Wren van Velsen

A harsh breeze bared my neck and blew my long locks in front of my eyes. With my fingers clutched around a glass plate, I stared at the dark house standing half in the sea. I grasped the plate tighter and sniffed the scent traveling along with the wind. It smelled more sweet than it had the last time – so sweet it conquered the scent of the salt – and the bushes on the mountains surrounding the beach seemed to have gotten greener.

It was the valium, I knew, making me see roses instead of thorns.

When I was close enough to see the eyes of the S forming snake, I stopped. This evening too the windows were dark. I desperately wanted to see what lied inside that brick house, behind the black windows, underneath its pointed round roof. My legs felt heavy as I stepped up the stairs leading to the porch. I inspected the door knocker, a horned and frowning creature made of bronze, and smiled at the irony of the demonic portrayal. I hit the ring attached to the horned creature's nose against the wood and waited.

When the door opened and a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, I silently gasped. This creature was definitely not Clyde. His translucent white skin showed purple and blue veins underneath, those on his bent bald head reminded me of a maze, and his lips were thin and pale and his back stood high and arched. As revolting as he looked, I didn't fear him, something this hideous couldn't possibly hide something sinister. It were the beautiful ones I feared.

I opened my mouth to greet him, but somehow all words were lost to me, so instead I gave him my warmest smile. To my surprise he smiled back, and his eyes slightly opened, as if blossoming.

"Hi," I finally managed to say, my voice full of brightness.

He opened his eerie pale lips to reply, but was interrupted by the thumping sound of footsteps. He closed his mouth and bent his head. A brief moment later a young man appeared next to the creature, his light-brown, wavy hair ending just above his shoulders.

"Who is it, Henry?" His eyes locked with mine. "Hello there. May I help you?"

This isn't Clyde, either. My eyebrows went slightly up. I was surprised at the creature's ordinary name. Henry. Henry bent his head further and stepped back, as if bowing to his master, and the long haired young man moved closer. Say something, I told myself, don't stand there like an idiot. "Eh..."

He nudged his head toward the plate. "Is that for me? Haven't had any neighborly gifts in a long time."

"Eh..." I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. "It's – it's a blueberry cheesecake."

"Blueberry. Are you Wren, the blueberry thief?" After I nodded, he added, "Yes. Clyde mentioned you. I'm Milos. Clyde is running a few errands, he should be back soon."

"Nice to meet you." I held out the plate in front of him and looked at the ground. "Sorry for disturbing you. Have a nice day."

Milos took the plate and chuckled. "Don't be silly. You're not a disturbance. I am thrilled you're here. I've been looking forward to meeting the demon Watchers."

With all my effort I managed a weak smile. Demon watchers. We are a freak show to them, the vile abominations, and I hated how I was reminded of it every day.

"Why don't you come in?" Milos asked.

I threw a glance through the opening between Milos and the doorpost. It was dim in the spacious hallway, yet bright enough for me to see the curling stairs, the double doors across from me and on my left and right, and the large golden frames nailed on the walls. "Eh..." I shook my head and straightened my shoulders. "Thank you, but I..."

Milos placed a hand on my shoulder and gently led me forward. "Come."

As I stepped inside, I realized how utterly stupid my plan had been. In my mind it had played out differently: I would have handed Clyde the cheesecake and said, "Hey, I know you're not really a vampire, so here's a cheesecake, since you don't survive on blood." But, the idiot I was, I had forgotten to consider that Clyde might not be the only resident of a house this massive. The familiar throbbing heartbeat had spread once again over my body and limbs, but at least this time I had a reason to be anxious.

With a hand on each handle, Milos opened the double doors and stepped aside as he gestured for me to come further. The dark, muted walls reminded me of coal and there were tall plants in big pots. Their fireplace was bigger than ours. None of it mattered once I saw the windows. This is it, the one thing you've been wondering since you first laid eyes on the house. There were no curtains, nor panels – as I had thought, instead the windows were bare, showing everything on the outside, but its glass was tinted black, like a limousine's. Then my eyes locked with a girl sitting on the sofa and leaning on the armrest, her hair was strawberry blond and her eyes green enough not to mistake them for blue.

"This is Deirdre," Milos said as he nodded at her. "Clyde's younger sister. Deirdre, this is Wren of West."

I moved in front of her and stretched my hand. She didn't move, only glared at me with a cold look in her eyes and a stern mouth. Slightly embarrassed, I dropped my hand and glanced around, not knowing where to look.

