XXI.

The studio was even colder than Regina's tea room. He spent so little free time in his home nowadays it seemed as if nobody lived there; empty shelves, dust on every surface, spiderweb in the corners. Regina would've taken care of it, but he didn't let her. He didn't want them to stay there for long. Everything reminded him of the deceased visitors from his dreams. Putting his hands in the pockets of his coat, Stuart felt the cold, solid wax. He forgot about the candle he'd smuggled from Regina's place.