Caught In A Lie

3: Eleanor

    “Nik? I’m home.” I called out.

    No response. Where was he?

    The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I walked into the kitchen. I was having a bad feeling about this. Slowly, I pushed the back door open, my hand surprisingly steady.

    He was there all right, lying in the middle of the small lawn we had grown, arm bent out at an odd angle. I felt cold inside, numb.

    I took the few steps forward to him and knelt at his side. It all seemed so surreal, like a movie. My senses were heightened: the colours brighter, shapes clearer, sounds louder, smells stronger... Yet I felt disjointed, detached from the goings on.

    The glint of light on metal caught my eye. There was something at the base of his neck, thin and not too long, just like a needle.

    They’ve done it.

    Then everything went black.

    The next thing I knew, I was in the living room and Officer Christou was asking me, “Ms. Eugenios, is there anything else you can tell us? Is there anyone your father was having problems with?”

    I looked at him blankly shook my head. “No. No one I know of.” My voice was hollow. If only. But there’s nothing you can do for him now.

    “Alright, Ms. Eugenios. We’ll be in touch.”

    I nodded.

    “I’ll see myself out.”

    I woke up with the click of the door shutting. The necklace was warm against my chest. Unusually so. The crystal had never heated up before, even during the nightmares. Something was different this time.

   I got off the bed quietly and checked the locks: everything was in place. So why am I feeling invaded?

         ***

    The next morning, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time: I bought myself a big cup of coffee. I generally avoided caffeine, since it was quite easy to get addicted to the rush. I had been, before-

    I stopped short seeing the person waiting outside the inn.

    “Mikhael.”

    “Good morning, Stella.” He offered a smile.

    “What’re you doing here?”

    “I came to ask you something.”

    “What?” I asked cautiously.

    “You see, Ambrosia is completing its twentieth year tomorrow. We will be having a small celebration of sorts in the evening and I would really appreciate it if you would attend.”

    “Oh.”

    “And, well, my sister is in town and she wants to meet my friends.”

    “Oh.” I repeated, taken aback. He thinks we’re... friends? Wow.

    “Will you come?”

    “I...”

    “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I understand.”

    There it was again: that feeling as though someone was trying to read my mind. I frowned and looked around. Nobody seemed suspicious, simply going about their business.