3. Fiella
After the rude but alarmingly handsome vampire left the shop looking dejected, my thoughts were conflicted. The man was impolite, absolutely, but I knew how irritable thirst could make a vampire. I had felt the same way many times. Many, many unfortunate times. That was no excuse to be rude, though.
I hadn’t seen the man before–I would surely remember a face like that. Those moody eyes and strong jaw would be hard to forget. What in the realms is he was doing in Moonvale?
I tugged on a strand of my blue hair, idly twirling it around my fingers. The side effects of the thirst tonics weren’t that bad, he was just being a pansy.
I shoved the nameless stranger from my mind.
I pulled my breakfast pastries from my satchel, tossed one over to Kizzi, and dug into the other. Raspberry scones today. Delicious. She missed the scone and it plopped to the floor before she managed to pick it up, but luckily it had been wrapped in parchment.
I ignored her withering glare as I licked the sweet berry glaze from my lips.
I planted myself at a work bench and kicked my feet up, trying my best to contain my crumbs and avoid touching anything that could be poisonous.
“So, Kiz,” I said around a mouthful of scone. “What’s new? Besides the whole sprite fiasco thing, anyway.” I swallowed, washing the bite down with a mouthful of tea. The perfect combination.
“Nothing much different than yesterday, to be fair,” she answered, her own cheeks also full of pastry. She caught a berry before it could fall to the floor, tilting her head back and dropping it into her mouth. “All I’ve done since I spoke to you last was experiment with new ingredients for skin illuminating potions for a few hours and then catch some sleep. Oh, and I left out a very nice offering to the sprites too. Maybe they will appreciate the knitted socks.”
“Ugh, how boring!” I joked. We spoke constantly, but we told each other everything, no matter how dull. “Let me tell you about the new book I started last night, then.” I waggled my eyebrows mischievously.
“Yesssssss you know I love hearing about those masterpieces. Please tell me it’s a raunchy one.” She sat up straighter.
I rolled my eyes. “Kizzi, what kind of lady do you think I am? Of course it’s a raunchy one.”
She snorted. “Right, we’re the fairest ladies of them all. Now spill.”
So I did. I told her about the elf maiden, and how she was trapped at the top of a magical tower with no way to escape. I told her about the handsome orc soldier who had come to save her. Kizzi’s jaw dropped further and further the more I spoke, and I hadn’t gotten to any of the really naughty bits yet.
“He did what to her?!” Kizzi exclaimed, looking equal parts intrigued and horrified when I told her what the soldier had done to the maiden when she tried to run away from his clutches.
“You heard me right,” I responded sagely.
She shivered. “Go on, then.”
I decided it was time to hold the theatrics and head on my way when a customer walked in, asking about a tooth whitening polish and interrupting my sordid tale.
I stood up with a huff, brushing the unavoidable crumbs from my lap and grabbing my satchel from where it had settled on the ground.
“Alright Kiz, I better head to the shop. To the moons!” I called out as I headed to the door.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, to the suns, Fi,” Kizzi responded distractedly, having already moved on to grabbing the ingredients she needed for her customer’s purchase.
The phrases had been our signature salutation since we had been littles, when we used to insist that we loved each other to the moons and back and argue over whether the suns or the moons were farther away. The phrases had shortened over time, but they had stuck.
Whether Kizzi liked it or not, she was stuck with me forever. That’s what best friends were for!
My shop was only a short distance from Kizzi’s, and the walk flew by. I hardly even had time to register that it was cold enough to make me shiver, and that abnormally few folk were out and about. It felt like only seconds had passed before I arrived at my destination.
Taking in the wood and brick of my shop building brought a smile to my face. My cottage was my home, but my shop was my haven. My paradise.
I spent more time in my shop than I did in my cottage. I even purchased a bed for the lofted area above my shop so I could sneak away for naps during slow days.
Just being at my shop was enough to lift my spirits, no matter what else was going on, and on a good day, being here made everything even better. I had painstakingly collected every single item and curated the collection perfectly.
I had procured ancient tomes from the far reaches of the realm, animal sculptures from nearby towns, and even a few hand-painted pottery sets from across the sea. The most eye-catching things in my shop were the colorful tapestries slung across the walls and hanging from the ceiling. I had collected a tapestry from every single town I had traveled to, and they gave the shop a warm, comfortable atmosphere.
I wasn’t proud of myself for much, but I was proud of myself for this. Extremely proud.
Nothing gave me greater satisfaction than providing a customer with exactly what they were looking for. Folk really underestimated how much a perfectly placed trinket could transform a space, and I was an expert at finding them. My wares were the items that could turn a cottage into a home. Into a space of comfort and personality.
Humming to myself, lost in thought, I fished around in my satchel for my iron set of keys. The pesky things always sank to the very bottom, under my abandoned pastry wrappers and spare writing utensils.
