Chapter 2
CHAPTER
Two
Aloud rap on the window made Thea jump.
Outside, a petite, well-rounded woman with chestnut curls escaping in every direction, her russet dress and apron dusted with flour, waved at Thea, pointing to the cake she was holding, then in the direction that Malek had just departed. ‘Who was he?’ Zofka mouthed.
Five minutes later, Thea and Zofka were ensconced in the Lantern, the bookshop where Talibah, the third woman in their trio, lived and worked.
Hundreds of lights in gemstone colours dangled from the ceiling, sending rainbows skittering around the room, which was filled with squashy sofas and armchairs.
‘And a dimple?’ Zofka asked, cutting her apple and cinnamon cream cake into generous slices, which she arranged on three plates. Rich, autumnal spices seeped into the air, making Thea’s mouth water.
‘And a dimple,’ Thea confirmed, taking two of the plates and leading the way to their favourite spot, where three cups of hot chocolate were gently steaming on the table, thick enough to stand a spoon in. Lashings of whipped cream melted on top.
Outside, the shops and stalls were closing for the night, the wide main street and crooked alleys emptying of anyone who didn’t live there.
Messenger ravens criss-crossed the navy sky and Rose, the garden-witch, and Zdenka, the fortune-teller, were either gossiping or bickering nearby, Thea couldn’t tell which.
Thea wrapped her hands around her cup of hot chocolate and sank back into her favourite purple chair as Talibah entered from the little old wooden door embedded in her back wall that led to the books. ‘Whose dimples are we discussing?’ She joined Thea and Zofka, resting a few books on the table.
Thea craned her neck to read the titles. Serenading Vivian, Eudora and the Ship’s Captain, The Adventures of Georgina, all by one Arabella Wildgoose, whom she’d never read before but thought the most magnificent nom de plume.
‘Thea met a man,’ Zofka whispered conspiratorially.
‘Oh?’ Talibah sat down with the elegance of a ballerina, her ebony hair falling over one shoulder in a curtain of silk.
All three women were in their middling thirties, but where Zofka had been born and raised in Prague, to a long line of witches with baking in their blood, Thea’s English accent was her only clue to her past. No stranger to travel, Talibah was an Egyptian woman with the gift of second sight and a penchant for exploration.
She’d spent her twenties hopping from one ship to another, joining expeditions until she’d ended up in Prague.
She still occasionally vanished for a month or two, shipping back crates of books and new lanterns in fantastical prints and colours.
Thea often daydreamed about joining her – imagining the wind in her hair, all the new sights and smells – but she was bound to the apothecary, and they were just that: dreams.
Besides, she told herself, adventuring would mean relinquishing her creature comforts for far longer than she’d ever desire. Even if she had had a choice, she’d stick to the romance novels she devoured instead. As a bonus, those tended to come with dashing captains or seductive pirates.
‘Do tell me more,’ Talibah continued. ‘Have all these romances I’ve been supplying inspired you?’ She grinned at Zofka, who was smirking behind her cup.
‘I’m going to ignore that, since you brought me these.’ Picking up the books, Thea hugged them to herself. She’d been in desperate need of something new to read; there were only so many times she could lose herself in The Lost Love of Iris Pearl.
Zofka swatted Thea’s arm. ‘Don’t you dare – we need to hear every single detail. Immediately!’
Thea filled her mouth with cake in a moment of petty rebellion. Zofka narrowed her eyes impatiently as Talibah chuckled, her amber eyes gleaming.
‘He was just a customer.’ Thea shrugged. ‘I don’t have anything more exciting to tell you.’
Zofka’s resulting sigh was dramatic. ‘Maybe he’ll return.’ She brightened at the thought and, loath as she was to admit it to herself, so did Thea. Well, he had been rather handsome.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Thea toyed with her fork.
‘I have no heart. I can never fall in love.’ Her lack of heart was a snarling pit; as much she tried to fill it with smiles and kindness and laughter, still it yawned inside her chest, open and raw.
It had to be the reason that sadness and fear and loneliness skulked into her thoughts, her dreams, the quietest part of the day when she was alone.
It was that pit, that lack inside her. Her body knew something was missing.
Zofka cut her a second slice of cake. ‘Who said anything about love? You don’t need to fall in love to have a little fun.’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively and despite herself, Thea laughed.
