Just on the far side of the next bridge, three people waited beneath the golden halo of a street lamp. A small woman stepped forward as they approached. Her dark hair, shot with gray, was braided and coiled on top of her head in a precise bun. She smoothed the front of her dress and spread her hands in a gesture of welcome.
“Kimberly Reed?” she asked.
Kim nodded. “I am.” She felt Daniel tense to her left and, strangely, Jadwiga tensed to her right.
The woman smiled and stepped further into the light. Her face was old and creased, but still lovely, her expression open and kind. Knowing what she knew, Kim found the effect unnerving.
“You have been looking for us,” the woman continued. “Word gets around. I am Aniela Uszkodzony.” She paused as though waiting for a reaction.
It took Kim a
