Our farmhouse had a cupola for an attic, giving a view of the four points of the compass.  The windows also opened up, allowing us to sit on the roof of the house, if we wanted.  Mara spent a solid month watching every sunset from the roof.  She seemed to be in love with the sky.  I would see her up there, basking in the sunlight, arms spread to feel the wind.  I guessed maybe she missed her wings.

            One morning, she pushed at me to wake me up. 

            “Whazzitwhaddawant?” I muttered from under my pillow, trying to block her insistent nudges out.  Which translates as “What is it, what do you want?”

            “Let’s watch the sunrise!”

            “Lemmeloanimsleepingowaynextimemakeapointmen…”  I groaned back, holding the pillow over my head.  Which was to say, “Leave me alone, I’m sleeping, go away, next time make an appointment.”

            “I forgot to ask you yesterday.  Come on!”

            “I’m not doing this for a month!” I finally said, removing the pillow.

            “One time, I promise.  Then I’ll handle early mornings myself.”

            So we trekked out to the roof.  Mara wore a thin white nightgown she’d sewn herself, while I wore my brother’s Glendon t-shirt and a pair of old boxers.  I put my hair in a ponytail to keep it from looking too dishevelled.  The air was chilly, the leftovers of spring before the beginning of summer.  The air was dimly lit, a washed out colour like faded jeans across the sky.

            The sun broke the horizon like a blade, piercing, and growing warmer.  Mara watched in glee, clapping her hands as it took the sky.  I smiled at her childish joy.  I remembered feeling like that, long ago.  I was only twenty years old and felt like a crone.  I hugged my knees.

            “Something wrong?”

            “I dunno.  I mean, you’re seeing the world through your own eyes for the first time, and it’s beautiful.  But I’ve been seeing what it’s become in the last fourteen years, and it’s monstrous.  Just a weird feeling.  Especially because Ethan has something to do with it.  I still can’t figure it out.”

            “You will.” Mara patted my shoulder.  She stood up, letting her fingers run through the wind, closing her eyes.

            “What was the deal with the Sherlock Holmes thing?” I asked, tilting my head to watch her over my shoulder, squinting to keep the rising sun out of my eyes.

            “What do you mean?” She said, spinning slowly in the sunbeams.

            “The Moriarty thing.  Ethan wanting a worthy opponent.  Like his life’s a game, and he’s bored playing it.”

            “You wear his clothes, see with his eyes, read his thoughts.  You tell me.”

            “What are you two doing?” Genevieve said.  She leaned out her window, peeking up at us.  “I can hear you from my room!”

            “Sorry, did we wake you?” Mara asked.

            “Just a little.  What are you talking about?”

            “Oh, your sister is just trying to piece together the mystery.  I’m surprised she’s having so much trouble.  There’s a big clue in the basement.”

            “What?” We both asked.

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