"Sit down, darling," Deirdre said, and patted the space beside her.

I sat down as gracefully as I could, careful and my back straight. It felt as if someone was squeezing my guts. Why had I come here, again? I couldn't remember, all I knew was that I wanted to curl up in a blanket.

It got more awkward when they gazed at me in silence. Well done, Wren, you're surrounded by demons. Take it all in. Idiot. What was I thinking, coming here with the intention to confront Clyde? And why was it any of my business? I hardly even knew the guy, and honestly, I couldn't care less whether Clyde was a demon or an angel or a freaking leprechaun. I had much bigger issues on my mind, but maybe that was the very reason, maybe sticking my nose where it did not belong was my distraction.

Milos gasped and placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, how rude of me. Wren, would you like something to drink?"

In all honesty, I was craving for hot cacao, but something told me they were not the hot cacao kind. "No, thank you."

"So..." Milos leaned his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee. "Where are you from?"

Questions, I wondered how many more there would be. I hated questions, even simple ones like this one. I often redirected the questions back, and soon enough that person would endlessly start talking about their own, but I knew that trick wouldn't save me today. "Hell," I said finally, and quickly regretted it, afraid he'd be insulted by my mockery. "Or so they say."

Milos' lips parted and he gazed blankly. Then his lips slowly curled, he threw a glance at Deirdre, who scoffed. And, then, he burst out in laughter. "Hell," Milos repeated. "That's funny."

"Yes, she's very amusing," Deirdre said on a bland tone.

"Where's Henry?" I asked, to change the subject of myself. "Is he a relative, too?"

"God, no." Milos lit a cigarette and offered me one. "Henry is just a sewer rat."

A frown appeared on my forehead as he lit my cigarette. I expected Milos to laugh and tell me he was joking, but he didn't. "Sewer rat?"

"An inferior kind of the vampire species," Deirdre said. "Like apes and humans. There are many similarities, some would even swear they evolved from one another, but humans are obviously superior to apes."

Inside of me an anger started to prickle, as if the word inferior had been said to me instead of Henry, as if the word 'sewer rat' was an insult to me as well. "Why is he called that, a sewer rat?"

Deirdre sighed. "Because they live in sewers, darling."

Henry arose a sympathy within me, the same kind of sympathy I had for helpless animals, and in my mind Henry had become a wounded dog in need of love and care. I started to think of new names to give to his species – Snowmen, Veinpyres, Sewires – but gave up quickly.

The sound of a slamming door startled me. I watched the closed doors, my heart picking up its rapid beat again, and waited. One of the doors opened and Clyde appeared. It felt as if a waterfall of joy and relief fell upon me, the way I felt after coming home after a long trip. Clyde, dressed in a grey suit without a tie, froze as soon as he saw me.

"Brother," Milos said as he rose up. "Look who's here to see you."

Clyde turned his head without separating his eyes from mine, briefly glanced at Milos, and took a few steps inside. He seemed haunted, with his icy and widened eyes and tight lips, and I wondered why he didn't say anything.

"And," Milos placed his hands on his back. "She brought a cheesecake.

"And we will enjoy that cheesecake." Clyde gave me a small nod. "Thank you, Wren, that's very considerate of you."

The way Clyde stared at me, the way Milos stared at Clyde, and the way Deirdre observed each of us, I felt the brewing tension. I opened my mouth, then closed it, and shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing."

With one hand Clyde stroked his slightly curling locks back, which fell back in place immediately. It wasn't until now that I noticed how perfectly round his few waves were, and the few curling locks were not equal in size, or soft and loose. They looked rough and ragged, like his stubble cheeks.

Clyde stretched his hand. "Come on."

As he led me outside, his eyes fixed in front of him and his pace fast, I heard a rouse of whispers behind me. "I'm sorry," I said once we were on the porch. "I didn't want to go inside, but..."

With a smile he placed the back of his hand on my cheek. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

At his touch, a shiver ran down my spine and my body tensed. I wasn't used to being touched and I didn't like it. My body always jumped at the slightest touch. Sometimes, when I never saw the touch coming, I leapt and shrieked, and then it would take a few seconds for my panicked mind to come back to its senses. His hand felt warm against my cold cheek, and I swallowed as I stared at him, praying he'd remove his hand. Finally I turned my head, causing his hand to fall away, and found myself staring at chunky rocks and bushes.

