Plagued by never-ending nightmares and cursed with a mysterious ability to sense others' emotions, 19-year-old Diana Massey is no stranger to the peculiar. Bizarre events start piling up when a young man named Casimir comes to live at her family far...
"I don't know where to begin," I remarked, laughing nervously. My eyes flew up into the ceiling, trying to ward off my oncoming tears.
"I would like to explain."
"Oh, would you now?" I scoffed, my temper flaring. When I had begged them for an answer before they were silent, but now he wanted to come clean. I glared at Grandpa as I continued, gesturing wildly as I spoke. "So, can you explain to me why my homeroom teacher lured me away and then attacked me? Or maybe the part where Mr. Burke transformed into some sort of monster? What about when Casimir showed up and killed him with a sword? Then how he just disappeared, poof turned into ash. Which part would you like to cover first?"
"Diana," my grandfather said, reaching out to touch my hand. I jerked away, splashing water on my lap. Tears spilled out of my eyes as I remembered the events. I knew it probably wasn't fair to my grandfather but I was upset and angry at him.
"I need a minute," I gasped, rubbing at my tears. I hated crying in front of people, especially my grandfather.
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"Take a few deep breaths. I promise I will explain," he said, handing me a wad of napkins for my wet lap. I traded my water cup for the napkins, dabbing at the damp spot on my dress. I used the remaining napkins to wipe the tear stains off of my cheeks. I worked at calming my breathing as I fiddled with my used tissue. Dark smudges of mascara and eyeliner were streaked across the flowery pattern of the napkin. Once I was calmer I looked over at my grandfather, ready for him to speak. He produced a small silver jar and unscrewed the lid to show me the contents.
"This is a salve for your bruises, it should help with the pain, and speed healing." He tilted the jar towards me, gesturing for me to take it. I held out my hand to receive it, immediately lifting it to my nose to smell its scent. It looked and smelled like a body butter you could buy in a drug store, with a hint of lemongrass and ginger. I took a small sample of the salve, rubbing it gently on my bruised wrist. I winced as I touched the nasty purple welt, gritting my teeth as I massaged the medicine into my skin. Almost immediately I felt a soft tingle and was quickly amazed as the bruising faded from a violent purple to a soft grey.
"What the heck?" I murmured, turning my wrist around and wiggling my fingers. "This is incredible. Where did you get this stuff?"
"I made it," Grandpa admitted.
"It's like magic," I whispered, watching as the bruise grew even lighter. The pain was almost gone.
My grandfather sighed deeply. "In a way, it is magic."
I stopped wiggling my hand to stare at my grandpa. "Say what now?" I scoffed.
"What I am about to tell you will be hard to comprehend at first," Grandpa hesitated, rubbing at the side of his head. He was still wearing the clothes from the open house, only he had ditched his jacket, untucked his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. He looked like he hadn't slept.
