The door opened with a slam. I heard the clang of metal, and when I looked up I saw him—tall, pale, garbed in white. On his long fingers rested the glove-like contraption with looming, brutal spikes reaching out from each digit. A metal claw. “Hello,” Orithe Willow said, looking down at me through unfeeling eyes. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Spindle.”
