Thomelisa Taken, Pt III

It’s amazing how your training sticks with you, even years after you’ve had to use it.

Inside, I was screaming.  I was ripping the world apart and burning the stars to ash.  On the outside, I was completely still, because as my heart was crying out for blood, my brain was taking cold, calculating control of the situation.

Don’t move.  You’ve probably already disturbed evidence.  Take a deep breath.  Another.  Now look.  Listen.  Breathe again.  What do you smell.  What do you taste?

I held perfectly still, trying to sort what was normal from what was different, trying not to break down weeping.

Elisa’s bed was gone.  What else is missing?  Look, damn you.  Look.

I looked.  Her boat was there, and all the rest of her things.  But the path she normally took through the grass to the bridge that led to the window- it looked off, somehow.  I moved closer, bending my face to the table, inhaling deeply.

I could smell traces of her, the warm, yeasty-floral scent that was her natural fragrance.  But there was something else.  Something… like mud, black and mineral-rich.  I knew that smell from somewhere.  Somewhere very familiar.

The grasses on either side of the path- some of them were bowed outward ever-so-slightly, as though someone- something, with a much wider girth than my daughter had come down it.  I shifted, slightly, and as I did so I noticed something on the path that caught the light.  I squinted and drew closer still, doing my best not to disturb anything with my breath.  It was a smear of something clear, something that looked… sticky.

I frowned.  The shrieking in my heart had been tightly locked down, only barest echo reverberating in the depths of my soul.  My mind was told me to ignore it.  The rage won’t help you.  Not yet.  I followed the path with my eyes, to where it met up with the arching branch that spanned the short distance between the table and the windowsill.  I moved, carefully, to the window.

Our windows stayed open all through the spring and summer- my charms kept pests out, and I was a light enough sleeper that I’d have heard anything larger.  So.  Something small, but larger than my daughter.  Something strong enough to carry off her bed with her in it.  Something smart enough to be quiet.  Something that had left a smear of clear fluid.

Something that was going to regret its entire existence, when I found it.