Clover

I didn't really expect to see Timothy the next day. And Lavender had texted in the morning that she had caught the cold. And asked if I knew something of her missing bag. I had dragged the said bag with me the whole morning and was rather done with the extra weight by the time I stumbled onto the path of the vampire from yesterday.

I was on my way to find a cup of afternoon tea when I glimpsed it between shelves and froze.

The thing talked to someone I couldn't see.

"... understand why you came back here though." The short male being was saying. Its raven hair shone blue where lamp light caught it. "Of course studying can make life interesting. But why to retake a path already forsaken? I just can't see all this unnecessary human stress making you any happier. Are you listening to me, Uncle?"

"No." Came the absentminded answer from behind the shelf.

I walked slowly toward the stairs. Closer to the vampire. It was early afternoon. How was it up? And why was it between me and the stairs?

"Oh, don't be hard. I think I found the book, anyway. Why don't you just search something on the internet?" It tapped the said book with one pale finger.

"Because," this time the other's voice came clearer. The invisible speaker emerged from between the shelves to face his friend. "Someone has cut my connection. And hasn't returned it."

Timothy came very close to the other and snatched the book it was holding.

His gaze fell to me immediately over the vampire's shoulder. The two were very even in height.

The vampire turned as well. It seemed dismayed.

"No, really, the witch."

"Clover!" Timothy moved forward.

The vampire came with him. It didn't try to impede his movement, just crept after Timothy, like a pale shadow.

I took a step back looking past Timothy to the beast.

Timothy stopped.

"They disconnected my number," he offered.

I swallowed. "I know. I tried calling you back. Multiple times"

"Ah. Mmm. Well. About that call. As you can probably see, I can't talk too freely about what I intended to mention." He had the audacity to laugh. The vampire stared pointedly to the ceiling.

"But," he continued.

The vampire put a warning hand on his shoulder. Timothy looked at the other man. He looked beyond irritated.

And just then it hit me. He couldn't be controlled via blood. The vampire hadn't compelled him. That was why the vampire was with him. They hadn't controlled Timothy or killed him. Which meant they either couldn't or wouldn't. Why? And surely they could have locked one human somewhere out the way if they clearly had the power to severe his phoneline.

"Have some trust, will you, Plume?" Timothy hissed. "I say what I think is wise, under the circumstances. Thank you very much for the reminder, I haven't forgotten you. Just get out of sight for maybe five minutes?"

He shook the hand free. And the vampire let him.

"Just... Don't do anything unforgivable."

Timothy rolled his eyes. "I think we are a bit over that line. Just, give me a minute."

The vampire looked at him. It drew in a breath as if intending to say something. Timothy gave it a steady look with raised eyebrows, inviting the monster to continue. It sighed the air out. And, to my utter amazement, disappeared between shelves.

We were left seemingly alone by the stairs. Timothy guided me to sit on the nearby chairs.

"How are you?" He asked before I could say anything.

"Me?" I asked. "How are you? I thought you would be dead by now."

Timothy gave me an embarrassed little smile. "At the end of this, I am not at all sure it is out of the question." He looked past me thoughtfully. "But, in all fairness, I don't think the Queen would leave me completely without existence. I don't fancy the change, but my death probably won't be quite as finite as one could think."

He seemed thoughtful, as if the threat of turning into a vampire was somehow comparable to change of careers. Maybe an unpleasant future prospect, but manageable.

His gaze found mine. There was a small twisted smile playing on his lips. "You haven't put some sort of a charm on me, have you? An amulet against blood magic or something?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Listen instead."

I looked into his colorless eyes. I had never seen eyes so devoid of any hues. They were truly gray.

"I need you to believe two things," he said. "That I am not possessed. That I speak of my own free will. And that Valentina is linked."

"Linked?" I asked, confused.

"Her will is tied to Blizzard."

"She has been fed on." I couldn't disguise the disgust in my voice. I could see the huge vampire in my mind's eye. Could see the act.

And then I saw how Timothy's mouth was drawn to a line. And I wasn't sure whether he disapproved of my disgusted comment or of the act.

