Celia burst in as Sophie screamed and jumped up, the bedspread bursting into flame and setting her pajamas on fire. The housekeeper took one look and dashed the contents of the pitcher on Sophie's bed stand over the flames, which died at once.
"Speak to me!" Celia demanded, looking panicked. "What happened? Are you alright? Sophie, say something!"
"I'm okay," Sophie answered, feeling sick.
"Thank God," said the housekeeper with feeling as she guided Sophie to sit. "I felt--the whole house felt-whatever that was."
"I had a vision," said Sophie quietly. "Such a very odd vision." Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes at the memory of that valiant, doomed world.
The old woman looked at Sophie thoughtfully. Almost diffidently she said, "Dr. Crenshaw just came in. It's almost three in the morning but perhaps-if you're not tired-you might feel better if you were to speak to him. I'll make some cocoa," she added as an afterthought.
"All right." Sophie didn't want to be alone, not now.
They descended the winding staircase together, their shadows casting large shapes on the landing. The walls seemed to shift and murmur as Sophie passed, in a reassuring sort of way. She irrationally certain that the house was alive and watching over her.
Strains of opera drifted from the library, where a light was burning. Sophie edged shyly to the door. Shelves lined the three walls of the room, bursting with books and paraphernalia. The air smelled of cedar and something else: rose petals and sandalwood, a scent familiar to her from the Indian quarters in Singapore.
"Go on," said Celia gently, "go in. Doctor Crenshaw?"
From the depths of a worn leather arm chair, a bespectacled man looked up. Her first impression was one of hale vigor. Blue eyes, bright with intelligence, locked onto Sophie's. "Hello there," he said softly. "Come in, my dear. I've been expecting you, just not so soon. Have a seat."
Sophie took a deep breath and followed his instructions. Celia, she was certain, would not have left her with anyone of evil intent. The door closed gently behind them, leaving them alone. A grandfather clock murmured quietly in the corner, ticking off the seconds.
"What are you reading?" she ventured at last.
"A treatise on Atlantis." The half-moons of his reading glasses reflected the lamplight.
"Atlantis?"
Crenshaw's smile was warm. He let the book drop gently down into his lap. "Some old things are worth revisiting. How are your quarters?"
Sophie couldn't repress a shudder as she remembered her dream. "It's lovely," she assured the doctor quickly. "Really comfortable. I just had a bad dream, that's all."
"Perfectly natural," said Crenshaw briskly. "You've been through a terrible experience. I think you've handled it very well."
"My father," said Sophie, "has there been any word? Do you know anything about him?"
"Professor Li? I'm afraid not, child. Well, not yet anyway. I'll let you know as soon as we find out."
"He didn't do anything wrong," she said fiercely.
"Of course not. I imagine they'll hold him for questioning for a few days, then release him unharmed. He's a valuable person, after all. He is a well-known figure in his field, is he not?"
"Very well known," she said with pride.
"'A quiet giant unraveling the mysteries of the universe,'" Crenshaw quoted.
YOU ARE READING
The Darkness of Matter
FantasyWhen 14-year-old Sophie's physicist father accidentally cracks the wall between the worlds, she becomes privy to a great and valuable magic, one that others will do anything possess. Pursued by demons and magicians as well as government agents eager...
