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A gloved hand knocked on the door to the sprawling mansion, a cane resting under the other. A butler answered the door, and the hunched-over guest gave him a curt nod, heading into the house without wiping the dirt off his shoes. Although he previously had no desire to attend the Olsens’ insipid dinner parties, his curiosity had been piqued by the light in the upstairs window that had hardly ever been on, but in the past few days, had illuminated the enticing silhouette of an unmistakable figure- gracile and gossamer, with a waxen face he sorely missed caressing in his starving hands. At times, the girl appeared with him- the mousy little thing who, despite her weak-willed mind, had inexplicably survived his desire to leave her quivering breast pierced and bleeding. Ever since he first saw them in the window, he’d been planning to taste their fear again, but had no idea it would be this easy to enter the house, thanks solely to his position in town- at least, his more well-respected one.
"Welcome!" Mrs. Olsen came into the room, greeting the man, who gave her a stiff bow. "I see you received the invitation for dinner tonight?"
He grinned, displaying his crooked teeth. "It is my pleasure," he said, taking off his coat and dumping it into her hands. "If you may."
She disguised her disgust with a tight-lipped smile, handing the coat off to the butler, who regarded it with equal displeasure. "You're the insane asylum director, aren't you?"
“Insane asylum is an outdated term with negative connotations that we’d prefer to leave in the past century,” he answered, sarcasm dripping through his gritted teeth. “We prefer to call it a place of rest and refuge for troubled minds.”
“How charitable of you,” she said. “My husband is fetching our daughter; they’ll be here shortly. Why don’t you go to the parlor and wait for them and the other guests to arrive?”
“A daughter?” he asked, his eyebrows raising. “I’m sure she must be lovely.”
“Our pride and joy,” Mrs. Olsen answered in a way that he could tell was just as rehearsed as his own politeness.
-
Jane entered the dining room, hoping her parents wouldn’t notice how untidy she looked. In her haste to change from her everyday wear to something more presentable, she’d grabbed a necklace that clashed with her earrings, left a makeup smudge on her left eye that she hadn’t had time to fix, and the ribbon in her hair was already starting to become undone. She looked around at the table, surprised to notice there was someone sitting where she usually did.
“Oh, Jane!” her mother called. “There you are. Our new guest has requested to sit next to you; isn’t that kind of him?”
She fumbled a curtsy, and searched for the empty seat. Upon locating it, and whom she was supposed to sit next to, she withheld a scream, immediately recognizing the leering smile that only grew wider as the man stared across the table at her. Deftly, she turned the stifled scream into a cough, taking out a paper fan and fanning herself with it.
“I must be sick,” she said, coughing again into her sleeve. “You wouldn’t want what I have; trust me.”
“Oh, nonsense,” her mother said. “You were perfectly fine just a moment ago.”
“A moment ago, yes, but- oh!” She feigned a swoon, falling against the wall. “I’m feeling rather light-headed, if you’ll excuse me- I think I just might faint…”
The man stood up from his place at the table. “Not to worry; I understand. Many of my patients have fainting spells all the time, and I often find it my duty to revive them. If you pass out, my dear, I’ll bring you right back to health. Perhaps if you’re feeling unwell, I can excuse myself to examine you and make sure you’re all right?”
Jane forced herself to suppress a shudder, trying not to imagine waking up to his awful face, or whatever examining her would entail. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “My father is also a doctor, and you are a… guest… in our house.”
“I don’t see why that should be a problem. It would be an honor to return my hosts’ gracious hospitality.”
She cleared her throat. “I think I’m, um, feeling better now. Just the weather, I suppose.” Figuring she’d sooner take sitting next to him during a dinner party than endure whatever horrid plan he could devise, she straightened her back, trying not to look at him as she took the empty seat.
To say he looked even worse up close would be an understatement. Even from a safe distance, his glinting eyes and oily voice would inspire a sense of dread in anyone, but as she took her place right next to him, Jane was dealt a front-row seat to a viewing of nothing less than the most repulsive human being imaginable. Although his scraggly hair had been trimmed and given a long-overdue washing, and he wore a suit instead of an oversized top hat and cape, she knew upon first regrettable glance that this was none other than Dr. Caligari. If she had wanted to- and not that she ever would- she could count the bits of food that found their way into his stubble as he ate, or observe the spittle forming at the sides of his toadlike mouth. He drank his tea with irregular slurping noises in the middle of conversations, so that they were impossible to ignore, and every time he laughed, it came out as a wheeze that grated on her ears. Worst of all, every time her parents’ attention was occupied by the other guests, Caligari would turn to Jane and scrape his knife between the tines of his fork while staring directly at her, as if she were the next thing he wanted to devour.
