17. Chapter Seventeen
William
The closed sign hung on the window of the Gilded Lily. Charmaine gifted William a key when they opened. He often used it on evenings he knew he wouldn’t sleep. That morning, he had another reason to enter.
He came through the back door leading to the workshop where Charmaine toiled most the days away.
Just last year, they invested in a sewing machine that Charmaine slowly learned how to use.
However, the chaotic counters revealed that she still relied on any other form of creation.
The interior of the shop had a pedestal and a full-length mirror where Bessie took their patrons measurements, a seating area for those in line, and examples of all their offered materials along the walls to gawk over.
If business kept up, they would have to expand.
He had his brothers keeping their ears open for any news concerning a larger store front property on sale that would be on or closer to main street.
The scent of baked goods filled the shop.
Bessie either cooked them herself or bought a batch from the bakery down the street.
That rainy morning, freshly baked pancakes waited on the dining table of the second floor where Charmaine and her mother lived.
Their apartment had been perfect, so Bessie claimed, with two modest bedrooms, a spacious kitchen with a breakfast nook, and a living room that looked over the street.
The doors led onto a balcony big enough to stand on for a quick smoke, which he partook in more than either of them.
“William, oh, you should have let me know you would be coming.” Bessie rose from the table, intending to step into the kitchen.
“Do not worry. I had breakfast already. I’m sorry to interrupt yours.” He wanted to speak with Charmaine alone without bothering her during working hours.
The Gilded Lily became rather famous over the years.
Many ladies wore their dresses and the more who wore them, the more society learned of the business.
Charmaine didn’t speak as proudly of her shop as William thought she should.
However, he saw the note she kept on her dresser that declared The Gilded Lily would become a household name one day.
The edges had faded over the years from the many times Charmaine picked it up to repeat the phrase, as if the chant would bring the future into fruition.
He didn’t doubt that future for a second.
“Don’t be silly.” Bessie patted the apron hugging her thick waist. When she smiled, her cheeks cushioned her eyes, slimming them into smiles of their own. “I’ve finished up. I am assuming you are here to discuss something?”
He nodded, then Bessie excused herself downstairs. While she prepared to open the shop, he took to cleaning the dishes. Charmaine finished her breakfast in silence, then sat her dish in the sink.
“What would you like to talk about?” she asked.
“I have a favor to ask,” he said, feeling her intense attention all the while.
“Anything.”
He settled the dishes into the wrack. “Will you check in at the clinic while I’m away?”
Charmaine leaned against the counter they had repainted when she first moved in. The apartment had furniture, much to her relief, although the furniture needed much love and care. He was more than happy to help. Cleaning up the place had kept both their minds too focused to think of anything else.
“Where are you going?” she asked skeptically.
He knew she wouldn’t like what he had to say. He stalled by finishing up the dishes, feeling her scrutiny all the while. “Nicholas discovered the disciples were coming from Faerie. He, Evera, and I will follow their trail.”
“Just you and two fae?” She barked out a harsh laugh. “You will not go without me.”
He glanced at the steps. Bessie’s voice came from below, chattering with a customer she let in early.
“Your mother cannot run this store on her own. Most importantly, I do not want you to come. This will be dangerous,” he countered while Charmaine took to drying the dishes and setting them in the cupboards.
“Which is exactly why I will join you.” She held up a hand, silencing him.
“This is not up for debate, William. My mother is more than capable of handling the shop. I am always ahead and I will finish up more before we leave. Do not think for a moment that you may trick me. I will follow you, so I suggest you make this easier for yourself and accept it.”
He didn’t want Charmaine to get hurt, but deep down, he knew the more who helped, the better the outcome could be for his patients.
For all of them. She had put a lot of work into helping until then.
She would be distraught if he abandoned her to finish the job, and he understood that, but he nearly lost her once.
“If anything were to happen to you—”
“Something could happen to you, too,” she interjected and flinched when she slammed a cup in the cupboard. Nothing broke, causing them both to sigh. Then she linked their arms. “We will do this together.”
