Up in the Stars

Horror

Further and further we fall.

Happy reading.

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The deserted cobblestone road was haunting without Emilia by her side.

The wind whistled around corners, the shop signs creaking as they swung.

Shadows danced in the light of the streetlamps, leaves and trees whispering warnings.

Dark clouds brushed the tops of the rows of shops.

It smelled like the promise of snow.

Enid is shivering by the time she sees the store's oak door.

It looks as closed down as it had the day Emilia had brought her.

The white letters on the sign that spell out Mister Harold's Grocer seem to look down at her as she steps beneath them.

Pausing for a moment, she wonders whether she should knock.

Before she can decide, the door swings slowly open toward her.

The entranceway empty.

She folds her nervous hands into her coat pockets and steps inside.

No one is in the front of the shop, so she studies the strange jars and bottles that line the shelves.

Newt Eyes. Nightshade. Bat Wool.

"Quite an odd collection, isn't it?" A smokey voice says from behind her.

Twirling around, she nearly knocks over a bottle of blue swirling liquid.

The man is wearing a long trench coat, a brimmed hat casting his face in shadow.

"Are you who texted me?" Enid squints to try to make out his features.

"That would be me." His head tilts back and she can see a flash of sharp, white teeth.

Fear prickles down her spine.

"And who are you exactly?" She asks, closely watching his movements.

The man gives an amused sigh before reaching up to remove his hat.

She recognizes him.

The dull fluorescent light is stark on the scar that divides up his dark features.

It ripples as he gives her a carnivorous smile.

"I hope I left a lasting enough impression the last time we met." He smirks.

Armad Almalfi.

The man who had stopped to talk to them that night at the steakhouse.

His black curls are longer now, brushing against his shoulders.

Falling in front of his dark, inky eyes.

"Nice to see you again." Enid says hesitantly.

His focus narrows on her like prey.

"I'm sorry it isn't under better circumstances, Enid." His response reminds her why she is there.

Straightening her posture, she studies him.

The conversation she had observed between him and the immortals tugs at her mind.

His lecherous grin, his chapped lips on the flesh of her hand.

Flynt will be so happy to hear I saw you all...

Enid takes an immediate step back.

"You work for Flynt." The statement is painted as an accusation.