!

“Come, follow me,” said Clarice. “Club 7 is huge. Takes up the entire block.”

“A superclub?” asked Nate.

“Indeed, yes!”

***

Next, they walked into a warped corridor. Except here in Club 7, the decoration was more elaborate, as though within the madness of Machia there was an effort towards detail with rococo figures and accessories.

The stillness of his surroundings brought him a sense of calm after the chaos he had endured.

“When do guests arrive?” he asked.

“Many regulars arrive at nine. By midnight, the place is full!” said Clarice.

“May I meet the guests?”

“Of course, Castar has every plan to introduce you. We want you to feel at home here.”

Nate welcomed this news. This will gain me access to Mum. He longed to return to Bellatorn.

“I take it… I may still leave, right?” Nate asked.

“You’re homeless. Don’t you wish to stay?” asked Clarice.

At that moment, they walked into a grand ballroom.

“The Court Room,” said Clarice, spreading her palms upwards. “Here is where everyone first arrives.”

“I can’t afford to stay,” he said, gazing at the main dome. They descended the east side of a spiral stairway made of black marble. The striking crystal dome had blue and white intricate figures on chariots and battle scenes with spears. Surrounding the crystal dome was a red fresco oil painting that covered the grand Court Room. The stairway handrail was smooth and below it was rococo decor. Two columns rose on either side of the bottom of the stairs with swirling motifs of erotic scenes with roman figures.

“You will be our guest. Worry not. Let’s go this way,” said Clarice.

They walked through various rooms, each with a unique feel to it.

“How long has the club been here?” asked Nate, as they entered a room.

“Well, the history is extensive! This is the Beaufort Room. Where most regulars mingle. It’s clicky,” said Clarice. “Regarding the history, you woke up in the heart of Club 7.”

“The Attic?” asked Nate.

“Indeed! The Attic has been Andres Castar’s home for over thirty years! Guests recognise the Attic as the best part of Club 7, and he invites only select members. There is a cult among members that an invitation to Castar’s attic is the height of sophistication. As you witnessed, Castar covered the suite in decorative pieces that fascinate the eye. It’s a museum of exquisite luxury.”

“Yes, true.” said Nate.

“Club 7 used to be an extravagant hotel,” she said. “And Castar, its permanent guest, taking up the top floor and having frequent lavish parties. - Oh, and this is the Dance Room!”

There was a raised dance floor filled with mirrors, black speakers, and switched off strobe lights. A seating area of small red tables and stools on a blue background.

Then, they went through elaborate spiral staircases until they arrived at the Circa Library.

A cat hopped in front of them.

“Hey Grimmie!” said Clarice, taking Castar’s pet in her arms. “This is Grimmble the 12th. The Club’s mascot.”

“A pet, at last!” said Nate, stroking the cat. “Where are the dogs?”

“Dogs! My word! Dogs? Why would you ask about … fierce creatures?”

“I’m sorry. Did you say fierce?”

“Yes! Daunting creatures. But we are safe. They live in dog pounds outside the cities,” she said, matter of fact.

Nate’s jaw dropped. “A world with no dogs!” he gasped.

Clarice was marvelling at the ceiling. “The Circa Library has the most amazing ceiling. We’re below the Attic. This is a place for intellectual debate. Castar’s friends gravitated to his top floor penthouse when Club 7 was a hotel. He offered depth to the usual shallow talks. It’s a collection of gold leaf star systems on the navy-blue backdrop. Remarkable, don’t you think? … Hmm?”

“You have no dogs?” asked Nate.

“Child!” she said, glancing back at him twice. “Next, you will say you want a lion for a pet!”

“Funny you should say that. My Uncle Gare considered-”

“Ye-gads!” she said, her eyes growing wide.

Down further spiralled stairways, they reached a magnificent spa.

“Our crowning jewel!” said Clarice, spreading her arms wide.