"So, what are you?" I asked. "And why does the entire town think you're vampires?"

"It's complicated."

"Believe me, I'm no stranger to complications." I scoffed. "My existence is a complication."

Clyde reached into his pocket and took out a pack of Lucky Strike. He placed a cigarette in his mouth, then removed it and offered it to me. I took the cigarette and bent forward to catch the flame he held underneath my chin, taking the chance to sniff in his scent. Fresh with a hint of sweet, a soft scent instead of a strong and masculine one.

"You don't owe me an answer," I said. "And I'm not the kind who's gonna force the truth out of you or go around and tell the world. But..." I blew out a cloud of smoke, and fixed my eyes back on the rocks and bushes. "If you don't tell me, it might just slip."

"And if I tell you, it will not slip?"

"It will be fresh in my memory." I shrugged. "I'll remember not to let it slip."

I heard the ruffle of his clothes as he moved closer to me, then felt his breath in my neck. "I'm like you."

Though I wanted to turn around to show him how confused I was, I knew he was too close, that our lips would probably touch if I did so. "A guardian?"

"A demon," he said, nearly in a whisper, his lips inches from my ear. "The spawn of Tartarus."

In the silence that followed, I thought back on what I had read in the book of the Original Seven. I had hoped to find out more about my less glamorous nature, the abomination part, but instead had only found endless descriptions of seals and ranks.

"Are you evil, Clyde?"

His warmth disappeared from behind me as he moved away. "Are you?" He paused, and I turned around to meet his eyes. "Pure evil doesn't exist. You, me, we're all a blend of both, Wren, like every other creature."

Hearing Clyde refer to me as one of his own frightened me. I still hadn't come to terms with not being human, nor with being an abomination from Hell. Yet, I also felt something I had never felt before, as if I was a part of a group.

"That's why I've always found it hard to believe in Heaven and Hell," I admitted. "It's like you said, everyone – well, almost everyone, is a blend of both. I don't think anyone who isn't pure evil deserves to burn. I just don't want to believe it."

"And who determines what's pure evil?"

With raised eyebrows, I looked up. "Well, that's not hard. For example, murderers?"

"What if that murderer only sought justice?" Clyde pursed his lips and waved his hand. "Let's say, a mother killing the molester of her child."

"That's vengeance for someone you love. When you kill out of love, that doesn't count as evil. Pure evil has no conscience and isn't able to love."

"Oh, trust me, pure evil is able to love like no other. That's the thing with playing God, it gets frustrating when you try to decide who lives and dies and who deserves to burn or go to paradise." He paused. "If not Heaven and Hell, what do you want to believe in?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Karma, I guess. You know, you reap what you sow."

"Karma?" Clyde chuckled. "There is no such thing as Karma. Do good and you'll get screwed. Do bad and you'll get away with it – if you're smart. Once in a lifetime you might be lucky enough to see your bully suffer, but that has nothing to do with Karma. It's sheer luck."

A sad little smile appeared on my face. "You sure? The thought of seeing my bullies getting punched by Karma sounded very nice."

"You don't have to rely on Karma or anything else for justice," Clyde said. "You can have your justice by being the judge and the executioner yourself."

I looked away. "Yeah, that only happens in my head. In reality, I hold an eternal grudge, always wishing I'd done things differently."

"You're young," Clyde said. "With time, you'll learn how to make your bullies pay."

"How old are you anyway?" I gasped. "And where are you from? Your accent is really odd."

Clyde smiled. "My age is twenty-four, but I've been alive for a few centuries, and I'm from Gaelic Ireland."

"Celtic." I lifted my eyebrows and twisted the corners of my mouth. "Wow. I've had history lessons about you."

"About me?"

"Well, not you personally..." My voice trailed off. "Do you know who my father is?"

"Your father... I don't even know who my own father is. Demons aren't much of the nurturing types. Honestly, I don't know any demon who knows has any knowledge of their father."

"Great, I'm a bastard."

"We're all bastards."

"What will happen to me once I'm awakened?"

Clyde took a deep breath, a dark look appeared in his eyes as he looked down. "I don't know. Whoever created you broke all the laws of nature. The offspring of human and demon, that I've seen many times before. But, the offspring of a divine Watcher and a hellbound..."

"An abomination."