An annoying presence itched at my senses, enough to mildly irritate my nose.
After fumbling around for a few seconds, I finally pulled out my iron key and jammed it into the slot.
At the first crack of the door, I caught a whiff of an acrid scent so strong it made my eyes water. It wasn’t anything I had ever encountered before, and it was foul. It reminded me of something between rotten vegetables, animal waste, and the cleaning solvent Kizzi used to clean up stubborn spills.
The scent smacked me in the face with the force of a stampede when I pulled the door open wide. Gods! What died in here?
I yanked my tunic up over my face and braced my hand on the door frame to steady myself, though my lungs tried to rebel. It took a few minutes before the smell had dissipated enough to make entering my shop bearable. With shaking legs and trembling nerves, I entered. Slowly. One step at a time.
I took a quick glance around and everything seemed fine.
Surprisingly, there weren’t any rotting carcasses in the middle of the room. Thank the gods.
The comfy sitting nook in the corner still had all of its seats in place, and the yellow cushions looked as fluffy as ever. The shelves full of trinkets were still spread throughout the place as they had been when I’d locked up last night. Even my plants looked bright and vibrant, their leaves slowly inching toward the light coming in the front windows.
My worktable was where it had always been. Even the jar of flowers I had purchased yesterday were still in full bloom, right where I had left them.
Nothing seemed abnormal. Maybe I was just imagining the smell? I wasn’t sure my brain was capable of conjuring up something so rank but the tonic could have really been messing with me.
Still, my eyes burned, and I kept my nose covered.
Shrugging off my apprehension and trying to convince myself that the tainted thirst tonic was giving me olfactory hallucinations, I propped the doors open to let the lingering smell out, whether it was real or not.
My eyes dripped with tears. I wiped them away, annoyed, as I made my way over to my worktable to get everything organized for the day.
I trailed my fingers over the shade of a beautiful, beaded lamp that I had recently added to my inventory, rescued from a small, dusty shop in the beachy town Tidegrove. The salesperson hadn’t even put up a fight when I haggled with her, and she sold me the beauty for an extremely low price. A score that still made me smile when I thought about it.
I tucked away my spare pastry in the cubby below my worktable, pulled out my sales ledger, and set out my favorite quill and ink. I needed to update my inventory logs today.
“Sookie!” I called out.
Sookie usually greeted me right as I walked in the door, and I should’ve noticed earlier that she was missing. The smell had thrown off my rhythm. Perhaps she was taking a nap. That critter really loved naps. A quick glance around the room proved that theory false. There were no furry bodies curled up on any cushions, or on my bed in the loft.
Sookie came and went as she pleased–nobody could keep that adorable beast contained if they tried. I had learned that lesson the hard way.
Sookie was my second-best friend, behind Kizzi, of course. Sure, she was a cat, but I was convinced that she had the soul of an old, wise witch. I didn’t have proof of that, but it was a longstanding theory. I seemed to gravitate towards witches.
Regardless, she was excellent company.
Shrugging off Sookie’s absence, trying not to let it bother me too much, I got to work.
Before I made much progress, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. Quick as a crack of lightning, I managed to turn in time to see a beetle about the size of a silver coin darting into one of the cracks in the mortar of the floor. What in the realms… As I looked around and peered closer at my shop, I realized I could catch hints of the blasted insects everywhere. A reflection of a shell here, legs squeezing into a crack there. The place was crawling with them!
I never had a pest problem in the past. Sookie usually took care of that for me, so to see the place swarmed made my stomach churn and my blood pressure skyrocket.
I hated bugs.
In the midst of my panicking, I heard a massive crrrrrrrack. And then another. And then another. Plumes of dust filled the air as my shelves began collapsing, dumping my priceless collection of treasures onto the stone floor.
NO!
No, no no no no no!
A guttural scream of horror ripped its way out of my throat.
I darted around like a hummingbird trying to rescue any falling items that I could, but my effort was futile. Every single shelf in my shop collapsed! Even as fast as I was, I only managed to catch a potted orchid and a small set of woven baskets.
I found myself surrounded by the ruined remains of my priceless collection of goodies. My heart cracked into two.
Frozen in shock, I was only stirred into motion when the sound of wood cracking began again, this time from above my head. Shit, the roof is coming down! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!
I had a split second to act, and I barely made it outside before my world came crashing down around me.
I allowed myself to feel the soul-shattering panic and despair for only a few heartbeats before I sprinted into the town square as fast as my legs could carry me, headed towards the only folk I was sure could help.
I bypassed Kizzi’s, as she always took house calls and made deliveries at this time of day, and she would surely be on the far side of town. I ran past my other neighbors as well, because there was nothing they could do for me in this chaos. I needed the mayor’s help. He would know what to do.
