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“What’re we doing here?” I ask as Jude strolls around the room, eyeing the crooked paintings on the wall that are covered in cobwebs.
"Trying to figure out what you are and why you're here." He glances at me from over his shoulder. "I know you said that you don't know anything about this realm, but I can't help noticing how calm you are, so—and please don't take this personally—but…" He turns to face me, scrutinizing me with his smoldering eyes. "Are you sure you don't know what you are or why Annabella sent you here? Because it's okay if you do. I'd just rather know now instead of finding out later that you're lying."
I wonder what he’d do if I said I had been lying this entire time, that I know why I’m here, what I am…
What are you? The pink-haired witch—Annabella had said to me the first time I ran into her.
I had always wondered the same thing.
“I’m not lying,” I tell him. “And honestly, I’m half-convinced this is all just a dream. That really, I’m asleep back in my bed. Or in a trance in the basement…” I bite down on my tongue, not wanting to talk about that.
His brows furrow. “Trance in the basement… what do you mean by that?”
I shrug, staring down at a puddle on the ground. “Nothing really. It’s just that sometimes I go into trances. It doesn’t always happen while I’m in a basement, though. That’s just where I was the last time it happened.”
Concern masks his expression. “So you’ve gone into trances a lot?”
“It’s happened a handful of times.” I lift my gaze to him. “I’m not crazy, though. I swear I’m not.”
“I never said you were, honey.” He stares at me like I’m a complicated puzzle he desperately wants to solve. “What happens during these trances?”
I lift my shoulder. Usually, I'd keep my lips zipped, fearing I'll sound crazy. But this place… Well, it seems like the sort of place where crazy might be more accepted than sane.
"I zone out," I admit. "And then it's like… Well, like darkness grabs hold of me and then I black out."
“Do strange things happen to others around you when you go into these trances?” he asks cautiously.
I pick at my fingernail, shrugging. “I’ve been told I mumble words in a language no one seems to know, and my eyes go black, but…” I wrap my arms around myself. “The last time it happened, when I woke up, my foster father was cowering under the stairway, rambling in a weird language. And it happened another time when I was six, only that time it was my foster mother it happened to.”
The crease between his brows deepens. “I’m assuming your foster parents were near you when you entered the trance?” he asks and I nod. “What events happened that lead up to you going into a trance?”
I smash my lips together and shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Sympathy fills his eyes. "That's perfectly fine." He gives a brief pause. "I can tell this is bothering you, so I'll let the subject drop for now, but I just want to ask you one final question. And it's very important that you answer honestly, okay?" He waits for me to nod before continuing. "Did anything else happen to your foster parents while you were in a trance? Like did their skin get covered by flames or something like that?"
“No, nothing like that happened. But the last time… my foster father had these black lines covering his flesh.”
The moment the words leave my lips, every flame and ember on his body fizzles, leaving him looking like a shadow.
“Oh dear Gods,” he breathes out.
Puzzlement webs through me. I'm about to ask what's gotten him so worried when a man and woman materialize in the middle of the room.
The man is freakishly tall with hair and eyes as grey as ash. He's wearing a floor-length white cloak that trails behind him, and red lipstick stains the collar. Coincidentally enough—although, probably not coincidentally—the woman beside him has the same shade of lipstick smudged around her lips. Her hair is the same shade as the lipstick, along with the horns sprouting out of her head, and the red pops against the all-black outfit she's sporting.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” The man claps his hands together, causing an eerie glow to orb around the room. A smile spreads across his face until he glances around. Then he frowns. “I thought this was a meeting?” He looks at the woman standing beside him.
“Not a meeting. There’s an issue we need to address.” She looks from Jude to me, her expression unreadable. “I’m assuming you’re it.”
Uncertain how to respond, I just shrug.
She frowns, a drop of annoyance flickering in her eyes.
“Sorry, Sage, she’s a little confused,” Jude tells her as he steps toward me. But then he abruptly slams to a stop, tension rippling through his body as he stares at me.
And that’s when I notice it. That same fear I sometimes see in people’s eyes after I’ve had one of my trances.
“Confused how?” Sage asks Jude.
