in on herself. She made one more halfhearted gesture to the wardrobe and drifted to the door, and then turned. I could swear she was studying me. What did she see when she looked at me: a wild-haired girl, or something different? Something stronger? The mist-woman turned her back and exited.
By drifting through the door itself.
Well, that answered my question as to how substantial she was. I suppressed a shudder. It wasn’t everyday you saw someone, even a strange someone, walk through a door. I wondered if Belial could do it too, then turned my attention to getting dressed.
For a very brief moment, I wondered why she kept pointing to my wardrobe. I decided to look later; nothing was more important to me than getting this meeting over with.
I stripped to my skin and stood looking at myself in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. A tangle-haired girl stared back at me. I had a few bruises where I had run through the woods, but nothing more. There was no trace of pain in either my hand or my head. Miranda had done an excellent job healing me. I found myself wondering what day it was, and what time. I wondered if time even mattered here, where it was always twilight.
And then I turned to the dress. I slipped it over my head. It cascaded to the floor like rivulets of moonlit water, sinfully soft against my skin. Floor-length, it clung to my hips and pooled out around me until only the tips of my toes showed beneath the hem. I pulled up the halter style top. The straps snapped into place just behind my neck, leaving my back and shoulders totally exposed to the chilly air. I gave a slight twirl in front of the mirror, and watched as it belled around my legs.
I examined myself critically. Having never worn something so revealing before, I felt a new blossom of terror. Just what might Belial want from this meeting? He had said it was only to talk, to exchange information, but this dress…
For a brief moment, I thought about defying him. I put my hand on the knob of the wardrobe, wondering if there were more normal uniforms in there, but stopped myself. Belial held all the cards. I had better do what he asked, at least until I got what I wanted from him.
I poked my head out to find more Grey Ladies waiting for me. I didn’t recognize them; the familiar one from my bedroom was nowhere to be seen. They started off down the hallway, and, not knowing what else to do, I followed.
I walked through what seemed like miles of corridors. One Grey Lady glided in front of me while the other trailed us like some bizarre honor guard. I knew conversation was useless, so I spent the time thinking about Ethan, and Asheroth, and young Caroline Bedford, alone and terrified.
And then, abruptly, we stopped at a heavy wooden door banded with iron. The Grey Ladies flanked it. I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle.
The room inside was dim, lit only by a fireplace that did little to dispel the chill in the air. I stood shivering on the threshold, arms wrapped protectively around my upper body.
“Come closer,” said a voice in little more than a whisper.
Belial.
I wanted to protest, but a traitorous part of me couldn’t resist his pull. He sounded so much like my Ethan. Acutely aware of the skimpiness of my dress, I moved closer. He stood shrouded by shadows in the corner of a dim, fire-lit room. I recognized it from my earlier visit: the big, four poster bed, the fireplace, and the books lining one wall.
I saw one more thing that made my blood run cold. A portrait hung on the wall opposite the fireplace, over the bed I’d been unconscious in for over a day. It showed a dark-haired woman kneeling before an angel with a shining sword. Her hands were clasped together in the universal gesture of supplication, and a village burned around her. My breath caught in my throat.
The woman looked exactly like me. I recognized it as the portrait Dr. Christian had shown in class the day he tried to kidnap me. I realized I was looking at
By drifting through the door itself.
Well, that answered my question as to how substantial she was. I suppressed a shudder. It wasn’t everyday you saw someone, even a strange someone, walk through a door. I wondered if Belial could do it too, then turned my attention to getting dressed.
For a very brief moment, I wondered why she kept pointing to my wardrobe. I decided to look later; nothing was more important to me than getting this meeting over with.
I stripped to my skin and stood looking at myself in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. A tangle-haired girl stared back at me. I had a few bruises where I had run through the woods, but nothing more. There was no trace of pain in either my hand or my head. Miranda had done an excellent job healing me. I found myself wondering what day it was, and what time. I wondered if time even mattered here, where it was always twilight.
And then I turned to the dress. I slipped it over my head. It cascaded to the floor like rivulets of moonlit water, sinfully soft against my skin. Floor-length, it clung to my hips and pooled out around me until only the tips of my toes showed beneath the hem. I pulled up the halter style top. The straps snapped into place just behind my neck, leaving my back and shoulders totally exposed to the chilly air. I gave a slight twirl in front of the mirror, and watched as it belled around my legs.
I examined myself critically. Having never worn something so revealing before, I felt a new blossom of terror. Just what might Belial want from this meeting? He had said it was only to talk, to exchange information, but this dress…
For a brief moment, I thought about defying him. I put my hand on the knob of the wardrobe, wondering if there were more normal uniforms in there, but stopped myself. Belial held all the cards. I had better do what he asked, at least until I got what I wanted from him.
I poked my head out to find more Grey Ladies waiting for me. I didn’t recognize them; the familiar one from my bedroom was nowhere to be seen. They started off down the hallway, and, not knowing what else to do, I followed.
I walked through what seemed like miles of corridors. One Grey Lady glided in front of me while the other trailed us like some bizarre honor guard. I knew conversation was useless, so I spent the time thinking about Ethan, and Asheroth, and young Caroline Bedford, alone and terrified.
And then, abruptly, we stopped at a heavy wooden door banded with iron. The Grey Ladies flanked it. I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle.
The room inside was dim, lit only by a fireplace that did little to dispel the chill in the air. I stood shivering on the threshold, arms wrapped protectively around my upper body.
“Come closer,” said a voice in little more than a whisper.
Belial.
I wanted to protest, but a traitorous part of me couldn’t resist his pull. He sounded so much like my Ethan. Acutely aware of the skimpiness of my dress, I moved closer. He stood shrouded by shadows in the corner of a dim, fire-lit room. I recognized it from my earlier visit: the big, four poster bed, the fireplace, and the books lining one wall.
I saw one more thing that made my blood run cold. A portrait hung on the wall opposite the fireplace, over the bed I’d been unconscious in for over a day. It showed a dark-haired woman kneeling before an angel with a shining sword. Her hands were clasped together in the universal gesture of supplication, and a village burned around her. My breath caught in my throat.
The woman looked exactly like me. I recognized it as the portrait Dr. Christian had shown in class the day he tried to kidnap me. I realized I was looking at
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