Winthrop Manor #Wattys2019

In front of us stood a boy not much older than I. He was tall, his gangly body slightly folded in order to fit into the doorway. Glinting pale eyes peered at me curiously from below a mess of dark curly hair. Indigo half moons slept beneath his eyes, and his skin was nearly translucent. He looked sleep deprived, or perhaps deathly ill.

"Are you Charlie?" I inquired politely.

His nearly-blue lips quirked up slightly.

"A rose of any other name would-"

Halis grasped the boy suddenly, her long red fingernails visibly digging into his forearm.

"No. He is not Charlie. Now come along. We have business to attend to."