“Mrs Plyth? Myra asked the crying woman, after having gone through the statements of several other servants. In a house of that size, every pair of eyes mattered but every account she had recorded so far sounded the same. "I am sorry, but I must ask you some questions about tonight's events. Are you able to answer me?"

  “It’s all so horrible”, mumbled the housekeeper. She was sitting on the small bench in the courtyard, clenching a stack of tissues, unable to bring herself to look towards the north wing. The tears on her face fashed with the lights of police cars outside, and she observed Myra like she were a ghost.

  "Mrs Plyth, how many guests were you expecting tonight? Was there anyone else apart from the ones we know of?”

  “No, no one else. They all came for dinner at seven. It was always at seven.” Her voice was thin, almost unbalanced, sometimes deep sometimes high, and it seemed like a great struggle for her to stitch the words together in a meaningful way.

  “Alright... and how many staff members do you usually have on the property? Kitchen staff, cleaners, gardeners, and the like.”

  “Oh, well... there’s seven of us on the grounds at all times. The kitchen gets help for the big occasions, and there's...” She sniffled, bowed her head and used another tissue to wipe her face. "There's three in the gardens, but only once a week."

  “Any new faces lately? New workers, strange visitors, anything out of the ordinary?” Myra took notes inside her tiny notebook that was bound to fall apart sooner rather than later after she'd done unholy things to it for years. Somehow there was enough room left in there to collect everything she needed.

  “No. No. None that I can tell."

  "You sure?"

  "I don't understand what you're asking. Why would any of us do such a dreadful thing?” she sighed, holding her face in her hands. “How would we? You’ve seen what was done to them. That’s magic.” She raised her voice so much she was almost yelling.

  Myra put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and kept it there until the woman calmed down.

  “What about the twins? From what I hear they are not living in Helden at the moment.”

  “The poor children haven’t lived in this house since they started school. It's been years now. They only ever come home for the holidays, in the summer, and sometimes in the winter."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Myra flipped back a couple of pages, tilting the notebook to read her own terrible handwriting. "Folinth, was it? The university they are attending? And before that it was, let me see... a boarding school in Margal and then the one in Luvelin. Is that right?"

  "It’s terribly cold in Folinth," the housekeeper remarked, a little lost in thought. "Enough to chill your bones, all year long. I haven't seen the twins since last year's Foundation Day."

  "What about tonight? What changed?"

  "They did not want to come tonight. But... Mrs. Gollen insisted. It is an important time for the family. I wish it weren’t so.”

  "You were among the first to enter the dining room. Can you describe it for me?"

  The woman looked up for a moment and then back at the lights. Her face crumpled up and she crossed her arms bowing forward.

  "I heard the screams," she said, shivering. "We were getting the cake ready when it started. All at once... agonizing screams. I almost fainted... these things... they were ripping them apart from the inside. There was nothing we could do. And then... all of a sudden... they were silent.".

  "And what about the twins?" Myra insisted, almost mercilessly. "What happened to them?"

  "We dragged them aside before... I thought they were dead. Praise the gods for sparing some mercy."

  “Right. Mrs Plyth, can you think of any reason someone would do this? Did the family have any enemies, anyone who might have targeted them specifically?”

  “I’m just a housekeeper. I don’t know such things. I don't concern myself in the business of my employers."

  "Nothing then? Nothing at all?" Myra raised her eyebrow in disbelief, as the woman rocked back and forward persistently avoiding the sight of the big door.

  "It's never a nothing," the woman hissed. "There’s envy, yes, envy and hate, and a thousand things people would throw at the ones with this kind of wealth. I've served this family all my life. I know there are people who want to see Mr. Gollen fall, but I cannot point to just one person. I can only point to that." She outstretched her hand at the cars and the long stretches of light filling up the horizon. After the rains had washed away the dust in the air, the city looked almost magically pretty, like it wasn't Helden at all.

  "Thank you. If you think of anything else, please contact me. Anytime,” Myra said placing a card in her hand, but the housekeeper grabbed Myra’s instead and held it tightly until it hurt.

  “You must find who did this. I beseech you. The twins are so fragile. They are not made for this world,” she grabbed Myra’s coat with her other hand and pulled it closer. “Find them and make them pay. Oh, what horror...”

  Myra stood, frozen in that momentary gaze the woman put on her. As it melted away she shifted to the side and took another look at the magnificent walls of an almost empty house. Footsteps followed from behind her, and soon Ori stepped out of the house. He was in a hurry, buttoning his black coat and watching the people outside like a hawk watches for prey.

  “Come on, Detective,” he said gently tapping on Myra’s shoulder. “We need to go.”

  “I’m not done here. I've barely scraped the surface. What the hell could be so important all of a sudden?”

  “The twins have woken up,” Ori returned, with a hint of excitement in his voice. “I need you to drive,” he added quietly.