As the maid departed upstairs, Blake stayed reclined on the floor, feeling unusually centered and at ease. He gazed at the dwindling flames and let his mind wander blissfully blank before eventually making his way to bed. These little indulgences with Lily were becoming one of the unexpected bright spots in his hectic life.
'Rose does know how to pick them,' he thought.
Later that night, Blake jolted awake with a start. He blinked hard, disoriented in the pitch black of his bedroom. What had woken him? He reached over and squinted at the glowing numbers on his alarm clock - 3:17am. With a groan, he fumbled for his robe, suddenly parched. A glass of water would help him get back to sleep.
As he emerged from his bedroom into the dark hallway, he froze. Light filtered up the stairs from the kitchen below. Blake's heart quickened. Had Lily forgotten to turn off a lamp? Or was there an intruder? The house's security system hadn't alerted him to any disturbances.
With the recent happenings, one couldn't blame him for being on the edge.
He crept down the winding staircase, ears straining to detect any sounds. In the kitchen, he caught a flicker of movement through the doorway and paused. There was a voice, low and hushed - almost a chanting. His hands shook as he inched forward to peer into the room unseen.
There, illuminated by the faint glow of the open refrigerator, was Lily. The maid stood unnaturally still, murmuring indistinctly under her breath as she gazed unblinking at the bright interior light. Blake released the breath he was holding. It was just Lily, though her bizarre behavior was still alarming. He stepped into the kitchen entrance, clearing his throat softly.
"Lily?"
The maid started violently, whirling around with eyes wild. There was something distinctly off about her posture and the pallid tint to her skin.
"S-Sir! You startled me," Lily stammered in her thick French accent, quickly regaining her composure. She busied herself fussing with reorganizing the condiments inside the fridge door.
Things only grew stranger over the following weeks. Blake would hear Lily pacing the halls at night, her footsteps uneven and lumbering.
The maid's appearance deteriorated further at night but somehow she regained her normal tone in the day time. Confusing, it sure was.
Her complexion waxy and her eyes sunken pits. But she continued to insist, tersely, that she was perfectly fine whenever Blake expressed concern.
Twice more Blake glimpsed Lily seemingly talking to herself in the darkened rooms of the house at odd hours. The maid clearly thought she was out of earshot, as Blake could hear her muttering to herself in guttural tones.
Whenever Blake drew near though, the chanting would stop abruptly and Lily would lash out defensively, always making excuses for her presence.
Blake began to dread the maid's nighttime wanderings, worried of what bizarre behavior he might stumble across next. He tried to rationalize that Lily must be dealing with some sort of personal crisis or mental health issue. Or perhaps, she might have a habit of sleep walking at night. He was creeped out but didn't want to call Rose's attention to it.
He felt she had done her part getting him a maid, for free. He was a grown man himself, he couldn't act a baby each time and run to Rose for little things.
He blamed his suspicions and uneasy feelings on little things that he should ignore on the trauma from the attack from weeks back.
It wasn't everyday one would escape an experience like that unscathed much less perfectly fine after.
However, Blake what Blake didn't know was that his feelings were spot on. Lily wasn't exactly whom he thought she was.