“It’s magnificent,” Calisa said. She drank again, and this time it tasted like a toasty fire in a hearth while snow fell outside—not that she’d sat by many fireplaces; they didn’t have one in their apartment, but it tasted the way she imagined a nice, cozy fire would feel.
Silence fell across the kitchen as they drank their hot chocolate, but this time it was a gentle quiet, and she didn’t mind it. Outside the crickets chirped, a tuneless melody, and she thought she heard an owl, low and soft. The moon was three-quarters full, and its light fell across the counter, mixing blue with the amber of the kitchen lights.
“I hope your stay in this sanctuary soothes your heart wounds,” Mulligan said.
Calisa lifted her mug in a salute. “The hot chocolate does help.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“I hope it helps you too.”
“We shall see.” Setting aside his mug, Mulligan pulled a vialout of his shirt pocket. “I do continue to try. My hope is unflagging, and my heart forever true.”
She blinked at the vial, wondering what he planned to use that for. It was made of murky glass and looked more like an antique than part of a chem lab experiment. The stopper was made of tarnished silver. He removed it and laid it on the counter.
He carefully poured hot chocolate into it while she watched. A few drops spilled onto the counter. He put the stopper back on and then cleaned the spatter. Finishing, he smiled at her with a mouth full of narrow bright white teeth as he tucked the vial back into his pocket. He patted it, as if to confirm it was safe.
Okay, that was odd. “Um, there might be a better way to transport the leftovers? Maybe a travel cup?” She crossed to the cabinets. “Or a jar with a lid?”
“This will suit my purposes,” Mulligan said.
Maybe he just wanted a tiny sip of hot chocolate for later tonight? She wasn’t sure how to ask without it sounding rude, and it really wasn’t her business anyway. She thought of Auntie Zee’s rule of no questions.
Humming to himself, a dirgelike melody in a minor key, he began putting away the vanilla, milk, and other ingredients. Calisa washed the pot and bowl, and he wiped down the counter and stovetop.
As they finished, he executed a slight bow. “I thank you again for your kindness, as well as your company.” He then shuffled out of the kitchen, bringing only the odd little vial with him. She listened to his footsteps soft on the stairs.
Calisa took another sip of her still-warm hot chocolate.
She looked out the window at the garden at night. Stars were strewn across the sky, and a cloud drifted across the moon. Shedidfeel better.
Everything is going to be okay.I’mgoing to be okay.
There was just one more thing she had to do, and then she thought she’d be able to fall asleep. Carrying her mug with her, she went to the end of the hallway of supply closets. She stopped in front of the broom closet.
Calisa took a fortifying sip as she contemplated the door, feeling a little silly for still thinking she saw and heard more than old hinges and a shadowy closet, and then she opened it. The door didn’t shriek, groan, or howl. Inside, the closet held only brooms and mops.
She closed the door and went to bed.
Chapter Five
Outside the window, birds chirped like it was some kind of Disney movie.
Calisa yanked the pillow out from under her and squeezed it over her face and ears. It made the room somewhat darker, but the birds were still shrieking,“Tweelee, tweelee!”and“See see see!”and—“Gah!” she said.
Sitting up, she looked at her phone. Five-thirty-five? In the morning?
The songbird on her windowsill took off at her sudden movement. She heaved herself out of bed, intending to pull the curtains shut. She hadn’t realized her room faced east, though even if she had, she wouldn’t have guessed that was a problem. It wasn’t an issue at home. Usually, the streetlights, the headlights from the cars, and the change of the nearest traffic light invaded her sleep. Morning came darkly, with a steady increase of noise, not with all this chirpy fanfare. Reaching the window, she looked out.
Mist curled over the forest, and lemon light stained the tops of the mountains. It felt as if she were looking at a painting. She stared out at it, her hand on the curtain, unwilling to close it. As the sun spread over the pine trees, Calisa decided she didn’t hate the birds if they came with a view like this. She left the curtain alone.
Awake now, she trooped down the hall to the shared bathroom, showered, and dressed. It too was quaint, with a claw-foot bathtub as well as an archaic-looking shower, but the plumbing worked fine at least, once she figured out which knob did what.
As Calisa brushed her wet hair, she heard a low murmuring whisper outside the door. She stopped and tried to hear whose voice it was. “Hello? I’m in here.”
Another whisper joined the first—or was that a third?—but now they sounded distant. She thought of the odd whispers she’d heard underneath the porch. These sounded like that, garbled and far away.
Finishing her hair, she cracked open the door and peeked out into the hall. “Hello?”
