Chapter Eleven
Bri’s move-in process took all of twenty minutes, and then we were on our way back to town so we could prepare the shoppe for customers.
“You haven’t told me much about your family,” I said as I led the way across the moor.
The sun was beginning to crest the cliffs that tumbled down to the sea, and the sky was a hazy purple, nearly the same color as the heather.
There was a crispness in the air but no rain, which was a blessing.
I was still hoping to make a good impression on Bri, even if we’d already agreed to this deal.
“What do you want to know?” Bri asked, but I could hear the hesitation in her voice.
“About your parents, maybe? Do you have any siblings?”
“I’m an only child,” she said.
“Like Finlay and me,” I called over my shoulder.
“Maybe that’s why you squabble like siblings,” she said. “You’ve got no one else to argue with.”
Was that how she saw my relationship with Finlay? Like brother and sister? What a horrible thought.
“My father is an architect. My mother is a doctor. They’re busy,” she added, in case that wasn’t obvious.
I let out a low whistle. “They must be really smart.”
“You sound surprised.”
I paused to wait for her. “Not at all. I can see where you get your … discernment from. It’s a far cry from my upbringing. Or at least, I imagine it was.”
“I don’t know. I suppose, if it weren’t for the curse, our lives would have looked completely different. But I wasn’t allowed out much, for fear of what I might do.”
“They let you go to university, though.”
She shrugged. “Because I told them I was going to study medicine at a Carterran school. My father believes the only way to cure me is through conventional means, even though magic did this to me.”
Every time she spoke of her magic, there was a dark undercurrent to her words. Something had obviously happened to her that had left her traumatized. Was it morally reprehensible to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse in exchange for using her magic?
We had arrived at the shoppe. I stood in front of the window bearing my father’s name and felt the all-too-familiar, stomach-hollowing ache of loss.
I had trauma, too, and it would certainly be terrible for me if I lost this place.
Bri had a family, people who would be worried about her if they knew where she was; otherwise, she wouldn’t have had to lie to them. But who did I have?
No one, that’s who. No safety net to land on if the bottom fell out from under me. I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the front door, breathing in the smell of dust, old wood, books, and underneath it all, the sharp, enticing scent of potential, waiting to be unlocked.
“So,” I said, turning to Bri, “where should we start?”
She took a steadying breath before releasing one of her trademark sighs. “I think the best approach is to sort out the objects without magical potential. That way we’ll have a better idea of what we’re working with.”
I glanced around the crowded shoppe. There wasn’t a lot of space to maneuver in. “I suppose we should separate the items we don’t want to sell, too.”
“Like the wafflehanger?”
“Okay, now you’re being daft on purpose.”
She nodded, eyes smiling. “Do you have any kind of storage space?”
“Ehm…” We did, a small attic that was intended to be our apartment if we ever got desperate. But my father, a hoarder to his core, had filled that space with items, too. “In theory. We may have to take some things to the house first.”
Now it was Bri’s turn to look apprehensive. “Your house may be uncluttered compared to all this,” she said, waving her arm for emphasis, “but I’d like to keep it that way. We can take it to the charity shoppe, if it truly has no magic.”
“But—”
“Look, you wanted my help, and I’m telling you, we need to clear out this space so people can browse. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
I growled in assent.
“Good. Roll up your sleeves, Willow. We’ve got a lot of work to do before nine.”
We worked nonstop for an hour, and the shoppe looked worse than ever by the time customers began to appear.
We’d had to resort to hauling furniture outside so we had enough room to get started, and people were rummaging through it as though an empty chiffonier were going to spread wings and take flight.
“They’re like vultures,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “We’ve hardly even made a dent in here.”
So far, the pile of potentially magical objects was small, but we’d only worked on the front quarter of the store.
I was still holding out hope for some valuable items in the back.
Bri pointed out what she thought had potential and I moved it.
Aside from what Da had told me, neither of us knew what any of the objects could do, and we needed privacy to do more research.
Bri had pushed me to close for the day, but the woman who’d come asking after the broom was already here, and I was having a hard enough time reconciling that I’d turned away a customer once, let alone twice.
“What do you want to do?” Bri asked. It was five after nine, and a man had started knocking on the window.
“I don’t know!” I’d spent so many years lamenting the dearth of customers, I’d never bothered to wonder what I’d do with a glut.
