Chapter Seventeen
We took a cab to get to the same office building through which we’d left the underground the other day, and while it was brighter, there still weren’t any people here—at least, none that I could see—but when we got off the elevator in the underground, two men were waiting to go up, and they stepped aside to let us pass.
One of them had a to-go cup in hand from the stall on the platform.
That was more people than I’d ever seen go up or down besides Soyer and me, so as far as I could tell, this was the commuter route.
“We have to get your car too, right?”
Soyer held out his hand for me to take, and I did.
“We’re taking it back. We could get some more ice cream too.”
I failed to elbow him again. “You mean I can get the cherry for you again?”
“You’d get the cherry for you, Amory. Just like last time.”
“Sure. And what would you be getting?”
He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. “Cherry and chocolate brownie. With real chocolate chips.”
I chuckled. “Are you sure I’d like that?”
“I’ll only know once I feed it to you. We have to find my plates first though. And wineglasses. Nice cutlery too. And napkins.”
I cocked my head. “You have most of that stuff, don’t you?”
“So sue me. I’m not letting you throw a party without getting something out of it myself. I think I need a new lemon squeezer, too.”
“Are you making anything with lemon juice in it?” I asked, actually curious.
“Hmm. Only if I can find a lemon squeezer I like.”
Soyer steered me left. I was pretty sure we hadn’t come this way the last time.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
He squeezed my hand, just a little. “You know the answer to that, my heart.”
“Yeah. So…the clocks. And the watch. You collect them?”
“I do. I also maintain them. I’ll take care of yours as well now.”
I nodded. “Thank you. Outside your office, there’s that pretty one, the only one that works.”
“All of them work, technically, but I like that one to keep the time.”
We passed by houses, but soon, the tunnel around us widened into a thoroughfare. It wasn’t the same one we’d come through from the bodega, at least I didn’t think so, but it was about as wide, maybe even more bustling. Most everyone here was different, and I loved it.
At the same time though, I was trying to figure out how to ask what I wanted to ask, and I wasn’t even sure what that was. I bit the inside of my cheek before saying, “Did you always know witches don’t like them?”
Soyer stopped, and since he was still holding my hand, I stopped with him.
He was still, and the muscles in his jaw were tight.
He stared off into the distance, and worry rose inside of me, the fear that I’d said something wrong, that maybe I’d touched on something I shouldn’t have.
I was about to explain myself, but Soyer’s eyes flicked to my own, and I saw his nostrils flare.
“I apologize. I just…” He looked around, then pointed. “Let’s go over there.”
I looked at the shop he was pointing at. It had a cute teacup sign above its door, the sign reaching almost as high as the tunnel’s roof above.
“Is that a café?”
“Tea shop, but they have a tasting room in the back. Come on.”
“Okay? Soyer, did I say something wrong?”
His jaw tightened again. “Of course not. Let’s talk inside.”
I’d never seen a tea shop like this tea shop.
It was called Rose’s, and it smelled like flowers and spices inside.
It was small, like all the shops here that I’d seen, it was also filled with teas in colorful tins and samples in glass jars.
A supernatural with gray skin and three horns, black eyes and black scales on the backs of their fingers greeted us.
Their shimmery, nearly black hair almost vanished where it flowed over the silky-looking shirt they wore.
“How may we help you today?” they asked, attempting to smile at Soyer, though I could see the nervous twitch of their lip.
Soyer pointed. “We’d like a private tasting.”
They nodded. “But of course. The table is all yours. Anything in particular?”
“Just the daily special and a big dose of privacy.”
“Naturally.”
They led us past the shelves and through the perfume-like scents of sage and lilies, vanilla and nutmeg, to a room tucked in the back.
There was a table for three in there, pushed up against a small counter with tea utensils lined up neatly so that those sitting there could watch the tea being prepared.
“Would you like me to explain?” the tea seller asked as they rolled up their sleeves and placed a teapot in front of them. The black scales went up their arms as well.
Soyer shook his head. “Maybe later. Just the tea for now.”
He sat across from me, and I could tell he was still tense.
The tea seller spooned tea leaves into the pot while they heated an electric kettle, though not to a full boil.
After they’d poured the tea into two delicate cups and placed them in front of us, they left, closing the sliding door behind them.
The little room seemed cavernous for a moment while neither of us spoke.
Eventually, Soyer raised his cup and took the smallest of sips.
