“Hi, Sally!” Genevieve leaned down and gave the girl a hug. It was her first day back in school after she visited her uncle, and the older woman wanted to make sure everything was still going to plan, “Did you have fun with your uncle?”

  “Hi Genevieve!” She beamed at the attention, “I did!”

  “Very good.” She pet the young girl on her scalp, “Say, how would you feel about me coming over later -”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” The little girl apologized, “But Gustave and Ma?lle are coming over to my house later.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Though the teacher’s voice was even and pleasant, her calm facade belied her true irritation. She could feel her control over the girl slipping, “Are you sure? I thought you realized you’re much too smart for the other kids.”

  “Well, my dad’s going to be home more,” Sally said, happy, “And he says that I should spend more time with kids my own age. He says it will help my de - dev - devel -”

  “Development.”

  “My development.” She corrected herself.

  “Very good, Sally.” The teacher praised her younger acquaintance, “Are you sure? I’d love to continue our conversation from last time.”

  “Of course!” The young girl was completely unaware of the implications, of course, “But why not now?”

  “Haha.” She laughed, shushing the blonde, “That’s something private, Sally. Other kids might get jealous if they know we’re talking in private.”

  “Ok.” She perked up, smiling ear to ear, before she skipped off, “See you later, Genevieve!”

  “Wait, Sally -” She tried to call out, to no avail. She grunted in frustration, Sally was getting further and further away from her, and she knew it. So, realizing that it would be difficult to get at her dad through her, she hatched another plan.

  —

  “Bye bye, Ma?lle! Bye bye, Gustave!” Sally bounced on her heels as she quickly waved her arm back and forth. The two kids were brother and sister, and the sister shared a number of interests with Sally, although somewhat ironically she was much more energetic and active while playing, preferring the jump rope in particular.

  They had begun the day by exchanging stories of their respective teachers, for they were in separate classes. Her brother, too, though he was mostly forced to come along to protect his sister just in case something about Sally’s family didn’t add up, reluctantly joined, telling them horror stories about the difficulty of the subjects they would be learning soon. Then, after a quick meal Django had cooked, Sally had earned his respect by helping him with work that he found particularly difficult before they resumed playing.

  “Bye, Sally!” Ma?lle mimicked her newest friend’s action by jumping and waving in excitement.

  “Goodbye, Sally.” Gustave was a bit more reserved, just choosing to wave.

  “See?” Django asked, leaning against the door of their home, “I told you - you don’t have to feel so isolated, it could be good to make friends.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Sally admitted, twiddling her fingers, “But Genevieve is still a good friend!”

  His father sighed heavily, clearly somewhat exasperated, “That’s fine, Sally. Just… Please, keep in mind that she’s quite a bit older. Don’t let her make you do anything you don’t want to.”

  “Okay, papa.” She acquiesced.

  “Good, now, they’ve been over for quite some time.” He said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes!” The little girl replied, quite enthusiastically, “What did you make?”

  “Cassoulet.”

  “More stew?”

  “It’s easy.”

  “It tastes good, too.” Sally commented.

  Then why are you complaining? Django thought. He did not, however, vocalize it because there was no reason to, and ultimately it was of little consequence since the food was made and there was no changing it.

  —

  True to his word, Django had spent more time with his daughter. While he still had quite a lot of responsibilities in his new role, his colleagues were more than understanding, seeing as he was a single parent. Such a good parent, in fact, that he had again begun to make connections with other parents, with whom he could’ve become good friends.

  Regardless, he was greeted at his door, as he left for work, by one such parent. A man, with a worried look on his face, one Django knew as Phillippe. He hurriedly grabbed Django by the shoulder, asking, “Django! How goes it?”

  “Well, why?” He was startled, but nonetheless friendly as ever, wearing a smile on his visage, “Is something wrong?”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Ma?lle is missing. I know it was a week ago, but she came over here.” Phillippe’s tone was understandably worried and frantic, and now that Django got a good look, it looked like the man hadn’t slept in at least two days, “I didn’t want anyone to think less of me, so I’ve kept quiet. But it’s been three days now, and I’m worried sick.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Django ushered the man in; he could be a few minutes late to comfort a potential friend, “I haven’t seen her, but I’ll ask Sally when she comes home. Would you like a coffee, or some bread?”

  “No, no, thank you, Django.” Phillipe said, “The constable’s organizing a search party, I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to help us look tonight?”

  “Of course, Phillipe!” Django replied, “Whatever you need. And don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find her.”

  “Thank you, you’re…” He stumbled for his words. The Bohemian’s smile was bright and friendly, with no underlying pretense, “Very kind, Django. Sincerely.”

  —

  Django, assuring Sally that he would see her when he got back, now found himself on the outskirts of the forest near town. He held a lantern in one hand, and one of the constable’s ariégeois’ leashes in his other hand. Of course, it had to be raining, and rather profusely at that.

  He was also alone, being an able-bodied, decently well-built, relatively young man meant he was perceived to be in somewhat of a lower bracket for potential danger. So, cursing that he had received neither spare boots nor an oilskin, he trudged onward, marching through the mud.

  “Oh, goodness.” He said, practically up to his knees in muck.

  He then saw a young girl beckoning him. It was faint, and immensely difficult to see through the rain and the mud getting kicked up, and the ariégois’ large body, but he saw her.

  “Ma?lle, sweetie, is that you?” He shouted. Strangely enough, even though it was raining, the dog he was holding was renowned for his (and not even just his breed’s, but this individual dog’s) smell, and thus should have been more than capable of tracking the girl.

  Regardless, it wasn’t, and so he relied upon his own sight and followed where he saw her. She would continuously lead him, deeper and deeper into the forest. Eventually, he was tempted to give up and call for help, but at the moment he thought to turn back, his dog started sniffing, barking and yapping relentlessly.

