of the repair. I would draw your attention to clause 12.3 in your insurance policy . . .”
Now Scarlet sits at her grandma’s favourite table by the bay window, staring into a half-empty cup of cold coffee. The café is silent. Esme is asleep upstairs. But Scarlet must tell her. She can’t keep it a secret forever. They’ll have to move—where to and how she’ll pay the rent, Scarlet has no idea. First, she’ll have to call Eli, to grovel and ask if his offer still stands. Minus £15,000 or so for ceiling repairs. And what will they be left with after that?
The moon shines through the glass, casting a sliver of light onto the little pool of coffee. Scarlet stares at it, caught by a memory of moonlight on the surface of a lake.
Scarlet frowns, trying to hold on to it. She’d seen a girl manipulating water once, creating waves that splashed on a riverbank, causing whirlpools with a clockwise turn of her index fingers. But who was the girl?
Scarlet rests an open palm atop her coffee cup, eclipsing the reflection of the moon. As her hand heats up, she tries to remember more. Then she picks up the cup and takes a sip.
11:48 p.m.—Bea
Bea wakes suddenly and fully. Sitting in the chair beside her desk is a man. Lit by the light of her lamp, he is very tall, very thin, and very old.
Strangely, she’s not scared. “Who are you?”
He smiles. “Oh, my love. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own father.”
Bea stares. It seems as if he’s been sitting in that chair for a thousand years.
“I know it’s been a while, but I don’t think I’ve aged that much.” He touches a wrinkled hand to a wrinkled cheek. “Have I?”
Bea sits up in bed. He is the man from her dream.
“But it wasn’t a dream. Surely you’ve realized that by now.”
Dazed, Bea nods.
“It’s a great joy to see you again, Beauty. I’ve missed you.”
Her father waits, perhaps expecting Bea to echo the sentiment. She does not. He studies her. Bea shifts under his gaze. If she’d thought her mamá was a falcon, then her father is a ten-headed vulture.
“You were a pretty little girl,” he says. “But you’ve become a truly beautiful woman. Like mother, like daughter. Though I suppose I should be allowed to take some of the credit. Half, by rights—perhaps more.”
“How did you get into my room?”
He smiles again. It’s a smile that makes her shiver.
“Where have you been for the last eighteen years?”
“That’s unfair,” her father says. “I’ve visited you from time to time. I know you’re starting to remember.”
Bea says nothing.
“Don’t worry.” He nods thoughtfully. “I expected you’d have conflicted feelings upon seeing me again. I hope, in time, we can resolve them.”
“So, you’re planning on sticking around then?” Bea sits up straighter. “You’ve decided to stay?”
“Well, my love. You’ve been showing such great promise lately. After the events of last week, I thought it high time we had a talk.”
Bea stares at him, speechless. Vali’s ghost has returned to her after all.
“Yes, I was very impressed.” He leans back in her chair, resting his elbows on its wooden arms, steepling his fingers. “So many of my daughters are a disappointment, but you . . . Well, your mother has done well with you.”
At the mention of her mamá, Bea scowls. Her father smiles.
“And you thought she was deranged—like so many other poor, misunderstood souls who simply see what others do not.” He raises a single eyebrow and his eyes seem to glow like a cat’s in the half-light. “I’m delighted that you’re also taking after me.”
Bea blinks. “I don’t know what you think you know but—”
“Oh, I know what you’ve been up to,” he says. “I’ve always known. You simply hadn’t shown signs of anything particularly worthwhile, until recently.”
“You’ve always known? But how is that—?”
“Possible?” He looks disappointed. “I know you’ve been willfully ignoring your mother, but after what you did to that lovesick pup I’d have thought you’d have expanded your understanding of what’s possible. And in case you’re concerned, the coroner will rule death by natural causes—heart attack.”
Bea tries to ignore her shaking hands, the increasing thump of her heart. “I don’t know how—but you’ve got no idea what happened. I’m not even—”
Her father laughs. “Oh, Bea, I know everything about you. I know your favourite breakfast cereal was Coco Pops until you turned five, when you began favouring Corn Flakes. I know you lost your virginity at