Chapter 6 #3
Dreckle was a two-hour walk up the road through snow and ice. It would’ve been an uncomfortable journey, but having Cassian there made it better. Still, he fixed his eyes on the trail and didn’t speak much.
“Are you all right, Cassian?” I asked.
He gave me a quick, tight smile and said, “Everything’s great.”
“You seem bothered by something. Are you upset with me?”
“No, Sterling. Not at all,” he said, but the tone of his voice was solemn.
“Thank you for sharing your bed with me. Last night was fun,” I said, suspecting his dark mood was related.
He glanced at me, smiling shyly. Gods, he was adorable. “Sure. I’ll make sure you have your own room tonight so you don’t have to share with me anymore.”
“But I like sharing with you.”
His smile fell away, and he looked ahead. “That’s the problem, Sterling. I like sharing with you too.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem,” I said.
Cassian shook his head, but he wouldn’t talk about it anymore.
I didn’t know how to get him back, and I was using too much of my brainpower trying to figure it out.
I needed to focus on the case, so I dropped it and tried not to think about him or his brilliant smile or his beautiful personality or his gorgeous body anymore. It wasn’t easy.
Snow blanketed Dreckle, but it was alive with lit street lamps along the main road, and the snow had been shoveled away for morning pedestrians.
The smell of cinnamon and warm dough drifted from a bakery with windows that emitted a warm glow.
Across the street from the bakery was a bookshop that hadn’t yet opened for the day, but the owner could be seen through the window reading and drinking out of a steaming mug by dim lamplight.
Cassian led me through the delightful town until we reached the end of the main road. He stopped at the plainest brick house on the street. Black curtains hid the dark interior from inside, and the lamp out front was unlit.
Cassian frowned at a scrap of paper in his delicate hands before fixing his gaze on the building. “This should be it.”
“It looks abandoned,” I said.
“This is the address Willo gave me,” he said, lifting the scrap so I could see. In curly handwriting, the numbers 451 Main Street were written, matching the iron numbers affixed to the door. “Willo says she won’t talk to you because you’re a Force officer. Should I try to talk to her first?”
“I’m not sure that’s safe. I don’t want to put you in a dangerous situation,” I said.
He smirked at me. “I’ll be all right,” he said, and then he marched up to the door without me.
“Wait!” I ran after him, but he was already knocking. We hadn’t discussed what we would and wouldn’t say.
“Go away! I’m unavailable!” a muffled voice yelled from inside the house.
“Ezzila?” Cassian yelled. “My name is Cassian! I’m the new owner of Fibbersnap Inn, and I wanted to introduce myself.
Can we chat?” He gave me a thumbs-up and a smile when he finished speaking, and it was hard to be frustrated with his lack of planning.
Why would he need a plan with a personality like that?
“Go away, Fibbersnap! I didn’t like your grandfather, and I don’t like you!” Ezzila yelled through the door.
Cassian’s face fell, and he watched the space in front of him as if trying to understand. “Why did you dislike him?” Cassian asked.
“He asked too many questions, just like you! Go away!”
Cassian smiled with furrowed eyebrows, shrugging at me. “I haven’t asked you any questions,” he said to the door.
“‘Can we chat? Why did you dislike my grandfather?’” Ezzila recited in a high-pitched mocking tone.
Cassian covered his mouth like he didn’t want her to hear him laughing. “Can I ask two more questions?” he asked.
“Fine, but you only have one left!” she yelled.
Cassian winked at me, and I suspected he knew she would be pedantic about his word choice. “Do you know anything about the Faian curse placed on Fibbersnap Inn?” he asked.
“I knew you weren’t just here to talk!”
“Did you curse my inn, Ezzila?” Cassian asked.
The door swung open, revealing an old, tattered woman with long, frizzy gray hair. She scowled at Cassian with wide eyes, and then she looked at me. “Who is that?” she demanded.
“That’s Sterling,” Cassian said with a smile.
