Elise ran down the stairs, two at a time, her long navy skirt billowing around her. She took a deep breath in as she walked into the kitchen. The delicious aroma was intoxicating.

“Mmmm! What are you making, Grandma?” she said, as she leaned on the wooden counter beside the elderly white-haired woman who was washing her hands at the white porcelain sink.

“Fruit compote from the garden, sweetie. Those apples and raspberries you picked for me earlier. Thought it would go nicely with some yoghurt for our breakfast tomorrow.”

Elise moved over to the stove and breathed in the warm aroma of the sweet, cooking fruit, lightly bubbling in the large pan.

She paused and looked at her Grandma from the side of her eyes. Maybe she should ask about it now?

“Grandma?”

“Mmmn,” the old lady said absentmindedly as she wiped her hands on the towel hanging beside the sink.

“That door…”

“What door, dear?” she said as she reached up to her hair to re-pin some stray strands that had escaped her messy bun.

“The one upstairs. The door is locked.”

Grandma smiled benignly. “Mmm, yes, it is dear. You know it is.”

“Well, why?” Elise said as she placed her elbows on the counter. She tried to keep her tone as nonchalant as possible. “I mean, why is it locked? You never tell me *why*.”

The old lady sighed. “I guess you’re old enough to know,” she said as she went over to sit on a kitchen chair. ”It’s a matter of safety, dear. For us all. You, me, the village - “

“The village?” Elise said with a frown. “How can a door keep a village safe? I don’t understand.”

Grandma gave her a small, bitter smile. “It’s not the door that’s the problem. It’s what it’s keeping inside that is.”

Elise’s mind raced. Keeping *what* inside? If it wasn’t for her grandmother’s grave expression, she might have thought she was joking.

“I suppose I should start at the beginning.” her grandmother said, clasping her hands on the kitchen table. “You know this house is a Windsor house. It has been in our family for generations.”

Elise nodded, but said nothing. The Windors - her family on her mother’s side - had lived there for well over a century.

“Well, your great, great, great… oh goodness I don’t know how many greats.” Elise’s grandma waved her hand. “Let’s just say one of your ancestors - Arthur Windsor - he was a Protector Of The Realm, very famous in his day.”

Elise knew that name. Arthur Windsor was the man in the old oil painting that hung above the staircase in the entrance. “A Protector Of The Realm?” Elise asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. The question, though, is what realm exactly did he protect us *from*?” the old lady said, with a twinkle in her eye. “Because it was not from entities on this plane. Oh, no. He protected the world from entities from realms far beyond what normal folk could even imagine.”

Her grandma reached for her tea-stained teapot, and poured some tea into two chipped, white mugs.

“There are entities that you have no idea even exist. Evil entities that would harm not only you, but the world at large. They would like nothing more than to obliterate the human race and the animal kingdom, or to inhabit it.”

“Inhabit?”

“Possession.” Her grandma said grimly as she pushed a mug of hot tea towards Elise. “Oh, there have been a few that have snuck past. A few that weren’t trapped. But for the most part - your ancestor, Arthur Windsor, managed to trap them all inside a mirror in a single swoop.”

“What mirror?” Elise said, eyes widening.

“Nothing much to look at, dear. Just an old hand-held mirror. Apparently, it belonged to his wife. Arthur needed something to trap them all in and decided that it would do, you see.” The old lady dropped a cube of sugar into her mug and began to stir with an old, tea-stained spoon.

“Well, those entities are locked away inside that tiny mirror, upstairs.” she said gravely, meeting Elise’s eyes.

Elise’s eyes widened and she looked up at the ceiling.

“Now, don’t start panicking. You've been ok all these years, haven’t you?” her grandma said, taking her hand.

Elise nodded, mouth gaping open.

“The mirror is locked inside a chest that has wards inscribed inside it. And that chest rests in the center of a devil’s trap - that’s just a protective circlular design that immobilises entities inside it. And then there are the lines of salt that seal both the doorway and the window.” Her grandma waved her hand dismissively again. “It’s fully protected and has remained still for decades. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Elise breathed out, not realising she’d been holding her breath this whole time.

“And that, my girl, is why the door is locked. And it will remain locked until this house is no longer fit to hold it.” her grandma said, lifting her chin. “And once it is not, it will be moved to another safe-house, where it will be protected in a similar fashion.”

Elise bit her lip, suddenly feeling very unsafe in a home she’d felt was her sanctuary ever since she could remember.

“Oh, don’t worry dear. Nothing will happen. Your ancestors made sure of that. We are simply the keepers. The keepers of the chest. We make sure it stays unknown, not attracting any untoward attention.”

“Now here,” her Grandma said, pushing Elise’s mug a little closer to her. “Drink your tea and don’t let that imagination run away with you. We’re perfectly safe.”

—-

Thevius unfolded the map and frowned. He rocked back and forth’, cajoled by the movement of the train that was whistling through the English countryside.

Not long now. The Windsor house was only a few miles away. He would get off at the next stop.

Only an old woman and a teenage girl guarded the mirror. What fools.

He smiled. This would be an easy job. An easy job, indeed.