“There,” Bri said, pointing to a small brass lamp. “Sell that one today. It won’t cause too much trouble.” She scratched her scalp. “At least, I don’t think it will.”
“What is it?” I asked, problems momentarily forgotten as my imagination took over. “A genie that grants wishes?” I shook my head. “No, too cliché. Let me guess, it has oil that never runs out. For a day, anyway.”
“You’re thinking too small,” Bri said. “I read about one of these in a book. It’s a home for a light sprite.”
“What the hell is a light sprite?”
“I knew you were a liar, Willow Stokes!” a familiarly grating voice shouted through the keyhole. “I’m going to tell the entire town if you don’t show us something magic!”
I cursed under my breath at the sight of Trystan Shilling’s face leering through the window.
“Who is that?” Bri asked.
“My nemesis.”
“You have a neme—” She broke off, shaking her head. “Never mind. That actually makes perfect sense.”
I scowled. “Believe it or not, he’s been torturing me since childhood. Well before I became the model citizen you see before you.”
“How?”
I tapped my chin. “Let’s see. He said I was a bastard, that my mother was a hoor, that my father was a liar and a thief. Also that I was ugly and unloved. You know, all the usual insults hurled at motherless girls.”
Bri’s mouth dropped open. “That’s awful, Willow. Why is he here?”
“To gloat, I’m sure.”
She chewed her lip in thought. “All right, let him in.”
“What?”
“Let him in. Let’s prove to him—to all of them—that Willow Stokes is not a charlatan.”
I felt a bloom of warmth in my chest. I liked the way those words sounded coming from Bri. I would have liked to try them out myself, but Trystan was rattling the doorknob, and truth be told, I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t fall off under his abuse.
“Okay,” I said. “But what do we tell the rest of the customers?”
“That we’re doing inventory. The shoppe will be closed for the rest of the week.”
A small, warbling squeak escaped me.
“Listen, I know this isn’t easy for you. It’s not easy for me, either. But if we’re going to work together, we’re going to have to trust each other.”
I studied Brianna’s face: her full lips and large brown doe eyes, her halo of curls. It was a trustworthy face, I decided. And, much like her, I didn’t have a choice.
I unlocked the door, wincing as Trystan shoved past me into the shoppe. “Who’s this?” he demanded, jerking his thumb toward Bri.
“Brianna Hargrave,” she answered. “You’re going to have to get back in line.”
He started to stammer a protest, but the customer from yesterday piped in, “That’s right! I was here first!”
A murmur of agreement washed over the crowd of a dozen people. A million percent increase in customers, I thought, some part of me aware that the math didn’t add up. Regardless, my father would have been proud.
“So?” the woman asked, shouldering Trystan out of the way. “Is the perambulator still available?”
“I’m afraid we’re doing inventory,” I said, trying to sound conciliatory. “It turns out there are far more treasures in my father’s shoppe than I realized.” That, at least, was true.
“You said you had more items coming in.”
“We do!” Bri chimed in. “Our shipment is late. But by the time our inventory is finished, we’ll have plenty of items. In the meantime…” She bent to retrieve the lamp, only hesitating for a moment before placing her hands on it.
As soon as she made contact, a faint light began to glow from within.
“Holy shite,” I whispered, only to realize Trystan had said the exact same thing. My lips curled in a smug grin.
A tiny ball of light emerged from the lamp, floating into the space above Bri’s head.
“It’s brighter in the dark,” Bri explained. “It will follow you wherever you go, as long as you have the lamp with you.”
“Handy,” I said, staring up at the sprite.
“Mind you,” Bri continued as she handed the lamp to the woman, “it only works for a day. Light sprites burn out quickly.”
I had no idea if that was true, but I was watching the woman’s face. As I expected, her eyes hardened and darted to me. “Only one day?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said.
“What good is that?”
“I’ll take it if she doesn’t want it,” a man said from behind her. “I’ll pay twice what you’re asking.”
My stomach fell at the sight of the trader, Wexley.
What in the devil was he doing here? He couldn’t have a genuine interest in something this small when he was trading in dragons, for Pete’s sake.
I remembered how he’d said he kept tabs on Da to be sure he wasn’t competition. Was that what he was doing now?