Seconds later, I burst into the mayor’s office, red-faced and huffing.
“Mayor. Tommins. I need. Your help,” I puffed out between gasps of air. I really needed to start working out more, this was kind of embarrassing.
Mayor Tommins was a gryphon, and younger than I’d always expected mayors to be. He had been the mayor for as long as I could remember, but he never seemed to age a day. I had no idea how old he really was.
I was clearly interrupting his morning as he jerked his eyes up to look at me, startled, with his mouth hanging slightly open. His pointed teeth caught the light. It took him a moment to shake himself free of his stupor and register what I had said.
“Miss Elmwick, I can see you are rather flustered. What in the realms is going on?” he asked, setting down the parchment he was reading and rising to his feet.
“My shelves!” I heaved, slowly beginning to catch my breath. “They’ve collapsed! All of my trinkets are on the floor! I’ve been sabotaged! The whole place is coming down!”
Mayor Tommins didn’t seem as shocked by this information as he should have been. Why wasn’t he panicking? This was a travesty!
I was sweating buckets, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My breaths wouldn’t slow. It took all of my will power to hold off the wave of panic that was threatening to rise and pull me under.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. “I’m sorry, Miss Elmwick. That is very unfortunate. I am afraid to say that you aren’t the only Moonvale resident having problems this morning. There has been a string of incidents over the past few days. It seems we have all been having… rather poor luck.”
Luck! This had nothing to do with luck. Sturdy oak shelves didn’t just collapse for no reason. Someone was clearly out to get me. “I need help! What can you do? Are any earth witches or builders available to come take a look? Everything I’ve got is in there. Everything!” I leaned on his desk as I began to feel lightheaded, nausea churning in my gut.
The mayor sighed deeply and slid his glasses off so he could drop his face into his hands. “I’ll add you to my list,” he mumbled between his fingers. “We’ll get someone out there as soon as we can. It might take some time. As I said, you aren’t the only one with a disaster right now.”
“Okay… okay. Yes, please, just send someone whenever you can.” I couldn’t hold back my wave of disappointment. I wanted to fix this now.
I stifled a huff of frustration, thanked Mayor Tommins, and left the office. I was proud of myself that I only stomped a little bit. I wanted to throw a full-blown tantrum. My entire livelihood depended on my shop, and if I couldn’t keep selling trinkets and earning silvers, I was absolutely screwed.
My shop was everything.
I had kept Fiella’s Finds afloat for five years, since my Ma had handed it off to me during my twentieth year, and I would be damned if I’d watch it crumble now. I had poured all my blood, sweat, and tears into that place.
I came from a long line of trinket sellers. I had learned from my Ma, and she had learned from her Ma before her. The business had passed through generations, but I had morphed it into something that was entirely my own. My project, my vision, my shop. Trinket selling was in my blood. It was my passion, my joy, my life’s mission.
Pa was a painter, but he had been by Ma’s side back when the shop had been called “Moonvale Novelties”, and they ran the business together. They had both retired and moved on to exploring the realms, but that didn’t mean I was going to let the shop crumble to dust now that they were long gone (current situation notwithstanding).
The walk back to my shop took much longer than my panicked sprint to Town Hall, but it still passed much too quickly. I wasn’t ready to face the damage behind the green-painted door. The tremors in my hands turned into full-blown quakes as I reached for the handle, dreading the closer look I would have to take at the damage.
At least most of the structure seemed to be remaining upright. The back corner had collapsed, but the remaining three were holding on by a thread.
Thank the gods for brick reinforcements.
Water pooled in my eyes and my throat constricted. My much-too-rapid breaths caused my vision to begin tunneling. Panic was slowly sinking its deadly claws into me, creeping under my skin and into my muscles. Crunching my bones.
If I opened that door and witnessed the destruction inside, I feared that the fragile tether I had on my emotions would snap.
I stuck the key into the lock, sweat trickling down my back, between my shoulder blades.
I gritted my teeth and pulled the door open just a crack. An inch. Two. A beetle scurried out through the gap and over my boot. I squealed, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. The walls creaked ominously, and I immediately straightened up, my whole body shaking.
That was tomorrow Fiella’s problem.
Tomorrow, I will be strong enough to handle this.
Tomorrow, I will face it.
Tomorrow.
For today, I am allowed to feel weak.
I locked the door back up.
Alcohol. Alcohol was what I needed right now. I needed to numb myself, to dull the sharp blade of pain that was gouging into my heart.
My keys clattered to the ground as I tried to tuck them back into my satchel. I tossed my head back, shoving my fists into my eye sockets and using any willpower that I had left to hold myself together.
My voice trembled as I muttered to myself, “I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.”
I snatched my keys off the ground and headed over to Ginger’s Pub with my heart in tatters and my spirits in the gutter. It was time for a drink. Or five.