The room was silent and after the sound of Ms Moore’s footsteps had faded down the corridor, all around her seemed silent as though all senses had become numb.
It all seemed so surreal, as though she had stepped into a dream, but whether it was her own subconscious or the creation of another mind was altogether unclear.
However, the uncomfortable reality was just that, reality.  And no matter how hard she screwed her eyes up and rubbed her forehead, Jessica could not wake herself up.
A breeze on her face, drew the little attention she had left, to the thin curtains, the window must be open.
She stirred herself and moved to the centre curtains, they weren’t quite see-through but they were so sheer that they filtered out almost none of the sunlight; the thicker curtains to either side obviously took care of that.  It was only now that she saw that they ran the length of the room.
Reaching forward she gently pulled back the curtain, and, stifling a gasp, raised a hand to her cheek, which had suddenly flushed with colour.
To say that the view that greeted her was breath-taking was a severe understatement.
The curtains parted to show that instead of windows, there were several full length glass doors that opened onto a private balcony, set quite far back, that looked out of the rear of the house.
The first thing that caught her eye were the fact that from where she was stood she could see the beginnings of a Mountain Range, close enough to look like walls, the peaks covered in light dustings of snow so high they sat, the woodlands and fields carpeted the floor until it reached the eaves of the forest that covered the lower slopes.  In the midst of the trees glistened a huge lake around which were dotted several cabin style buildings that made up a small village.
Opening up the closest double doors, Jessica stepped out onto the balcony and took in her more immediate surroundings.
Another tiered pond that was connected by several streams and waterfalls shimmered in the sunlight as the fountains sent silvery dancers playing across the surface of the water.  Flowerbeds filled with many colours, ran in patterns over the lawn, some surrounded decked areas that held chairs and tables, and the odd barbeque or fire pit.
Just beyond the patio that joined the house to the lawns lay a rather majestic swimming pool with Jacuzzi built in at one end.
Feeling a little tired of doing so, she let out a sigh.
“Jessica”
She spun around, even though she knew who it would be.
“I wish you wouldn’t catch me so unawares like that, it’s quite disconcerting.”
“Sorry I shall take care not to speak so suddenly in the future,” she could tell that, despite the lack of a visual, he had a smirk on his face.
“Whilst we’re at it,” Jessica continued, “I would like to ask you if I am, in fact, becoming insane?”
“Well…” after a noticeable pause, “you have been through a lot.  What makes you think so?”
Jessica laughed, a shrill, heavily sarcastic sound, “Oh well, where to begin?  I saw my dead father standing over the dead body of my mother, I’ve found and lost the love of my life, I’ve been disowned by my family, lost everything I owned, somehow wound up working in a position serving what would have been myself, in the house of the man I love.”  She paused for breath,
“Oh yes, and I’m having unbelievable conversations with a disembodied voice that I’m beginning to think is coming from my own head!”
She realised a tad too late how hysterical her voice had become.  Looking around, she could see no-one, but going back into the room, she closed the doors behind her, just to be sure.
The voice had gone silent, “T?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No more than anyone else I know.”
“That’s not particularly comforting, for all I know you live in a mental institution or are a figment of my imagination, which means that I’m likely to be the one in a mental institution and none of this is real.”
She heard an ill concealed chuckle, “Good point, that could all very easily be true.  However, I can assure you that neither of is.  Neither of us is in an institution and I am not inside your head, rather, my voice is in your ear.”
“Come again?” she could feel a headache forming.
“My voice is in your ear,” he repeated, allow me to clarify, I have certain abilities, powers if you will, and one of these is to create portals, so to speak.  At the moment I am speaking into a tiny portal the size of a thimble, can you guess where the portal emerges?”
“My ear?” she raised a hand to hers, “So all this time, I’m the only one who’s been able to hear you?”
“Precisely”
“Well,” she sank into a nearby chair, “you certainly have convinced me that not only am I insane but I’m apparently an escapist.”
A frustrated sigh reached Jessica’s ear drum.  “I suppose it’s a little much to ask you to go on faith?”
Her eyes widened, “Faith?  What has faith got to do with anything?  I suppose that next you’ll be telling me that you were sent by God!”
The was silence.
“Oh for fucks sake!  You have got to be kidding me!”  She shook her head in disbelief, “I need to hear you say it.  Confirm it!  You’re telling me that you were sent by God!”
“It’s not even vaguely as simple as all that,” came the response, “it’s too complicated to explain right now, I will one day, but only when you’re ready to know.”
