Deal with the Devil

Chapter 45

The owl was most insistent. Usually post came once in the morning and once in the early evening, but this one had come at a little past noon, tapping violently at the window until Prewitt finally opened the damn thing. It fluttered to Elena's desk and dropped a rolled parchment there. It perched on her In tray and hooted irritably.

"Whose blasted owl is that, Elle?" Iggy demanded. "Damn thing almost cut my eye out!"

"I don't know." She eyed it speculatively. "I've got your letter, you can go." It danced anxiously from one leg to another. "Fine, I'll read it." She unrolled it, skimming down the short message and the world closed in around her.

She couldn't quite breathe right and there was an odd sort of ringing in her ears. It muffled out everything around her so she existed in this tight little bubble that felt something like the squeeze of apparition, but her stomach had fallen just like a Portkey. Her body and mind were being pulled apart and the drop of consciousness in it all that was her was somewhere in between.

"Elle!" The hand on her shoulder jarred her out of that strange place and she wheezed in a breath as the world became real again. "You alright, love?"

"Hm?" The paper was sitting there tauntingly on her desk, her hands flat on either side of it.

"I asked if you're alright." He turned her chair and she was suddenly staring at him from far too close. "What's happened?"

She shook her head.

"Elle?" When she didn't respond, Ignatius reached past and took the paper from her desk. His brows furrowed as he scanned it, then softened. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Elle. I didn't think—"

"What's all this?" Edgar Bones had no doubt heard her name called and decided to see what the fuss was about. He froze when he saw one of his apprentices kneeling in front of the other.

Ignatius stood. "Elle's father passed."

"Elle?" asked the big man. He approached her slowly, laying his hand against her back like she would shy away from him. "Are you alright?"

She blinked slowly and craned her head to look up at him. "Um. I'm. I'm fine."

"I don't think you are, dear. Is there anything, perhaps someone I could call?" When she shook her head and kept staring blankly, he frowned. "Prewitt, floo call Borgin and Burkes."

If she'd been able to process his words, she may have spoken up. As it was, Elle sat perfectly still, only the slight stirring of her chest as she breathed and the rare blinks indicating she was still there. Her hands were now curled loosely in her lap, neck bowed. She didn't move even as the whooshing of the fire proclaimed someone had stepped through.

"Elena?"

Tom filled her sight and she focused on him briefly, then went back to staring into nothingness.

"I think I should take her home," he said after a moment. Edgar must have agreed because the next thing she knew, he'd plucked her out of her seat and set off. Within minutes, he was unlocking her door wandlessly. He laid her on her bed and she stayed there, retreating back to that place between worlds and the apathy it provided.

--

At some point the next afternoon, Elena slowly came back to reality. She wasn't sure whether she'd been awake or asleep, her eyes opened or closed, but she was aware now as she hadn't been since before the letter. She sat up, body protesting after staying still so long, and realized she was in a night gown. She pulled herself out of the blankets, legs up to curl under her, sitting back against her mound of pillows, and looked around her bedroom. Everything was exactly as she remembered it.