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“Your father had them informed immediately. They are on their way here, with Chris already having arrived.”
Nodding, I rubbed my face. The head still ached, but above all, it was fear, naked fear, that held me tightly in its grip.
Gently, Aza put a hand on my shoulder.
“Everything will be fine,” she whispered.
There was a knock on the door, and my girlfriend ran over to open it. Stephan was standing in front of it. His gaze was ice-cold, yet I felt I detected something hurried in it.
“The guest has arrived. Miss Myrina, please follow me,” he instructed me stiffly.
On trembling legs, I closed in on him, but he stopped abruptly, and I saw his nostrils quiver. He stared at me disapprovingly.
"Alcohol?" he whispered, stunned. "Today?" He snorted reproachfully, and I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Everyone acted as if I had deliberately chosen that very day to drink too much wine.
The next moment, he pulled a small flacon from his jacket pocket. With aplop, he uncorked it and handed it to me.
“Drink,” he urged me.
Hesitantly, I took the bottle and carefully smelled it. The smell was not bad at all. A mixture of mint, licorice, and something unknown wafted around my nose.
“Now go ahead and take it. You’ll feel better afterward.”
Would Stephan poison me? Probably not, although I believed that death could not be worse than an encounter with John Adam Nash.
So, without thinking about it any longer, I took a few sips from the bottle and returned it to the butler. Immediately, a soothing warmth coursed through my veins, and I felt my head clear, and the pain dissipated like mist in the wind.
Surprised, I gazed at him.
"What is this potion?" I asked, but Stephan didn't respond; he just silently stuffed the vial back into the bag and went ahead down the stairs to the dining room.
Hastily, I followed him. When I arrived in front of the room door, I stopped briefly and breathed in first before I opened it and entered the room.
My father, Chris, and, by now, Jordy, as well, sat at the dinner table with the man who defined all of our nightmares.
Dad seemed nervous and, at the same time, alert. Chris slid restlessly back and forth on his chair. Jordy just stared at his plate, completely frozen.
John Adam Nash looked over at me. His piercing eyes seemed to be impaling me on the wall behind me.
“Good morning,” I greeted politely and lowered my eyes.
“Good morning, Myrina. Please sit down.” Father’s voice contained a slight tremor.
My place was right next to the visitor, and I wanted to run back to my room, but then we would be in more trouble.
As calmly as possible, I walked to my chair, which Stephan pushed after I had sat down. Silently, he handed me the bread basket, from which I chose a slice of country bread, and poured me tea.
With effort, I suppressed the trembling of my hand as I spread butter and jam on my bread.
“To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Mr. Nash?” my father asked, attempting a friendly smile. “I thought you had already left for London again.”
"You know, Mr. Johnson, that was also the original plan, but unfortunately, I have not yet been able to fulfill my mission here in New York, which forces me to stay longer than expected," our guest replied between sips of coffee.
“Your mission?” Father quietly inquired.
“That’s right. My mission is to find something very precious that belongs to me.” His gaze slid to me, and a shiver ran down my spine. What exactly did he mean by that? Something that belonged to him? And what did the missing women have to do with it?
"Then I hope for your sake that you will find it quickly," my father replied through clenched teeth. Of course, he had noticed how the old man stared at me. "And what brings you to us?"
