‘I must have been mistaken. Lack of sleep, I suppose,’ she told the physicians. ‘Truth is… my imagination has been playing tricks on me for months.’ Yeah, she thought, but statues coming to life wasn’t one of them. Her head weighed less than a ball of wool. She stopped by the window and pressed her fingers hard into the small of her back. The ache there reminded her that she was due. She paced again. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean the panic attacks are coming back.’
‘Panic… attacks?’
‘They started not long after Mikey was born and gradually got worse. Terrifying. I thought I was possessed by some… strange… thing.’
Aeryl was sitting cross-legged on a sofa, the tails of a crumpled nightshirt gathered round her plump thighs. Leachim sat next to her, elbows on his knees and one bare foot resting
