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“Oh. You can’t see him right now, silly. Stairwell is too dark. He likes to hide.”
After some of the hallucinations I’d suffered over the last few weeks, I’d have been calling the kettle black telling her she was crazy. I certainly had no room to talk. “Well, so we’re clear, I was not trying to be paternalistic.”
“Oh, I know. You’re a genuine person, I can tell.” She snapped her head to the side again. “She is genuine. Stop being so mean, Osiris. There is no blonde.”
My thoughts skidded to a halt, and ice-cold fingers of shock slid over the back of my neck. “What did you just say?”
“He keeps calling you two-faced. Asked who the blonde is.”
The hairs on my neck stood up, and I turned to find no one standing behind me. “You can see a blonde?”
She strode past me toward the table, where she swiped up the half-carved apple that Vaszhago had left there. “I can’t, no. But apparently Osiris can. He said she’s scary-looking,” she said around a mouthful of apple.
“So, you and Osiris are not the same person, then.”
Frowning, she shook her head. “I told you. He’s my shadow.”
“And he sees a blonde somewhere.”
“He says she’s with you.”
A shiver spiraled down my neck, and I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder again.
“When you saywith me, what exactly do you mean?”
“Did you hear that Osiris?” She looked past me, toward the shadowy staircase where she’d stood just moments before. “She asked a question. Osiris?” With a dismissive shrug, she took another bite of the apple.
While her imaginary friend failed to answer, I sat pondering the possibility that Vespyr and I might’ve both had a ticket on the same crazy train. A cold and hollow sensation filled my chest and tickled my stomach, as I watched her smile, biting into her apple without a care in the world.
“He’s fickle sometimes. Some days, he doesn’t shut up, and others, he’s silent. To be honest, those are the worst days.” Chewing slowly, she stared off, then broke from her silent musings. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or something.”
“Yeah. I think I just need to get some rest.”
“Sure. Can I bring you anything? I kind of feel useless.”
“Maybe later? If you want to just keep an eye on Camael for me, that’d be great. She has a tendency to wander where she shouldn’t.” Acids gurgled in my throat, like I might throw up any second, and in spite of the food in her hands, I turned to dump Camael back into her arms.
“I can do that. Hey, don’t worry too much about what Osiris said.” The sympathetic smile on her face only had me feeling worse. “He likes to make stuff up.”
Which might’ve eased my worries, except that I’d seen the blonde myself.
And given the information I’d just read about the numbers I’d been seeing, perhaps she wasn’t entirely harmless.
19
THE BARON
With his wounds only just healed, the baron exited the carriage just outside of Solomon’s hovel. The old man stood leaning against a shovel, chin tipped up as if he were listening intently. The baron suspected he’d have had little success ever sneaking up on him, given his keen senses.
Likewise, the baron also suffered from overly keen senses, and he winced at the strong stench of the manure pile outside the horse stable where Solomon stood. “I would like to walk home this evening,” the boy said to the coachman, who gave a sharp nod in response.
As the young lord strode up to his mentor, the corner of Solomon’s lips lifted to a smile.
“Ah, the good baron returns.”
“Had I the choice, you’d still be shoveling shit.”
Solomon chuckled, placing the shovel against the wooden fence. “Have you given any thought to our last conversation?”
