Esther

  Esther turned her gaze back and saw the tall figure of Helena standing at the end of the crowd. Helena waved at her with a smile and said something she couldn't quite hear, though she understood what her cousin meant by her gestures.

  Good luck

  Esther nodded and followed Emma and her aunt Natalia through the side yard of Luke's house. She thought about how strange the day had been for her as she walked. She had stayed up until midnight, thinking of how she would sneak into the place, only to lose all her planning when her cousin Michael offered to do it for her, not even allowing her to refuse. And yet, in the end, she entered the property with ease, without having to make elaborate plans, without Michael's help. If she had known from the beginning that such a thing would be possible, she would not have tortured herself so much. However, not everything was resolved. She had managed to get inside, but how would she manage to be alone so she could search for the boxes?

  The women reached the backyard of the house. Esther's eyes immediately fell upon the large shed that stood there, whose double door was locked with a padlock and chain. If the boxes were on the property, they were most likely inside the shed. The problem now was how she was going to get in.

  Esther nearly screamed when she found her younger sister and Kevin standing beside the shed. Both stood up straight, with their hands stiff at their sides, looking at the women with expectation. Esther recognized the boy because she always saw him with Michael.

  But what is she doing here? Is Michael locked up in there? She wondered. She was about to ask Julie, but Natalia interrupted her.

  “Watch where you step,” Natalia said, looking at the ground.

  Esther noticed the litter scattered across the yard, between the shed and the house. There were wooden plates and cups, a porcelain washbasin cracked in half and its metal pitcher not far from it; sheets, blankets, pillows, men's and women's clothing, including underwear, were scattered across the ground. Near the children were a couple of chairs lying on their sides; one had a broken leg.

  “It's a good thing Luke only put glass on the front; otherwise there would be broken glass all over the yard,” Natalia commented, pointing to the two windows on the second floor. Both were open, but the one on the left was missing one of its wooden shutters, while the other was broken and hanging from a hinge.

  “Who caused this mess?” Emma asked, looking at Natalia as if she were blaming her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Natalia replied with a smile. “This was the work of Elisa, her husband, and the soldiers. They’re the ones who wrecked Luke’s house.”

  “Who told Clark that his wife was cheating on him?” Emma asked.

  “From what I understand, some boys went to the village green to get him and brought him here. The sergeant will tell you everything. He’s up there, waiting for you.”

  “And what are these children doing here?”

  “The sergeant will explain,” Natalia replied. She turned to Julie. “Julie, grab your friend and get out of here before the police arrive. I don’t want them to find you here.”

  “And don’t say anything about what happened, especially not to your mother, Julie,” Emma said.

  “But what if she gets angry?” the little girl squealed.

  “Tell her I gave the order. Come on, go,” Emma ordered.

  Julie nodded and ran off with Kevin the way the women had come in.

  Natalia entered the house through the back door. Now they were in the kitchen. It was of normal size, though to Esther it seemed a little small, as she compared it to her family's enormous kitchen. It had an open fire on one side and wooden cupboards and a table with four chairs on the other. A single window provided light for the room. Opposite the door they had entered through was the small hallway that connected the kitchen to the shop area. Esther saw the crowd standing outside through the hallway and the glass windows on the front.

  One of the chairs was occupied by a man wearing the military uniform of the Great Kingdom of Asprain: a red tunic with yellow facings and brass buttons; grey trousers; and a pair of black leather boots. On the table lay his musket rifle and black shako. The soldier had completely unbuttoned his tunic, revealing the white shirt he wore underneath. His forehead was covered with sweat, as was the armpits of his tunic. He was eating a piece of bread at the table while watching the three boys he had detained against the wall with their hands behind their backs. Esther recognised Taylor among them. Like the soldier, they were also sweating. She wished there were another window to ventilate the foul smell that permeated the place.

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  Emma looked at the youngsters and then at the soldier. He stood up and saluted her as if she were his officer.

  “How are you doing, priestess?” he said.

  “You could say I was doing well, but I see that's about to change,” she replied. “What are they doing here?”

  The man let out a snort. “Well, ruining everyone’s morning. We were helping our friend Natalia look for her nephew when we ran into these idiots beating up Elisa’s lover.”

  “That’s a lie! We didn’t do anything!” Taylor shouted.

