Alkimiya - A Fantasy Mystery Series

FORTY~ONE - The Return (Part 4)

Zenetra glanced up the hill at the long and winding street. Her body was restless. A good long walk would do her good. After all, she still hadn't come up with what she was going to say to her father.

As she approached the blockade, she saw a familiar face with silver-blonde hair pacing. It was Cadet Oliver Derry. He saw her on approach, yet Zenetra could tell the masquerade held up well even under the scrutiny of a friend.

A constable with two stars adorning his uniform stopped her. "S'cuse me, lady. Only residents are allowed up Noire Lane."

Zenetra tried to signal to Oliver. Though he didn't understand the intense squint he was receiving, he moved a little closer.

"I live here."

The constable pulled out his notepad. A list of residents and guests they were expecting were written on it in griffonage.

"Name?"

Oliver still didn't catch her signal. Zenetra hadn't known her friend to be so obtuse.

"Clara Pocket."

That got Oliver's attention. He studied her suspiciously.

Before the constable could check for the name, Zenetra tilted her head quickly and added, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked the constable.

"Sounded like a dog." She made a yipping sound. "Ow-Ow!" she said, and Oliver's eyes widened as a grin sneaked onto his face. "I could have sworn I heard it."

Oliver stepped forward. "It's nice to see you again, Miss Pocket. Late hour to be getting home, wouldn't you say?"

Zenetra smiled. It was good to see a familiar face unassociated with any tragedy. "Better late than never."

The constable flicked his notepad closed, eager to shove his hands back into the warmth of his pockets. "You know her?" he asked Oliver.

"Of course I know Miss Pocket! I've been stationed here for days."

The two star constable waved her through the barricade with a sleepy, "Have a nice night, Miss Pocket."

"And keep a watch out for anyone in a red mask," Oliver warned with a subtle wink.

Zenetra took the hint. Her father must have reported another sighting while she was gone.

The walk up the hill took almost as long as the trip on the city tram and was just as uncomfortable. There was a reason she hated heels. By the time she reached the outer gates, her feet were throbbing.

There was a metallic pop as the iron gate opened and for a split second, it echoed over the grounds. As she journeyed down the long drive, Zenetra rubbed the tanzanite stone. Perhaps talk of the blueprints could wait another day. There was so much to do, so much to plan, that it was nearly overwhelming. She would need to seek out Tilde's girlfriend before the remembrance gathering. Valentina had in her possession a stack of un-mailed letters to the Thorpe family. Writing them had helped Tilde come to terms with her life. Zenetra could only hope the letters would comfort the Thorpe's with their daughter's passing. It would be a conversation Tilde could have with them while in death.

The wind picked up. Cold and biting, Zenetra held herself against the gusts. With the moon high and full, and casting strange shadows across the ground, she breathed in the fresh air. Grateful that there was no hint of salt on the breeze, Zenetra tossed her head back so that she could view the starry sky in all its glory. Her feet knew exactly where to go.

A flock of black birds flew overhead, blocking the stars and the light from the moon. Zenetra watched as they soared over the turret and the peaked roofline until they landed in a compacted heap of feathers on her father's bedroom balcony. At the odd display of animal activity, she stopped and peered at the ledge to wait for the birds to disperse.