IMOGEN'S POV
The phone rang while I was fixing the collar on Joseph's school uniform. My fingers froze mid-fold, needle-like prickles racing up my spine. I watched Talia's face mirror my own unspoken dread before she squared her shoulders. It was early. Deathly early for important calls.
"I'll get it," she said, voice artificially steady as she walked briskly toward the hallway.
The floorboards creaked beneath her feet. Three steps. Four. The ringing stopped.
"Hello?"
A single word, fractured around the edges. Then silence expanded, stretched thin across the room like an overwound violin string about to snap.
I watched her face drain of color, blood retreating from the surface of her skin as though seeking shelter. Her pupils dilated, dark moons eclipsing warm brown irises. A small tremble started in her left hand.
She didn't have to say the name. I already knew.
A tinny voice leaked from the receiver loud enough for me to hear "Talia?"
