The place looked different that time. It was sunk in shadows, but some shapes could be recognized here and there. But that time it wasn't like he was walking over mud. A black, dense liquid reached his ankles and made no sound when he walked. In fact, everything was ominously quiet. He looked around trying to identify anything around him. But the shapes scattered around weren't that familiar to him. Yet the child had a heavy feeling of acquaintance. He stopped his trail when a far murmur filled the silence at his back. He turned around and discovered more darkness. Again, there were no ceiling nor floor. He shivered and resumed his wandering.

"Hello?"

The ambience smothered him and swallowed his low voice. The child felt a shiver down his spine and began to run aimlessly. He could have sworn that something had tried to grab his shoulder and had failed by mere inches. The black mud agitated around him with each step and its surface curved in silent waves. His lungs compressed. The air felt like a dense fog, flooding his lungs, oppressing them from inside, blocking his throat…


A bark. Another one, closer that time. Bright light over his closed eyelids, shaking him from his slumber. He tried to remove the hand pressed against his forehead with no avail.

"-cold towels, hurry-"

"-go wait outside, Ciel, take Seb-"

"But-"

The boy opened his eyes and stared at the puddle of colours hovering over him. A mass of red at his right, a bluish one floated at his left a little further. He blinked and cleared his eyes slowly, his eyelids felt heavy. He just wanted to sleep more, but his body felt warm and cold at the same time. His lungs didn't hurt, but his head was another matter. A pulse had starting to grow behind his eyes and had found its place under his temples. Each time his heart throbbed, a wave of pain flooded his head.

"-darling?"

He had to answer, yet the words were stuck in his chest. He coughed to clear his throat and his lungs protested. It felt like a bunch of nails embedded in his bones. His hand clutched the sheets and he took a deep breath. The child started to recognize the shapes around him: his aunt was at his right and held a cold towel against his forehead, and his father was leaving the room. He didn't want to be alone. He dreaded it.

"Wait!"

The cold water against his forehead felt refreshing, yet his throat hurted because of his shouts. Another cough shook his body and the child closed his eyes. If he could just sleep, but the nightmare felt still too recent, too real.

"He has to leave, but you can see him later, I promise."

His aunt was always so kind, so patient. She applied more pressure on the towel and massaged his temples with delicacy. Her thumbs felt cold.

"You have a fever, you fell asleep. Do you remember it?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes, delving in the soft touch of her hands against his skin. Angelina removed some sweat covered locks and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"It's fine, I'm going to take care of you now. I have to low your temperature first."

"My throat hurts."

"Because of the cough, darling. Does your chest hurt?"

"Not much."

The woman took mental notes about everything and removed the damp towel. She took another one and plunged the cloth in a basil full of cold water. She twisted and drained the excess of water before she placed it over her nephew's forehead. The boy grabbed her wrist and she tensed her jaw. His hand felt cold despite his fever. That wasn't a good sign.

"I don't want to fall asleep again, auntie…"

"You have to rest if you want to be healthy soon. Did you have nightmares again?"

He averted his blue eyes and turned his head. He hadn't told anyone he was having them, why would he want to worry them even more? His family had enough taking care of his mother. The child coughed again and Angelina lent him a handkerchief with haste.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. You have nothing to fear, they're just dreams. Plus, nothing it's going to hurt you."

"Do you promise it?" asked the boy with a thin voice. His breathing was becoming more toilsome each time he talked, and Angelina pressed a finger against his lips.

"I promise it. Now be quiet, you will hurt your throat."

He gave a silent nod and closed his eyes with anguish. What if she was wrong?