“You know,” Caligari said, turning to her and lowering his voice to a whisper, “I’ve heard rumors about this place. It’s a very big, very old mansion, isn’t it?”
“I don’t see why you would care,” she replied, keeping her voice frigid and even.
He chuckled. “You’ve grown bolder since we last met… and lovelier, if such a thing is possible.”
And you’ve grown even more disgusting, if such a thing is possible, she thought, doing her best to ignore him.
“I’d like you to give me a tour after dinner,” he said, now loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m quite curious about the history of this place.”
Cesare’s alone in his room, Jane remembered. Does he know? Thinking quickly, she gestured to the rest of the table. “Very well,” she said, “then everyone is invited. But I must say- some rooms are off-limits, even for me. As you said, this house is very old, and there are places that are unsafe to enter until they’re refurbished. But I’m sure there are many other rooms that may hold your interest, like our library…” As she spoke, she noticed fury flash behind Caligari’s eyes, and the approving nods and murmurs of the other guests. I can play this game too, she told herself, before continuing. “...And our private garden; it’s just exquisite this time of year! In fact, why don’t we all play a round of croquet there before the sun sets?”
She noted the adoration in her parents’ eyes as they looked at her; as far as they were aware, she was perfectly playing the role they had prepared her for. Now, she realized, was her chance to escape. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I just need to change into something more suitable, and then we can go.”
Wasting no time, she left the dining room, then broke into a run as she headed up two flights of stairs and through multiple hallways. I can’t believe it was that easy, she thought as she knocked on the door to Cesare’s room. I’ll keep them all in the garden, so he’ll stay out of the house.
“Food?” Cesare whispered as he opened the door.
“Not now,” she said, closing it behind her as she entered. To her horror, she noticed the drapes around the window were open, and hurriedly drew them shut. He gave her a pained look that made her wince; although he didn’t like harsh sunlight, she knew being in complete darkness was just as stressful for him. “Stay out of sight,” she said. “Keep your door locked once I leave. I’ll bring you your food later; I’ll use our special knock when I come back.” She rapped on a nightstand in a sequence of knocks, the same as he used when he entered her window during his previous visits. “Don’t open the door unless you hear it, even if someone else knocks. That probably won’t happen, but just in case… hide. You’re good at hiding; you’ll be okay.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “What… is… wrong?”
“I can’t tell you yet,” she answered, not wanting to send him into a panic. “I’ll tell you everything when it’s all over, but for now…” She took one of his hands, even though it was cold and unpleasant to the touch. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, as if to say, I trust you.
After giving his hand a final squeeze, she left the room. Cesare watched the last bit of light fade as he closed the door, then locked it as he’d been taught to. The room felt colder and smaller now, but worst of all was a horrible presence he couldn’t quite place, but could unmistakably sense, even though he didn’t know where it was coming from. He felt his way back to his bed and lay down, legs together and arms folded across his chest in his usual sleeping position, although he knew he wouldn’t be closing his eyes at all.
-
“Why don’t you join us for a few rounds, dear?” Jane’s mother asked, handing her a croquet mallet. “After all, it was your idea to come out here, wasn’t it?”
She took the mallet, trying not to drop it in her sweating hands. “Yes,” she nodded hurriedly, surveying the garden. Among the guests, she immediately noticed Caligari, who stalked about, holding his own mallet like a weapon.
“You have your eye on him, don’t you?” her mother asked. “In my opinion, he’s a bit old for you, but he did say he has a villa, and you know, I was just around your age when I married your father. Perhaps it may be a bit unconventional, but I wouldn’t be opposed if-”
“What!?” Jane gasped, her demure air shattering as she dropped the mallet onto the ground. A few heads turned towards her, including Caligari, who eyed her with suspicion. She cleared her throat, and picked up the mallet. “There was a bee,” she offered lamely, waving her hand. “Carry on.”
She turned to her mother again, lowering her voice. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said. “Do you remember Alan?”
“Of course I do. You must still be so heartbroken over him; you were friends for such a long time. A pity about what happened to him; I thought he’d be a good match for you.”
She groaned internally, hardly believing what she was hearing. “When he was killed, and I was… attacked… Father and Francis were investigating the murders- they found it was someone named Caligari. I think- I think that’s him, right over there.”
