Catherine moved toward the wardrobe and looked inside to see several of Tilly’s clothes also missing. What the hell was happening? Not only had her daughter disappeared, but now half of her things were missing from her room.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice thick with worry. Her words slurred slightly, but the urgency was apparent.
“Who... who are the Eh... Eely... Eelys’yium?”
“I need an item that belongs to your daughter,” Horous responded.
“What do you mean? Many of her belongings have already been taken!” Her frustration was mounting.
Ignoring her, Horous approached a mannequin standing near the window, draped with luxurious silks in the colours of a rainbow.
“Why won’t you answer my question?” she persisted. “Who are these people who have taken my daughter?”
Horous moved to one of the walls covered in intricately painted watercolours—forests, mythological creatures, magical beings from other worlds. Each piece was born from Tilly’s imagination.
He turned toward her hand-painted dresser and examined several sketchbooks lying nearby.
“I see your daughter’s a talented artist,” Horous said, asinister undertone creeping into his voice as he scanned the artwork.
“It’s no surprise Vareth always marks those with the greatest gifts.”
“Who is Va-rr-eth.?
His gaze shifted to Tilly’s bedside table, where a Victorian doll jewellery holder displayed an array of unique necklaces, handmade bracelets, and brooches. He stared at a delicate white gold bracelet draped over an open satin heart-shaped box.
Inside, a card read:To Tilly, from Paris with love. Grandma, XX.Two charms hung from the bracelet—one, a tiny diamond-encrusted rose: the other, a white-gold cross.
Horous picked up the bracelet and held it. “This will do.”
“What are you doing with that? Catherine demanded, agitated that Horous was touching Tilly’s belongings. “That bracelet was a gift from her grandmother before she died. It can’t be replaced!”
Horous ignored her protests, his beefy hand clamped over the bracelet. His eyes rolled back, changing colours from black to brown, hazel to olive green, and then black again, as if accessing some unseen powers.
Then, like ants scurrying from a disturbed nest, his tattoos began to shudder, whirl, and bulge from his flesh inthree-dimensional forms across his skin. Catherine gasped in horror, her instinct to flee nearly overwhelming her.
Oh, my God,” She whispered, manoeuvring back on her wheelchair.
“I can see her,” Horous shouted, staring toward the ceiling as if seeing beyond it.
Catherine looked around.
“Where? Where can you see her? Where’s my daughter?” Catherine said desperate for any clue.
“Her location is protected by a spell, but we'll find a way to break that.” Still gripping the bracelet, he turned to her with a critical question.
“Has anything unusual happened to your daughter recently? Has there been any new people in her life?”
“Why? What are you saying?” Catherine asked, confusion and fear clouding her thoughts.
“Those who took your daughter normally plan their actions before they choose their victims. Nothing they do is random.”
Shaking her head. Catherine replied,
“No. Everything’s been fine.
Then, as if a cold wind whispered in her ear, a chilling realization struck her. There was someone new in Tilly’s life.
“Donte.”
