As Lenore paced throughout her bedroom, Samson watched her from his perch on the corner of her bed.

“God, what's wrong with me! I don’t even know him!” She exclaimed to no one in particular. She settled her pacing and sat next to Samson on the bed, pulling him into her lap and stroking his back. 

She was twirling his tail in her fingers as an overwhelming chill set over the room. To Lenore, it felt like all the color was drained from the walls, like a scene in a horror movie.

“I’m not doing this today!” she called into the otherwise empty house. “If you want to torment me, do it another time! I have too much on my mind to deal with your shit right now.”

The lights flickered in response and the chill rolled off the floor and away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

~~~

It was nearing eight’o’clock when Lenore finished up the edits on her economics paper. She had added some jargon throughout the paper to make the page limit. She’s not sure if she even understands what she was writing about – Monaghan is just going to have to deal. 

With the paper no longer a means of distraction, Lenore took to her closet. She needed to find an outfit to wear tonight for this… whatever it is, with Silas. She is supposed to meet him in an hour after all.

After rummaging for a few minutes, she decided on a long skirt and sweater. It was kind of chilly out so hopefully that would save her from needing to bring a coat. The trim on the skirt was lace and reminded her of her mother table mats from when she was a child.

After she dressed, and combed her hair, she made her way to the kitchen to feed Samson his can of wet food. She could tell he was hungry from the way he was circling her ankles while she stood at the counter. 

She took one last look at herself in the hall mirror, giving her hair a tussle, and freezing. Am I seriously checking to make sure I look okay? As if! She thought as she swung out of the apartment and locked the door. 

~~~

“And how do you know she is the right person to share this gift with, dear Silas?” Silas sat on an antique settee in the corner of a dimly lit foyer. A rather elegant looking woman rested her arm on the mantle of a stone fireplace, the only major source of light in the room at the moment. Shadows cast over her face as the flames licked the wood in the firebox-base, making her graying hair glow a muted orange hue.

“Marieannete foretold it.” he said with a flamboyant wave of his, as if he were flicking away all the apprehension the older woman held. 

“Oh and what method did she use this time? A mirrored glass? Those chicken bones and tea leaves? We can’t take all of her methods verbatim, half of her predictions are chance happenings,” The woman moves away from the flames and towards the settee where Silas is sitting. “Not all seers bear the fruit of truth”

“Besides Mother, if it doesn't work out, we could always…” He leaves that sentence open-ended as he casts his eyes to the side. 

She cups his chin as she holds a glare. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t be here now, would we? We cannot risk another downfall. If you are wrong, you sorely regret it.” She pats his cheek with an air of finality, the threat hanging from her lips as she thins them into a line. 

Silas jerks his head away from her hands as he stands, a clock chiming from another darkened room. “I should get going. I told her I would meet her at nine.” with a grimace, Silas turns, “I’ll be back before sun-up.” 

With a shake of her head, the woman stands. With a cool expression, she turns and shouts into the seemingly empty home, “Marieannete!”

“Mother.” a calming, airy voice speaks from behind the woman. 

“Oh! I’ve told you before about startling me girl!” the woman says with a hand clutched to her chest. 

“Well yes, I know, but you called for me,” Marieannete’s voice was as soft as the look in her eyes. She had cast them down towards the tiled floor as the older woman shot a stern look at her. 

“You must stop telling Silas these false prophecies you cook up in that head of yours.” She moved to caress the soft curls of Marieannete’s hair. “It does nothing for him to be filled with false hope.”

Marieannete closed her eyes gently as if expecting the reprimand. She subtly clutched her hands into the fabric of her dress. “Yes, Mother…But–”

“Thank you darling.” the woman cuts her off and shoos her away with a hand wave.  “Now, off to bed with you. You aren’t a night owl and i know how you are without your proper rest.”

“Yes, mother.” The small clicks of Marieannete’s shoes echo off of the barren walls of the dark room as she leaves.