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Bailer remembered the car journey, and what had happened when Eunomia fell asleep. The dull burn of the coffee cup against his palm almost meant nothing to him, for he was back in that car with the dozing child next to him. He was driving straight ahead at seventy miles an hour, and thinking how odd it was that Eunomia never made a sound when sleeping. And then he had heard it. Had he had the radio on, he would have missed it at first. It was so faint, it could have been anything, but as it grew louder the possibilities shrank, and then Bailer’s blood ran cold as he realised. It was someone screaming. A man was screaming. The noise hadn’t reached any level higher than a whisper, but Bailer could tell it was a man screaming at the top of his lungs. It didn’t fade as the car strove onwards, it seemed to be localised inside the car. It seemed to be coming from Eunomia. By this point Bailer’s hands had been shaking so badly the car was zigzagging in the road. He pulled over, but the sound didn’t stop. It was the raving cry of a caged and tortured lunatic, and it was trapped inside his car. He looked at the artificially created girl and listened to the scream. Minutes passed as Bailer listened, too rapt even to shudder. He didn’t want to touch Eunomia, but she would not wake up otherwise, and the sound would not stop. Bailer swallowed, reached out and touched her. Her skin was hot, and sweaty. She felt feverish, as if her body was fighting furiously against some sort of pathogen. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She sat up and looked around, peering out of the windows to check where there were. As soon as she woke up, the sound had stopped.
“Mia, what happened to Sheckle?” Bailer asked, slowly, pronouncing every word as clearly as he was able.
Eunomia looked at him with big, watery brown eyes. She didn’t say anything, or show any expression.
Bailer struck the dashboard and swore. Eunomia jumped. She began to pull at the seatbelt, fumbling and leaning towards the door.
“Mia. Mia no. Stay…stay still, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…ah, Christ…” Bailer saw Child again, face down with wings of blood spreading out from under her. “I need to know what you did. I need to know, because people, bad people, could come after us. What did you do to Sheckle?”
Eunomia stayed silent.
Bailer was not going to give in. Eunomia had done something, had caused a man to disappear, maybe to die. Bailer needed to know what he was bringing into his house. He looked outside, at the inky blackness on either side of them.
“Eunomia, tell me now.”
Eunomia looked at him again. “I sent him to the castle.” She said.
“What? What castle?” Bailer snapped, confused.
Eunomia went quiet, her eyes flicking about in front of her. “The one in my head. That is where he is. He is sleeping now.”
Bailer looked at her with mounting horror, recalling the scream that had thrummed throughout his car. “He’s alive?”
Eunomia nodded.
“Can you bring him back?”
She shook her head.

Amelia let Eunomia sleep in the spare room. When she was settled she went back downstairs to sit with her husband on the sofa.
“What happened?” She asked gently, pressing her hand against his arm.
Bailer told her about Child, about what had happened to Sheckle and about Eunomia. He left out the more sensitive bits of information Stern had told him.
“I don’t know what’ll happen next, but if I think you’re in danger I’ll tell you and we can leave. At the moment I don’t know though. Tomorrow I’ll go back to work, see where things stand…Eunomia can stay here. Just make sure you keep an eye on her.” He said, slightly calmer now.
Amelia promised to do what she could. She didn’t want him to go to work the following day, but missing a day would be more suspicious she conceded.
“What about the dead woman? When people find out she’s missing they’ll search your place…” She asked, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
Bailer did not want to think body disposal just then, but knew it would be only days before Child was declared missing.
“We have chemicals…stuff that can eat through bones. Jeez…” He held his head in his hands. “I don’t want think about this. I don’t want to think about dissolving my dead colleague in an acid bath…like I’m the one who killed her.”
Amelia squeezed his hand, hoping he would cry now instead of bottling things back up. He stood up from the sofa, dry-eyed, and mumbled about going to sleep for a few hours. Amelia was left sitting on the sofa. She sighed, leaning her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes.

Amelia found more suitable clothes for Eunomia in the morning. For want of anything better to do at 3 am, she searched more extensively through her wardrobe for something the girl could wear that day. After a while she found a jumper and skirt which seemed suitable. At ten to seven she went downstairs, started making breakfast and switched on the radio. She found a station broadcasting local news and listened intently for anything pertaining to her husband’s facility. There was nothing. She put on some toast and then went to wake Harry, to get him ready for school. She wasn’t sure yet when they were going to tell him about Eunomia, but decided not to say anything just yet. After nudging the seven year old out of bed and ushering him into the bathroom, she went quickly to check on Eunomia. The girl was still asleep when she opened the door. There was a large green book on the end of her bed; a book of fairy tales. Amelia shut the door again. She then went to check on her husband.

Bailer had been asleep, lost in a sort of nervous exhaustion, until his wife had touched his shoulder. That small contact flung him into wakefulness. He grabbed at Amelia’s sleeve wildly before he realised it was her.
“It’s morning. I’m going to be taking Harry to school soon.” She whispered. “What time are you going in?”
Bailer swallowed, sitting up and collecting his thoughts.
“My shift starts at half five I think.” He mumbled. Amelia nodded and went back to the bathroom to hurry along their son. Bailer went to the spare room. Eunomia was awake now. He had wanted to ask her something, quite urgently, but now he couldn’t remember what it was.
“Do you know what’s going on?” He asked.
Eunomia made a strange motion with her head, neither a nod nor a shake.
“About Sheckle…I heard- I think I heard him screaming. Is that possible?”
Eunomia shrugged, tucking her knees up to her chest.
“Are you absolutely sure you can’t bring him back?”
Eunomia’s body became taut and she pressed her knuckles against the side of her head, grinding her fists into her skull. Her breathing sped up.
“What’s wrong?” Bailer gasped, moving to her side instantly. He tried to pull her arms away.
“Stop talking! Stop asking!” She yelled, with a volume and violence he had never heard from her before. She began to claw and pull at her hair. She began repeating over and over that it hurt. Bailer tried to calm her down but nothing worked. He had nothing he could inject her with to make her sleep. Chunks of blonde hair began to fall to the floor. Bailer grabbed her wrists and twisted them away. Eunomia groaned and then fell limp, the fit had seemingly passed.

Bailer watched Eunomia in the garden. Amelia was sitting outside with her, watching as she attempted to stalk their two cats. One of the cats attempted to scratch her and she kept her distance. After that she examined every inch of their small garden, fascinated by everything she found, even the blades of grass and the daisies. She plucked the little flowers to pieces and, if it hadn’t been for the pallor of her skin, she could have passed for a normal child. Bailer’s phone buzzed in his pocket. With his heart pounding in his throat he pulled it out and peered at the screen. It was Stern. He answered it.
“How are you? Home safely.” The old professor asked, in a voice made especially weak and tremulous by the translation of the phone.
“Yeah. No problems here. What about you?”
“Nothing untoward to report so far. I expect I may be contacted shortly though…if I should go missing, or even die in the next few days assume you may be next to receive a visit.”
Looking out on the garden of his house, with his wife sitting in the sun and smiling, the prospect of murder and other intrigue was not one he wanted to consider.
“Will do.”
Bailer hung up.

Continued in Part 11 --->

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