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Sonder chuckled, wadding up the note, and tossing it in the rubbish. He really needed to give Gibbs a pay rise. Reclining in his desk chair, he held up the whiskey in a silent thanks to Gibbs before taking a sip. It burned down his throat and into his empty stomach, liquid gold to push out all the stress of the day before he would face the music in the morning of the beautiful woman who was furious with him. He picked up the cigar and found another note, folded over and over until it had been concealed by the cigar. Taken aback, Sonder tossed the cigar onto a stack of research papers and unfolded the note.

Atta was acting strange tonight.

I was worried to leave her.

Sonder shot out of his chair and tore down the hall toward her room.

The lights were out, but her door was slightly ajar. Quietly, he opened it and ventured in. In the light bleeding in from the hall, he could make out her form on the bed, fast asleep. He didn’t want to wake her but needed to know she was all right.

With his eyes still adjusting to the dark, Sonder knelt down by the side of the bed. Atta’s features were fuzzy in the dim light, but they still made him smile. Before he could think better of it and the possibility it could wake her, he leaned in to kiss her temple and run his fingers down her hair. She smiled in her sleep and sighed, the sight warming his cold, dark heart.

He stood, satisfied she was all right, and squeezed her hand before leaving her to sweet dreams.

Out in the hall, he felt something on his hand and looked down to see traces of soil on his fingertips from where he’d held onto her briefly.

Sonder chuckled to himself. Atta never truly slumbered, not when there was work to be done.

But a chill slithered up his spine at the thought, and he went to chase it away with the fire of hearth and whiskey.

Atta

Atta sat up in bed, unsure for a moment where she was, expecting bramble and bones.

With a few blinks, she recognised her room in Sonder’s manor, her heart rate slowing. She’d had the most peculiar dreams.

Groggily, she stretched and stood from the bed, recalling all the work that needed to be done before the first exorcism appointment. She hadn’t seen Sonder last night either and wanted to ensure everything was all right after their argument.

On her way to the wardrobe, she caught sight of herself in the looking glass. Sucking in a breath, she stumbled backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed, forcing her to sit down. She was covered in dirt and blood.

Tears of fear welled in her eyes as she pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown to look. It couldn’t be real. The dream. The nightmare. It couldn’t.

But there was the evidence, etched out in claw marks up her arm, and teeth marks on her wrist, next to the healing cut from the broken lamp.

With horror and trembling, Atta rose on unsteady feet and looked around the room.

There, next to a tea set she’d seen before, was the book.

Into the Faerie Wood.

* * *

“There she is.” Sonder smiled at her over his newspaper, a sight she was growing fondly used to in the mornings. Immediately, he folded the paper and gave her his full attention. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” she asked, distracted.

“Our argument.”

“Oh, right.” Atta sat across from him and began buttering toast without thought. “It’s nothing.”

He was studying her intently. “Are you all right?”

She should keep her mouth shut. Say nothing. Figure out what happened first. But she looked up from her toast and into his eyes. He’d been what she was running back to from the Faerie Wood. And his mother had been who she’d followed in. Atta didn’t understand what it meant, but it wasn’t right to carry it all alone.

Was it?

“I found a book,” she half-lied.

“A book?”