The Professor's Secret

18. Fifteen Minutes of Fame

The room was darker than before – I could perceive it through my closed lids. The day had probably begun to descend into dusk outside, and not a faint light stole through the kitchen windows and reflected on the living room where I was, like it did before I fell asleep. The candles must have also died... The increase in darkness intensified my slumber, and I unconsciously rejoiced in the comfort of those cushions and the familiar perfume on those covers.

A series of faraway, gentle knocks began to move me in the couch. The sound grew closer and louder as I was pulled back from sleep. I opened my numb lids: Twilight had fully set in by then, making it harder to recognize the room I was in. It was a dull twilight – not bright with the sun fading, but rather a sickly, lazy hue of dark blue taking over the walls and mocking my confusion. The knock repeated itself, now fully distinguishable as reality – I traced its direction, it pointed to a glass slide door that now sealed me inside the room. The frames moved lightly as someone grabbed the knob... The texturized frozen glass left little visible... apart from a great blurred shadow whose silhouette my terror quickly made out as...

"Lysandre!!" I gasped, jumping back on the sofa and embracing the covers as a form of defense.

Luckily, the man behind the door was too busy trying to get it open to hear me, and I soon realized that, however hard he tried, the door wouldn't budge – it was locked.

Before the panic induced by the abrupt awakening could fully subside and I could recover from unconscious fear into logically wondering what the hell he was doing there, a more slender, more swiftly-moving shadow interposed between the door and the other one, visibly taking hold of the knob as to remove it from his hand.

"Why can't I come in?" I heard Lysandre's coarse voice confirming himself, if ever there was a doubt.

"Why, dear friend..." Sycamore's voice, on the other hand, was edgier, choking an apprehension away. "It's quite rude to peep into one's house without prior notice, wouldn't you say so? It's presently a mess..."

"You know damn well I don't have time to care, Augustine!!" – was the abrupt answer that gave me another small fright. "Now let me through!"

"Well, okay!" Sycamore sighed "Suppose I have company..."

Silence followed. The excuse at last seemed convincing enough to earn Lysandre's acceptance, for the menacing shadow moved away, and I sighed relieved.

"Would you like some tea?!" Sycamore followed him.

"Whatever the hell is going on here..." I angrily mumbled to myself, getting up and pushing the covers away. "I'm out of this place!!"

I looked around myself – there must be a way out through the back. If there wasn't one, I would gladly escape through a window, just to avoid meeting the duo on my way out and having to give explanation to one or both.

I went for my shoes, which were left on the other side of the room, before the rug; and as I crouched to put them on, I accidentally happened to overhear them in the kitchen:

"It is that girl's, isn't it?!"

The question sounded strange coming out of nowhere, even though it was Lysandre uttering it... I lingered a little longer.

Sycamore sighed heavily "Give me that, will you?!"

I immediately sought my pocket with my hand – it was empty!

"So your lady friend in the other room..." Lysandre started, reasoning. I heard the hiss of rage silence him as he got to the obvious conclusion, and foresaw what was coming.