The morning sun looming large over Decanten looks pale as the snow beneath it from Lydia’s vantage, a window on the top floor of Mortem Asylum. Storm clouds roll in from the east, creeping towards the white-hot orb until they have completely engulfed it, throwing the world into milky shadow. The outskirts of the city, just a moment ago populated by red brick buildings, green trees and tiny, twinkling festive lights, are instantly drained of all colour. Muted. Sombre. Almost as if they have died.
Something like a gentle breeze passes along the corridor behind Lydia, and her heart quickens. Old buildings like this tend to be full of leaks and gaps, tiny pockets of decay that allow nature inside. But this feels different.
“Any luck?”
Lydia spins around to find Gretchen Engel standing no more than a foot from her, red hair spilling over her usual doctor’s coat, patient file in hand.
“Oh, Gretchen!” Lydia replies, touching her chest and breathing a sigh of relief. “You startled me.”
“I can have that effect,” Gretchen replies, peering idly out of the window.
“I think I’ve made some progress,” says Lydia. “Once I changed tactics.”
“Oh?” Gretchen raises a curious eyebrow.
“A little guilt works wonders,” says Lydia, folding her arms and feeling a little satisfied with herself. “And you’d be surprised how many serial killers have mummy issues.”
“Very clever,” Gretchen replies, looking Lydia up and down coolly.
“Is the warden around?” Lydia asks, her eyes flicking to the end of the corridor.
“Oh,” Gretchen rolls her eyes, “he’s preparing his speech for the Christmas party tomorrow night. It’s kind of a tradition.”
“Sounds nice,” Lydia replies, her stomach churning at the thought of the monstrous Shade delivering a festive speech to people blissfully unaware of his true evil.
“It’s thoroughly depressing actually,” says Gretchen, a smile playing about the corners of her mouth. Lydia laughs. “You could come, if you like?”
“I’m not really a party girl.” Lydia remembers brief flashes of her wonderful night dancing with Alex, and once again feels a pang of some emotion she can’t place.
“Shame,” says Gretchen. “Although to be honest I might not make it either.”
“Why not?”
“Once I’ve fed the kids and put them to bed, I can’t usually be bothered to do anything but collapse in front of the TV,” Gretchen replies, yawning. “They’re exhausting. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her face lights up, and Lydia feels a pang of jealousy. Has she ever experienced anything that made her so happy? “Do you have kids? I never asked…”
“God, no.” Lydia snorts with laughter. “Oh no, I wouldn’t be any good at that. I’m not exactly mother material.”
“You might surprise yourself,” Gretchen offers with a smile Lydia finds a little too knowing. “I didn’t think I was the motherly type either until I had mine.”
“I guess…” says Lydia, doubtfully.
“Though I admit sometimes it feels like an uphill struggle.”
“Why’s that?” asks Lydia.
“Michael’s autistic,” says Gretchen, matter-of-factly. “Sometimes it takes a little more effort to do the simple things. And then you’ve got teachers calling for help because they’ve never met a kid like him and they don’t know what to do.” She laughs, a little hollow this time.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” says Lydia. “I was.”
“You?” Gretchen asks, frowning. “Huh?”
“I have dyscalculia,” says Lydia. “Couldn’t put two and two together when I was ten years old. My teachers said I was stupid. Drove my parents mad. But did it hold me back? No.”
“I suppose it can be hard to see the big picture while it’s still being painted,” says Gretchen, thoughtfully. “Kids are under so much stress these days.”
“These days?”
“Sorry,” says Gretchen quickly, “I didn’t mean that you weren’t, I was just thinking of my two. But you’re right,” she smiles, “you’ve certainly done very well for yourself.”
“Miss Tune?” A surly guard pokes his head out of a nearby door. “He’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Lydia replies.
“Seeing Jason again?” asks Gretchen. She’s trying to sound casual, but Lydia picks up on the note of surprise in her voice.
“Yes,” Lydia replies absently. “He has a promise to keep.”
Gretchen eyes her warily. “Anything I should know about?”
“Oh,” says Lydia, snapping back into the moment. “No, nothing important. I’ll fill you in when I’m done. Does he know about his mother yet?”
“Yeah,” Gretchen frowns, “the doctor called this morning. How did you know?”
“Hmm?” Lydia remembers that she’s not supposed to know, and her mind races to find a cover.
“About Jason’s mother.”
“Oh,” says Lydia, as airily as she can manage, “the hospital called me too, about an hour ago. I was supposed to go and visit her today, so, they just wanted to let me know not to bother I guess.”
“Alright…” says Gretchen, now looking and sounding flat-out suspicious. “Well I’ll let you go then.”
“Thanks. And hey, don’t forget to tell your little boy about me. Tell him he can be anything he wants to be.”
“I will,” Gretchen replies. “See you then.” She turns and heads to the end of the corridor, before making a right turn and disappearing out of sight.
Lydia watches her go, and then turns back to the window. The large, pale disc behind the clouds hangs low in the sky now, and the scene seems to darken by the second. The shadows of the tall, spidery trees that line the road to Mortem race across the ground towards her. Again, Lydia feels a peculiar rush of cold and looks around. The corridor is empty, but significantly darker than it was a moment ago, shadows shifting in corners high and low.
“Gretchen?”
Her voice echoes into the empty darkness, which seems to creep towards her. Lydia takes a step back and bumps into the window. Turning her head to look out, she thinks she sees a figure racing from the trees towards the building, not fully formed, more like a dense, misty outline of a person moving quickly with awkward, jerky movements. She blinks, and it’s gone.
“Lydia…”
Lydia feels a cold burst of air in her ear and spins around. There’s something at the end of the corridor, but she can’t see it clearly. A pale shape against the shadow.
“Miss Tune?” The guard appears in the doorway again.
“Yes?” Lydia jumps, her heart racing.
“Are you alright?” He looks her up and down with concern.
“Yes…” Lydia takes a deep breath. Get a grip, she scolds herself. You’re tired. It’s all in your head.
“He’s ready.”
But as she follows the guard to Jason’s cell, she looks around again for the figure in the darkness, not knowing what might be looking back at her.