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There are two windows on either side of the door, both covered from the inside by dark curtains. One of the curtains shifts to the side, and I see a dark figure, but just as quickly as I see it, the curtain moves back and settles in place.
“Beatrix!” Alora calls from the bottom of the stoop. “I know you’re here!” She pauses, waiting for a reaction, but nothing happens. “There’s something that must be discussed and it’s quite urgent, so if you could open the door, that would do us all a world of good!”
Caz stands beside me, shoulders squared and chin up as he faces forward. Proll walks ahead, standing next to Alora. He grunts, and Alora shakes her head and lifts a hand to him, as if telling him, “No.”
What would he do? Break the door down?
There’s a moment of silence, as if we’re all holding our breath, and then I hear a deadbolt clink, another lock, a chain rattling, and the door slowly opens.
A woman appears on the other side—petite and old. Her skin is a very dark brown with a gray undertone. She appears to be in her sixties or even seventies, but in this world, there’s no telling how old she really is.
The woman walks onto her porch, and a smile spreads across her lips as she says, “My queen! What an unexpected surprise.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Beatrix. I gave your transmitter several contacts. You may not have answered, but I’m sure you saw them.”
“Did you try to contact me?” Beatrix gives a sheepish smile. “I don’t think I’ve checked my transmitter in days. The damn thing is hard to keep up with, and you know I’m not good with devices.”
Alora rolls her eyes. “As my message stated, there is a couple in crises.”
I frown at Alora. “We’re not a couple.”
“Right. Well, there is a…friendof the Blackwater Monarch who needs your assistance. Apparently, she is from another world, and I believe you will know how to get her back.”
“Another world?” Beatrix takes another step forward, narrowing her eyes as she scans me. “She smells like the other world.”
What? How can she smell me?
“Will you perform a reading on her?” Alora asks.
Beatrix pulls her eyes from me to take a sweep of Caz. “She may come in, buthemay not.”
“What?” Caz snaps.
“There is a darkness in you. I don’t want it in my home. You’ll taint the whole place with it.”
“Alora, what is the point of me coming all this way just to be dismissed?”
Alora raises a graceful hand at Caz, giving him a stern look, before passing her gaze to Beatrix and softening a bit. “Beatrix, youwillallow him into your home just this once, tainted darkness or not. It will only take a few minutes.”
“You know, my queen, when you gave me this land a great distance away, you promised I would be left alone, so long as I did what you asked.”
“And you have been left alone for the most part, but unfortunately, I need your help again. There is no one else we can turn to for this that I trust, Beatrix, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” Alora steps forward, her face turning serious. “I believe they’re Tethered. And not just a simple Tether. ACold Tether.”
Beatrix’s smirk falls right off her face and her eyes shoot over to me and Caz again. This time she looks at us—reallylooks at us—before blinking rapidly, stepping back, and saying, “Come in.Now.”
Twenty-Seven
WILLOW
Beatrix’s homeisn’t very big and wouldn’t suit a claustrophobic person, but it’s cozy in its own way.
The walls are painted a deep brown, and wooden shelves line them with books and trinkets—things most people would ignore rather than buy if they stumbled across it. Old books take up most of the shelves, loose sheets of paper hanging out of some of them. It smells like herbs and spices in here, as well as old, wet paper. Taper candles are neatly placed throughout the cottage, the flames lit, their wax melting and dripping onto whatever surface it can reach.
Beatrix hums as she moves through her home. She reminds me of the psychic woman from my world who swore I’d never find love. What a time that was.
“Right this way,” Beatrix chimes. She leads us through her living room—past two brown chairs, a wooden coffee table, and lamps on the side tables that look like they’ll break with a simple breath—until we’re greeted with an oval table near the kitchen that seats four.
“Have a seat,” Beatrix says, taking the chair closest to two double doors. She sits and folds her hands on the table. I take the chair to her left, and Caz claims the chair on the opposite side. Alora remains standing, choosing to watch while Proll stands guard behind her.
