Chapter Five
Michelle awoke in a haze of fleeting dreams—nightmares, really.
Long strings of images and impressions of being chased, of being hunted.
Of shadows made of smoke reaching towards her, grasping her.
When she opened her eyes, though, soft light streamed into the room from behind the curtains.
She blinked for a couple of moments to reorient herself, taking in the thick, downy duvet and wood panelling on the walls.
Memories of last night flooded in, and she got up with a renewed determination to no longer be a passive leaf blown about by the wind of circumstance.
Her phone, screen cracked and battery almost completely drained (she hadn’t bothered looking for a plug socket before crawling into bed last night), told her it was almost ten in the morning.
Barefoot, she trod to the curtains and pulled them open, expecting to see some vista of forest and hills.
She started back in surprise and dawning horror.
There was glass, certainly, but behind it lay a sheet of dull steel, completely sealing the outside world from the room.
Not even a hint of light penetrated through the minutest of seams. It was like looking into the darkness of a cave.
The light that she had assumed was the morning sunlight was in fact created by a row of lights recessed within the wall, the bulbs providing a soft, even glow.
Well, that was concerning, wasn’t it? Suddenly, the opulence around her felt cloying, suffocating. What if she had made a tremendous mistake? What if all of this was just one really fancy prison cell?
She grabbed her favourite pair of jeans from her overnight bag, pulled the jumper that Iris had knitted for her last Christmas over her head, splashed some water in her face (the scratch was still looking angry and certainly made itself known), and tried the door of her room.
The handle turned easily, the door opening without a sound, providing at least a minor sense of relief.
She marched down the corridor, past several closed doors, and descended the magnificent staircase.
The house was quiet, no sounds or voices carrying into the foyer.
Faced with various doors again, she walked into the one she knew led to the kitchen, choosing familiarity over the unknown.
It was empty. Of people, at least—a breakfast that could easily feed a dozen was laid out on the counter.
A quick glance revealed sliced fruits in glass bowls, various kinds of muffins placed in a pleasing pyramid shape, different types of cereals, fresh milk in old-fashioned glass bottles, and what smelled like freshly baked bread covered with a cheerily striped tea towel.
Michelle’s stomach growled, uncomfortably reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in a while. Feeling somewhat like a naughty schoolchild, Michelle took one of the muffins. She bit into it, briefly enjoying the zingy burst of lemon and the sweetness of honey, before she continued her quest.
She walked through an archway to an equally empty dining room, which featured a huge dark wooden table surrounded by twelve chairs.
How many people actually lived here? Lavinia had mentioned sisters—there had been the woman who opened the door, and voices had carried out into the hallway.
Was everyone else still sleeping? Emboldened, she explored further, stepping through an empty living room furnished with several large comfortable-looking sofas and, to Michelle’s relief, a large window overlooking what Michelle assumed was the back of the house.
From the corners, the two wings protruded forwards, and a well-kept garden sheltered in the middle.
The house wasn’t completely shut up, then, and being able to see the clouded sky made Michelle breathe a little more easily.
She chewed on the last bit of the muffin and opened another door at random, stepping into a small study.
She flinched backwards as the desk chair swivelled around and revealed a tall, statuesque woman.
She wore part of her shoulder-length dark brown hair in a topknot, her face all angles and planes.
She had a masculine energy, and only her mouth brought a touch of softness to her features.
Her penetrating black eyes assessed Michelle with intensity.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know someone was in here,” Michelle said, stepping backwards. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“Michelle,” the woman said. She had a rich voice, tinged with a slight accent that Michelle couldn’t place.
“Please have a seat.” She gestured to the seat in front of the massive mahogany desk.
Truly, every single room seemed as if it had been furnished by raiding an antique store.
Michelle couldn’t help but look at the various oil portraits of stern-faced women in elaborate gowns that covered the walls.
Michelle lowered herself into the seat, somehow feeling like a child called into the principal’s office.
She still held the little paper wrapper that had encased the muffin. She resisted the urge to fidget.
The woman spoke first. “I am Lucretia.” Lucretia—was this the Luce that Lavinia and Zachary had mentioned yesterday? The person they thought would be displeased with Michelle’s presence? Michelle braced herself for whatever was coming next.
“I understand you were attacked by a demon last night. Lavinia was somewhat…hasty in her decision to bring you here, but I hope you will find our house comfortable. You are free to use the rooms on the ground floor, and of course your bedroom.” There was the echo of a warning in her voice.
Don’t stray beyond where you’re allowed.
“When can I leave?” Michelle asked. Yesterday had been such a whirlwind. In the clear light of day, practical considerations started creeping in. What about work? When would she be able to go home?
“Hopefully, your visit will be brief. You are, of course, free to leave at any time, but Lavinia has made the argument that it would not be in your best interest to do so at the moment.”
Michelle narrowed her eyes at the verbal gymnastics. If she wasn’t welcome here, she’d rather know outright. “And what do you think?”
Lucretia sighed and leaned back, exuding an exhaustion that usually spoke of age, but she couldn’t be older than late thirties. There was only the faintest hint of crow’s feet around her eyes. “I trust my Sister’s judgement, even if it does not align with my own.”
Lavinia. Michelle’s throat constricted slightly at the memory of her.
She ignored the feeling, focusing back on Lucretia.
“Lavinia mentioned sisters. Are you…her sister?” she asked with hesitation.
