Ink Sisters

Chapter Eleven

            "I suppose she doesn't have the time," Leandra remarks, willing her mind not to dwell on the darker conclusion.

          "Or something terrible has happened to them," Teddy says thoughtfully, tapping his chin with a smudged index finger. His bluntness doesn't startle her the way it used to. It is just the way he speaks, as if everything is merely a scientific problem with no emotional demands or qualities. It is simply a statement that holds no merit. He is thinking out loud.

            She draws slight comfort that he may regard her as something of a friend: a confidant that he can spill these over-zealous thoughts to.

            "Or she doesn't have the time," Leandra assures again with a worn smile. She reaches over and pulls Syd to her, scooping him up between her arms and chest. She hugs him to her body and backs away from the desk. Teddy follows her out into the hall.

            The house is quiet.

            Leandra draws comfort from the silence as she leans against the wall for support. She descends the stairs and finds herself in the room that changed everything. The mirror lies on its side, a forgotten link to the past and her sister. She moves and crouches beside it, her thin fingers tracing the glass. She had already asked Teddy if she could secretly go back to find her sister. He said it was impossible as they would have no idea where she was or in what time period. Also, no one to travel with, as she would need an escort from a specific time. Just thinking about it makes her sadness burrow deeper inside her.

Behind her, Teddy moves to light a fire in the grate. She hears him shuffling around with the matches, then hears the faint whoosh as a spark ignites. He steps back as the flame leaps up and nearly trips on the wolf skin rug. He straightens the edge of it with his toe before plopping down into one of the chairs beside it. Upon hearing him sit, Leandra turns around and drops down into the chair beside him. She absently glances at the desk beside her and the loose parchments that litter the surface. Nothing seems to hold her interest. Nothing seems to matter anymore.

The door that leads down into the basement opens carefully to reveal Aramis. He looks tired and tatty, purple bags have taken up residence under his kind eyes, and his steps are uncertain, as if his body has been deprived of rest. His hat sits crookedly upon his head as he steps into the room. He offers Leandra a worn smile, but she does not return it. She hasn't seen him since her sister was thrust back in time. She will not broach a conversation with him. Let him be the one to start.

"I suppose we'll be moving soon," he says as he bends down to warm his fingers in front of the flames. It is the first time Leandra has seen him without his gloves on. She doesn't know what she expected his hands to look like, maybe dragon claws or deformed, blackened digits, but they seem normal enough.

"I reckon so," Teddy agrees. "If only Drakkor could make up his mind."

"And then what?" Leandra demands. All notions of self-control have been tossed aside.

"Drakkor's got some other things he's been needing to get in line," Aramis answers rather vaguely. Leandra can feel her patience tightening.

"So," she sits up straighter in her chair and slams Syd down onto her lap, "how is it that the old man upstairs has such power and control over all of you?" She pins Aramis with a hard glare, her eyes burning into his face.

He looks away, unable to meet her gaze. He is ashamed of something. Her eyes travel down to his belt, where a sword should be. Asking him where that sword of his is rests on the tip of her tongue, but for once, she keeps her temper in check. Instead, she decides to turn her fury on Teddy. Although he has been kind to her since Lorelle's untimely exit, she needs someone to pour her frustration into.