"Understand that I was told this in the utmost confidence, and the only reason I am telling you is because I believe you to be the key. You must not repeat my words to anyone - especially not that cheeky Feline friend of yours." Arron paced around the room, restless.
Kataryna nodded. Of course she could be trusted. Who would she tell?
"Dario," he continued, "was Aranaya's husband. He was, is, a sick, sick man. I don't know exactly how it happened, but something pushed him over the edge and into insanity." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, "he become convinced that Aranaya had," another gulp, Kat could see this was very hard for the albino, "had relations with a demon."
She started at this. If she were an angel, then surely there could be demons too, but... how dark and deep was this tale, this history? There were no words to be said, so she simply nodded.
Her reaction did not seem to deter Arron. "It grows worse. They had a son, his name was Raoul."
"Was?"
He nodded. "Dario believed Raoul was the result of these ... relations with the demon ... that he was evil." He paused for the longest time. "And so he killed him."
"What?" Kataryna started, "how, how could something like that happen? Why wasn't he put away?"
Arron shrugged, "I am not at liberty to discuss such things," he said. "As it was, I betray Aranaya by telling you even these facts. But I need to help her and for that I feel I need your help."
"So, this Dario is pursuing her? Why is he not locked up?" The complexities were too much for Kataryna to get her head around - no longer did the world seem safe if insane and murderous criminals could walk free.
"He was. In a maximum security Asylum. Somehow, about two months ago, he escaped. Nobody knows how - or at least nobody admits to knowing how. But he is free - and if what you saw was true, he is going to come after her. Perhaps he is already here." That thought sent a flutter of panic through his body. "Aranaya!" He shouted, grabbing his coat tight around his shoulders and fleeing from the house in such haste that he almost tumbled down the stairway. Kataryna had no choice but to run after him.
Two months, Kataryna thought, a long time when one is living with fear at their tail - a long time to learn to adapt, to perhaps believe that you are invulnerable and will not be found. When had the vision been set to happen? Today? Tomorrow? A week? A month? There was no way of knowing. If only she had better knowledge of the mirror's workings!
She relaxed as they reached Aranaya's door, well obscured by leafy branches. It was familiar, yes, the same door she had seen in the mirror. But it was firmly shut. Arron fumbled with the handle, reassuring himself that it was locked, and then knocked loudly. "Aranaya!"
They both waited in the darkness, ears craning for sounds of motion. Nothing - nothing but the faint murmurings from those still partying, and the faint strains of atmospheric music. It was as quiet as a grave inside the house.
A grave...
"Aranaya!" Arron was becoming almost frantic now, thumping on the door. Still no answer. After he had made enough racket to awaken the dead - and certainly to still the voices around the campsite, his body visibly sagged. "Either she's not here," he said, "or she's ignoring me. I hope I have not offended her somehow."
Kataryna put her hand on his thin, pale shoulder. Even beneath the cloak he was bony. "I'm sure you can't have done that. Maybe she's asleep?"
He chuckled without humour. "Noone sleeps that deeply, especially not someone who is haunted by their psychotic ex-husband. Aranaya is a creature of the night. Perhaps she went for a walk?"
Kat frowned, "when she knows her husband is on the loose? She'd have to be fairly foolish to go wandering in the dark with a psychopath like him after her."
"She is not foolish," Arron growled, then sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "She is more comfortable at night then during the day. And she has forced herself through great tragedy and sorrow. I would ask you not to speak cruelly of her."
Kat felt abashed. "My apologies, I spoke out of turn. But you're the landlord - surely you have a key?"
The albino's expression would have been comical, had it not been for the atmosphere. He hit his forehead with the heel of his hands. "Of course, stupid," he muttered, and fossicked in his pocket, unearthing a large bunch of various door-opening implements. "I keep them in case of emergencies," he replied, as though feeling he had to excuse himself. "But I've never used hers before. That would be like invading her privacy." He fumbled through the bundle, eventually unearthing one that looked no different from the others, and unlocked the door.
Expectantly the two of them entered the dark premises. All seemed calm, all seemed ordinary. Aranaya's flat was a simple studio apartment, with attached kitchen and bathroom, multi-levelled. Before the window sat an easel, and the canvas stretched across it made Kataryna stop and stare.
It was a mess - great rents marred the surface, and the paint appeared to have been thrown on in a frenzy. If this was Aranaya's talent in art, it had a certain, very, abstract feel.
Arron, on the other paw, expressed an entirely different reaction. He froze, staring at it, his jaw dropping and his face contorting into a combination of fear and despair.
"Aranaya," he whispered, "what is it? What has happened?" He turned wild pink eyes to Kataryna. "Come," he shouted, grief rendering his voice asunder, "we must find her. Lords only knows what has happened to her."
And seizing Kataryna by the arm, he practically dragged her from the house.