“We can call someone for you. To come and get you”. 

Ace waved away the nurse’s attempts to help him. Smiling at them, he assures them he has a ride. The nurse leaves the room, smiling at him. His eyes rest on the cartoons flashing across the screen. Memories flood back from the previous night, his eyes snap down but find no hooded figure under the tv. There’s no hooded figure anywhere in his room. It hadn’t come back. Almost like he dreamed it. 

He closed his eyes and took a few breaths to calm down. 

Why was it here? And why did it take off the tv? The ghosts have never interacted with me if I've ignored them completely.

Ace opened his eyes when one of the nurses came back into the room and put a carton on his table tray in front of him, mouthing “apple juice”. 

His chest tightened, “Thank you”.

They shouldn’t have to do all this work for me. Surely there are other people that need more help than me. 

One of the nurses walks with Ace to the entrance, making small talk as they go.  Ace tried to give answers so the poor man wasn’t just talking to himself. As always, Ace’s answers were short. He didn’t offer much about himself. Though the nurse didn’t seem to mind, greeting others as they came in. 

A cold wind swept through the parking lot. Ace pulled up his shoulders, shivering.

The nurse watched him for a moment. “I can go and see if maybe we have another sweater-”.

“No,” I’m not worth the effort, "I'll be fine.” He managed a weak smile.

The man nodded. Looked forward and shoved his hands in the pocket of his sweater. Then, “Are you sure your ride is coming?”.

“Yes”.

Sure enough, a black Mercedes S Class pulled up to the curb. The nurse and several others on the walkway nearby went silent at the sight of it. Staring. 

A man got out and tapped his hat.

“Mr. Jager?”.

Ace held up his hand.

The man looked at the nurse and at Ace.

“Any bags, Sir?”.

Ace walked over and handed over his one flimsy plastic bag, carrying his bloodied clothing. 

The nurse was busy looking at the car and the driver with wide eyes to notice Ace looking back at him. 

The driver slammed the trunk shut as Ace stood by the passenger door. 

“Thank you for all your help”. 

The nurse looked at him, eyes still wide. The man looked from the car to Ace and nodded. “Yeah.” 

Ace looked out the window at the hospital as it got smaller and smaller. He grabbed tightly onto the pants that were too big on him, his knuckles turning white from his grip. “We’re going to my Papa’s house, Harris.” 

“Yes sir”.

The driver put on Junge, Komm Bald Wieder by Freddy Quinn. Ace eyed the back of the man’s head, his grip on his pants loosening as the familiar song echoed in the car. 

His Papa’s house was a large place. Too large. Harris lifted his finger to poke the intercom button but Ace peeked his head out from the car window, waving. The old iron gates at the front of the property swung open for them. A head peeked out of the guard house, he called out a greeting to Ace. Ace raised his hand up briefly as they drove by. 

The car followed the long cobblestone path, passing an acre long stretch of shrubbery before the actual front lawn. The car pulled up to the front door. It was opened by a person whose face he couldn’t recall. A line of the house’s staff waited in a neat line. Tailored blouses and black slacks and shined black shoes. All with bowed heads at the waist.

“Hello Young Sir”, they all said in unison. 

Ace craned his neck back, looking up at the mansion that dwarfed him in size. The mansion was Old Country French style, something his father did for his mother when she complained of home sickness. It had only worked for a while.

Ace looked for a specific iron balcony, with animal stickers all over the  glass windows huge enough to cover the floor to the ceiling that led inside to his room. 

They’re still there.

He let out a breath he’d been holding.

He walked past the staff, eyeing the familiar double mahogany doors he remembered all too well. They bought back memories. 

Screaming at the top of his lungs. His mother running after him out of breath from laughter. His father behind them walking at a normal pace, smiling from ear to ear. Catching butterflies and watching the sun set before bed. The house had once been a magical place for him.

Through the doors, a familiar face - a friendly face smiled at him and greeted him.

“Bonjou Mesye”, an old servant greeted.

Ace briefly looked around at those gathered before he responded back.

“Bonjou Portier”.

Portier was an older man with a towering frame. His hair fully turned gray years ago but he still had a full head of hair. He stood out from the sea of staff waiting in the room, speaking in a language most didn’t, mahogany-brown complexion amongst the fairer skinned and a relaxed posture and with Ace the others didn’t have.

The corners of Portier’s lips curved up but his eyes focused on the audience they had. Just as Ace had. 

