It was early evening. The sky was painted in soft gold and pale orange, and the air was thick with the sound of wings. The birds were flying back home, their movements hurried and sharp, almost as if they were running away. It looked like they knew something terrible was about to unfold. It looked like they were bracing themselves for the madness that would soon fill the Rousseau chateau.
Vivienne stood just at the gates, frozen in place, staring at the towering iron like it was the gateway to hell. Maybe it really was. Maybe the devil lived inside and had been waiting for her all along, sharpening his teeth and his tongue.
She pressed her palms flat against her dress and took three deep breaths. Not one. Not two. Three. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, "You can do this. You can fucking do this. You're Vivienne Moreau, not some weak little lamb. You're going to walk in there, smile like an angel, and survive whatever fresh madness that lunatic is already cooking."
