Our mission was covert, then.
I text one of our enforcers that didn’t join us tonight.
Meet me first thing in the morning. I want you at the library by eight o’clock sharp.
Yes, sir. Of course. Anything amiss?
Aye, but it will keep until the morning.
I scroll a little more but find nothing. No missing person reports. Nothing at all except the mass times Father MacGowen posted an hour ago. Does he want to keep up a sense of normalcy or the like?
I poke around online but find nothing of interest. Finally I type inCan you train an older dog to be a guard dog?
I find an article and read until my head droops and my eyes feel heavy. I slide it onto the table beside me and fall into a weird, dreamless sleep.
I wake the next morning before the sun rises. I typically like to get up before everyone else does. Puts me in a good mindset for the day.
I don’t go straight to the workout room this time. My mind is on the girl upstairs.
Did she sleep last night? Does she have anything to say to me today?
I quickly shower and change, toss on a pair of joggers and a tank so I can work out later, and instead of heading down to breakfast, go straight upstairs to her.
Is that someone walking in one of the rooms down the hall? I pause on the landing, listening, and hear the distinct sound of someone in another room. Instead of going to her room, I head in the direction of the noise I hear. I creep quietly so I can see whoever it is without them realizing I’m here.
I walk wordlessly down the hall and peer into a room. Ailsa, wearing her black and white staff uniform, busies herself dusting the room and humming to herself. She’s a young, attractive young woman, the niece of one of our staff members. Her light blonde hair’s pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she’s got headphones in as she softly sings to herself. She turns to dust a mirror and nearly screams when she sees me.
“Oh, Mr. Cowen, I didn’t see you there, sir!”
I stand in the doorway, my arms crossed on my chest. "Didn’t you, then?”
She swallows hard. “No, sir.”
“What brings you up here?”
She blinks in surprise. “It’s Thursday, sir. We always dust the upstairs of a Thursday.”
Do they? I had no idea.
“Did you go down to the guest room at the far end of the hallway?”
She shakes her head. “No, sir. Islan made it clear we weren’t to go there.”
I make a mental note to thank Islan for this small favor.
“No one’s allowed up here until further notice.”
Her eyes go to the door, and she looks at me as if I might snarl and bite if she goes past me. Goddamn it, I’m out of patience. “Go.”
She runs past me and straight for the stairs. I shake my head and call Islan.
She answers in a bored voice. “Yes, brother, dear.”
“I need some clean clothes for the girl.”
“Paisley’s clothes are more likely to fit her than mine.”
I don’t respond at first, then reluctantly admit, “Fairly certain Paisley’s not speaking to me.”
