He would simply have to face that difficulty when it arrived. First he had to find Amadeus.
Seven
Jocelyn was floating in that peculiar world between wake and sleep when the shadowy form appeared beside her bed. Oddly she felt no fear as she sat upright to regard the apparition. Not even when a soft glow of illumination suddenly flared about the intruder.
Instead, her eyes widened in bemused wonder.
"Molly," she whispered softly, easily recognizing the freckled countenance and reddish curls.
"Thank goodness I have found you, Miss Kingly," the young maiden said, her expression filled with fear.
A cautious voice in the back of Jocelyn's mind warned her that something was wrong. It whispered that there was something that she should remember about Molly.
But cloudy confusion seemed to fill her thoughts, and it was impossible to think clearly.
"What are you doing here?" she asked instead.
The girl pressed her hands to her bosom as she leaned over the bed. "I need you."
"Are you in trouble?"
"Terrible trouble. I am so afraid. Will you help me?"
"Of course." Jocelyn frowned, shaking her head as she attempted to clear the fog of sleep from her mind. "What can I do?"
"Come with me."
"Come? Come where?" Jocelyn watched the apparition float toward the door, that voice of warning still sounding deep within her. "Molly?"
The woman stood at the door, waving an impatient hand toward the reluctant Jocelyn.
"Come."
With sluggish reluctance Jocelyn forced herself to climb out of the bed. This was all wrong.
Why would Molly be in her home at this time of night? And yet, she could not fail Molly. The maiden had come to her for help, and it was her duty to do whatever she could to provide assistance.
"Where are we going?" she demanded as she hurried across the uneven floorboards. Molly did not answer as she slipped into the dark hall and headed for the stairs. "Molly, wait."
The maiden did not halt as she continued over the landing and down the steps. Jocelyn moved to follow the shimmering form, but without warning a hand reached out to grasp her arm in a firm grip.
"No, Jocelyn, you must stop."
Decidedly confused, Jocelyn turned her head to discover an old gypsy woman standing at her side. She gave a vague blink, not certain how her home came to be cluttered with so many unexpected guests.
"Please, I must go," she said in thick tones, realizing that Molly had disappeared from sight.
"Molly needs me."
The thin, wrinkled face hardened at her words. "No, it is not Molly."
"Of course it is. I just saw her."
"No, do you not remember? Molly is dead."
A sharp pang abruptly stabbed Jocelyn's heart even through the cloud of confusion.
"Dead? But she was here."