"She will be kept at least for half a year, by what I understand," Timothy said. "And I would appreciate it greatly if you, too, would help Valentina come to terms with the fact that her world isn't quite as scientific as she has made it to be."

"How?" I asked. "How, can I do that? And how can you possibly know how long that thing is going to keep her its slave?"

Now I saw Timothy flinch.

"What?" I asked, angry. "Did I say something funny?"

Timothy looked past me again, clearly casting for a political way of conveying his thoughts. He ran a flustered hand through his brown hair.

"It... I have had a long night to think about it..."

It really seemed like the night had been a long one, for there were dark cirles around his eyes. He paused to gather his thoughts. Then he continued: 

"There is a lot to me, Clover. Much that I am not prepared to discuss right now. But. Even as I think Mo is absolutely livid with some things I have done, my intention has never been to hurt the Queen. My relation to Blizzard is complicated. But... I think we are still friends. I like it, the idea of staying friends with them, the vampires. And even as I have put Blizzard into quite the curious place, I have faith this can be sorted out. Which in turn means, I might not judge them quite as severely as you think suitable for a human being."

I gaped at him. How could he possibly see that kind of a monster as a friend.

He smiled sadly. Clearly knowing what he said disrupted our friendship.

"When you think of me, if some problems arise where you find yourself in clear opposition with Mo's people, you should absolutely consider me an enemy. There seems to still be more vampire in me than I would like to admit."

"But Valentina's what matters first," he continued before my mind could unravel the implications of still vampire. "She needs to know what is going on in her. Only then can she take proper control of her own life again. She needs to know. Needs to remember."

"Can that be done?" I asked, concentrating on what he said right then.

"I have," he said. "Mo has a way of teaching humans how to remember. Of course, I wanted to change my world. But if Valentina can't remember half her days, she might suddenly have a good reason to give her memory a thorough inspection." He looked past me, clearly following something with his gaze. "After all, it is more about just stopping to actively deny there is more to the world. And the world is brimming with wonders.

"I would be grateful if you could simply bring her in contact with magic. Every now and then. Nothing fancy, just unexpected. I bought her some of the warming ice-cream sold at the metro. Those kinds of small wonders will go a long way. She just needs to see it. Over and over again. I hope."

"But why," I said. "Why does she need to know? Won't it just make her miserable once she realizes her will has been compromised?" I was still shocked by this bit of news.

Timothy shook his head. "At least she'll know by what. And I can teach her to use the bond. And live with it. A vampire is master only for an ignorant mind."

"You seem to know an awful lot about living with vampires?" I formulated the statement as an open question.

Timothy smiled wryly. "And am happy for every snippet I do comprehend. Plume moving in drives me mad as it is. Can you even imagine the fright I got this morning when I found a vampire serving green tea at my breakfast table? It was a near thing that I didn't throw a kitchen knife at him."

"Moving in?" I supposed Plume was the name of the black haired vampire.

He nodded. "He came last night. I am not sure if he will stay. Or how long. Or will it be me who moves. I think the Queen intends to buy the house I live in."

I tried to make sense of all the beans he was spilling.

"You... Have you lived with vampires? You seem to know the Breasinghae pack?"

"It's a good way of putting it, I suppose." Some mirth found its way to his voice. "I have at least lived a few years with one vampire. He was the hardest one to handle this far. Compared to him, Plume is practically a pet."

I stared at him. It made perfect sense. All the slow controlled gentlemanly mannerisms, the martial arts background and now even his apparent ability to pick up the passing spirit. He had lived with a vampire, just that, a human living with a vampire. He must have been a willing donor. Sharing blood and roof out of his own choice. Those people existed. There were even old families that had done it for centuries. Hellebore had one member as a semi permanent worker at The Fair Marquise and it was commonly accepted that she could remember magic too, even as she wasn't a witch.

"But, is it something you can quit?" I found myself asking. "Living with a vampire?"