Besides the fact that Lavinia, Lucretia, and the woman who had led them inside last night were all built like professional athletes, their features shared no resemblance.
Lucretia had a strong jaw, and somehow the light made her eyes seem completely black, as if the pupil had swallowed the iris.
They were nothing like Lavinia’s green eyes, her high cheekbones.
It seemed unlikely all three of the women she had met so far had somehow come from the same parents.
“We are Sword Sisters.” The finality of the statement gave the impression that this explained everything.
For Michelle, it explained exactly nothing. “What does that mean?”
Lucretia tapped short fingernails on the wood of the tabletop.
A sign of impatience? “We are sworn by oaths and by blood to protect our kind, to stand with our Sisters, and to give our life if necessary. There are nine of us.” Michelle felt the urge to laugh because it sounded ridiculous, but under the calculating gaze of Lucretia, she found herself believing it.
Besides, she had seen what Lavinia could do with a knife. Apparently, she was not the only one.
“I understand you may have a lot of questions. I am not able to answer all of them right now, but I do open my house to you. Please avoid any locked doors.” Her tone implied dismissal. Michelle thanked her and escaped back into the living room.
Nine “Sisters”. Sworn by blood to…what had Lucretia said?
Protect their kind. Surely she meant people—humans—right?
But there was something about the way she’d said it that made Michelle think that that wasn’t what she had meant.
There was a truth here, underneath it all, if she could just grasp it…
She was mulling over the conversation, looking out the window with unseeing eyes, when someone called her name. The word was edged with warmth. Before turning, she recognised Lavinia’s voice and found herself smiling.
Lavinia joined her at the window to contemplate the courtyard, the hills in the distance framing the scene.
She had finally changed out of the bloody clothing from yesterday, and Michelle’s heart skipped a beat at how beautiful she was.
Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she looked casual in a fitted white shirt and jeans.
Her face was bare of make-up, and her skin appeared like it would be wonderfully soft to the touch.
It was almost ridiculous how good she looked, and Michelle caught herself staring.
Keen to think about anything except how attractive Lavinia was in the bright light of day, she turned back towards the window.
She forced herself to take a calming breath, her heartbeat surprisingly fast in her chest.
She had more important things to worry about than how stunning Lavinia was, as much as her heart wished otherwise.
“Why are there shutters in front of my window? In the bedroom upstairs, I mean.” It was a minor mystery compared to the existence of demons and a secret group of women warriors stabbing them willy-nilly.
Still, she needed to know, even if it was just a small piece of the puzzle.
“Ah. They serve a dual purpose. They keep out the light and protect the windows, just in case.”
“For storms and things?” Michelle could easily imagine that the weather could be quite severe in such a rural place. She had heard several stories of the Peak District becoming inaccessible because of snowstorms or flooding in the valleys.
Lavinia smiled. “Things like that. If you prefer them to stay open, there is a button beside the window sill.” Her smile faded again. “I came looking for you because I’m afraid I will have to leave you for the day. I won’t be able to show you around like I promised last night.”
“Where are you going?”
“I would like to have another look at the alleyway and perhaps the street where you were attacked. There might still be some evidence that can lead us to the warlock.”
“Warlock? You mean the person who sent that demon thing after me?” Warlock? It made some kind of sense, as a term for someone who sent demons after people. Still, it all felt a little bit too fantasy novel for her to roll with it.
“That’s right.”
They stood in silence for a moment as they watched the clouds pass. “Lavinia, no offense, but none of this makes any sense. Demons aren’t real.”
Lavinia turned towards her. She was standing so close, Michelle had to tilt her head up to be able to look her in the eyes.
Her expression was serious, the corner of her mouth conveying a grimness.
“Unfortunately, they are real. But when this is over, I promise, you can go back to your life. You can forget any of this ever happened.”
Michelle tried to smile, to acknowledge the kindness in Lavinia’s words.
Instead, she drowned in the finality of them.
Lavinia, this house, Lucretia in the study behind them…
This was all real. It wasn’t a nightmare she would wake up from tomorrow, the memory of fear already fading with the light of a new day.
Tears stung her eyes. Someone had tried to kill her.
And demons existed. She was unable to form any words.
Everything had been real. A flesh-and-blood woman stood in front of her, in broad daylight, who had killed a demon with a knife.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“I don’t think I will be able to do that,” she finally said, forcing the words around the lump in her throat.
Lavinia laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You can and you will. Most people do. People are resilient.”
Michelle didn’t answer. Part of her was having an existential crisis, suddenly questioning everything that she thought was true about her place in the world.
Another part of her, a quiet and small part, was enjoying the warmth of Lavinia’s hand seeping through the fabric of her jumper.
She looked at Lavinia, tracing the shape of her features, following the line of the thin scar that ran through her eyebrow and into her hairline.
If anything, even if Michelle would be able to stuff the idea that demons were real into some box in the back of her mind, even if she would be able to forget that, she didn’t think she would be able to forget Lavinia.
The thought surprised her, but then again, you don’t get rescued by a gorgeous woman with a blade every day.
Lavinia made sure that Michelle had everything she needed and then disappeared through the front door with Zachary, who appeared from somewhere in the house in a fresh suit.
Michelle watched them go from the window in a front room and felt an unexpected pang.
The house suddenly felt impossibly large and empty without Lavinia’s presence in it.