“Is he from the Force?” Ezzila asked.
Cassian looked at me as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to lie about that.
I stepped forward and extended my hand to Ezzila.
She placed her cold, thin hand in mine and shook it hesitantly.
She released me after a half-second. “Sterling Thorndrop. I am investigating the curse on Fibbersnap Inn. I understand you’re a witch for hire, so I just have a few questions for you. No one’s in trouble.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Officer,” Ezzila said, narrowing her dark eyes. She pointed a bony finger at Cassian. “And you should be ashamed of yourself, Fibbersnap. Only foolish witches deal with the Force.”
“I need to know who cursed my inn. Did someone hire you?” Cassian asked.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Ezzila said, crossing her arms. Her long, torn sleeves swayed with the movement.
“I understand your hesitation, Ezzila, but I’m afraid I’ve already sent the diagnosis to the Force, and if they trace it back to you, I will just have to come back with a writ, and then I’ll have to search your home,” I said.
Ezzila watched me, completely unbothered by the threat.
“Who diagnosed the curse for you? Willorunia? What makes you so sure she wouldn’t rig the diagnosis to show my signature and not hers?
Hm? Her husband has been wanting to run his own tavern for a while now.
What better way out than to curse the one he’s in? ”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Cassian said.
“Is that possible?” I asked him.
Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and squinted into the sky.
“Theoretically, yeah. But I watched her…” He trailed off, apparently realizing at the same moment as I did that neither of us saw her finish sealing the diagnostic enchantment, because Cassian was busy rescuing me from the river.
“No, it wasn’t her,” he said again, shaking his head.
“Are you saying you had nothing to do with this curse?” I asked Ezzila.
“I’m not saying anything, Officer,” Ezzila replied. “Come back with a writ.”
“Isn’t it suspicious that she won’t answer questions?” Cassian asked me.
“She has the right not to speak. It doesn’t make her any more or less suspicious under the law,” I said.
“It makes me suspicious,” Cassian said, glaring at her.
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not an investigator, isn’t it?” Ezzila asked.
Cassian pressed his lips together. “Can you at least help me break the curse?”
“Hm…” Ezzila eyed me up and down. “Perhaps I can help, but it’ll cost you.”
“What’s the cost?” Cassian asked.
She thrust her finger into Cassian’s face again and said, “I want you to part with your favorite childhood memory to give me for use in magic.”
Cassian’s pale eyebrows drew together. “My favorite childhood memory?”
“Yes,” Ezzila said with a wicked smile. “And then I’ll break your curse.”
“Cassian, you don’t have to do that,” I said, stepping in. “Will you take mine?”
Ezzila sneered at me. “I’m not interested in your memories. I bet it would be some sort of weird power play, you nasty roach.” She spat at my feet when she finished.
“Wow, Ezzila, relax. He’s not like that,” Cassian said. “We shouldn’t have to sacrifice a part of ourselves to hire you. I won’t give you my memory.”
“Your grandfather would be disappointed in you, Cassian. Working with the enemy. Unbelievable,” Ezzila said, stepping back into her house and slamming the door. “Come back when you’re ready to part with your memories!” she yelled.
Cassian frowned at the closed door, and then his gaze wandered away.
I slid my hand around his shoulders and led him away from the house.
“Your grandfather would be very proud of you,” I said, our steps crunching through the snow beneath us.
“I didn’t know him, but from what I’ve heard, I think he would want you to keep your most valuable thoughts. ”
Cassian smiled, finally looking at me. “You’re right. Thanks, Sterling.” He sighed and looked ahead. “What now?”
I nodded toward the glowing bakery. “Should we to a break to organize our thoughts?”
The way Cassian puckered his lips as he looked toward the bakery got my heart beating fast. The reflection of snow against his pale face gave him a heavenly aura, and it was hard not to remember his soft skin on my lips. “That sounds nice,” he said.
I had to win him over again.