The twelve members of the Council rested in their seats. Two of them didn't seem comforted by the fact that the meeting took place at all. They were both too old to travel several hundred kilometers to Kielce. However, even these older men didn't protest when the meeting began and one of them, named Henry, spoke dryly:
"First of all, I will start with the shameful behavior of one of us," everyone knew the name of the said thug and no one doubted his guilt, except for him. He was the only one who seemed unconcerned by the situation, the rest believed that lending the apartment for a meeting was an honor that only a few could receive.
"Let's just say I understand your outrage," Alan spoke up, but his attitude showed disregard for their problem. He sat comfortably in a chair with his arms crossed in front of him. "But my question is why did you change the time?"
"Because you did the same to us a few months ago," replied the long-faced man with brown hair. Until now he had stayed back and said nothing, but now he couldn't stop himself.
"That's not true, only in relation to you," said Alan, brazenly, looking at his teacher's fiancé for longer than he should have.
"That's enough," the same old man who started the meeting interrupted the exchange of sentences sharply. "Are you two too young to understand that we didn't come here to hear you argue?"
The brown-haired man meekly looked at the floor. Alan, on the other hand, didn't even think of apologizing for his words; on the contrary, his face expressed disappointment, as if the quarrel was much more interesting than what Henry was about to say.
"Since when has Genevieve's granddaughter been living in Kielce and why am I only finding out about it now?"
"She hasn't lived here recently," said one of the younger men gathered in the room. His main task and at the same time the only thing he was excellent at was tracking down information. He was a master at finding and learning facts about every person worthy of closer attention. "She moved in on the day of our last meeting."
"And what about this?" said a gray-haired man to another, to which Henry replied icily:
"She sensed me. Of course she can't control it yet, but I'm surprised she managed to do it. The other one also sensed our presence, because after all, she will soon be eighteen..." and here the old man's gaze moved significantly towards Alan. "But... this child? How old is she?"
"She'll be sixteen any day now," the man with glasses began. "Although I must admit that I have watched her a bit and she is mature for her age. Her mother had recently died of cancer and it had a big impact on her. Anyway, Alan can tell you something about her, he goes to class with her..."
Everyone gathered looked at Alan, everyone expected him to say something, but he still remained silent.
"You don't say anything?" the gray-haired man mocked.
"What should I tell you?" the boy started in a bored voice. "Her mother let her go to school a year earlier, I know that much not from Genevieve, she wouldn't tell me anything, but from Arleta. I don't have much contact with the girl."
"I think we saw her make her way to your house, and you say you don't have much contact with her?" the gray-haired man made accusations.
"Exactly," Alan nodded. The faces of those gathered looked dissatisfied, and even the most bored members seemed to perk up. The boy sighed softly, adding casually. "She likes to ask questions," he began without much emotion. "But she's too young to know the truth, so Genevieve hides it. Somehow, it happened that I once accidentally said too much, so the girl wants to know more and now she won't leave me alone."
"By chance?" the man laughed, adjusting his glasses, which had fallen on the tip of his pointed nose.
"Likes to ask questions?" Henry seemed to be much more interested in this part of Alan's statement, disregarding the rest.
"Yes," he nodded. There was silence for a moment, interrupted only by the gentle laughter of the bespectacled man. "Especially about Victoria," Alan finally added, although most of the men had completely forgotten who the girl was.
"Victoria, who?"
"Is it someone from here?"
"Another granddaughter of Genevieve?" questions were asked again and again, which Henry quickly cut off:
"It's Casper's dead friend," he said, then changed the subject.
YOU ARE READING
LAMIAE
FantasyDagmara moves from a city to a small town, to her grandmother, who lives in a mansion in the forest. In a mysterious way, she becomes the owner of the unusual diary of Victoria , who died two years ago. She learns that Victoria was killed by the Cou...
