Page 102 of Black Castle

She pushes open the door to the garage, stepping into the dimly lit space. But something feels off. The garage is way too spacious.

Her eyes scan the room, searching for the missing puzzle exactly.

And then it hits her.

Isadora’s Ford Fusion is gone.

Her breath catches immediately, her heart hammering. How did this happen? How does she begin to explain this?

She scans the room again, eyes searching odd corners that would normally not fit a safety pin let alone a fucking car.

Was there a burglary? Did someone break in and steal the car?

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Her trembling hand fumbles for her phone. She quickly swipes the screen, her free hand diving into her fiery hair, tugging as she dials up Kenji’s number.

“I’m so dead, Kenji.” Her voice shakes as she paces back into the living room. “Isadora’s car is gone.”

“Gone?” he asks. “What do you mean, gone? Gone how?”

“She didn’t travel with her car, Kenji.” She scrubs a hand through her face furiously. “She left the car at home. I just went to grab cleaning supplies from the store but the car isn’t there. She’ll kill me, Kenji. She’ll kill me.”

“Okay, calm down…” His words blur as the distant sound of a car rumbles up their driveway.

Vivienne freezes, heart pounding. She dashes to the kitchen window, finger gripping the frame. Her breath catches at the sight of Isadora’s Ford Fusion pulling into the garage. And behind the wheels is none other than the sea witch, Isadora Rivera.

Vivienne staggers back, throat dry.

“Vee?”

“-She’s…she’s back?” She asks for confirmation from Kenji even though she is the one staring across as the car pulls into the garage. “But she said she was going away for a week.”

“What?” Kenji’s confusion cackles through the phone.

“I’ll call you back.” She ends the call just as the car’s engine dies in the garage. She sets the phone on the kitchen counter, wiping her sweaty palms on her shorts.

A moment later, the door creaks open as the sharp echo of Isadora’s heels clicks against the floor, slicing through the quiet house.

Vivienne steps into the living room, schooling her expression.

Isadora is a criminal profiler, but Vivienne plans to play it cool and not get caught in her net. If she couldn’t profile her dad, she doubts she can profile her right now.

Isadora arrives in the living room, pulling off her dark sunglasses. She scans the room slowly and deliberately until her dark brown eyes fall on Vivienne.

A chill runs through Vivienne. But she holds Isadora’s gaze, knowing full well that avoiding eye contact is a dead giveaway.

The silence in the room stretches until Isadora exhales a soft, mocking chuckle. Then fixing her sunglasses on, she turns and walks away.

No words. No confrontation. Just an eerie, suffocating air of knowing.

Vivienne watches her disappear down the hall and into her room, unease uncurling in her stomach.

Isadora knows something. But what?

For the next two hours, Vivienne scrubs every inch of the house—except for Isadora’s room—waiting for Isadora to reemerge. But she never did.

Now at 10. p.m, she is on the phone with Kenji while setting up her workstation.

She spent every penny on that trip to Russia. If the universe is kind, just maybe she will encounter more people trying to commission a character art. Because right now, she needs the money. And a distraction.

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