Before she could speak again he continued, “I hope that this might tide you over until that time comes” and as he spoke Jessica almost cried out in alarm, knocking the chair as she stood up, for out of the wall, just where the shadow of the unlit lamp rested, appeared a hand.
In its grasp was a silvery looking stick, which the hand deposited on the table next to her.
“This is a gift for you, and only you.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jessica gasped, “my eyes are lying to me!”
“I think you know what you see to be real, you’ve already seen the parasite and felt its effects.  If you really doubt your eyes all you have to do is take my hand and it may sink in.”
She moved apprehensively towards the anomaly.
At her approach, the hand reached towards her, making her stop, her heart hesitating momentarily, and then, with one swift movement, she allowed the hand to take hers.  She could see where the arm disappeared into the solid wall and slowly she could feel his hand drawing hers towards the wall.
His touch was gentle as was the pull, within a few moments she watched her hand disappear into the wall, and she was left staring at her elbow, which was only just still with her.
She could feel the air moving around their hands, making her shiver with the cold, suddenly something freezing and wet landed lightly on her arm and with a start she yanked her hand back quickly enough to see several snow flakes melting on her skin.
She put her other hand to the wall to catch some more, but all it met was solid wall.  She felt around that spot for a moment but found nothing.
“What was that?” she could barely bring herself to ask.
“I would have thought you’d know snow to look at it”
“That’s not what I…”
“Yes, I know what you meant.  It was a shadow portal.  I told you I have certain abilities,” she nodded, “one of those abilities is to open what we call shadow paths, doorways and windows through the shadows.  It’s one of the standard abilities of an Immortal.”
“An Immortal?” she could imagine his response if she asked what an Immortal was.
“Just another thing that will be revealed in due time.  For the moment, this gift is all I can offer.”
Jessica’s attention went straight to the stick that lay on the table, she went to pick it up.
It was about ten inches long, thin but firm with little notches up it.  At one end there was a wafer thin blade shaped like a feather or a leaf and at the other end there was a tiny jewel, the same gem that was encased in the cage on her necklace.
“Its name is Dion-le-fo-Buail, the metal is a mixture of silver, diamond, titanium and mythril, it will never break, it will cut anything, it was made for you, and I’m afraid, you will need it.”

It took Jessica just under two hours to make a full lap of the house and gardens.
Getting her bearings had proven easier than she had previously thought.  The basic structure of the house itself made it quite easy to navigate.
For the time being she had tucked Buail, as she had decided to call it, into a garter belt, which she had dug out of her bag, where it now lay cold against the skin of her thigh.
She had tried to wrap the tip in some spare cloth, but at each attempt it had simply cut through, no matter how loosely it was wrapped.  She feared for her own fingers at moments but the blade seemed not to be able to pierce her own skin, which gave her a slight confidence to not cover it, so far, to satisfaction.
She wandered noiselessly through the gardens, trying to avoid attention, her mind frantically trying to work out how to proceed.
It was clear that, under no circumstances, could she allow Ms Moore to continue under the impression that her master was to bring home a bride, or, at the very least, news of one, that and her own involvement in the matter.
So the first thing to be done would be to explain the situation to her and go from there.
Perhaps the agency could find her another placement, David would never even need to know that she had been here, as long as she could sway Ms Moore to her way of thinking.
David.
At the mere thought of his name, Jessica felt her heart heave out a pang of longing and shame.
What she had put him through was less than admirable, goodness knows how he must be suffering, if he even felt a tenth of what she did.
But what she wouldn’t give to have everything the way that it should have been.
To have both of her parents alive, her siblings back with them, her friends with her and she would be with him.  Maybe if there had been no war it would have all worked, although if that were the case she might never have met Ella or David.
A part of her spoke up saying, “I’m sure we would have met sooner or later” whilst another part of her said, “it doesn’t matter either way, this is what life is, this is what should have happened, not that, best to get to grips with that otherwise it’ll all fall apart.”
“It’s already fallen apart,” she said out loud in a soft voice.
“What’s that then?” said a voice from behind her.
With a start, Jessica turned her head to find a middle aged man leaning against a shovel in the midst of a flowerbed.
“I’m sorry,” said Jessica, “just musing out loud.”  Turning to face the stranger, she took her thoughts back to what Trevor had told her earlier, “you must be Mr StClaire?”
“That I am, but don’t bother with that Mr StClaire stuff.  Just call me Markus” he said coming forwards and offering a somewhat grubby hand.
“It’s nice to meet you Markus,” Jessica smiled, shaking it firmly, “I’m Miss Faileas, but you can call me Jess…” she thought for a moment, it’d probably be wise to be a bit different from now on, starting with, “it’s just Jess.”