Dangerous Thoughts

Chapter 20

An hour later, Charles and Lillian both looked different. Charles' jet-black hair was now red, and his nose was flatter. Lillian, meanwhile, had shrunk by a foot but grown incredibly bushy eyebrows. They were just barely unrecognizable. It was not the ideal situation, but it was good enough.

Juliette, on the other hand, still looked like herself. She slid her hands into the pockets of her britches and whistled through her teeth as she stared up at the great iron gates in front of the orphanage. "Home sweet home."

Charles hadn't wanted her to come. Once they had decided on a plan, they knew it would be too risky to bring Juliette along. But the child had stubbornly insisted that she be allowed to come as far as the gates. "Juliette, you need to stay out here," Charles repeated for the third time. "Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. And be careful."

The girl lifted her hand in a salute. "Aye aye, sir. And if you get into a bind?"

Charles looked over at Lillian, who was staring at the grand brick building with narrowed eyes. Although she was wearing the enchanted emerald gown which made her look like a proper lady, he had finally given her knives back, which were hiding in several folds of the fabric. "We'll manage," he said. "But if we're inside for longer than an hour—"

"Go get James. Got it."

"Good." Charles turned to the Lillian and offered his arm. She took it, and then he watched as her face transformed, harsh lines melting away as she put on a loving smile—getting into character.

"Let's go, my love," she said, tilting her chin up. And together, they walked through the iron gates, down at the slate walkway, and up to the front door.

When Charles stepped inside the orphanage, the first thing he noticed was the light. He had expected the orphanage to be dark and gloomy—particularly given the comments Juliette had made about her time there. However, the inside was surprisingly bright. The entrance hall had high ceilings with tall windows and wooden rafters. It reminded him of an old church.

They were greeted almost immediately by an older woman, who rushed up to them with a warm smile. "Good afternoon," she said, "and welcome to Silvers Orphanage. How may I help you?"

"My name is Robert Calloway," Charles lied. "This is my wife, Bonita. We are considering adoption and wanted to take a look around."

The woman clasped her hands together. "Lovely. Absolutely lovely, Mister and Missus Calloway. My name is Madame Levy and I am happy to show you both around."

Madame Levy, Charles thought, recognizing the name from his conversation with Thomas Monroe. She's the one in charge of all the adoptions. Does that mean she's involved in this cult as well?

He was interrupted by his thoughts when she said, "May I ask what brought you here?"

"I'm sure it's a story you've heard plenty," Lillian said. Charles heard the way her voice trembled—a slight quiver she didn't normally possess—and had the distinct feeling that she was enjoying her act a little too much. "But, well, all I've wanted was to be a mother. And Robert and I..." she glanced at Charles lovingly, "we tried for so long. I just don't think having a child on our own is part of the good Lord's plan." She glanced upwards at the ceiling, just in time for a tear to fall down her cheek.

Madame Levy looked as if she might cry herself. "My dear, I can't imagine how difficult it's been."

Lillian pulled out a handkerchief, gently blew her nose, and then summoned a smile. "So you see, we thought adoption might be the best option."

"If you don't mind showing us around..." Charles cut in.

"Not at all," Madame Levy said. "Please follow me."