The Witching Hour

Chapter Nineteen

Amarinth woke up angry.

The sky was gray, as she liked it, and the familiar sounds of her house were heard; screaming, shouting, running footsteps, hysterical laughter.

Everything was as it ordinarily was.

She got up. She didn't change, because she slept in her black lace dress.

Outside the room she passed Alistair, leaning over the wall with his mouth to Mortimer's lips. She could hear Alexis singing in the kitchen–a nursery rhyme, about a baby who fell from a tree and cracked his skull.

Sitting down on the sofa, opposite Hermione, Amarinth glanced at the clock. Its face had a few large cracks, and the minute hand was bent.

The minute hand ticked past the twelve, and as if called by the clock, the door creaked open.

"Today's a work day," Vlad said, his Slavic accent thick.

Behind Amarinth, Alistair and Mortimer bounded down the stairs to hear the list.

"Hermione and Alexis, I picked this one for you. He lives near the closest blue lotus. His name is Isaac Pan. He's thirty-four years old, he lives with his wife and daughter. Here's a photograph." Vlad passed over a black-and-white photo of a man, a woman, and two little girls.

"Two daughters," Alexis pointed out.

"Used to be," Vlad laughed. "Amarinth, I want you to take this one. She is an old friend of mine, but we have grown apart. She will not be at home, so you'll have to find her on your own."

Amarinth smiled. A job was the perfect thing to take her mind off this senseless anger. She took her photograph from Vlad's scarred hands. The woman in it was tall and very much alone. She wore a suit, not as elegant as Vlad's but quite refined. Her wardrobe was in good taste. Also like Vlad, and the entire Antonov family, the woman wore gloves.

Amarinth adjusted her own black lace gloves. They smelled strongly of flowers, a perfume all the Antonov children sprayed on their gloves and clothing.

"Alistair and Mortimer will look after our guest," Vlad concluded. "Make him quite at home. No playing."

"When should we leave?" Alexis asked, slipping the photo into his pocket.

"Let's have a family brunch first, and get acquainted with our distinguished guest," Vlad answered. "Amarinth, go and bring him downstairs, would you?"

When James woke up, he was not alone.

"Comfortable?" the girl asked.

"No," James said. "Where are we?"

"My house," the girl said. "Isn't it nice? My dad let me choose the wallpaper."

The walls were dark red, scarlet like blood.

"That's a joke, isn't it?" James asked hopefully.

The girl didn't answer. She stood up. "Be right back," she said.

As soon as she left the room, James ran for the door. He heard her sigh.

"No," she said. "Please stay in the room. That would make it so much easier."

Shocked, he stood still.

"Alright, stay," she said, holding out her arms and motioning for him not to move.

She left.

James sat down. He was almost in England when she joined him in the compartment. She seemed to genuinely like him, but now he knew she was just laying the groundwork for whatever this was.