“It seems I have no say in any of this,” he said, aggravated and only mildly relieved. “I’ll gather supplies and I have a few things I must do. I will retrieve you from here in two days. Evera and Nicholas will lead the way to Faerie. They know of a shimmer we can take with no one knowing.”
She shook her head. “Of course they do.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to before you coerce your way into even more trouble,” he said, earning a tender smile from Charmaine.
“You certainly couldn’t have expected this to go any differently,” she said.
“I hoped you would understand and not have a death wish.”
“One might argue you are the one with a death wish.” She kissed his cheek. “I will see you in two days.”
Downstairs, Bessie gave him a kiss too. He couldn’t look her in the eye, knowing he was about to put Charmaine in danger. He told himself they would be alright. They battled Fearworn and survived, but all luck had to run out, eventually. It certainly felt like his ran out.
He returned home, but nothing was the same. Nicholas returned to him, but their future was bleaker than he ever imagined. Believing he lost Nicholas was tough. If he ever had to take Nicholas’ life, he knew he couldn’t do it as much as Nicholas believed otherwise. The utter fool.
Nothing worked out the way he wished it would. Perhaps that was his punishment from the Holy Soul.
He laughed at his own thoughts. He didn’t believe in deity’s, certainly didn’t believe they cared about morality.
If they did, the world wouldn’t be so grim.
Only creatures of malice would conceive of a world such as theirs and let atrocity after atrocity roll over the lands and its people, especially the ones least deserving of it.
Yet, the thought made an unpleasant sort of sense.
He took the lives of monsters and monstrous men.
Men, who had minds of their own, the capabilities of rationality and morality, but chose otherwise time and time again.
Still, if the Souls were real, they would curse a man like him and, frankly, he felt he deserved it.
William took a carriage to Heign’s Magical Society, located on the western side of the city, where businessmen scurried from their gentlemen’s clubs to their banks and favorite liquor stores.
The west side always reminded him of his father’s office, smelling of liquor and cigars, until he came upon the magical society.
That always had a pleasant aroma from the vast garden surrounding the estate.
At eight stories high, the steeples threatened to scratch the stars from the skies.
An unknown power kept the stones an awe-inspiring red, like the most sought after rubies.
The carriage pulled through the arched entryway carved from stone where depictions of mages stood as if to guard the society’s secrets. The paved street lead into a courtyard encircled by benches where mages took to reading or shuffling around the columns with their arms full of books.
A pair of heavy doors stood open, granting access to everyone. However, he knew better; he may have the Sight and could walk the halls, but only the best of the best were truly welcome at Heign’s Magical Society.
Alogan’s public library housed the most basic knowledge of the Sight, but their genuine work remained hidden behind locked doors he could never imagine passing.
Henry spoke of them, though never shared where they were even after Richard got wine into him.
William always wondered if someone had somehow silenced the mages to prevent their secrets from spilling but, if that were true, he would never know.
The magical society wasn’t as flashy as the king, though no one could deny the grandeur of the interior. Paintings depicting famous mages lined the walls and sculptures discovered from the ruins of Alogan sat beneath glass to be admired and protected.
A boy with a fuzzy mustache that wasn’t quite grown right sat at a front desk.
Piles of letters surrounded him as he sorted into compartments along the wall.
He jumped when William called out to him.
Wide brown eyes fell on him, slightly mortified, then relieved.
The poor thing probably suspected a superior arrived, upset that their letter was late, or he didn’t sit as properly as he should.
“Good morning, sir. How may I be of assistance?” The boy bowed his head.
“Good morning. My name is William Vandervult. My brother Henry Vandervult works here. May I speak with him?” In such a silent hall, his voice echoed.
“Ah, yes.” The boy swept to an enormous book beneath the desk. He dropped the book on the table to flip through the pages. “He’s on floor seven. Please, let me escort you to him.”
The young mage scurried down the hall. The keys along his belt jangled, ricocheting off the walls, then the spiraling stairwell.