Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

2 | The Gathering

Books. Thousands of books. A bastion of knowledge. The Madison family had accrued one of the largest personal collections of encyclopaedias, novels, grimoires, anthologies, diaries, biographies, and autobiographies in the Shadow Valley. Every centimetre of wall space had been filled with book spines, a reprieve from Michael's gruesome paintings.

Amidst the towering shelves, the Madison family stood in a tight circle.

Michael's eyes roved suspiciously over his wife and children. Then, without warning, Eli grasped his throat and silently collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath.

Natalia died next. "The pain, the pain," she gurgled, dropping to the floor. "The unrelenting pain!"

Michael surveyed the remaining players. He'd have to make an accusation soon or the game would be over. Pointing theatrically, he turned to his wife. "I declare that you are the Murderer—"

But Larissa's shoulders were already shuddering. Coughing and groaning, her hands clawed at her throat. "It burns, it burns," she informed her husband, with rather less conviction than normal. "I'm burning. Someone help me. I'm burning up!"

And with that, she carefully lowered herself to the ground and died.

Michael looked at his victorious daughter, a smug grin plastered on her face. Light from the fire flickered on Sadie's skin, her chaotic black hair shimmering with bolts of electric blue. "I win, I win, I win!" she squealed, hopping from one foot to the other.

"Sadie is Wink Murder Champion!" declared Michael, nodding his approval.

"We're all still dead," mumbled Natalia.

"Oh, yes. Silly me. Of course." Michael cleared his throat, closed his eyes, hands raised, fingers entwined. "By the Power of the Ancients...The Old World and the New...As Souls return to Bodies...Life begins anew!"

Like fresh zombies, Natalia and Eli pretended to wake from their deathly slumber. Larissa, her patience clearly worn thin, got straight to her feet. "Well done, Sadie," she said, flattening her skirts and fussing her hair. "Very well played."

"And, as a reward for your murderous cunning, you can entertain us with some music," announced Michael, turning to the grand piano lurking beneath the library window, polished and reflective, a hunk of chiselled black glass.

Sadie trilled with delight.

Sliding onto the piano stool, her eyes drifted to the long window. The sun dipped its head behind the Carcassus Mountains. Shadows shifted uneasily. Below, a Ryndai patrolled the street. A strange light from her crystal lantern flickered blue and green in the gathering dark. She stopped and turned towards the Madison house; her face hidden beneath a dark hood.

Quickly looking away, Saide returned her attention to the piano. She took a long breath, pushing all thought of the Ryndai and the Eighth Day Assembly from her mind. She levelled her shoulders, steadying her hands.

Music spiralled into the air. Pleasant and melodic, stuttering in places, and lacking emotion, dynamics, flair. However, Sadie performed without mistakes and, more impressively, with no score to guide her.

As the music played, Sadie's mind drifted.

She floated across the hallway, past Battle for the Clockwork Universe, over the pristine dining table, and came to rest on the painting of William Madison. She studied her grandfather's face, his wispy white hair, the barrels of fruit and wine, and the curious monkey on his shoulder. Slowly, the image morphed into something more like a pictogram than an oil painting. Smells and sounds from the image invaded her senses. Honeyed dates and blackberry wine. Pipe smoke, chatter, laughter. Her grandfather turned his head and looked directly at her. Smiling, he winked and fussed the monkey with his little finger.