The Wailing Woman

74. The Nail in the Coffin Pt.2

My scarf was roughly pushed back. Dilara felt it too and snapped her gaze where the magic was coming from. I followed her gaze. Three figures were heading down our way. Did the Council send more marvos? I wait for more witches and warlocks to appear behind the three figures.

"Is it only them?" I asked.

Dilara draws a revealing spell and checks for any entrapments or unwanted surprises. "Do you see anything, Hans?" I muttered.

His glowing red eyes met my gaze. "Nothing," he confirmed.

Dilara's brow knitted together. "Who are they? What do they want?" Those answers couldn't come quickly enough.

As the trio came closer, their appearances and features became more clear. 

My gaze narrowed on them.

 A gray-haired warlock dressed in a tweed suit walked in the middle holding a brown briefcase tightly against his chest. He seemed to be around his late sixties or early seventies. The witches beside him were dressed in less formal wear. One of them had her hair tied into a high ponytail with thick black-rimmed glasses. The other wore a loose braid and small gold hoop earrings. They seemed to be around in their thirties. Probably a couple of years apart from each other.

There was an uncanny resemblance between the witches. Both were brown-haired. From the slope of their noses to their full lips, it was identical. The glass-eyed witch moved quickly from the other two. I squinted. She oddly looked like—even from where I stood, I could feel her scrutiny gaze. There was only one person who ever looked at me like that.

"Señorita Del Luna, nos vemos otra vez." Dr. Navarro said as she looked over to Dilara and then over my shoulder. "I see you've made some friends." She immediately assessed each of their reactions.

My therapist was a witch all along, and she knew I was one too. She knew everything about me from the very beginning. I knew there was something not right about her. Dilara shot me a curious gaze. I ignore it.

I calmly answered instead. "You look very surprised."

She elegantly shrugged her shoulders. "Yes I am," she admitted. "But can you blame me?" she said it like a secret we only knew.

Whenever I spoke to Dr. Navarro, I would either lie or say the truth depending on my mood. If I was bored, I would lie. I was bored often. I looked over at the tweed suit man with the briefcase and the braided hair witch who eyed me up and down as if she was looking for something.

Dr. Navarro took this opportunity for introductions. "This is my sister, Paloma and this is my uncle Don Horacio." The tweed suit man takes a step forward, "Gusto en conocerla." He stretched his hand out.

I stare at his hand and then at him. He reveals a forceful smile. I can't shake his hand. I can't touch him.

"Did your mother not teach you any manners before she died?" I cocked my head slightly meeting Dr. Navarro's sister's glaring stare. I did not miss the hint of disgust in her voice when she said 'mother.' She must be the older sister.

Dr. Navarro sighed. "Paloma, por favor, no empieces." She said nothing, but a woman like her didn't stay quiet for too long. She was looking for a fight, and just maybe I might welcome it. My ex-therapist cleared her throat. "I know you have a lot of questions as do I. Maybe we should talk somewhere private. It's regarding your inheritance."

I frowned. "My inheritance?"

Don Hoarcio nods his head, tensely as he presses a cloth over his forehead. "Si, tus padres—"

I cut him off. "I haven't buried my father yet, and you want to talk about my inheritance." He flinches back.

"Nora," Dr. Navarro says using that fake tone of sympathy I fucking hate so much.