The question clearly took him unawares. Timothy's mouth opened. Then closed. Opened again.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I am not sure. I thought I had quit. It isn't going quite as well this week as it went the last."

Then, uncannily, he turned his head as if someone had just said something loudly. In a moment and completely soundlessly the vampire peeked through some shelves. They exchanged a stare. 

Plume came to take a seat with us. But Timothy rose. He looked at me. It was obvious that there was no love lost between the two. But it didn't seem to be because Plume was an evil spirit that sucked life out of humans. The dislike was just something personal, like they had both been human beings disagreeing on politics.

"I don't blame you, if you don't want to join me for lunch," Timothy said. "I probably wouldn't join me if I had an option today. But, as it is, I am absolutely famished." He extended a hand to my direction.

I wasn't sure why I decided to join them. The hour was late for lunch. But I hadn't eaten either. So I went with Timothy. And Plume.

It seemed content to ignore me as we made our way to the canteen. And I could think of no other way of facing the situation than returning the favor. Timothy walked between us, mostly conversing with me, but occasionally including the vampire into something he said.

I was paying for my lunch in the canteen, when Plume spoke, and what he said caught my attention.

"I'll go find a table for us, Uncle."

"Mmm. For all three," Timothy said, dismissing the monster.

I waited for Timothy to vacate the cashier until I asked:

"It calls you Uncle. Why? Are you related?"

Timothy didn't answer. He simply led me to the table where Plume was sitting, its eyes never leaving Timothy.

"It's complicated," Timothy started as he sat and speared a tofu cube with a fork.

"What is?" Plume asked.

Timothy lifted his gaze to the vampire. His tired eyes reflecting the complexity of the situation. "How come I am your Uncle..." He paused. "And why you are my nephew."

"I don't see how it's complicated in the least," Plume countered.

And for the first time the vampire directed its words to me. I found myself staring into dark contact covered eyes as it continued: "He and my father were created by the Queen herself. Whom I am allowed to call grandmother. Even as she prefers Queen. But for Timothy here Mo was mother. Is mother?" The last it added pondering.

"I don't think I follow," I grudgingly confessed. "How is the very sterile vampire queen the mother of a mortal human? Was Timothy adopted"

Timothy coughed. "Still here, guys."

"Yes, well. I am intrigued to hear how you explain this," Plume said lazily. "I would love to hear the full account."

Timothy glared at it.

He picked another piece of tofu and continued eating. Plume shrugged and continued to me:

"So. The fact is..."

"Can I sit here?"

All three of us looked up. The girl was a beautiful brunette I had never seen in my life. She was aiming her words for Timothy, but her eyes drifted to Plume. I looked at the vampire shortly over my glasses. He looked surprisingly human sitting there with his dark eyes, holding a paper cup of tea.

"Rune, was it?" Timothy asked. "Sure. The more the merrier."

There were dozens of empty tables in the canteen.

"Thank you," the girl said. She had to sit by me, opposite the vampire. "I dislike eating alone." She had long lashes and a pale complexion that went well with the vampire's natural pallor.

"A pleasure," Timothy said. "This is my friend Clover," he gestured to me. "And my nephew, Plume."

"You must have quite the age gap to your siblings," Rune noted.

"At least a hundred years," Timothy smirked.

"A few hundred, say I", Plume added, directly to the newcomer.

And a mischievous look passed between the men. Then Timothy concentrated on his meal again, and the apparently charming vampire engaged in conversation with Rune. The nature of the familiar ties between the two male entities were left for another day.

My meal consumed, I rose.

"I think I'll go see Lavender. I have her bag."

"Could we come with you?" Plume asked.

I looked at the vampire. He too had risen.

"How does this concern you?" I asked.

"She is Timothy's friend as well."

"Yes. So. Why is it close to your heart exactly?" It wanted something. I was sure of it.

"I would, actually, very much like to see her. We can take the bag," Timothy intervened.

I looked at him, surprised. The vampire seemed as astonished as I felt. Plume had an expressive face.

"Why?" I repeated.

