Mith's unease heightened as the boy continued to stare. His blue eyes had darkened even as a smile still tugged at the corners of his lips. She could tell that it was a façade, a smile that masked something uglier. It was a leer, a taunt, a challenge. She held her breath, suddenly terrified for the Carcerem Society woman.

Mith saw the woman's head snap up suddenly, as if the intensity of the boy's gaze was burning her.

The boy and the woman's eyes met for a short moment.

Just when Mith concluded that shit couldn't possibly get any weirder, the boy took off at a sprint, running fast towards the woman. He caught her in a bear hug, and Mith's jaw dropped. "Aunty Rhi, fancy seeing you here! It's been too long!" he exclaimed gaily, his voice bright and loud.

The travellers rushing by didn't stop to wonder if something was wrong; a long-lost nephew embracing his dear aunt, what a delightful scene!

Only Mith, who was watching carefully, saw the gleam of the small metal knife pressed to the woman's side.

Only Mith, who was watching carefully, saw the stunned fear on the woman's face.

Only Mith, who was watching carefully, saw the manic gleam in the boy's eyes.

What the hell is going on here?!

The boy murmured something to the woman, and she nodded, her hands shaking slightly.

Mith didn't want to scream, in case the boy decided to bury his knife in the woman's small, birdlike body. So she stayed quietly watchful, on the alert for any security personnel passing by. She was fully aware of the fact that she was caught up in something much bigger than herself, and her heart thudded harder with every passing second.

She was stalking a boy who was possibly crazy, a boy who was brazenly holding a woman to knifepoint in the middle of a bustling airport.

Mith watched the woman lift something over her head. It was a fine silver chain, with a brass compass attached to it.

She sucked in a breath. The necklace was the Carcerem Society signum, the chain and compass that all members wore as a way of setting themselves apart from the rest of the world. It was identical to the necklace resting against the hollow of her own throat, a gift from her grandfather for her fifteenth birthday.

What could the boy want with a signum?

Mith's eyes widened in horror. The knifepoint, small and wicked, was being pressed deeper into the woman's skin. She crumpled the chain in her fist and handed it to the boy.

"Stop!" Mith yelled. She couldn't take it. She pelted towards the boy and the woman, and people turned to stare at her, curious.

"Security!" She screeched again, and a guard clad in pressed khaki came running.

The boy locked eyes with her. Mith halted abruptly. He had schooled his features into mild alarm and curiosity. There wasn't a single trace of the malice that had been there only a few seconds ago, something that she found incredibly disturbing. He looked ordinary. Kind, even.

"What's the matter?" he asked, playing the part of the concerned stranger to perfection.

"You! You have a knife! You were holding that woman to knifepoint!"

People were crowding around her now, shocked.

Mith's heart was about to jump out of her chest.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he demanded, the fake-alarm on his face heightening.

The woman gazed fiercely at Mith. Stop, her eyes said. STOP, her eyes said, louder this time. Mith placed two fingers against the hollow of her throat, where a small dial of her compass peeked out of her shirt.

I belong to the Society too. Mith gazed right back, trying to convey the fact that she was trying to help.

The woman saw it, and her eyes widened.

The fierceness in her eyes gave way to acrid, desperate fear. The boy saw this quick exchange. He raised his eyebrows slightly, and Mith could see the wheels in his brain whirring, figuring out how to turn the situation to his advantage.

She shuddered. The security personnel arrived, pinning the boy's arms to his back.

"What's going on here?" they demanded in curt Hindi. All around them, the crowd was watching, muttering amongst themselves, pointing at the boy.

Mith was too stunned to say a word. The fear in the woman's eyes had made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. Was she really helping? Was she screwing the situation up even worse? Sure, she had her grandfather's compass, but she was no member of the Carcerem Society. Was there something going on here that she had missed?

She bit her lip.

She gazed at the woman. Her expression had morphed into one of confusion, and she pretended to wrap a protective arm around her darling nephew's shoulders.

"The girl thought she saw my nephew holding a knife to me!" She said in Hindi, her voice high pitched. "As if he would do such a thing!"

She stuck her wrist out, brandishing a bright silver bracelet. "Silly girl probably thought the bracelet was a gleaming knife! Honestly, these children watch too much T.V."

The guards glared at Mith. "Are you sure you saw a knife?" One of them asked, curt and irritated.

"N-No," Mith managed to stammer out. "I don't know what I saw. I'm sorry." She spoke slowly, her tongue tasting Hindi words that were not yet familiar to her, despite a lifetime of living in India.

The woman shot her a sidelong glance of approval as the guards gave the boy a once-over. Needless to say, they did not find any knife.

Mith released the breath she realised she had been holding. 

Damn, the brazen little bastard pulled it off. 

The chain was wrapped around his neck, the compass resting just underneath his collarbones; and the woman was smiling calmly, supremely unconcerned. She was playing along, and Mith suspected that the boy was threatening her with much more than a knife. Maybe he was holding someone hostage? Mith needed to find out. But the airport was a place where you crossed paths with people only for a short time; everyone was headed everywhere and the chances of finding the same person again were abysmally low.

Do something, damn it.

"I'm real sorry about nearly getting you arrested," Mith said with an apologetic smile, and held out her hand to the boy. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

A few people were still staring at them, unaware of the game they were playing with each other. The piercing look he directed at her was terrifying.

"It's an honest mistake," the boy replied, and shook her hand. He wasn't fooled for a minute, and Mith knew it. Her instincts were telling her to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction, but her brain was screaming at her to FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING ON. Feigning another smile, she turned to the woman. "I seem to have lost my parents. I think they went in without me, and they have my passport. Do you think you could come in with me and help me find them?"

And possibly explain who this psychopath is and what he's trying to do?

The boy smiled pleasantly. "Oh Aunty Rhi, I'm sure your son is just dying to see you. You should get home. I'll help this girl find her parents," he said.

The woman paled at the mention of her son.

"What have you done to him?" she asked, her voice deathly quiet.

"Nothing at all," the boy said airily. "Why would I do anything to him? He's such a sweet boy. So worried about Mumma.I even gave him a giant sucker for telling me when you were flying to Bahrain. It was so fun coming to the airport to surprise you!"

He smiled lazily, and Mith shuddered again.

"You're a monster," the woman hissed.

"Never claimed to be otherwise, Aunty Rhi," the boy replied cheerfully, and placing a friendly arm on Mith's arm, led her away from the woman and towards the airport entrance.

Mith gave the woman a desperate look. Help Me! She screamed silently.

"I have to go find my son," the woman replied, softly. "I'm sorry." A tear slipped down her cheek, unbidden. "I'll try to send help." She turned away.

Oh, fuck.

Mith's skin crawled. Her heart hammered. She had gotten herself into a shithole of a situation, and she was going to have to dig herself out.