Chương 45: “Cecile Arrives”

She came on a Friday with a rolling suitcase and a tin of biscuits and the air of tension followed her. Lauren had made up the spare room. June was so pleased she vibrated. Cecile came upstairs, set her suitcase down, and before she did anything else she walked to the windowsill and looked at Vorrath directly and said: "Right. Let's have a proper look at each other." She looked at him for a long time. He looked back.

"Good," she said finally.

"You'll do." He had unmade empires. Of course he would do. She put the tin of biscuits on the desk and opened the suitcase and took out a box, old, wooden, handled so many times the corners had gone soft, and she put it on the bed and opened it. Three things. The first: a small mirror, dark-backed, that showed not what was in front of it but what was behind whatever was in front of it. A ward, but for seeing. For finding what was approaching from the direction you weren't looking.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. The second: a cord, knotted at certain intervals in a pattern Vorrath did not recognize. The third: a letter. Addressed, in old handwriting that had been copied and recopied across generations until this version of it, to whoever was keeping the house. Cecile picked up the letter and held it out toward the windowsill.

"I think this is yours," she said. He could not take it. June picked it up and read it aloud, slowly, because the handwriting was old and she had to work at it. It was three sentences. You will know it when you find it. Do not send it away. What stays and does not consume has already chosen. Trust the choosing. June finished reading and looked at Vorrath. The room was very quiet.

"She knew," June said. Cecile sat on the edge of the bed.

"My grandmother said her grandmother said there was a woman before that, who dreamed about a house on this street before the street even existed. She wrote the letter for whoever would need it." She paused.

"Took a few generations to build the street." June looked at Vorrath.

"They were waiting for you." He sat on the windowsill. He had been, for three thousand years, the thing that was waited for in fear. The thing that guards posted and heroes trained for and kings made offerings to forestall. He had never been waited for like this. He did not know what to do with that except stay. He stayed.