"Because she is my friend. And I can't really shake Plume off my heels. Let me take it." Timothy's poker face was set. His smile was polite and while his tone implied a slight taken, I wasn't at all sure I trusted that. Just then, just there, standing with his back erect and holding out a hand with no more expression than the polite smile, he suddenly looked more vampiric than the actual beast gaping at the man.

"I know you don't want to make the trip," he said, looking me levelly in the eye. "So. Let me help us both. Because I am dying of curiosity to see how she feels."

Dying of curiosity.

He wasn't allowed to say something, something he had wanted to say last night.

"Please." His hand was still extended.

"Do you know where she lives..." I started unsure.

"You can show me on a map. Or just tell the address. And I have Lavender's number... " He looked suddenly unsure, surely remembering he was without mobile data.

"I can come too. I know Lavender."

We all stared at Rune.

"What? Honestly, guys. We all study French. And Lavender actually sometimes comes to the parties. So. Of course I know her." She glared at us.

"And I am desperate for any excuse to put off Scale Tongue's hideous assignment for Friday."

"You haven't returned it yet?" Timothy asked.

Rune rolled her eyes. "Some of us have more life than just the lectures."

I was too astonished to put up a fight when she took the bag. And took the men with her out the canteen.

For a moment I stood where they had left me, unsure as to what to do.

Then shook myself out of it and dashed after them.

Lavender?

She didn't live in the city. Not in the city proper, but close. Up the hill.

The little stream that separated the town from wilderness had flooded. And the hem of my skirt dragged mud with it as I made my way up the little meandering maze of pathways. I was rather annoyed with the skirts. I needed one hand for holding the lantern against dark so I couldn't clutch it with both hands and it had gotten wet and heavy. I hoped she would listen to me. I really did. Maybe I wouldn't need the skirts ever again.

The dark trees whispered against my senses and the moist autumn air felt fresh against my skin. I stopped to listen. And smile a bit at the silent rustling night around me. I liked the woods. They drew me. Sometimes I played with the idea of taking a small path I didn't know, and never coming back to the human world.

But no. I would first try a small trick. The human world was better for some people than it was for others. And I fancied my chance at bettering my odds of survival in it. The life of a merchant's bastard daughter was complicated. But the life of the same merchant's legitimate son was more appealing. And just out of my reach.

But maybe not out of the reach of someone I knew. She would need maybe some persuasion. And I dreaded to think of the prize she would ask.

I dragged the muddy skirt along.

The cabin came to my view out of the woods. She kept hens, but everything was silent as I approached. The shutters were closed and no light spilled out. The stone house gave off the air of a dead place.

It was a dark, damp night. I couldn't see any smoke, but I smelled it. The city was made of nothing but the smoke, but I had now walked a long way from the city itself.

I knocked.

"Isabela?" I asked the door. And waited.

A dismayed voice answered my probing.

"Who are you? What do you want? It's hardly any time for a visitor?" The voice spoke a quick galician with an odd accent that was hard to follow.

"I need your help. Please, hear me out... As a magician to magician..."

The door flew open. I avoided it narrowly, stumbling down a stone step.

The woman framed by yellow firelight was young, not quite as young as I was, but maybe close. I had never dared ask the meiga's age.

"You," she said, "are the farest thing from a witch I have seen in my life. Do you take infusion?"

"Thank you."

I came into the small little cabin and smelled in the drying herbs.

The meiga poured three and half cups of syrupy thick liquid black as the night outside from a pot that seemed to have traveled to Alhambra and back.

Two of the cups were for the two of us. The third was for her shadow, a concept I didn't quite understand. And the half cup was for my shadow, in case I had one. Every human supposedly had one. But since I was just half human, Isabela wasn't sure if I had one. Thus the half cup, to not waste good herbs unnecessarily, but just in case anyway.

"So. What do you want of me in the middle of the night?" Isabela asked as we settled ourselves around the table.

"I almost always come in the middle of the night. Maybe I just came to pass the time as usual?" I sipped the liquid. It tasted horrible. I wondered what it was but didn't dare ask.

