Ethylthorpe and I made our way up to our rooms on the third floor, having eaten a fine meal, which had been supplied free of charge by the inn, happy to have provided entertainment for their patrons in the form of Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Werewolf, Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Zombies, and finally Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress. My room was the first at the top of the stairs, the first one on the right, but I led Ethyl past it, to the second door, which was her room.
I stepped in and looked around, to make sure that there was no one lurking inside. With no danger present, I allowed the girl to enter and then closed the door behind her. Then I grabbed her by the cute little red dress that I had purchased for her in Oordport and threw her up against the wall. Holding her there, her feet a good twelve inches above the floor, which is to say, one foot, I placed my face close to hers and spoke in low tones.
“Now, foul, vile, and despicable villain, I will cut you into pieces and bury your parts in separate holes. But first, I will torture you until you confess and tell me what you have done with my poor, sweet, Ethylthorpe.”
“Father, I am your daughter,” she gasped, as I squeezed her tiny throat.
“Do not lie to me!” I hissed. “Do you think that I am such a poor writer that I did not notice all the inconsistencies in chapters seven through nine? You are not my daughter Ethylthorpe!”
“No, I am not Ethylthorpe.”
“Then tell me where she is.”
“She is with her mother.”
“You’ve killed her? Oh, you have no idea what pain I will subject you to before I finally slay you.”
“Her mother isn’t dead, and you know it! She’s with her mother and her mother is Elleena Cyrene!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not lying. She’s safe with mother.”
I released her and let her drop to her feet.
“And you are not a vile doppelganger that killed her to take her place?”
“Of course not, Father. I am your daughter. I am Ednathorpe.”