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“I’m worried about leaving you,” Milo whispered.
“I know, but what choice do we have? I have to meet this ‘Ms. Black.’”
“I understand this is important to you. I do. So for you, I’ll stay behind.” He glanced toward the resort door through which the man had walked a few seconds earlier. “But be careful. I’ll be close by in case anything goes wrong.”
“If I’m not out in a half hour, come check on me.” My nerves were rioting as the suspense hung in the air. I watched Milo leave, praying I wouldn’t need him. I didn’t exactly know what he meant by “close by,” but I trusted he knew where to be.
Minutes ticked by like decades. I glimpsed down at my phone to check the time. 6:59. I tapped the heel of my open-toed pumps and bit my lip. At the exact stroke of seven PM, I heard a click as the resort door behind me slowly opened. It was the old man from before who poked his head through the opening, letting out a draft of cold air-conditioned wind.
“Ms. Black will see you now.”
Without a word, I nodded with the slightest tilt of my head and stepped forward into the building.
It was a venue, set up for what looked like a grand convention or wedding, with round tables draped with fine royal blue linens and empty champagne glasses placed around elegant place settings. Elegant orb lights hung above from coiling metal chandelier-like settings, each reminding me of a menacing octopus clutching a pearl. But it was desolate, devoid of any human presence.
Soft piano music played faintly in the background from a source I couldn’t identify. I turned to look at the man who’d guided me here. When he noticed my confusion, he only gestured with his hand, pointing to the far end of the room. I squinted as I looked again, focusing on one particular table in the distance. There she sat. A woman, with her back to me.
I swallowed and did my best to keep my breathing slow and steady. The walk across the room felt like it would never end. As I approached, I noted her raven hair pinned up in an elegant fashion, with just enough left over to hang over her shoulder, and I immediately recognized it as the same style she wore at the art gala.
As I stood only steps from her, I expected her to turn around, but she never moved.
“Have a seat, please.” Her voice almost made me jump, but I held my composure. The sound of her words still rolled over me like a graceful lullaby. It was like a sweet warm glaze, and I felt like a fly in a honey trap.
“Of course,” I said, fighting the quiver in my voice. I pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down, smoothing my dress as I settled. I still hadn’t looked her in the face yet.
“Katrina.”
With an upward glance, I saw her, and her crystal blue eyes caught me. She looked younger than my mother, but older than me. Dressed in a costly dark grey dress and midnight blue blazer, she radiated sophistication. Her flawless skin seemed to glow beneath the rosy blush on her cheeks. With a wickedly beautiful smile, she spoke again. “Katrina Delmar. How nice to finally meet you in the flesh.”
I tipped my head at her, still processing the place settings in front of me. A plate of decadent seasoned fish taunted my tastebuds as the scent reached my nostrils. Both my champagne glass and water glass were full. I reached for the water, desperate to hydrate my dry throat before speaking.
“It’s…nice to meet you, too,” I said in my most confident tone. “He called you Ms. Black?”
“Ah yes,” she breathed, picking up her champagne glass. “Most people here know me as Dahlia Black. Cordelia was getting a bit outdated. Though I’m sure that’s no problem for you, seeing as you have such a penchant for things of the past.”
I forced a dry laugh out of politeness, surprised at her statement. It almost seemed like an insult, but she’d said it so beautifully.
“Don’t worry, angelfish. I know you know who I am,” she uttered with her lips millimeters from the champagne glass’ rim. “You don’t have to keep pretending.”
“You’re Cordelia.” I spoke lowly, even though we were completely alone in the room. “Why did you ask me here? And how are you still alive?”
“Because I’m in need of something only someone with your...talents...can accomplish.” She cut a small slice of the fish on her plate while she spoke, not answering my last question. “Besides, can you blame me for wanting to meet my own 7th great granddaughter?”
I shook off the eerie feeling I got from her last sentence. “My talents? What do you need exactly?”
Ignoring my question, she simply laughed softly in that melodic voice and guided the fork to her mouth. “Don’t let your plate get cold, dear. That’s the finest bluefin tuna.”
Without knowing how to respond, I glanced down and forced myself to take a bite. It was delicious; the best seafood I’d ever tasted, in fact. But my nervous stomach wouldn’t allow me to enjoy it.
Cordelia’s words struck me suddenly. “I know you broke my curse.”
I swallowed the last bit of tuna in my mouth as I looked up. “It had to be broken eventually,” I said.
“I might’ve disagreed with you some years ago.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, looking up at me through sharp, perfect brows. “But now I’ll admit you’re right. At some point eventually that curse was bound to become a waste of power. It had to be broken so that I could use the scale’s magic for…” She paused, taking in a deep breath as she looked up at the chandelier before finishing her sentence, “…better things.”
“Like what?” I asked
“Look at the world, dear. What do you see? Wars, diseases, destruction, greed. Things are getting out of balance. The world of men is collapsing in on itself.”