"You haven't been here in a month, dear little Julia. So I do wonder what drew you in so close to Samaín."

"My brother came home this morning."

"You must be overjoyed," she said flatly. "All don't return from wars."

"I am," I assured her. "He is dying. The priest came today. They didn't even call for a doctor. Or take her to the monastery. Mother took one look at him and called a priest."

"So..." Isabela's tone was more pondering now. "Do you want me to come see him then? Or a pouch of something poisonous?"

I smiled. "I want both."

Isabela put down her cup. She looked at me in silence, inviting me to elaborate.

"I want him to die. But I want the body healed. Do you remember the manuscript I appropriated some months ago, the one written in Atlantean?"

"The very graphic one? Yes, of course. Do you remember me telling you there are no witches left in Atlantis?"

"Yes, and I told you I didn't care for how dead the witches were. Or if the book was from Hell. Would you even consider the ritual I talked you about?" I was talking quickly. My heart was pounding out of my chest. A slight tremble was possessing my hand as I took another sip of the black liquid.

"What is this?" I asked.

She waved the question off.

"Listen, Julia. I have no intention of going through this ritual in this book. Because I don't think it's going to work."

"And not because Atlantean magic has a black reputation?"

She snorted.

"I honestly don't mind meddling with your body, or with the body of your brother. But I don't want to end up found red handed with both of your bodies. Just pause to think for a moment. There are many moving parts involved here...."

I was cold. I drew the blankets closer. My head hurt.

"Isabela?" I whispered.

But there was just the king and the burning ships. Just the bodies washing ashore. The meiga was gone and only witches remained. And I wished I had just burned the book when I got it.

What ships?

What book?

I opened my eyes. I felt so cold. A shiver ran through me.

Where was I?

Against all instincts, I pushed myself to a sitting position.

There was a mirror opposite. I stared at the girl. Julia? Why? After all these years. Was Iris, the great goddess, making a joke out of me?

No...

I needed a glass of water.

My brain felt heavy, the world was cold. But I made it to the kitchen.

I slumped breathless against a chair. An closed my eyes. The cold air hammered against my brain. I could hear the rising pulse. It was a long way from the bedroom to the kitchen.

The water glass rested by the sink. I knew I needed to drink it.

I lifted a hand.

The glass came to my extended fingers, carried by my will and the wind. Always the wind. So much easier to move just the glass. And not the body.

I lifted the cup to my lips.

Who was I?

A loud ringing made me drop the glass. Water spilled onto the table and fell onto the laminate underneath.

The doorbell. It was the doorbell.

I found support in the white walls of our little apartment as I went.

I opened the door to reveal four people. Two young women and two young men. One human. A witch. Isabela. A vampire. 

A witch?

A vampire?

And the brunette wasn't named Isabela, was she?

I tried to clear my thoughts and managed a confused smile for Clover.

"We brought your bag." The other young woman said this. The one I had named Isabela in my head. I had never seen her in my life, I was sure of that at least.

"Thank you," I said to her.

"Can we come in," asked the black haired youngster. He dressed smartly, and had a nice smile. I wondered what his name was.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Timothy's nephew," he said.

I looked at the smiling man. I doubted he was any younger than the man standing next to him. But Timothy only shrugged in a way that seemed to confirm the claim.

"Okay. But I am sick, you don't want to catch it."

"We won't. But we can come in?" The man repeated.

And I was about to say, yes, of course, he could come in...

Instead I frowned.

I didn't know this vampire. I felt no inclination to let him into my home.

A vampire?

I lifted a hand to my head. And took hold of the doorframe.

"I think you should just leave," I said instead. "I think I need to go back to sleep."

"Is Dew home?" Clover asked. She was frowning.

I shook my head. "At work. He'll come back in the evening. It's good. I just need to rest."

I closed the door onto their faces and sank against it on the other side, falling all the way to the floor. There were small sharp pebbles. I closed my eyes.

I felt cold. There was something hard beneath me and the damp air around had permeated all layers of clothing. It was silent.

Something was off inside me.

And there was something in my throat.

