Devorah couldn’t really remember what freedom felt like. Imagining it conjured up a bright blue sky hugging vast amber dunes of sand. Driving her own ship, with nowhere in particular to go, just for the joy of the journey. Stretching back at her desk after a long afternoon of grading papers, with nothing left to do but watch cat videos now.

Whatever freedom was, vague freedom of movement was a start in the right direction. But Devorah struggled to acknowledge it in her heart of hearts. There was really only one thing that she could think of. And that one thing was obvious.

She was thinking of Anna.

All Devorah seemingly had to do, to have the freedom to follow Anna, was deliver a package. One simple package.

Being granted this freedom didn’t feel any differently physically, either. Devorah still felt like a disembodied nothing, taking up no space at all. And now she was unmoored too, like a ship adrift without port or an anchor. Even still, she knew that AI was watching her and likely tracing her steps. When Devorah tried to push a candle mounted on the wall, her hand passed right through it.

As Devorah followed instructions and went to the main hall to retrieve the package, she bet that it would be activated at just the right moment.

She hadn’t had the pleasure of standing in the main hall until that moment. It matched the rest of the house in ominous, mismatched grandeur. A long marbled staircase split the room in two and led up to a balcony. The walls were papered in a deep, rich red reminiscent of blood- Devorah was almost positive that was done on purpose. Portraits of characters that likely held some significance to the plot hung on the wall, bordered in gilded frames.

Across from the stairs was a huge set of doors, likely made from some sort of wood. The dark, consistent coloring indicated that they were either expensive or made by a really skilled set designer. And resting right in front of doors that would likely never open was a small brown square chest, just about a foot in all directions.

That must have been the package.

Devorah took a deep breath and stared the box down. This was it. The moment of truth. Clearly, there was a box there. So that wasn’t a lie at least. But would she be able to pick it up? Would she be able to carry it? And then… After everything…

With one hand shaking in trepidation, Devorah leaned down and touched the box. The surface of it was smooth and grainy, like finished wood. It was cool to the touch.

The touch.

Devorah felt her breath catch in her chest, and she allowed herself a moment of exhilaration. Cool and smooth to the touch! She could touch it! She could pick it up!

The box was light enough to be easily carried. It felt like carrying things when she had a real body, with bones and muscles that Devorah had never really taken the time to develop. She had rarely felt this kind of regret in her life. There had never been dreams and aspirations of, say, becoming a bodybuilder, but Devorah would never again feel the burn in her calves after a long run, or get noodle arms after moving something heavy.

Devorah pushed that thought aside. That couldn’t ruin her good mood now! Though. As Devorah walked, she still cast no shadow. No footsteps called out her arrival.

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Her fears were only confirmed when Faith walked by on the balcony. He looked down towards where Devorah was standing, let out a breath of air, and said, “not today.” He continued by.

Though it was unfortunate that Devorah still wasn’t fully corporeal, it was convenient to have an external presence confirm it for her. And she was fairly lucky it was only Faith, who didn’t seem to care enough about said floating package. That AI was pretty clever- the night after an investigation was the perfect time to get up to mischief. Everyone was tired, both physically and emotionally, including Devorah. Faith had a nonchalant and flirty demeanor, but he was pragmatic, in his own way. If it had been someone curious, Devorah would have had to run. Which would have made the floating package even more suspicious. Ugh.

Contemplating what a disaster that could have been, Devorah went back towards the servants’ quarters, where the bedrooms were. Then her luck took a turn for the worse. Typical.

Footsteps. And they were coming fast, towards the room Devorah was passing by. She quickly assessed her options. Run into the hall and risk being seen, or stay where she was. She ducked into the room, too fast to even look around. Devorah put the package on the floor to avoid any attention. Floating boxes were not normal.

But wait. It was pretty much out in the open, and what if someone saw it? Devorah wasn’t sure if she had enough energy to wrestle it out of someone’s hands. And if the wrong person got their hands on it? It would be bad enough if it was someone like Tiberius, who probably didn’t even know what a computer was, but if it was Lupe? Devorah’s favor was likely hanging by a thread.

No one else could see the package aside from its intended recipient.

Devorah got onto all fours and started pushing the box behind one of the overstuffed couches. Just as it was half-way behind the couch, Kefilwe entered the room.

Even when Mathilde’s corpse had been found, and Nour killed in her arms, there was a quiet pride in Kefilwe. She showed sorrow, and fear, but there was control to her every move. Now, she was wild. Each heavy breath she took shook her whole body. Her warm brown eyes were bloodshot and wide. And she started yelling at nothing.

“Shell!” Kefilwe screamed. “Shell, dammit! Talk to me!”

Shell? Like by the sea?

“I’m serious! Get over here! We need to talk!”

There was a subtle shift in the air, one Kefilwe did not seem to notice. But Devorah did. And thanks to her panic, she was able to slide the box a few more centimeters behind the couch. Devorah herself ducked behind the couch too, and resolved to pull the rest of the way. Something was clearly coming, and Devorah didn’t want to be seen.

It could risk everything.

But then again, Devorah doubted that Shell wanted this little meeting to be seen either, once it became clear who Shell was. The doll, the host, rounded the corner, and looked at Kefilwe with the closest thing to an expression that Devorah had seen grace its porcelain face.

Kefilwe clenched her fist, as if she was deciding whether or not to punch the doll. Thankfully, for her own sake, she clearly decided against it. Kefilwe then turned away from Shell.

“Did you know?” She whispered.

The doll cringed. “Kefilwe, I-”

“Could I have done something? If you had told me?” Kefilwe asked, voice still low. “You promised you would tell me if anything happened to Mathilde.” Devorah couldn’t see her face from the angle she was at, crouched behind a couch as she was, but she could see how the doll recoiled as if it had been struck.

“You don’t understand,” the doll said. “I couldn’t. I would have been in danger. You would have been in danger!”

Devorah squinted at the doll. Before this moment, she had been almost positive this thing was an inorganic AI. Was there someone inside there?

“I don’t care!” Kefilwe yelled. “Shell, you promised! Why does no one… Why does no one keep their promises to me? I don’t understand.” Kefilwe’s knees gave out from under her, and she fell to the floor. “I don’t understand…” She said softly.

The doll crouched down and put its arms around Kefilwe. It looked unpracticed and wrong, but Kefilwe surprised Devorah by leaning into the hug. “I promised I would protect you,” Shell said. “And I will. I will. I’m sorry about your… friends. Nour and Mathilde. But they are not you.”

As fascinating as this conversation was, and Devorah did truly feel a tug in her gut, telling her to stay, they were all wrapped up in each other. They were distracted. They probably wouldn’t notice if a package, say, slid right out the door and down the hall.

The doll could probably see Devorah, but for once, being a ghost had its benefits. No sound. No shadow.

The two whispered to each other, probably words of love or something gross Devorah didn’t really care to eavesdrop on at the moment. Her focus was on slowly, silently sliding this package out the door.

Inch by inch, she pushed the package, speeding up to duck behind furniture. And as she predicted, the doll and Kefilwe were in their own little world. There was no indication they saw Devorah sneak out of the room, box in hand.