  “You shut up, you idiot, or I’ll hit you with the butt of my rifle.”

  “But it’s the truth,” Taylor said.

  “We didn’t hit anyone. It was Clark and his brother who beat up Bastian. They’re the ones to blame.”

  “But you brought Elisa’s husband and his brother here to beat up her lover, didn’t you?” the soldier asked. “You’re partly to blame for what happened.”

  “So you were the ones who told Clark, right?” Emma asked.

  They remained silent.

  “This whole charade was just for a stupid revenge, wasn’t it?” Emma continued. “That’s why y’all brought Clark here, so he and his brother could do the dirty work of beating up Michael. But it turned out he wasn’t the lover. Tell me, why did y’all think he was Elisa’s lover and not Bastian?”

  That's a good question, Esther thought.

  It made sense to think that the lover was someone living in the house, like Bastian or Luke himself. The men who worked for Luke could also have been among the suspects. It was strange that Taylor and his gang didn't consider any of this and automatically accused Michael of being the lover... Esther's eyes widened as she remembered her younger sister standing next to the shed.

  Oh no, they must have seen Michael sneaking into the house, and that's why they thought he was the lover. Emma might suspect something is wrong if they tell her.

  “Don't you have anything to say?” Emma insisted.

  Taylor made a gesture as if to speak, but gave up and remained quiet.

  “Emma, we're wasting time here,” Esther said, grabbing the priestess's arm. She couldn't let her continue questioning Taylor.

  “You’re right. And what will happen to them?” Emma asked the soldier.

  “The sergeant says that since they’re accomplices in what happened, he wants to hand them over to the police and let them sort it out.”

  “By Esliana, what a disaster,” Emma sighed. “If you hadn’t left the clinic, none of this would have happened. Now you’re in serious trouble, my lads. Where are the others?”

  “No… we don’t know,” Taylor said.

  “Do you think you’re in a position to defend them?”

  Taylor remained silent.

  Emma shook her head. Her face showed her disappointment at Taylor's foolishness in speaking. “How fortunate they are to have such loyal companions.” She turned to Natalia. “Come on, take me to the wounded.”

  Natalia and Emma left the kitchen through the hallway. Esther followed them, but stopped after hearing the three boys' muffled sobs. She turned and saw Taylor with his forehead pressed against the wall and tears streaming down his face.

  You should have thought it might end this way, Esther thought, looking at the boys. Before turning away, she noticed a key ring hanging on the wall to Taylor's left. She imagined that one of the keys must belong to the padlock that secured the shed outside. The problem, however, was how she was going to take them without anyone noticing. The soldier kept his eyes fixed on her and the boys. She wished the bread would upset the man's stomach and he would rush desperately to the toilet to relieve himself. But even if that happened, Taylor and the others would still be in the kitchen. She had no choice but to give up on the idea for the moment.

  I could use Ghost Hands and take them stealthily, but everyone would see the glow and my hand shining when I cast the spell... Stupid rules that complicate everything, she cursed herself.

  The stairs to the upper floor were on the right side of the hallway. Esther climbed them while thinking about the keys, though the image of Taylor and his friends crying came back to her mind and took up most of her reflections. She did not remember ever seeing men cry. She had seen children cry, and quite a lot, both when helping Emma at the clinic and in her own home. She remembered that Michael used to complain and cry about everything that happened to him, and Natalia constantly scolded him for it. It was tiring and annoying to hear him every time he had one of his fits. One day, however, he stopped doing it. And Natalia stopped scolding him. Esther wondered if he still cried. Maybe he did it in secret to avoid being scolded.

  Thinking about her cousin and aunt, she remembered what the soldier had said: that they were helping Natalia find Michael. Esther looked at her aunt and at the wooden swords she was carrying, wondering what new madness she was planning.

  The upstairs floor had a hallway that ran the length of the house and connected to four rooms: two to the right of the stairs and two to the left. Natalia entered one of the rooms on the left that had its door open. Esther wrinkled her face when she saw the hideous yellow wallpaper they used on the walls.

  “It’s good you’re here, ma’am,” she heard someone say from the hallway. “We urgently need your help.”

  “Sergeant Brody,” Emma said as she entered the room. “I see that… But what is this!?” she suddenly shouted.

  Esther rushed inside the room after hearing Emma’s yell. Her eyes widened at the sight of the tragedy before her.