I coughed.

I needed water.

No...

Wait.

I opened my eyes. There was something odd in them as well, but soon they focused far far above me to a darkness. I could just make out the outlines of painted figures in the intense dark. Except, it wasn't half as dark as I would have thought.

But of one thing there was no doubt: I lay on the altar.

I tried lifting a hand. It was wrong, as was everything else in me, but I could lift it and bring it where I could see the hard muscle and black hair covering the forearm. I tried making a fist. Then flexed the fingers. There was a signet ring in one of them.

I smiled at it. The metal felt cold and hard. But I liked it. Very much.

I pushed myself to a sitting position. There were tensions in my middle section, some muscles protested. But nothing felt broken or torn.

I turned my back to the guilted altar piece behind and looked ahead the cavernous hall. There was no one. Except for me.

Apparently Isabela had run.

At my feet I saw a lifeless body.

She had been supported onto the altar's pedestal to suggest a sitting position and a bend head. Her fingers had been crossed and lay on her lap holding a rosary. Despite all the blood and torn fabric, she looked almost peaceful.

The cathedral's interior spun and I sank into darkness.

Timothy

The door closed. All four of us were left standing on the corridor side. I could feel her presence just on the other side of the threshold. I also felt her fall. Not physically, even though I suspected she wasn't on her feet anymore. She fell asleep. There, just behind the door.

"I suppose, we gave back the bag..." Clover started uncertainly. "Sure, she wasn't well, but..."

"Open it," I uttered.

"What?" Clover asked. But I wasn't looking at her, I met Plume's dark eyes.

"Please. I know you felt it."

The vampire looked at me thoughtfully. "No," he declined then. "She will be fine."

I turned to him.

"How can you say that? Let me at least go in and take her to bed, if nothing else."

"Can you lift her, all by yourself?" Plume asked pointedly. "Because, I don't fancy letting the witch in too."

"What!" Clover stared at him. "Let me in? I have never come even close on harming anyone, ever. How many people have you killed?"

"Not a part of this conversation," Plume said. He looked thoughtful. "But I think I lost count after ten?"

Clover paled. I sighed.

"I am not quite so feeble as I look. I can do this on my own. Just, please. Open the door so I can verify she isn't experiencing a seizure or something." I looked at him. Plume seemed still thoughtful.

Then his gaze moved to Clover. He licked his lips. "Good. But. If you find any witchcraft inside, any crystals or some other magic things, you bring them with you as you come back."

Clover stared. "Don't." She turned to me. "She is possessed. The crystals are there to help her energies clear. So the demon grows weaker."

"Do you trust the Queen?" Plume pressed.

I looked from one to the other.

"I... I do trust Mo," I said slowly. "Unfortunately that trust doesn't extend to you though. But," I added quickly, "If you let me in now, maybe the two of us can still build some trust on that act of kindness."

Plume narrowed his eyes. "You are a bit too good with words, aren't you."

He moved to the door. I let him.

"You guys are a bit weird." Rune looked from one to the other. "You do know that what you just said doesn't make any sense, right?"

I exchanged a look with Clover, but before I could say anything else, the door to the apartment opened. I turned.

Lavender had indeed fainted. Her fallen form lay on the gray carpet just on the other side of the threshold.

"You sort it out. I'll take her to bed."

Plume bowed me into the apartment.

Lavender wasn't easy to wake up. She came to consciousness as I touched her cheek, but it was hard to convince her to stand up. And I half dragged her deeper into the apartment. She felt hot and dry against my touch. The first door we tried lead to a neat bathroom. I paid special attention to a yellow crystal on a shelf.

The second door was for a bedroom. She sank into it as a dead weight. I sat on the bed with her. She fluttered back into unconsciousness.

It felt wrong, to leave her there.

But then again. Had Plume not been a vampire, I wouldn't have been in there at all. I didn't know if Clover could have somehow forced the door, if I had insisted I possessed a sixth sense that told me Lavender had fainted. We should have probably called her boyfriend. We probably still should.

I looked around in search of her phone. An ICE number would get me far.

