"Where is he?" Vivienne repeated, her voice echoing slightly in the empty foyer.
She spun around, scanning the living room, the hallway, the entrance. Nothing. Just the stillness of a house that had been abandoned.
Helena frowned, her gaze drifting to the antique grandfather clock standing sentinel near the entrance. She squinted, her mind struggling to interpret the position of the hands.
"Vivienne..." Helena whispered, her eyes widening. "Look at the time."
Vivienne followed her gaze.
The gold hands of the clock were unmistakable. The short hand was past the four. The long hand was near the three.
"Four fifteen?" Vivienne muttered, confusion knitting her brows. "In the morning? But the sun..."
She looked at the windows. The light wasn't rising. It was heavy. Golden. Slanting low across the floor.
"It's not morning," Helena breathed, a wave of shock washing over her face. "It's afternoon. Late afternoon."
