Protection From a Stranger (excerpt)

Though she felt the weight of her gaze, Lilith ignored her. Poor attempts to get her attention - cough, cough. What a pest this woman was. She supposed that cough was a hint. Impending danger did nothing to quell the petty annoyance swelling within her.

Shifting the papers before her, her hands disrupted the pool of smoke that had spilled from the glass piece and onto the desk. Lilith had the ritual and charm practiced, but still, she was nervous. She took a sip of liquor from the muddy-colored glass beside her.

She lifted the pipe again, and Lucille could no longer refrain, rising from her chair,

“Lilith, if you do not extinguish that now...”

“Big talk from a woman who needs protection from her own mother.”

Lilith was wry, but her taunt did nothing to lighten the air, which was heavy with smoke and fear.

Lucille’s expression, having previously held prim - darkened, “I told you, that thing, whatever it is -- it is no longer my mother. Whatever I spoke to, whatever monster sitting behind those eyes, it was a stranger. Something has consumed her.”

She stepped before Lilith at the desk, her tone low and clipped, “I assume you know what a blow it is to my pride, coming to you with this...problem.” She eyed Lilith - continuing, “Considering my previously held opinions on the validity of your...talents, I am grateful for your help.” She swatted at a fresh plume of smoke from Lilith, who nodded - drawing again from the pipe.

“But - given the potential danger of this encounter - wouldn’t some lucidity be advantageous?” She raised her eyebrows at Lilith, who now held an indulgence per hand. The stranger had been tracking Lucille for days now, and the frailty of her composure was apparent, even in her condescension.

    “I am lucid.”

Lilith felt no obligation to explain her methods to someone who had - until yesterday, decried her as a fraud. Only her severe pragmatism had brought Lucille here, and only by the end of her own rope.

Lucille opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a scratching at the door. Lilith leapt to her feet. Liquid bravado and all, she felt ice crawl up her spine.

There was a shrill muttering at the door then, feverish and unnatural.

“Lucilleeeeee.”

Lilith’s stomach twisted violently. She looked to Lucille, whose face was bloodless. Lilith lifted her hands, which had clutched the wooden ledge of the desk with such vigor that her knuckles were white.

“Lucilleeeeee.”

They locked eyes then, and Lilith tightened the leather strap at her waist. They both stepped to the door, and the stranger behind door grew silent at their approach. Lucille's hand hovered above the handle, and she looked to Lilith, who nodded.

They did their best to ignore the low cackle that broke the silence.

“Open the door.”