“I don’t ever want to upset you. I was being evasive when you asked about the clock, and I barely even noticed.
But—” He put the cup down and looked at me.
“—you deserve answers. It’s a habit of mine to keep my guard up.
I don’t mean to do that with you, except sometimes… ”
He frowned, and in the little tea shop, with the steam from his cup rising like a veil in front of his face, my phoenix looked insecure all of a sudden. I’d almost never seen him like this. I’d come to know him as firm, unyielding almost, but in a good way. I didn’t like to see him like this.
“I don’t mind. It’s okay, really. If I’m asking something I shouldn’t, you can tell me so.”
Soyer sighed. “There is nothing that you may not ask to know. I don’t want to tell you each and every sordid and dark detail, but you can ask. And you have a right to expect answers, as well, though with the understanding that I’ll gloss over all the sordidness and darkness.”
I picked up my own cup. “Like the woodchipper?”
He huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Like the fucking woodchipper. I learned the trade of watchmaker once, and that’s how I found out about the witches and how they hated clockwork. I’ll tell you what happened. If you want to hear it.”
I didn’t respond right away, taking the time to taste the tea and find the answer. It was orangey, strong, like Earl Grey almost, but not quite. It was a lovely tea, but not a simple one.
I said, “I want to hear it. Tell me.”
“This isn’t about how I learned the trade of a watchmaker.
Things like that were different from today.
You moved into your master’s house and worked hours only greedy millionaires are allowed to demand from their workers today.
My master was kind, if strict, and I enjoyed the craft, the artistry I discovered through it.
“You could say I had a knack for it. Of course, in the beginning, I was focused on clocks and watches exclusively, but the mechanical side, the parts behind the time-telling face of the device, always fascinated me. I built up my own shop in a city you’d call a small town today.
You could see the Black Forest from the second story of a house, and few houses had more stories to begin with.
“I’d been in town for maybe five years when I noticed things were off. Drink your tea, my heart. It’s good. Don’t let it go cold over the tale of a long-dead witch.
“By that time, I wasn’t yet a proficient witch hunter, more an accidental one.
Even so, I’d learned a thing or two, and I wasn’t afraid.
Two girls foraging for acorns and beechnuts had come back out of the woods white as sheets and talking about skulls mounted on sticks, the eye sockets burning like the embers of a fire.
There’d also been traders who hadn’t arrived when they should have, and taken together, all this was enough for me.
“I had a pocket watch on me when I went into the forest not much later, more happenstance than anything. Such a thing was precious back then, and by rights, I should’ve taken it off before going on my hunt. But I’d made the watch like I’d made many others, and I’d grown too used to wearing it.
“I was determined to find the witch and slay it, or not come back at all. Amory, breathe. I’m here. I did come back. Nothing bad happened to me, and the witch is dead. This is a memory, nothing more. Drink your tea and remember that we can’t see the forest from any of our windows.
“The forest was different back then. Thicker. More alive with animals and sounds. It’s only like that in a few places now, and where it has remained so, it’s called haunted, creepy, wild, or enchanted, depending on who visits.
“Back then, more than anything, the forest was untouched, apart from the civilization that bordered it. That didn’t bother me, as all the animals, even back then, had learned fear, and when a witch is near, fear comes easy to any living thing.
“I found the skulls, just like the girls had said. They weren’t clean skulls either, but we’ll leave it at that.
I found the witch, who lived in a hut built on stilts, and the stilts were made from bone.
There was no one else alive there, so given all that, it was pretty straightforward.
While I was dealing with her, my watch slipped out of my pocket, and the witch nearly clawed her eyes out when she saw it ticking away.
It was like she hated that small device more than she did me, and she was well and truly pissed that I was there to cut her head off.
“Ssh, I did that too. It was easy, because she was so distracted by the watch, and with that, the townspeople were safe. Everyone was safe. I lived there happily ever after. At least, for a few more years until I moved elsewhere. I tested the watches over time, and I learned that magic doesn’t work on them, though it easily works on things like modern phones.
I don’t know why that is, but my theory is that the order and precision of clockwork upsets it.
“Witches are anathema to order. They aren’t chaos even, because chaos can become order. They are destruction and vile intent, and they don’t like the ticking of time, as if that could kill them more surely than a knife can. And unless you go for the head, they aren’t wrong.”