He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Don't say that. I've seen you and I've seen the others, and it were no abominations I looked at."

"Can you keep a secret?" I scoffed. "Or, do first need to sign a pact with my blood and sell my soul?"

A frown appeared and Clyde let out a long puffing sound. "I'm in a good mood today, so, but only this time, you'll get it for free."

"Thank you." For a long moment I paused, my eyes staring down. "All my life I've been prepared to be a guardian, but I don't even want it."

"What do you want?"

"Honestly? I know it's cliché, but, I've always dreamed of traveling the world. This one time, I saw a man standing at the side of the road, waiting to cross the street. Only, he never made it to the other side. Two cars ran him over. Not one, but two, as if some force did everything in its power to make sure he died. I watched him being carried away in that black body bag, and right then it hit me. There is no guarantee I'll wake up tomorrow. There's no guarantee I'll make it to the other end of the road." I managed a sad little smile. "That's what I want, not being stuck here for three centuries, protecting their precious little town. But traveling the world before the day comes that I won't make it to the other side of the road."

A moment of happiness and peace, how small it may be, before I die. And love, just a little taste, to know how it feels to be special to someone, to be desired. A brief moment of all those things would be enough for me, and I'd be ready to die.

"After you're awakened, you'll probably be immortal, Wren. The Watchers live three centuries, but demons live forever. You're carrying demon blood, and our blood is strong."

I felt the muscles in my forehead loosen. "Immortal? They never told me that."

"They never do." He pushed a lock away from my eye. "A thousand cars can hit you, and you'll still make it to the other end of the road."

I looked at the ground. "What do demons do, anyway? I mean, you say demons aren't evil..."

"Not by nature."

"All right, not evil by nature. But, what do you do then?"

A twinkle flashed in his eyes, a quick white shimmer. "Let me show you."

He gripped my hands and moved across from me. The moment I touched his hands, everything started to spin, faster and faster, until it became a blur. Suddenly, the world turned dark. Black smoke appeared in strings, curling and leaping around me, wrapping me in its darkness. I yelped and buried my fingers in the flesh above his hips as I tried to avoid being touched by the strings of dark smoke.

When the world stopped spinning and lights appeared, Clyde was gone, and so was the black beach and his house. Panting, my limbs shaking, I glanced around. When my eye caught a glimpse of the familiar statues of mounted warriors holding spears and I noticed I was at the same height as the telephone wires, I realized I was standing on the middle of a roof. In front of me Clyde kneeled on one knee at the edge of the roof and watched me with a grin. My heartbeat slowed down, relieved he hadn't left me.

Without meeting his eyes, feeling slightly annoyed he hadn't warned me, I kneeled down next to him and stared at the crowd beneath us. We were in the Downtown area, I grasped, since it was the only crowded area in Chrim, and the only area where it smelled like candy combined with fish.

"What just happened?"

"We transported," Clyde said. "It's quite easy, you just have to imagine a place, and you'll go there."

A wry laugh escaped my throat. "Must save a lot of traveling costs." I turned my face to his and frowned. "Why did you imagine a roof?"

His eyes wandered to the crowd below. "As a demon, you'll be able to see others. I mean really see them. We don't have the speed of the vampires, or the strength of the werewolves, or the magic of the witches, or the bond with nature the Nymphs have. What we do have is far more powerful. We have the eye to see what lays hidden within one's soul, the ability to peel away one's layers of disguise, the power to control his sins, the gift to turn one's worst demons against him, and so much more."

To peel away one's layers. I felt ashamed to admit it sounded perfect. My entire life I had failed to see one's true intentions and always ended up getting hurt and broken. If it were true what Clyde was saying, if I would finally be able to see what lies within, it would mean I would finally be able to protect myself against this cruel world without having to hide in my home, like I had done the past four years after my classmates had made me eat crawling maggots off a dead cat. It had been the final draw, the maggots. I had begged Olivia to homeschool me, and she had said she was already homeschooling me hours in a row when teaching me the ways of a guardian. Eventually, she did agree to send me to another school. But people could sniff out weakness and fear, there was no fresh start for me. One day I had simply refused to go. With my arms folded I had sat on the ground. She had shoved me, and pulled, but eventually gave up and agreed to homeschooling me.