‘We had some theatrics of our own today.’ Talibah rested her cup on her knees.
‘Apparently, a couple of men were spotted snooping around just before the shops opened this morning. Rose saw one of them trying to sneak inside the Rose Basket. She said the same pair were lurking around Fleur’s hours later, and they were still wandering about, writing something on scrolls, after closing, when she watered her window boxes. ’
‘It could have been a shopping list.’ Zofka’s voice was tinged with hope.
‘Were they witches or vampires, or . . .?’ Thea let her question hover.
Talibah’s mouth thinned with disapproval. ‘Rose wasn’t sure. They could have been shape-shifters or fate-weavers, perhaps.’ Her gaze flicked to Thea, who tensed.
Fate-weavers, like Lord Stiltskin. Like the borrowed power Thea was swimming in.
Zofka gave a delicate shudder, her eyes turning fearful. ‘Fate-weavers are rare; they tend to stick to their own realm rather than interfere with ours.’ For good reason; magical folk tended to distrust beings who could alter the path of their destiny with a flick of their fingers.
‘Lord Stiltskin owns an apothecary in our realm,’ Thea reminded her.
‘He is the exception, not the rule,’ Zofka countered. ‘And he makes himself scarce here.’
Talibah looked thoughtful. ‘Well, whoever they were, Rose overheard them talking amongst themselves. Something about reporting back to someone. She believes they were there on behalf of someone else.’
‘It sounds like Rose managed to overhear a great deal.’ Thea’s lips twitched at the thought of the older woman creeping along behind her window boxes, eavesdropping.
Zofka barked a laugh. ‘You know she’s an interfering wretch,’ she said fondly.
‘Though if she’s right, I’d like to know who’s paying off magical folk to do their underhanded work for them.
The Quarter is a secret for a reason. I know it’s been a while since witches were burned at the stake, but there are still Magic Hunters out there that would have us all run out of town if they knew we existed.
’ Her hot chocolate began bubbling. Thea gently nudged her.
‘I know, I know,’ Zofka sighed. ‘I’ll rein it in. ’
Thea forked up another mouthful of cake, rich in nutmeg and cinnamon, the thick vanilla cream a delight against the sharp notes of apple that sang through the slice.
And, it being a cake baked by Zofka, with each bite came emotion; memories that were pleasant and gentle and not her own.
Of baskets piled high with rosy apples and an orchard groaning with ripe fruit.
It warmed her in ways that had nothing to do with the temperature.
‘I didn’t see anyone, and I was up at the crack of dawn, heating my stoves.’ Zofka continued, unable to help herself. She looked as if she needed a taste of her own medicine. Her hot chocolate bubbled over, sputtering cream over the nearest lantern.
Talibah removed Zofka’s cup before it shattered, and Thea lay a reassuring hand on Zofka’s arm. ‘I’m sure it will come to nothing.’
Zofka nodded, stealing the last of Thea’s hot chocolate and sinking back into her armchair with a sigh of contentment. Talibah met Thea’s eyes with a note of concern.
‘Would the wards guard against anyone snooping around?’ Thea asked quietly. ‘Do they not protect against people spying on us?’
Most people didn’t believe in magic; it was a secret known only to those who could be trusted, along with a handful of those who could not, whose families had passed down the information, or who had learned of its existence by happenstance.
Magic was power and that kind of power was often misunderstood or disliked, particularly by those already in positions of power, who would do anything to cling onto it.
Insecure kings and emperors kept Magic Hunters in their employ to shut down and banish anyone who might threaten their rule.
It was why the Quarter had been warded in the first place.
At some point, centuries ago, someone with immense power had crafted the magical protective shield to keep everyone with magic safe.
A handful of those residing in the Quarter were not magical – like Zdenka, the fortune teller, or Talibah with her second sight, who were both human like Thea – but the Quarter had called to them and the Quarter protected its own.
Nobody who intended harm could enter, and even if one of the residents suddenly developed a hankering for violence, the magical wards would swiftly remove them from the Quarter.
Thea had seen it happen only once, when a witch attempted to steal a shopper’s purse.
The witch couldn’t breathe until she’d fled the Quarter: the magic pushed her out, rejecting her.
It was why nobody feared Wojslav’s appetite for blood; he was forced to hunt outside the ward’s bounds.