One hour later Angelina left the room. She rested her weight against the wooden door and drew a hand to her mouth. The other one was clutching a blood stained handkerchief and the woman took a long breath to calm her nerves. It was futile, because tears flooded her eyes anyway and she found herself sobbing in the middle of the hall. Her body shook with each silent whine and she tried her best to regain her composure. Just when she had thought she had the fever over control, and the coughing was recessing, her nephew had coughed a bit of blood. Just like Rachel three days ago. Angelina cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. She didn't want to be seen -nor heard- like that. Her steps sounded dull against the carpet that adorned the hallway as she strolled to Vincent's bureau, where he was waiting with Ciel. When she finally arrived, she took some seconds more to calm down while she was looking through the windows. The warm weather was gone and had been replaced with clouded skies and scarce rains. The air felt wet and the atmosphere felt charged, as if the skies were loading static for the incoming storms. October was drifting away fast and no one was noticing it. The woman turned her back to the clear windows and knocked the door in front of her.

"Come inside."

The door made no sound when she entered the bureau and closed it behind her. Vincent was sitting at his desk, his elbows resting on the table and his hands covered his mouth. He looked tired, his almond eyes had lost their usual brightness and the man looked paler than other days. Angelina could had sworn that he hadn't slept anything in the past two days, judging by his sunk shoulders and the bags under his eyes. Sitting in front of him was Ciel, occupying one of the two chairs reserved for visitors. The child was tired too, and his usual cheerful mood had been replaced by a somber look in his eyes. At the boy's feet laid the family dog resting his weight on his tum with his paws crossed. The Borzoi lifted his head when she entered, but lost his interest soon and rested it on top of his paws again. Ciel sighed and slouched in his seat, but as soon as he saw his aunt, he straightened his back.

"How is he, Angelina?"

Vincent spoke with a tired tone. He placed his hands on the desk and stood up from his seat. The Earl fixed his eyes on the redheaded woman with expectation. She went to the desk and sat when he made a gesture, then sat down too. A sigh left her mouth and she crossed her hands over her lap. Her eyes drifted to a white square: she was still clutching the blood stained handkerchief. She licked her lips and crumpled it between her fingers.

"He fell asleep because of the fever. His temperature is regular, as well as his breath." Angelina peered at her older nephew with concern before she continued, but Vincent gestured her to keep talking. "Because of his state I didn't force him to purge anything, and choose instead to infuse some herbs. After he breathed the vapors his cough seemed to diminish enough to drink. I gave him some water, and applied an A. B. C. liniment* over his chest."

"Did it work?"

"Seems like it. Vincent, did you locate someone else?"

Ciel's eyes fixed on his father, then wandered to his aunt with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean about someone else, aun-"

"Ciel, I told you to be quiet when adults are talking."

"Sorry, father…"

Angelina frowned and started to fidget with the handkerchief between her hands. The cloth felt a bit damp because of her sweaty palms and the woman rubbed them against her skirt. Her nephew shut up and looked at his feet with sadness.

"Vincent, there's no need to scold him. Ciel did nothing wrong."

"I'm tired. Excuse me, Ciel. I know you are worried, we all are, but you have to keep your manners."

"I know."

"Back to the topic, Angelina… I found one, I believe. I have to discuss the matter with him in depth, but I believe in his knowledge. Will you check Rachel later, once you have had some rest?"

"Of course."

The woman relaxed her hands and smoothed her skirt with slow movements. The fatigue was making a dent on her, and no matter how much she wanted to attend her sister as soon as possible, she knew her brother-in-law was right. She needed some rest, maybe just some minutes alone having a light beverage to replenish her strength. Angelina forced a smile on her red lips and faced her nephew.

"Ciel, do you want to have a tea with me? After that I'll check your mother too."

"I don't want them to die."

Vincent shared a look with the woman and curved his lips in a tender smile.

"No one is going to die. You have my word."

The Earl stood up and helped his sister-in-law, then his son. Sebastian trotted behind them and nuzzled his snout against his legs. Vincent patted his head with affection and the Borzoi followed them outside the bureau. The man closed the door behind them and closed his eyes with relief, as if closing that door he was enclosing all his fears inside that room, at least for a while. A grey light illuminated the hall and he looked through the window, observing in silence the large mass of clouds gathered over the state. Autumn was never a welcomed season.


* A. B. C. liniment was a rubbing mixture used to treat rheumatism, diverse pains, and stiffness. It was a mix of aconite, belladonna and chloroform. It was used around 1872, and lead to at least one known death.