’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout. His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. She would take this one back with her. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. Then she was out of the door and running, fast. Her aunt went off at a tangent. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. You're on the way to big things.
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