Page 85 of Into the Dark, We Go
"Can’t tell yet," her brother said, voice tight, and then ordered her, "Go back to your room."
June obeyed but lingered on the staircase, peeking through the banister posts.
A knock rang out, playful, almost musical. It landed wrong, like a happy jingle in the middle of a horror movie. Mitchell peeked through the curtain again, muttering, "What the fuck?" just before Nick reached for the door and opened it.
24
Chapter Twenty-Four
September, 2020
Tilly stepped in,immediately filling the space with her voluminous presence. Her perfume, not unpleasant but intense, rushed in with her arrival. I felt somewhat relieved that it was her. She was too open about her presence, and her twisted nature felt too exaggerated to be real. But there was something about her that kept me on edge, and I couldn’t quite explain why I disliked her so much. Was it her strange attention to Nick? Even now, her eyes went to him first, as if he were the only one she had come to see.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"How’d you find us?" Mitchell interrupted, making it clear he wasn’t playing along with the witch’s games.
"Oh, like it was hard?" The woman smiled and winked at me. I squinted, unable to contain my disdain. She chuckled and moved into the living room. "A little birdie told me. But no worries, darlings, I ain’t meanin’ ya no harm." She pointed at the gun in Mitch’s hand, "Why, this here ain’t no way to greet a lady who comes in peace."
"What are you doing here?" Mitchell repeated my question, still holding his gun up.
"Put that thing down, would ya?" she said, approaching him with ease and gently resting her hand on the weapon as if it were a mere trinket.
Mitchell clicked the safety back on.
"Are you outta your mind?" he retorted, swiftly holstering the gun, his face flushing for some reason, a deep red rushing to his cheeks.
Was Mathilda making him nervous?
"I can ask you the same," she sang in a husky voice, "Aren’t you here huntin’ ghosts? Chasin’ the devil?"
"What do you want?" Nick pushed.
Mathilda gifted him a warm, sultry glance and moved closer, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. "To help you, of course," she declared. "You came to me for help, and here I am."
"What kind of help are we talking about, exactly?" Mitchell asked.
The woman settled into a chair in one fluid, deliberate motion. "I know what you’re looking for," she said, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes, "and I’m here to tell you where it is." She placed her purse on the table.
"That’s a pretty big change from what you said last time we talked."
"Let’s say my interests–" she paused, glancing at us one by one, as if for effect, "shifted."
June snorted from the staircase. Mathilda drank her in.
"Before, I thought it best you left. For your own safety, of course. But now, why not let the kids play? Right?" She tilted her head toward Nick, eyes twinkling with amusement.
I studied the woman carefully as she sat across from us, taking in her dramatic makeup and ostentatious jewelry. She had a flair for the theatrical, but she wasn’t uninteresting. Whatbothered me was the way she was eyeing Nick, like they shared a secret no one else was privy to.
"What’cha got?" Mitchell asked with skepticism.
"Not so fast, darling," Mathilda turned to him, lifting a hand to stop him. "First, my terms."
"Here we go," Mitchell rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Always gotta be catch."
I weighed the possibilities. Did she want money? Gemstones? Firearms? A drug cartel’s cocaine stash? Dirt from the graveyard? Some kind of magical tool?
Four pairs of eyes locked on her, waiting. Mathilda’s red lips curled into a satisfied smile.
