“Is there a bathroom here? I’m about to burst,” she confides. I know she’s probably trying to whisper, but it comes out much louder than she intends.
“I know, me too,” I whisper-shout back, giggling despite myself. I look at the sommelier. “’Scuse me but do you have a ladies room around here?”
He looks scandalized by my request, as though it’s shocking that Hanna and I both have to pee after drinking so much wine.
“I shall get someone who can assist you, my Lady,” he says stiffly.
A vineyard worker is summoned and leads us to a small, rickety hut set apart from the vines. It’s rustic to the point of absurdity—more an outhouse than bathroom, but I suppose it will have to do.
“I’ll go first,” Hanna says, ducking inside. “I’m sorry, but I really will burst if I don’t get in there soon.”
“Go ahead,” I nod at her and she slips into the rickety hut, and I hear the door latching from inside.
I’m just turning away to look at some flowers that appear to be blood-red daisies that are growing in a patch near the door when I hear her screaming.
My blood turns to ice water in my veins and I rush back to the door.
“Hanna?” I rush forward, pounding on the rickety wooden panel. “Hanna, are you okay? Answer me!”
She does answer me but not with words—all I hear are more horrified screams and even worse, the damn door won’t budge an inch! It looks rickety but I can’t get it open, no matter how hard I try.
Suddenly, our bodyguard is there, shoving me firmly aside.
“Stand back,” he growls and kicks the door in with one powerful blow.
Inside, Hanna stands frozen, eyes wide with terror and facing her is something wrong.
I see a ghostly figure, half-formed, its shape wreathed in shadow. One skeletal hand stretches toward her, a single finger extended.
“Get the fuck away from her,” the bodyguard growls. He lunges at the thing—but the specter moves faster.
It presses its finger to Hanna’s forehead, and I think I hear a faint hissing-sizzling sound—almost like it branded her somehow.
Then it’s gone. One minute it’s touching her and the next it has completely disappeared.
“Oh God!” Hanna gasps and collapses to her knees.
“Oh my God,” I cry, rushing to her. “Are you all right? What was that thing?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers and begins to cry as she covers her forehead.
The bodyguard searches the hut and the vines beyond, but there’s nothing. I barely notice him—all my attention is fixed on my friend.
“What did that thing do to you?” I demand, pulling Hanna’s hand away from her head.
For just a second, I see it—a symbol burned into her skin—a black sigil shaped like a skull half-hidden in shadow.
Then it fades and there’s nothing there at all—or at least, I can’t see it. I have an idea it’s still there, right between her eyes—I just can’t see it anymore.
“Did it hurt you?” I ask.
Hanna shakes, still sobbing.
“I don’t know. I think so. I don’t know. Please, I just want to go home!”
“Of course you do,” I say, trying to soothe her. “We’ll go right away.”
The day is utterly ruined, of course. We just need to get someplace safe, I tell myself—someplace Hanna can feel calm, and we can find out what happened to her.
