I know I have viciously denied you all for some months, but I have a new chapter. It's short, but it should sate you guys while I work on the next chapter. Enjoy, and I'll see you down below.


She did not seem to remember the incident. The very next day, Aminta-Rose was back to her studies and her routines as though nothing had happened. I kept my eye on her as well as her father, who did not seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary had occurred. The only major difference I could see was that she actively sought out her father's presence, even if they would not talk. She was persistent about keeping those "earbuds" lodged in her skull regardless of company.

Monsieur Bernard continued to make his presence unwelcome in my house, though it seemed that his pupil had adjusted very well to him. I had to say, she picked up the French language quickly under his tutelage. Probably had something to do with his numerous rants.

Madame Giry did her best to avoid contact with the Dubois child. That was very clear. If Aminta-Rose entered a room that the old matron was cleaning, she would simply leave and wait until the girl was bored and left before continuing her chores. It seemed to work for the both of them, and I saw no real problem with the arrangement.

It did not slip my notice that she would spend several hours out in the gardens. Under naïve pretenses, I assumed that she enjoyed the roses and lilacs, the muguets and the irises. She would often leave with her lips pursed and her eyes hooded, lost in the musings of her own mind. It was a rare day that she returned without a smile painting her face and a faint blush peeking through.

One day, while the sun shone through colored leaves all across the estate, I followed her. She slipped out the front door whereas I kept to the confines of the house, gliding from window to window as she walked across the grass. Resting on her arm was a basket, filled with treats I had watched her prepare. Three sandwiches. I had never seen her finish more than one and a half.

I faltered as I watched her approach two men who had been kneeling in one of the flower beds. One was rather old, Madame Giry's husband. Mathis, I remembered. He had been a handsome youth, but he was now reduced to a thin man, frail enough that a strong wind could blow him over.

Beside him knelt a face I had not seen in many years. Every logical part of my brain kept reminding me that there was no way it was him. He has been dead longer than the house has stood. Yet that loud, shrill voice screamed at the way his hand met hers as he took a sandwich.

Insolent boy! Bastard! Why is he here? Why is he alive? Why is he near Aminta-Rose? My fists tightened until the nails would have been cutting into my palms. Her eyes were shining in the light as she talked with them. My chest nearly burst when she knelt beside that perfect copy and joined in the work around the roses. Mathis removed himself to the bench and took up giving orders while that boy and Aminta-Rose rooted through the roses and drew out rotted stalks.

She winced and drew her thumb to her mouth. My eyes narrowed as the boy immediately reached out and took her hand in his own. He traced lines in her hand as he looked at the wounded finger. Let go of her. Let go. Let go. The three began laughing together, and Mathis produced a small strip from his pocket. She applied it herself, shaking off both of the men beside her, and continued to laugh.

Until she looked up.

Blue met amber and all was still for a second. She shot straight up and, having given some sort of excuse to the men, ran around to the front of the house. I kept my eyes on that perfect specimen, pouring all the heat that had generated in my body into the glare. He shook ever so slightly. A smirk fell upon my lips. He can feel it. He knows I'm watching.

The thumps of muted footsteps came upon me. Aminta-Rose. I stepped back against the wall, nestled into the shadow. She shot around the corner. Our eyes met briefly. She walked past me as she scanned the hallway. There was no sound but the short breaths that came out of her in huffs. Her face was slightly flushed, the light in her eyes shining just a smidge brighter.

It faded as she walked past again. Her head hung down, her lips pursed and her eyes darker. She had not found what she wanted. Casting one last look down the walls, she sighed and rounded the corner again. Was it me she was looking for? No, no it couldn't have been. She's smart enough to know not to do that.

She returned to the men outside, much to my dismay. I did notice something. She was drawing away from them, sitting further from both the young man and the window. She wrapped her arms around her body like she had felt a stinging chill, and when that boy tried to offer her his coat she rejected it and smiled at him.

That smile. It was not organic. Her eyes were not crinkled at the corner, her cheeks were not rosy at the tops. Her mouth strained to meet the expectation the line presented. It was not her smile, but the smile of the automatons that he had worked with so often in the past.

That night she was silent. I listened for the sound of her machine clicking, or the invisible person who talked her down into relaxation and rest, but neither could be heard. Her father was already snoring at the other end of the house, so I decided it was not too dangerous to peek in and check on her.

She was sitting up against the head rest, head buried in her knees once more. "Aminta-Rose? Are you quite alright?" I whispered, letting my voice echo from wall to wall.

Her head shot up, eyes staring directly ahead of her as though she could pierce the veil and lay her eyes on me once more. That fire was snatched away and she compressed herself once more. "Am I finally going crazy?" She breathed, quiet and personal and not meant for me.

Yet how I longed for it. For the whispers of trust. The confidence of the innocent…

She was not her, there were very few similarities to start with. She would never have questioned her sanity, going so far as to delude herself into thinking a demon could be an angel. But this creature, this unusual specimen, she did no such thing. The few times she looked up, her eyes shivered from side to side as though she could catch her sanity in the air around her.

I took a breath. You don't have to do this. That infernal voice crooned. It's as easy as staying silent. She'll never know. As we stood parallel, I felt a deeper breath fill my lungs.

"No, not yet." The words fell out before I had a chance to really think about them.

Her head lifted again, and her eyes fell on me. Truly fell on me. She can see me. I should go, it isn't decent to be alone with a young woman. Despite my thoughts, or perhaps in spite of them, I remained still as did she. Muscles taunt, she unraveled herself and slowly edged off her bed.

Lord, what have I done? I need to leave. One foot, then two touched the ground so softly that it rivalled a cat's paw.

She will revile you. Run, now! Her hand reached out. It touched my glove. Heat bloomed immediately, taking hold of my whole body.

There was no escape now. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable. What have I done?


Hello, duckies.

I'm so sorry it's taken so long to post again. My muse is floating in and out, which is no fun for anyone. I did manage to buckle down and finish this, though it's not as long as I would have liked it to be. Anyway, I want to have another chapter up by next month, but I'm not going to make any promises. I love you all! I promise!

PM me any questions, ideas, thoughts, et cetera. And don't forget to leave a comment and follow for more!

Je t'aime,

Eliyah