Ace looked pointedly at them. They bowed their heads before heading off. Except for Portier.

“Mwen pa pratike depi yon ti tan eskize mwen”*, Ace said, still making sure to keep his voice low.

Portier smiled. 

“Li byen jen mesye.”*

Ace nodded before looking around again.

“Is my Papa here?”

“No Monsieur.”

Portier was a familiar comfort Ace hadn’t had in a while. One of the few servants that treated him like a person instead of like an heir that would one day be their boss. 

“Has my father asked Marks or Margaux to call me?”.

“I am not aware of it. Any reason in particular, Monsieur?". 

Ace suddenly found an old portrait on the wall interesting. 

“...I was in the hospital,” he didn’t meet Portier’s eyes when the man startled at his words, “I was not hurt or anything like that. I … helped someone and I had to go. Papa has his way of finding out things so I wanted to come before he called me … or had someone call me”.

Portier still had concern in his eyes, looking over Ace’s body from head to toe. He leaned in and whispered.

“Mesye, si ou blese, ou ka di mwen sa epi Mesye Jager p ap konnen. Map jwenn ed pou ou."*

Ace smiled, some of the tension that had been building in his disappeared, “Mwen pa vle ou antre nan pwoblem pou mwen Potye.* I’m fine. I’m just more worried about dealing with my father."

Portier studied him closely before nodding, “If you should need anything Monsieur", he bowed his head.

“I’m just going to wait for my father to arrive. … whenever he should get here."

Portier chuckled under his breath and Ace laughed too, turning to walk through the hall. 

The entire house felt foreign to him despite him growing up here. It had only been 2 years since he moved out. The walls held classical paintings from hundreds of years ago. Mostly historical figures across the ages from Germany. His footsteps echoed on the polished grand staircase and the sound was swallowed by the runner carpet draped on the floor. As a child, it has always seemed like endless fun to run up and down the halls. The house was a playground for a child. Now, looking at the old decorations Ace felt a shiver go down his back. 

I don’t want to be here.

Ace stopped in the middle of the hall. 

I don’t like it here anymore.

Ace turned and walked down a hall, wandering aimlessly. An open door caught his attention. The door to his father’s study. It was open. It was never just open, always closed like his father liked it. His father was a private man. He stepped up to the door and peered in.

Maybe a new servant is cleaning?

There was a vacuum in the room and the curtains draped back to allow the open windows to let in fresh air. Oh. Someone might be getting fired. 

He lifted a foot over the doorframe but hesitated before placing it down. I shouldn’t be in here. Still, he stepped in. The gold muted boiserie was a niche touch. Papa liked regal looking things - like royalty. Remnants from when their family was centered in Germany. They came from military power during the height of WW2, though it was taboo to speak about unless amongst trusted friends who came from the same background. Like those within the church. 

Ace didn’t bother to close the door behind him, not intending on staying long. 

It’s been a while since I’ve been inside here. 

He walked over to the windows and peered out. There was a perfect view of the courtyard that his father loved. Well manicured hedges stretching for an acre. He backed up when he saw servants down below, not wanting to be seen inside the room. Turning to the old desk, he ran his hand over the mahogany gently.

I miss him. I miss our time together.

Ace noticed some papers on the desk and despite knowing better he leaned in to get a better look.

He doesn’t talk about work often to me. We don’t really talk much about things anymore.

The words were in German. It took Ace a moment to translate them.

Eric Jager 

Gisla needs more testing 

Outside of Edenstone 

Call Schreiner 

Ace sucked in a breath and read the words over then over and over. He reached out a shaky hand and placed it on the paper and traced the words.

What is Edenstone? Is it close by? Has he been in contact with Maman all this time and never told me?

Footsteps echoed in the hall suddenly. Ace glanced up and let out a breath of air he’d been holding in. He hurriedly pulled out his phone and took a picture of the message before stuffing his phone in his pocket and smoothing out his pants.

A face popped into the doorway of the study, “Papa-” Ace stopped and averted his eyes, “... Marks … hello." 

An old man of seventy-three, Marks stepped into the room. His back had a slight hunch to it but he stood to his full height, his face was withered but his eyes remained sharp. He surveyed the room with his sharp eyes, settling on the vacuum sitting innocently and narrowing. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and coughed into it. His whole body shook from the force of it, his shoulders hunched over. When he was finished he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief and put it back into his breast pocket. Marks cleared his throat. 

