Silvia stirs.
“Get up,” I snap. “We have to meet with Patricia then drive to Greensboro.”
“What's Greensboro?” Her reply is muffled by her pillow.
I lean down to slip on my shoes. “Even commoners have access to maps. Why don't you try getting one?”
She sits up and stares at me with those creepy eyes of hers. Then she stands and undresses from her pajamas and puts on her day clothes. Unabashed. Ignoring that I'm in the same room.
I have a feeling it's not meant to be sexual. I've been demoted back to the household pet.
As soon as she dresses, we gather our things and head outside. The morning is cool, the sky overcast. The air is crisper than in Phoenix. Danville is a great little place. I still can't wait to leave.
We load our bags into the car in silence, then hit the road. I punch in Patricia's address. Ten minutes away.
The neighborhoods are old but kept. The buildings have bright paint or red brick, and everyone has a small, green lawn. A clean river cuts through the town.
Patricia's house is long and white with black shutters. The yard has patches of grass. Low key. She's definitely hiding something.
Silvia follows me to the front porch. Wrought iron trellis is holding up the canopy. A bench swing sits to one side.
I knock on the screen door. Silvia reaches around me to ring the bell. The sound fills the interior, and then silence settles over us.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I turn to survey the area. No vehicle. Patricia either doesn't live here, or she isn't home.
I knock again to be sure.
The door pulls open. A woman with short dark curls and a few deep lines in her face stares from the other side of the screen door. Her gaze travels from me to Silvia and then settles back on me.
“Can I help you?”
I don't recognize her, and Silvia gives no indication if she does.
I clear my throat. “I'm looking for Patricia Kerr.”
The woman sizes me up, slow and deliberate. She opens her mouth, then her eyes dart to the ogress at my side.
“Silvia Walker?” The woman's expression widens. She visibly swallows and takes a step back, though the screen door is still closed. Her voice is steady, but she isn't fooling anyone. “What do you want?”
“I came on my own accord, Miss Kerr.” Silvia doesn't sound at all like someone who intentionally over-Baptized fluffy kittens just days ago.
Patricia's head snaps back to me.
“It's you,” she says, as if formulating the thought as she speaks. “It was you, wasn't it?”
Then she's crying like she found Jesus, except her eyes are fixed on me.
I have no idea what to do. Silvia just stands there, but she's rarely any help.
“You were at the mansion.” Patricia looks at me with a strange, wild expression. The surprise and fear has been replaced by an emotion I don't understand. And she's still crying. “We passed each other in the halls. Several times.”
I have no idea what I did, but I've obviously left an impression on the woman.
“I never knew it was you.” She pulls her eyes from me and turns to Silvia. “Did Karl send him to … ”
“No, Miss Kerr,” Silvia says.
That's when I realize Doctor Patricia Kerr knows exactly who—and what—I am.
She hesitates, and then leans forward to unlatch the screen door and steps back.
“Come in.” She struggles to regain some composure though her throat is tight. “Come in, please.”
She borders on excitement. It's like I should be offering her an autograph or something.
My life gets weirder every day. And that's saying a lot, considering I kill people because of a hum in my head.
Patricia looks back at Silvia. “How does it work?”
“Daddy has to order it.” Silvia perks up. “Then he goes all crazy.”
Thanks, wench.
“But no magic.” Patricia looks me over, her brow pinched.
Silvia shakes her head. “He's clever, though.”
“I even learned to speak.” My tone is sharp. “You could ask me the questions.”
Patricia looks startled. Then she smiles and gestures into the living room. The room is rectangular, with closed in walls, wood floors, and a low ceiling. An arched doorway leads to the kitchen and another leads to a hallway.
Silvia strides past me and takes her place in a vintage chair at the far end of the room. Somehow, it's like she's at the head of the table.
I drop onto the couch, my aching muscles grateful. This road trip is brutal.
Patricia hesitates, like she's not sure how to handle me being in her house. “Would you like something … to drink?”
I tilt my head. “Just the tears of children.”
Silvia shoots me a dirty look. “Water for us, please, Miss Kerr.”
Patricia nods and disappears through the arched doorway into the kitchen.
“This wasn't meant to be a tea party, Silv.” I can't hide my irritation, and I don't want to. Everyone knows more about me than I do.