Lucy sat on Loki’s right, opposite to Fable, and Axel sat next to Lucy, of course.
There was a red placemat next to each plate on the table. They were fancy and made of red cloth.
“Pretty fancy,” Loki remarked.
“Loki, Loki, Loki,” Lucy said, as she spread a napkin on his lap. “It’s called etiquette. You need to use your manners when you eat with your family. Get used to it.”
Fable covered a laugh with her nimble hands.
“If you say so,” Loki said.
“Kids,” a voice called from inside. Everyone sat straight in their chairs, making sure they had the napkins placed on their laps. “Are we ready?” the lovely voice asked, making Loki eager to meet her.
The smell of a roasted turkey was approaching.
“Yep,” Axel mumbled, not happy with all of this tidiness. “Do we really have to use these napkins?”
“Shut up,” Lucy hit him slightly. Axel looked happy, almost buzzing. “You’re such a Barbarian,” she said with disgust. He looked even happier now.
“We’re ready, Mircalla,” Fable said. “Loki’s here, too.”
Loki saw a silhouette of a woman with long hair coming from the kitchen. She was wearing an apron, and holding a roasted turkey in her hands, reminding him of when his mother was here.
She came into the room smiling. But the glaring sun prevented Loki from making out her features. He saw her silhouette sitting down, the sudden sun still too bright for him to see her.
“Hello, Loki,” she said.
A cloud blocked the glaring sunrays outside for a moment, and Loki was finally able to see Mircalla’s face.
It took him some time to understand who he was looking at, and then a shriek almost burst his lungs open.
The muscles in Loki’s face drooped from the unpleasant surprise. His features changed from cheerful to appalled. His heart raced and he felt a chilling tingle in his spine. He was choking. He wanted to scream but couldn’t. His fear took over.
Dazed and confused, Loki rested his hands on the table. Then the placemat frayed by itself into long red threads, looking exactly like his lost Fleece, the one he’d lost in the dream. With his eyes still glued to Mircalla, the threads crawled like thin, mad snakes all over his body, tying him to the chair then weaving a spider’s web on his lips, zipping his mouth shut.
The snaky thread started growing needle-like tips, piercing through his flesh, and entering his veins.
Loki couldn’t utter a word. He couldn’t think straight. He could only hear his friends screaming. Shifting his eyes, he saw they were tied to their chairs too. But their mouths hadn’t been sealed.
“Oh. My. God.” Fable screamed, pointing at Mircalla, finally realizing who she really was. “It’s you?”
“All this time, how didn’t we figure this out?” Axel said, as his jaw dropped. Mircalla! Loki thought to himself. How did he miss that? Mircalla was another name for the scariest person he’d ever met; only the letters were scrambled. It was an anagram for Carmilla, the Queen of Sorrow’s real name. She’d planned this all along, fooling Axel and Fable into thinking she was a good foster parent, and that she cared for them. If Axel and Fable were Hansel and Gretel like Charmwill had hinted, then why did Carmilla raise them? Did she kill their parents? What were her plans in all of this?
Loki watched the deceivingly beautiful Queen lean back in her chair, dressed in a modern day outfit, capable of fooling the world. She sat calmly, intending to eat her meal like nothing happened.
“Now that Charmwill Glimmer is dead, I’d like to tell you a little fairy tale,” she said to Loki. Her words came out smoothly and slowly, taking all the time she needed to stress on every syllable. She was in no hurry. She’d fooled them all and knew she had the upper hand. “This one is a true fairy tale,” she added, watching each one carefully.
Loki tried to talk, but his mouth was still sewn shut.