“Young Sir. It is always good to see you but the Master does not like you to be in his study without him. But it is not entirely your fault,” he looked back at the vacuum, “Madelene, a new hire, kept this door open when she should have closed it if she was not in here." Marks shook his head, “she was a promising hire. Now I am not sure she will remain with us."

Ace felt a blush creeping across his neck, he furrowed his brows with a pout as he spoke, “I’m not a child anymore Marks. I won’t make a mess”.

The corners of the old man’s lips turned up slightly though he quickly hid it with a cough, this time more gentle.

“Even so, orders are orders. Your father-"

“Will he be here soon?”, Ace paused, “sorry Marks."

Marks waved his hand dismissively.

“It is quite alright Young Master, it is only natural for a boy to seek his father. And it has been a while since the two of you have spent time with one another. I hope you and the master would make more time for one another while you are both young. Life has a way of creeping up on you and before you know it is too late to get back time with your loved ones."

The old man let out a sigh that turned into a cough. When he was finished he turned to the side and gestured to the door so Ace could walk past him.

“After you Young Sir."

Ace looked out into the hallway and then gave the room a once over before he began to walk. 

He remembered the door being held open many years ago.

******* 

He jumped up in a sweat. His turtle pajamas stuck to his sweaty skin. 

“Mam-ma-”, his voice died in his throat, his heart was pounding too fast for him to get enough air to yell.

He threw back the covers and tried to get down, only to trip over his toys.

“Ow!”, he held his arm to his chest. He blinked back tears trying to make them stop but they fell down like a waterfall. 

“Maman! I need you!”.

He got up and stumbled over his toys on the way to the door, before he yanked the door open he looked down at his arms. They were empty. He looked back at his bed. His stuffed bunny rabbit lying on its side as if watching him.

“Lapinou”, he ran back to grab it. 

Outside in the hallway he took off for his parents room but it was empty.

“Maman! Where are you!?”.

He ran into the hall and past servants that tried to reach out to him.

“Maman!”. 

A door opened suddenly.

Marks stepped out and looked down at him and then looked into the room he had exited, his Papa peeked out behind Marks. He held his arms out, passing by Marks. 

He sobbed into his Papa’s neck, staining the clear shirt with his snot. 

“I can’t find Maman!”, he cried.

His Papa tensed. 

“I am here William”.

“Maman! I want Maman!”, he lifted his head up, looking into his Papa’s eyes. “Where is she!? Tell the men to bring her back! I want her!”.

Papa smoothed back his hair.  

“Where is she!”

One of the nannies walked up to them, opening her arms.  

Ace shook his head, tightening his grip on his Papa. It didn't matter.  A kiss was placed on his head and he was put into the waiting arms. He cried as the nanny took him back. 

His Papa watched him. So did Marks and a  few more of the staff. 

“Papa, where is Maman? When is she coming back?”.

His Papa went back into the study. 

“Papa! When is Maman coming back!? Please!? When!?”.

End of flashback

“Young sir”. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

Ace startled. “I’m fine, Marks. Sorry”. 

Marks continued on about Germany’s gymnast team, Ace could tell by his gaze he wasn’t convinced by Ace’s words. 

Has she been at Edenstone all this time? And Papa knew about it. Ace placed a hand on his phone. Comforted by the picture he had. I finally have something to go off of. Maybe I can find her myself. 

                                           *****************

Later that night, Ace reached his small home. He waved to the driver who dropped him off. He counted the number of cracks the cement had as he walked through the apartment complex. The normal sounds of dogs barking, people playing music and people arguing at a normal level comforted him.

He stopped in the hallway to glance in the direction of the Wilson apartment. A million thoughts ran through his head but he ignored all of them and turned the key in the lock. He made his way to the kitchen counter to see if Margaux had left him any important mail. Something moved in the corner of his eye. 

“Hello young man.” Mr. Wilson was on his couch. 

Ace froze midstep, turning to face the old man. His heart jumped into his throat.

“I’ve been waiting for you”, Mr. Wilson stood up from the couch and began to approach him. 

Mwen pa pratike depi yon ti tan eskize mwen - i have not practiced in a while sorry

Li byen jen mesye - it is fine young sir

Mesye, si ou blese, ou ka di mwen sa epi Mesye Jager p ap konnen. Map jwenn ed pou ou - sir if you are hurt you can tell me and mr jaer won’t find out. I will get you help

Mwen pa vle ou antre nan pwoblem pou mwen Potye. - i dont want you to get into trouble for me Portier.