The Wailing Woman

58. Shadow Dancing

Slipping into the crowd of drunk rich people was easier than anything I've ever done. I resembled them wearing an exquisite gown and a set of luxurious jewels that fit as if they were second skin. Mimicking their posture and acting as if I owned everything within my sight was far too easy. Perhaps, I was no different than Lena pretending to be a rich heiress. At the very least she was a guest. A dead guest but everyone recognizes her. I wonder what Mrs.Croft would think about her daughter being possessed. I was a bit tempted to find her and tell her, just to see her reaction.

Shoving those reckless thoughts, I whisked away a platter of different flavor cakes and paired fruits with sweets. Continuing my steps I found myself walking down the third floor of Daisy Croft's mansion. I stretched my right hand out letting the tips of my fingers skim every rough bump against the wall. Slowly leaving the noise from below as I got closer to the end of the corridor, I heard nothing at all.

The last room was locked by a vintage brass doorknob. I took a small step back and checked to see if there was anybody behind me. Not a single sign of life was up here. Very quickly, the pulsing in my veins renewed as I muttered a spell. The door creaked open. A small triumph settled in my stomach but I wanted to be filled with satisfaction. My magic wanted more, needed more.

Hunger is an uncontrollable beast, and anger never meshed well with it.

Walking into the room, I am immediately hit with the smell of collected dust and forgotten memories. The blue moon poured out of the stained and unstained arched windows giving the room a melancholy look. It appeared abandoned. Cobwebs occupied every corner and the tilting paintings on the walls were hanging for dear life. Whatever this room used to be no longer existed. It was a waste of space. I took careful steps across the slippery checkered floor and was aware of the decade-old crystal chandelier that could fall at any moment.

The thin white curtains slightly rippled as a breeze swept inside the room. Dried leaves tumbled in setting a path toward the balcony. As I moved closer to it, I could feel the cool air from outside. Soft crunches of leaves flattened under my heels. I stepped into the stone balcony with its brittle curling vines and placed my platter on top of the ledge. Propping my elbow on the ledge and palm against my cheek, I plop a cherry into my mouth as I gaze at the moon and her stars.

Despite knowing my wishes, dreams, and hopes would never reach the stars I still whispered them. Maybe one of them can come true, I thought pointlessly. Adding sweets into my mouth hardly relieves the bitterness in my tongue but something needs to satisfy my hunger.

*****

I had gone through all the cherries and tastings of red velvet, strawberry, marble, and chocolate cake. All were delicious but I hadn't decided on the winner yet. I was in the middle of cutting a piece of cheesecake when the faint smell of smoke greeted my nose. Was it time to leave? The night had just become peaceful again. I didn't want to leave yet.

I stabbed my fork into the piece of cheesecake and without looking at him, I said. "Have you finally come to scold me? Because if you are, I should tell you I have a sharp object in my hand and leftovers waiting to be tossed. I don't want to ruin your pretty face." His strides were long and slow but he stopped at a safe distance.

If Grimm came to make me feel guilty for what I tried to do to Lena's soul or what I was going to do, I was going to jump off this balcony rather than listen to the man who killed his brother. Oh, I haven't forgotten the conversation he had with the old woman before we came here. Not a single word has escaped my mind. But I almost hurt one of his precious souls and The Capturer of Souls doesn't like it when someone touches his possessions. Even though I was appointed as The Crier of Souls, he carried more responsibilities with the souls. He was their King.