“I haven’t even given the price yet,” I said. I turned back to the woman. “It’s yours, if you want it.”
“Or you can return next week,” Bri added. “It’s up to you.”
“How much?” the woman whispered, eyes once again fixed on the light sprite.
“Three pounds,” I said. A low price for a genuine magical article, but given that it would only work for one day, it seemed fair. “An introductory price,” I said with a smile.
“Sold.” The woman reached out, about to shake my hand, then withdrew it. “As long as you promise not to sell the perambulator before next week.”
I winced inwardly. It had no magical potential, according to Bri, and it was one of the first items we’d designated for the charity shoppe. “No promises,” I said. “But I’ll try.”
She handed me the money, proudly taking the lamp as she strode out of the shoppe, the light sprite floating dutifully above her head.
I stared down at the coins in my hands, grinning.
My first honest sale. It was a milestone worth commemorating.
My eyes met Bri’s again, and I thought I saw relief there.
If all we had to do was sell a few small magical items every day, we could both make an honest living.
The thought was so heartwarming that I could almost envision a future where I was proud of myself.
Where maybe, finally, I’d be able to find a little more space in my heart for someone else.
“Shoppe’s closed,” Bri said, her voice carrying impressively. “We open again next Monday at nine. Have your coins ready!”
The trader stared at me, but I couldn’t read anything in his expression, and he left without another word. I shook off my uneasiness, rubbing the coins between my fingers. No, Mr. Wexley had nothing to fear from the likes of me. Not yet, anyhow.
Once the customers—including a very disgraced Trystan Shilling—had gone, I locked the door behind us and turned to Bri. “We did it!” I shouted, with so much enthusiasm I surprised even myself.
I opened my arms and stepped toward her, ready, for perhaps the first time in my entire life, to offer an embrace to a friend. But she stumbled backward so quickly she tripped over a wicker birdcage on the ground and crushed it.
Before I could ask if she was all right, a swarm of dark insects emerged from the remains of the cage, immediately spreading throughout the shoppe.
I screamed as several tangled in my hair. Another landed on my arm, sinking its massive stinger into bare skin. It burned like the dickens, and by the time I’d swept it away, another had landed on my shoulder.
“What are these things?” I shrieked.
“Quick!” Bri screamed. “The windows!” She thrust the door open, and I was relieved to see many of the insects had already escaped.
But there were still dozens of them buzzing around the shoppe, several clinging to my clothing.
My left arm felt like it was on fire, and I could barely lift it to brush off a hornet angling for my thigh.
It took another ten minutes before the majority of the insects were gone. I collapsed into a dusty armchair, my breathing ragged. “That was more excitement than I’d bargained for today,” I said with a relieved laugh.
After a disturbing silence, I looked up to see Bri trembling, her face pale beneath a sheen of tears.
“Are you all right?” I asked, bolting to my feet. “Did you get stung, too?” I reached for her cheek, where a large red lump was forming.
“Don’t touch me!”
The fury in her voice was more terrifying than the insects. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to fetch you a doctor?”
“What is wrong with you?” Bri shouted. “I just released a swarm of killer bees and you want to know if you should fetch me a doctor?”
“You didn’t release the bees,” I said. “The cage did. No one is dying. It’s just a couple of stings. One time when I was little, I found a beehive and decided I wanted some honey, and—”
“Enough!” She shook her head, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “I knew this was a mistake.”
“It isn’t,” I insisted, desperation creeping into my voice. “We already knew some of the items in here could be dangerous.” I reached for her again, and this time, she held out her hands as if warding off a demon.
“I don’t touch people, Willow.”
For a moment, I couldn’t process her words. What did that have to do with the bees? “What do you mean? Ever?”
“No. I don’t touch people, and I don’t let them touch me. That isn’t going to change. Not for you, not for anyone. If you can’t accept it, then we should call this off now, before someone else gets hurt.”
All of the joy I’d felt just a few minutes ago leaked out of me like air from a balloon. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. You only need to know that we will never touch each other. Not for an embrace, not for a handshake, not even if I’m drowning and you’re trying to fish me out of the water.”
“But—”
“Willow! Why can’t you leave well enough alone?” To my horror, she fled the shoppe, her face buried in her hands.
“Crivvens,” I breathed, watching her figure retreat around the corner. “I broke Bri.”