“Oh, darling,” her mother sighed, and Jane looked up- did she actually believe her?
Yet she should have known satisfaction wouldn’t come so easily. “I know you’re still grieving, but accusing our esteemed guests of murder isn’t a healthy way to process your emotions!”
A sudden hush fell over the garden. Caligari leaned on his croquet mallet, observing the scene with a grin on his face.
“But I saw him-” Jane started.
“Caligari is securely institutionalized at the asylum- I mean, the place of rest and refuge for troubled minds. There’s nothing for you to worry about; I know those days were very frightening for you. I’ve noticed you’ve had trouble sleeping, and I can’t say I blame you. But you must move on from all that. I don’t want to hear any more of this talk while our esteemed guest is here; you should know by now that it’s not proper to accuse well-respected members of society of murder, especially at a gathering such as this.”
Jane was about to protest, when she felt a hand on her back, and flinched.
“Pardon my interruption,” Caligari said, “I do not mean to sound indecent, but after that marvelous dinner, I find myself in need of a restroom. Would you be so kind as to tell me where the nearest one is?”
“Certainly,” Mrs. Olsen answered. “On the first floor, if you take a left and go through the drawing room-”
He’s trying to get back into the house by himself, Jane realized. “I’ll show you where it is,” she offered, although she couldn’t imagine anything worse than being alone in the mansion with Caligari. “It’s easy to get lost here.”
“Thank you, Joan, but I’m sure I can manage.”
“Jane,” she clarified, an edge to her voice.
“My apologies, Jean,” he said, patting her on the back. “Now, back to your games with you. Run along.”
She bristled at his condescending tone, but reminded herself to stay calm. “It won’t be any trouble,” she said. “It’s fine.”
His smile appeared to threaten to split his face in half. “If you insist,” he said, and took her arm as he followed her inside.
-
Stay here, Cesare told himself, pacing around his room and scratching his nails against the wall. As the sun was beginning to set, the little light that came in between the drapes was dwindling, and while he was used to darkness, something disturbed him about being locked up in here. As he was now used to eating on a regular basis, he found he was getting hungry, and while in the past, hunger was a barely-registered but constantly present ache that he lost the ability to be bothered by, now, it was beginning to actually hurt. Worse yet was the boredom- something that, again, he never noticed before, but now pounded at the inside of his skull. And even worse still was that horrible feeling he had, although he had no idea where it had come from or what it meant. He had no idea how long it had been since Jane left- had it been hours, or only a few minutes? She’d be back soon; she wouldn’t just abandon him.
“Friends,” he told himself, although he couldn’t help but wonder where she could be and what was taking her so long. What if she was in trouble, and that was why things felt so off? He looked back at the door, and the light that came from the crack underneath it. Twitching, he remembered the agreement they had- that he could stay in the room, as long as he kept quiet and out of sight, and listen to her when she came to talk to him. It was a very good deal, he knew. His room was very, very nice. He didn’t want to break that deal and lose everything- but what if there was a serious problem? He wasn’t good at solving problems; if he spent too much time thinking, he’d fall asleep, and while he was agile and stealthy, he wasn’t the fastest or strongest, and exhausted easily. Would she be angry if he left his room? Would she make him leave? But if something was wrong, what would happen if he wasn’t there to help?
Growling, he felt for the lock on the doorknob, and, screwing his eyes shut, turned it.
-
“Now, if we just take a right here…” Jane said, trying to keep her voice steady. She wanted to pull her arm away from Caligari, but figured she’d play the gracious host for as long as it could keep her and Cesare safe.
Caligari stopped abruptly, turning to her and tightening his grip. “I know you have him in here somewhere,” he said.
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, if you just go down this hall and enter the first door on the left, I’ll wait for you outside to escort you back to the garden.” Shuddering, she gently pried his hand away from her, and stepped back.
“I’ll give you credit where it’s due,” he said, looking her up and down, “you’re smarter than I thought you were. You’re not the vapid, doe-eyed waif that ran out of my tent that night… unless that was all an act, too. That’s why you survived, wasn’t it?”
“The sun is setting soon; I think I saw the mayor’s wife asking you to play a few more rounds of croquet with her; you wouldn’t want to keep her waiting-”
He gripped his cane, scowling as he approached her. She tried to back away again, but found herself cornered against the wall, the tip of Caligari’s cane pressed to her chest. She could feel his hot, moist breath as he leaned in, sunken eyes peering at her through his glasses.