If only Farren had been there with me at the schools. One look at her hatchet, her wicked little smile, her leather outfit, the toxic look in her eyes, they would've cowered in fear and ran the opposite direction. It was what I had wanted to do the first time I had laid eyes on her, though each of that leather dressed clique terrified me, Farren seemed lethal. It was the look in her eyes, the same look I had seen with predators prowling their prey, cold and hungry.

"Every sin has its own color," Clyde continued, "and every creature carries each of those colors, but there's always one color, one sin, that's the most dominant." He moved behind me, placed his arm over my shoulder and his hand over mine and lifted my hand to point at a man and a woman sitting on a terrace, both silently sipping on a drink. "See that man? He's glowing blue. Notice the way he's secretly peeking at the girls walking by." His hairy cheek brushed mine as he searched my eyes. "Lust, adultery." He moved our hands slightly to the left until we were pointing at two girls with ponytails standing at a stand with gadgets, talking to a group of customers while demonstrating some shiny kitchen devices. "They're both yellow of greed, they'll do anything to shamelessly sell their overprized low-quality products to clueless people." Our hands moved slightly to the left, pointing at a man holding the hand of a little boy. "See that heavy man in the red shirt?"

"Let me guess, gluttony."

"Gluttony is there, a fair amount of it too, but it is not his dominating color. His dominant sin is red wrath, and he loves to take it out on that boy of his."

Once Clyde released his grip on my hand, I gazed at the sinners he had pointed at, then at everyone else while searching for their flaws. Before, it had just been a meaningless herd to me, but now they were more interesting, sinning individuals. Suddenly it hit me, Clyde had said every creature, that was me as well.

"What's my dominating color?"

"Violet. Of pride."

A wide smile appeared on my face. "Pride, huh. That's not so bad, is it?"

Clyde watched me darkly, as if I had said something disgraceful. Then his face softened and he shrugged. "Depends on what you find bad. Pride is what caused our Lord Father Lucifer's need to overthrow God, causing him and his followers to be cast into Tartarus and Earth. Many would say that pride is the worst sin of all."

My smile faded away. "Quite bad, then."

"Mine is green of envy, if you were wondering. Don't worry about your sins. Everyone is a sinner." Clyde curved his head. "Are you a loner? You seem like one."

"Yes. I like solitude," I admitted, and looked away to stare at the distance. "So, what else do demons do?"

The crowd below had lost all my interest, but I pretended to be fascinated anyway. The way he looked at me was too intense, as if he was searching for some secret inside. It made me forget where to put my hands. If it weren't for the valium calming my nerves, I'd have puked on him by now. My biggest fear was what he'd actually see inside with his demon eyes. Could he discover my secrets just by looking at me? Right then, I wished there was a way to cloak myself from him. He had no business being inside my head.

"Not much." He moved closer. "Wren?" The pleading tone in his voice made me feel obligated to look at him. Clyde took a deep breath. "Haven't done this in a long time."

"Done what?"

"I like you." He paused. Judging from his slight frown, I guessed he was calculating my reaction. "I think you're pretty and interesting, and I would like to get to know you. Have a drink with me."

Oh, shit. Clyde lowered his head and watched me with big, anxious eyes. This isn't good. Though when I thought back on his behavior, I knew I should have known, but at that moment his words struck me as unexpected. Say something. I like you, I had never heard those words before. People usually just avoided me. It was a part of life, something I had seen happen many times, boy likes girl and girl likes boy and, voila, romance. But I needed to be careful with my emotions. I knew I had come to a point in my life where I was desperate for love and affection, desperate for someone to make me feel special. I could fall in love with a rock if I allowed myself. Not Clyde, nor any other man, deserved to be a mere solution to my loneliness and lack of affection. But, Clyde seemed intelligent and gentle and I liked his face, maybe it could turn into something real after all.

"What time is it?" I asked.

Clyde moved up his sleeve. "A quarter to eight."

"Okay, good," I said. "Yes, I would like to have a drink with you, at eight."

"At eight?"

"At eight."

At eight, like in the movies. Sure, I had kissed before, twice, but this was the first time I would be going on an actual, romantic date and I wanted to do it right. Though, by the movie etiquette rules, Clyde was actually supposed to be pick me up at my house, at eight. But I did not yet have a house, and though we were close to the Reverie, it seemed quite ridiculous to go back there and tell him to pick me up in ten minutes. It didn't matter, much, at least it was at eight.

"All right," Clyde said in a hesitative tone. "Then we'll wait here for fifteen minutes."

"Do you find me weird?" I asked.