It had been left on a side table. On top of an intricate book.

I lifted the phone. The book beneath it was truly interesting, it had a carved, wooden cover. I reached out to take a better look.

I felt a hand snap on my forearm. I looked back at Lavender, whose blue gaze shone icy through the fever.

"Such gray eyes," she said. "They aren't natural."

"Says the one with electric blues..." I muttered. I tried to remove her hand gently. She didn't give my arm back easily, so I turned it lightly to twist her wrist.

"You are a weird little person, Timothy. Are you a vampire?"

I frowned. Then my attention found her aura. It was a mixture of how Lavender felt, of her fever, and of something else.

"Who are you?" I asked, looking into the feverish blue irises hoping, in vain, I had had enough vampire in me to persuade her to answer.

"A question for a question," she said. She lowered her head back into the cushions. "Never mind then. I will find out."

"Timothy?" Plume's low voice came from beyond the door. "Are you coming?"

"Sure."

Lavender had fallen back to sleep by the time I rose and went out. Once outside, I remembered I hadn't found out about her boyfriend's number.

Clover didn't have it either.

In the end, we left her to her sleep. Since the day was approaching evening, we had high hopes of her boyfriend's present return to home.

Valentina

The evening was late as I made it home. Street lamps shone bluish against misty riverside. The waters were warmer than the cooled air and moisture rose in ghostly spiraling exhales. It was still almost a month to Halloween.

A playground lay abandoned. I left my groceries onto the gravel ground along with a gym bag. I sat in a swing.

The first backward swing made my stomach flutter. I laughed out loud. And swam all the harder through the air.

Truth be told, I had felt absentminded of late. My master's thesis was stagnating. At the start of the period I had felt inspired. More than ready for new challenges. I had ideas. Almost full chapters planned out.

But the last few days had been weird.

I stopped the movement and sat still, lifting my face to the cloudy sky. It reflected violent oranges from the lights of a nearby football stadium.

I wasn't sure what had happened really. I felt somehow troubled. As if I had forgotten something.

But then again, it couldn't be that important if I didn't remember it.

And today had been a tranquil day. I had even asked Scale Tongue about some of my ideas for the Thesis and felt I had gotten great insight to some aspects of the eastern dialects of Atlantean language that I had been blind to before.

I really liked the professor of the French Philology. The short professor with her lovely high heels seemed to almost always have time for me and my blind probing of the field. She always put to shelf whatever research she herself was currently conducting and listened to what I had found in the university's library.

I was happy I had changed my subject from Atlantean Philology to French. I was blessed to have her guiding my thesis.

Poor professor.

I rose. The small stones shifted under my soles. I picked up my belongings from where I had left them and started again toward home. The air felt fresh in my lungs. I exhaled it out in a long gust of air. To my slight disappointment, it didn't form any visible mist to the already foggy night.

Always, when I went to Scale Tongue's office, my gaze went to a small photo frame on her crowded desk. In it was a picture of a young man, the professor's twin.

"I don't really know where he is" Professor Scale Tongue said. She was smiling. "He could be here at the university, for all I know. I haven't seen him in almost twenty years. First we gathered only for the Mid winter. Then he stopped coming to those too. He used to call. But that stopped some time ago as well. I haven't gotten any message from him in two years. Except a flower delivery for my birthdays. I suppose I have his number though, so if I wanted..."

She sighed.

"I am not even sure why I keep the picture. Honestly. We really weren't that close toward the end anymore, as you can hear."

Her brow furrowed.

"Maybe then... I suppose I keep it for the mystery: Maybe ten years ago, right when I got my lecturer's position, someone broke into my office. Nothing else was taken. And there were no signs of forced entry. The thief even gave the picture back some days later. Again, no signs of forced entry."

Her gaze focused onto my face: "But, back to the present. How is the master's thesis coming together, Valentina. Do you have a draft to show me?"

I did have it. I grinned at myself. The professor had said I was the first student she had seen come to that meeting calmly with a draft that had been given more thought than one sleepless night.