  “You smell her?” He asked, rhetorically. A few hundred feet later, and finally he came upon it.

  He nearly vomited in his mouth when he saw it - Ma?lle, the young, innocent girl that she was, lay in the mud, arms crossed over her chest. It was obvious how she died - a large vertical gash across her midsection clearly, although he wasn’t a doctor, led to her bleeding out.

  “Shit.” He said, once his stomach had mostly subsided, crying at the scene. After he’d calmed down somewhat, he went off to go alert the others.

  —

  “Sally!” Genevieve knocked at the girl’s door. Shortly, the little blonde opened it, and the angelic woman stepped through, placing her umbrella in the small holder near the threshold. “Hi, there.”

  Sally ran over and hugged the woman tightly. She didn’t notice that said woman held her hands behind her back, gripping something tightly.

  “What are you doing here?” Sally asked.

  “Well, I thought you might be lonely with your papa gone, is all.” The older woman smiled kindly.

  Sally accepted the explanation for just a moment before her eyes narrowed, “How did you know papa isn’t here?”

  “I, uh -” Genevieve shook her head to refocus her thoughts, “I heard what happened with Ma?lle, and I just assumed he would be helping to look for her.”

  “Okay!” The little girl replied, “Papa left some bread out, are you hungry?”

  “Yes, would you mind terribly fixing me something to eat?” She asked sweetly, “I’m just going to freshen up.”

  As conspicuously as possible, she hurried over to the wash closet, and discreetly packed a small sickle, stained with dried blood on the shelf. Then, taking a few minutes to look inconspicuous, she applied some makeup to her face before exiting.

  “Ooh, thank you, Sally.” She remarked, smelling the wonderful scent of jam spread upon slices of pain d’epices, “Did your dad bake this?”

  Sally then adopted a smug grin on her face, “Actually,” She said, proud, “I did!”

  “Oh, really?” Genevieve asked. It was almost unfortunate, to her, that this little girl’s life was going to be stolen from her. Almost, “When did you start baking?”

  “About a month ago.” She explained, “Papa tried to bake a cake, but he almost burned the house down.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” The angel took a bite of the food. It was very good, “Isn’t it just the worst when you try to do something nice and it turns around on you?”

  “What do you mean?” The human let loose a crunch that almost covered the thunder’s deafening crack.

  “Ah, don’t worry about it.” She said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Say, Sally, would you like to live with me? Theoretically, of course.”

  “Theoretically?”

  “I mean, we know it won’t ever happen - but if it could, would you?”

  “Hmm…” Sally tapped her chin in thought for a few moments, “I suppose. But unless you’re going to marry papa, I doubt that will ever happen.”

  “Probably not, eh?”

  —

  “Papa, what happened?” Sally, freely sobbing, asked as she clutched the bars of the cell her father was held in, “Why are you locked up?”

  “They think that I killed Ma?lle, sweetie.” Django wanted so desperately to reach out to his daughter and comfort her, but he knew better than to try, under watch, “Apparently, the weapon was found at our house.”

  “But papa -” Snot and tears ran down Sally’s face, pooling on the floor between her feet, “I know you didn’t!”

  “I know, ma princesse, I know.” He said mournfully, “And I’ll prove it to them, soon. They won’t keep me here for too long, and then I’ll come home.”

  “Alright, it’s time for you to go home, little lady.” The guard said, ushering Sally out. She turned around, and the father and daughter shared one last set of “I love you”s.

  Once the guard had escorted the little girl out, he went back to his desk, looking for something. A few minutes later, while he was neck deep in his drawers, he felt something pierce his lung from behind. Being that it was his lung, he was unable to scream as blood rushed to fill the organ.

  “Genevieve!” Django shouted, “I should have known it was you! Guards!”

  “Don’t bother,” The angel said, her eyes fixed on the Bohemian in an uncaring gaze, “No one’s coming to relieve him for another hour.”

  “What do you want?” He asked, “You want to ruin my life, take Sally away from me?”

  “I could.” She admitted, “And unless you do me a favor, I will.”

  “What?”

  “That necklace. Hand it over.” She commanded.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I thought you might be difficult.” She sighed, “But I’m only saying it one more time - unless you want Sally’s life to get a whole lot more difficult - you will hand it over.”

  Ruefully, and with great regret, he stood, tearing the jewelry off his neck. He slowly walked over the bars, and handed it to her. She smiled as she observed the outstretched offering, and grabbed it swiftly. Before she let go of his hand, however, she pulled him close, and used the afforded leverage and momentum to stab him in the chest, leaving him, too, to bleed out.

  “Adieu, Monsieur Django.”

  —

  “Damn,” Paracelsus said, shocked beyond belief, “I don’t even know what to say. That’s - that’s just horrible.”

  “Mmm.” Sally grumbled. She had turned to face toward and away from him several times in the course of telling her story, but was now faced away from him.

  “How did you find out she did it?” The captain asked.

  “I lived with her,” She replied, “For three years. One night, she got drunk, and apparently had loosened her lips enough to let that little bit slip.”

  “Wow, I am very, unimaginably sorry to her there.” He tried his best to comfort her, but he really had very little experience in that field, “If you don’t mind my asking - why didn’t you, y’know…” He dragged a thumb across his neck.

  “I thought she was joking for a while,” Sally chuckled dryly, “Can’t believe how stupid I was.”

  “Couldn’t have known any better.” Paracelsus said, “Well,” He slapped his head, realizing he forgot to bring up the most important part - the food, “Soup’s on. If you’d like, I can ask Loncére to make something special.”

  “Maybe.” Sally finally cracked the barest hint of a smile, “Maybe.”