Clyde looked away and briefly adjusted his collar. "Yes."

When I had asked the question, I did not realize it, but this moment had been crucial. It was respect I valued above all, and honesty went hand in hand with respect. Clyde could've lied, yakked flattering nonsense about my eyes, but his choice to admit that he found me odd was something that pleased me more than any compliment could have. It even made me feel safe, knowing that even the simplest lies bred cheaters and assholes.

"Yeah." I smiled. "Better get used to that."

"I'll tell you a secret." Clyde hunched closer. "I'm quite weird as well."

I let my eyes glide over his neat suit and shiny black shoes. "You?"

"Oh, yes, weirdo's come in all shapes and sizes. And it's a good thing, being weird, or you'd be ordinary. Always love the freak in you."

"Prove it, that you're a freak," I said. "Tell me your biggest fantasy."

Clyde pouted his lips and huffed. "This is embarrassing. I always had this fantasy to dress up as Merlin, then go galloping on a horse while waving my magical rod. You know, that long white beard and the hat... Oh, especially the hat."

With all my strength, I puckered my lips to keep myself from laughing. Here he was, being honest, and I was about to laugh at him. When a snorting sound escaped my throat, he abruptly turned his head to me and glared at me with raised eyebrows. Finally, I couldn't hold myself back any longer, and burst out in laughter.

When I arrived in the black wing near midnight, I found a note on the door.

WE'RE GONE WATCHING THE BLOOD MOON.

ELORA SAID YOU WEREN'T INTO THAT KIND OF SHIT SO WE DIDN'T WAIT.

DON'T WAIT UP, HUN.

I took the note and crumbled it in my hand and pushed the door open. I would've loved to see the blood moon, and if I weren't so tired I would have gone outside to find them. Elora knew I would've loved it, but she had run out of patience, I knew, and I imagined her making up that lie with that mischievous look in her eyes. It struck me as funny, especially since I knew she'd be trying to make it up tomorrow morning by giving me a handful of compliments about my clothes – which were always the same, gray and floral – and my hair – which was also always the same, loose and sleek and too long.

The fire had been put out and only a small lamp was on, casting a faint yellow beam over the books and the dark furniture. I thought of taking the opportunity of being alone in the Reverie to strip off my clothes and run through every hall, but was quickly freaked out by the thought of being seen by Shadowface.

When I stepped inside our bedroom it felt as if stepping into a refrigerator. I welcomed the cold with a long sniff and broad smile. I eagerly moved to the open window next to Elora's bed and poked my head outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blood moon, while at the same time unbuttoning my coat. I stiffened when a shiver ran through me. My hands dropped slowly as my mind told me something was off about the room when I had stepped in, something my eyes had seen but my mind had been too distracted to notice. I turned around to find what it was that my mind was warning me about.

I didn't have to search for long.

My bed. Its otherwise spotless white sheets were covered in stains of red. One stain was big, the blemishes around it smaller, and beyond it were smaller spots. Goosebumps appeared on my skin. For a long moment, I gazed at the blood on my sheets, unable to think.

When I regained my senses, my eyes wandered to the dark floor. A part on the floor glimmered, the space between our beds. With a pounding heartbeat I took slow steps towards it. First I saw a pair of legs, bent. Then I saw the pale arms, one near the body and the other stretched, and the stiff and curling fingers. My eyes slid higher. Out of her blood smeared neck, drops dripped on the floor.

My hand grasped my mouth, barely able to muffle my loud cry. Eliza, Spyro's mother. Her eyes looked plastic as they stared into nothing. I ran to her body and dropped on my knees next to her face. My tears blurred my vision, a few fell on the gaping wound of her slit throat. I placed my ear on her chest. Nothing. My breath came out shorter and faster. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist.

"Eliza?" I looked down on my bloody hands. "Please. No, no, no. Please..."

A slamming door and a cluster of footsteps, then my door opened. Four men dressed in black, like the ones I had seen at the toll booth, appeared. A split second of confusion registered on their faces, then I heard the clicking sounds as they pointed long black guns at me.

"Out of my way," I heard a deep voice say.

The guards moved aside and Nestor Krol appeared in the middle. His eyes darted from me to Eliza's corpse, and back. I whimpered and began to shake my head, opening my mouth to say that I didn't do it, but only some squeaking noises managed to come out.

Krol threw one final glance at the body. "Take her to the cells."