“Tell me where he is,” he snarled in his slithery voice, “or tell me everything you think I’ll do to you if you don’t.”
Without thinking, she put both hands on the cane, and with every bit of strength she had, shoved it back towards him. He kept his footing, but stumbled backwards, giving her all the room she needed to escape. She fled, bunching up her long skirts in her fists and breathing hard.
“You can’t run far, you know,” Caligari chuckled, leaning over on his cane. “You want to keep an eye on me, don’t you?”
She paused, knowing he was right. Heart pounding, she drew herself up. “I’d like you to leave my house,” she said.
Caligari only snorted. “And I’d like my somnambulist back. You hand him off to me, and I’ll leave. That’s simple enough for you to understand, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I’m telling you with complete honesty that there is nothing in this house that belongs to you.”
“Don’t try to play dumb; I saw him in the window, somewhere upstairs.” He gave his awful, wheezing laugh, pounding his cane on the floor. “Maybe I’ll get my hands on you, too; you’d be the prettiest patient at the asylum! With how stupid your parents are, it would be all too easy to convince them to send you to me- practically gift-wrapped, no less! Now, which would you prefer- neurasthenia or hysteria?”
She blanched, figuring she couldn’t rely on what she had been taught anymore. “You’re not going to lay another hand on either of us,” she said. “I won’t let you-”
A scream interrupted her, and both turned to see Cesare, staring at them with goggling eyes and mouth hanging wide open in a grotesque display of petrified stupor, his long, bony hands clawing at his gaunt face.
“I told you to stay in your room!” Jane gasped, running to him. “Get out of here, now!”
“You don’t take orders from that wicked siren,” Caligari said, his teeth clenched together. “You answer only to me! Finish what we started; I don’t care how you do it. Strangle her, snap her neck, bash her against the wall- whatever it takes to destroy her hold on you!”
Cesare blinked, taking slow, trancelike steps towards Jane.
“No; don’t!” Jane said. “Cesare, it’s me- you know me, remember? He’s going to put you back in a box; you don’t want that. Please…”
He walked up to her, stopping short just as he reached her. “Friends,” he said, and turned around, suddenly lunging at Caligari with a burst of speed. However, as soon as he was about to attack, he paused, a clawed hand suspended in midair.
“What are you doing?” Jane called. “Don’t just stand there; he’ll…” She paused. How many times had she stood up to her parents? That’s different, she told herself. They actually love me; it’s not like…
Caligari grabbed Cesare’s arm, and began to haul him towards the door. Despite the fear in his eyes, he didn’t protest.
He won’t do it, Jane realized, and suddenly knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath, she ran towards Caligari, grabbing his cane from his hands and causing him to lose his balance. With her eyes shut, she swung it downwards, and was met with a sickening crack.
-
Jane didn’t know how long she kept her eyes closed; all she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. When it subsided, she became aware of Cesare’s unintelligible muttering and heavy breathing over her shoulder, and opened her eyes. At her feet lay Caligari, sprawled in a heap with blood leaking from his forehead. She screamed, realizing the cane was still in her hands, and threw it to the floor.
“I… I did that- I can’t believe I- but I’m not… I don’t-”
Cesare stared at Caligari’s limp form, pure horror on his face.
“Is he… dead?” Jane whispered, unable to look away.
Cesare trembled, bending down to poke Caligari’s face with a finger. He stirred, and Cesare leapt back. “Sleeping,” he whispered.
Jane took a deep breath. “Good. Good. I’ll just- I’ll tell my parents he fell. He’s old; old people fall all the time, right? It’s not- it’s not suspicious. And I had to do it; he threatened both of us- but we still need to make it look like an accident, so we’re not caught… Oh god, I sound like a criminal!”
Cesare blinked at her. “I… should not… have…” he began, looking down.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there. They’ll want to know where I am; I’d better get back and tell them he fell on his way back from the bathroom- and to have someone take him back to wherever he lives.” She took a deep breath. “We’ll be safe.”
“For… now,” Cesare said gravely.
“For now,” Jane agreed. It was a temporary solution, she knew, but at the moment, it was the best they could hope for. “You’d better get out of here; go back to your room. I’ll be there once I get everything taken care of.”
“Promise,” Cesare said. Jane wasn’t sure where he learned that word; she’d never heard him say it before.
She took his hand. “I promise.”