Page 42 of The Harbinger
“He can’t help you here.”
“You scared me. Again.” I walked away from the corner, the voices silent, and sat on the bench beside him, trying to catch my breath.
That was real.There was someone in the closet with me. Because if it wasn’t real, my amnesia had worsened to auditory hallucinations that didn’t include my sister’s voice.
My chest pinched tight.
“What were you doing?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.” The dress I’d touched swayed along the floor like a pendulum. If he thought I was more mental than he knew about, would he kick me out and leave me to my own devices in a foreign country? But then again, he’d threatened me just last week if I’d lied to him… “I was just admiring the dress.”
He raised a brow, then ushered me out of the closet.
We walked down the stairs, my hand tight on the railing, and the warm, nutty brew wafting in from the kitchen met me halfway down the staircase.
“It smells amazing.”
My stomach rumbled as I walked into the kitchen ahead of Sacha, my feet moving as though my body’s agenda for food outweighed my freewill.
Chef Francesco worked over the stove, creating a fancy scrambled egg with cream and butter, and on the counter where I’d sat before was a tray of buns with some sort of cheese in the center, along with fresh bread and raspberry jam. Francesco glanced up at me as I slid onto the chair, but before I could fully seat myself, Sacha took my arm and lifted me.
“We eat at the table.”
He turned me through an open doorway connected to the kitchen into a large octagonal dining area with a grand round table that could seat twelve without bumping elbows. Floor-to-ceiling windows encased in black frames gave us a one-hundred and eighty-degree view of the property.
Light which had assaulted my eyes upstairs, mounted a further attack, driving stakes through to my brain. “It’s so bright in here.” I winced and covered my eyes with my hand as Sacha sat me down, then took his seat beside me.
“The sun will do you good. You’re pale.”
Heels clacked on the floor behind us, and I turned.
An older woman with solid white hair, green eyes, and deep-set wrinkles walked in, carrying a tray of coffee and another tray from the kitchen.
Her blue flower dress hung past her knees with a small oval opening at the back. Her black heels were short and wide, ensuring she wouldn’t fall on the marbled floor while carrying the food and doing her job.
The woman placed the tray of food down in front of us, then, after freeing her hand, she gave us our coffee in small cups.
“This is Albina. She works in the kitchens.”
The woman didn’t smile or acknowledge my existence. Instead, she bowed her head.“Zhelayete chto-nibud’ yeshchyo?”
“Nyet.”
Albina glanced at me through the corner of her eye, then back to Sacha. I’d have missed the glance if I hadn’t been studying her light purple eyeshadow and perfect liner.
She nodded. The small tendrils that had been purposely left out of her loose French twist swayed with the motion, then she turned and left.
“She’s friendly.” I scoffed and sipped my coffee, hesitant she might have poisoned it first.
“Bina is in the kitchen for a reason.” He grabbed a bun off the tray and placed it in front of me. “Vatrushka. It’s one of my favorites.”
So she couldn’t give anyone a death glare? Or was it easier for her to dose her enemies with arsenic when she’d disguised it as food?I wrinkled my nose and picked it up for a smell. “What’s in it?”
“Cream cheese, eggs, sugar, and golden raisins.”
Although it looked appetizing, the smell was less than savory, and the ingredients sounded more like a dessert than a breakfast.
“I think I’ll just have some toast and jam.”