I looked across the room at Henrietta, sitting cross legged on my couch. She fancied herself to be royalty. Even with her greeting to me, the look in her eyes was dismissive.
I had to disagree on the idea of royalty. She was vile, hateful, vengeful and totally disregarded the feelings of others. She no longer cared about the importance of any life and quick to use anyone else to her distinct advantage. I took two steps toward the couch, when my slow freight train mind finally recognized the similarities. I had stopped in mid stride and my hand massaged my chin, “My God,” I shook my head and muttered, “definitely has the attitude.”
“Admiring my aura and demeanor of loveliness, big brother?”
“Where will you go from here, Henri? You have nothing left. Your connection to magic, Hilda was taken from you.”
“I DO have dad. You remember, DAD?”
“You have access TO him, but you don’t HAVE him.”
She looked hard into my eyes, plunging through the pupils into the depths of my darkness. Her expressed love and understanding reeked of fakery.
An attempted positive attitude to persuade me of her seriousness, only fueled my resolve to thwart any access she might have, to dad.
“You do have your own house. Is that on your list of possibilities or do you plan on creating havoc for me, like you did for our other brother, Tim?”
“You mean that skinny little bastard child in 1888? He’s not MY brother. Come to think of it, neither are you. My resolve, that I have clearly failed at, was in not ever speaking to you again.”
“Well then I see no reason for you to stay here, and waste one more tiny iota of your precious time.”
I motioned to Janie and “Henrietta the Kansas Assassin” vanished in a haze of lemon verbena mist, cast off when the two genies spun her around twice before deciding who got to snap their fingers first.