Carcel stood by the window. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn back, revealing the darkened grounds of his estate. The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, leaving the garden in shadow. It was fitting, he thought. The woman he loved was being hunted by shadows, and now he had to become one to save her.
He turned away from the window and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth with a rhythmic, mocking tick-tock. It was late, almost midnight. He has been waiting for Vance. Most of the household was asleep. But Carcel could not sleep. The image of Ines's trembling hands in the garden earlier that evening burned in his mind. She was usually so vibrant, so full of quiet strength and hidden mischief. To see her reduced to fear by an anonymous coward made a cold, dangerous rage settle in his chest.
He walked to his desk and sat down. The wood was cool under his fingertips.
He waited.
