After three days, the dizzy spells were over. I lay on the carpet in the library. Several books, which I had picked out from the shelves and had been reading for hours, looking for explanations, progress reports or something like that telling me more about the phenomenon of the white shrub, piled up around me. Unfortunately, I had found no information, only the things the Father had told me. Apart from that I had read about more omens of death like the Irish Banshee, the dark angel Azrael or the British black giant dog.
“You’ve got a visitor,” I heard the Father’s voice coming from behind me, making me jump.
I had been so absorbed in my research I hadn’t heard the door being opened. When I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway, his facial expression surprised me. I really had no idea, what it was supposed to mean. I wondered what I did wrong. I shut the old book about medieval superstitious and got up. I tugged at my T-shirt, saying: “I cannot find anything in the books. I think I search the internet.”
“Mhh,” the Father said, which made me lift my head.
Why was he looking at me as if he wanted to give me a good hiding right now?
I shrugged and walked over to him. “Who is it?” I asked.
“Dr. Anderson,” he answered.
Abruptly, I stopped. Now, I understood why he had the grumps. I hadn’t told him I had phoned the doctor in an unguarded moment. I’m sure he had totally been flabbergasted, when Dr. Anderson stood in front of the door.
“Oh, erm, yeah, right,” I giggled. “You don’t know anything about that.” Embarrassed, I looked to the ground. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Mhh,” Father Michael said.
I looked up at him, trying to smile like a child, hoping for its father’s grace, because it had made a mistake. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Father Michael didn’t give in, keeping his disgruntled facial expression, that told me I could forget about the internet research. The rules for the use of the telephone haven’t changed since my first day as a huntress. Rule No. 1: Do not use the telephone without the Father’s permission. Never! I had been against the rules. But hey! I hadn’t done it just for me. After all, the Father would benefit from what Dr. Anderson hopefully had brought. “I’m sorry, Michael. I know I should have asked you. But I simply forgot. I was a little bit distracted, you know. Garden, shrub, omen of death.”
Father Michael once again made one of his famous “Mhh’s”, then he let me go to my guest, so I could get my, no, our gift.