Waiting For August

Part 68 ~ A safe place

About a half hour before dawn was to break, Henry and I made our way over to Miranda's. He had wanted to accompany me, and sunrise was not a friend of his. I'd had to knock a few times before Stella soon appeared at the door.

Her eyes widened as she looked at me. I knew I looked a wreck. Although I had showered and put on clean clothing, my eyes were bloodshot and my neck severely bruised.

She glanced between the two of us uncertain, before seeming to come back to her senses and inviting us inside. She led us to the kitchen. It was quaint and cozy. An antique cook stove sat in the corner. A small fire burned within. A fat orange cat laid on a blanket on top, soaking up heat. We sat at the kitchen table as Stella turned on the kettle; an electric one. There was a modern gas range on the opposite side of the room that I imagined was their primary cooking source.

Stella quickly departed to rouse Miranda, who minutes later came storming into the kitchen, a frilly robe wrapped around her thin frame. "Henry," she looked at him expectantly before glancing at the clock on the wall. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think."

"Never mind that, Miranda." He said in his most curt of voices. "The boy has something he needs to show you."

I pulled out the blade, still wrapped in Henry's handkerchief, and set it upon the table. It immediately got Miranda's attention. Stella's too. She had been busy making a pot of tea, but immediately stopped to join us at the table.

Miranda and Stella looked between one another. "Whatever that is, Mr. Shaw. It is not to be taken lightly. That is dark magic I feel." Miranda said gravely, as truer words had not been spoken.

I nodded my agreement. My throat. My voice—I'd been doing my best to spare it, but I needed to use it now. "I took this from my stalker," I sounded hoarse; my throat-frog was back. I wasn't sure how much she really needed to know. "Can you destroy it? Or at least keep it safe? Hidden?" I carefully unwrapped it, the glow of the blade flickering as it came into view.

"That blade. It's from a—"

"Shade demon," I finished for her, croaking badly as I did.

"Demon, yes." She nodded her agreement. "A powerful one too."

"A shade demon, you say?" Stella sounded fascinated. "A shadow blade. This is an assassin's tool."

"The fool who weld this blade. He is dead?" Miranda's voice was sharp, authoritative as she glanced between Henry and me.

"Yes." Henry agreed.

"No." I shook my head adamantly.

The look that she'd fashioned us, made me clear my throat. "There is, uhm... some debate regarding that."

"If not, the disciple of this blade, he will come looking for it." She glanced at Stella, her look grave.

"If it's too much to ask, I understand." I truly did. It was exhausting, that blade. Draining. I had only touched it while it was wrapped in its shroud of fabric, but even so, I had felt its hunger.

"I have a vault." Miranda stood. "Come." She and Stella led the way. We stopped at a door in the hallway, just beyond the kitchen. The door was heavy wood. The encasement surrounding the door was arched. It looked like a giant-mouse door from an old cartoon.

She raised the old latch and swung the door open before she leaned in to switch on the light. The stair below, was fashioned from wood, a tight, narrow space which corkscrewed down to the cellar below. Once more Miranda took the lead. I was next, Henry was behind me, as Stella took up the rear.