VOX

Ch 5

*Meet the biggest chapter*

Hands spun and pinned the girl up against the old door, her back cushioned by the bag.

The voice wasn't tired anymore, a challenging gruffness replacing it. "What did you just say?" Those hands gripped her shoulders tightly.

Davina was too shocked to spit out an answer, the lack of sleep beginning to pull at her mind's edges. All she could do was stare up wide-eyed at where the voice came from.

"Answer me kid." The voice wavered slightly and what she had first interpreted as anger was starting to dip into desperation.

The hands on her shoulders never moved as she took a deep breath and slowly said "Annie is collecting her favor" as clearly as she had been rehearsing all morning. After a moment that felt like days, the hands loosened their grip on her cloak and they took a step back away from her. Peeling herself off of the door she asked, "are you Robert Stokes?"

"Who sent you?"

Davina could see she wasn't going to be leading this conversation, so she did what the sisters always taught her to do, obey. "Siste- I ugh, Anne. She said you'd-"

"What kind of sick joke is this?" Had it not been for the dot of spit that landed on her forehead she would have never known that the angry voice had gotten closer. They moved so silently that her own breathing had covered up any sound they made. Or perhaps she was just breathing loudly?

"J-joke? No! I-no, I was told to come here." Was she talking too fast? She felt like she was talking too fast. "We, I- here!" Her choppy words were getting her nowhere so shaky hands fumbled with the silver chain, and not-so-gently yanked it over her head and through tangled hair. She held it in front of her, hoping the voice could see.

Rough warm fingers took the locket from her hand and she heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Where did you get this?" That aggressive edge wavered again.

He can see that? I can't even see my hand. Her mind played with the impossible scenario that the person before her was part raccoon. As tired as her brain was it was able to recall a rather useless fact her tutor had told her when she was seven.

"Hey," he snapped his fingers. "Answer me dammit. Where did you get this?"

Right, he did ask that. Wanting nothing more than to get off her sore feet and collapse on something soft, she spoke the one word that would hopefully answer all of his questions. "Anne."

The whispered name hung in the air like a dense fog. No one spoke. All she could hear was the soft clinking of the chain he was maybe fiddling with in his hands.

"I don't know how you came by this, or what you're trying to pull, but this story of yours ain't possible."

Ah, they had prepared for this. Sliding the bag towards the front of her body, she dug her fingers around it's depths until they curled around the folded letter. "Here." Once again she held it out before her like a peace offering, and again those deft fingers grabbed it from the black void between them.

This time however she heard him shuffle away from her and after a moment the soft glow of a lantern lit the room.

He wasn't what she imagined. In her mind the Robert she was going to be meeting had the same face as the one in the locket, young, radiating warmth, and smiling. The man before her, who's tired eyes scanned the letter, would have probably broken the sister's heart. Whatever light was once in those eyes had gone out some time ago, and his face was covered with time. Deep frown and worry lines were carved into his face, and a pucked scar adorned the top of his right cheek. Once golden hair was flecked with glittery strands of white hair, and they had found their way into his bushy beard.