Chapter Three
S y l v i a S w a n
“I’m going to town, father!” I yell from upstairs.
My room came with a king size bed. The mattress is as soft as the clouds in heaven and the black silk sheets make it even finer.
Red and black velvet curtains cascade around the bed as a canopy and wooden dressers sit on each side.
The walls are black and there's an accent wall of the lovely angel wallpaper behind my bed. I have a terrace too, but don’t risk stepping outside until father looks over the boards.
My room is just as pretty as the rest.
“That’s fine. Wear something warm and don’t stay out too late. I’ll be cooking around seven!” He yells from the kitchen, his voice distant from up here.
I tuck my black jeans into my combat boots and pull on an oversized black sweater, to finish the look I pull a corset over my stomach. I latch Amos' leash onto his collar and wrap it around my hand.
“Will you be cold, Amos?” I coo as I pet his fluffy body. His gaze meets mine uncaring and I roll mine.
Black cats and their attitudes.
I pull him along with me down the spiraling walnut staircase. The railings are formed into angels too and I can't help but admire each of them as we descend. You can tell someone did them one by one, each having a semi-different shape than the last.
“I’ll be back soon. I love you, father.” I kiss his cheek as we pass and he smiles.
“I love you too, honey.” He’s great but something still pesters the back of my mind, painting a negative feeling in my gut.
I step out into the cold air and walk down the dirt path. Amos keeps up, his tail flicking with contentment. The trees are looming but not scary, each one bending into the perfect shape. Each step I take heightens my need to draw. It’s like stepping into history and seeing things for yourself.
I follow the same path we came from back to Grimmwood. Having Amos by my side through the unknown streets keeps me comfortable and the people that walk by don’t glance twice.
Most of the people we’ve passed have had on the most prestigious, high-end outfits. Cream khakis with seamless white sweaters tucked into them. Their flats or loafer shoes are just as polished. A few women have walked by with handbags or jewelry I can only assume cost a fortune.
I look down at my outfit. It’s the complete opposite, worn out and ratty—black covering my body in waves. I shrug. I’m not a major fashionista but I do like dressing up and threading my own clothing.
The sky is still bright and the sun peeks through the heavy clouds. Just up ahead is town, its large steel lanterns catching my attention. They're off since it's daytime but I can imagine how beautiful they are at night.
I keep walking down the cobblestone sidewalk until I come up to a wishing fountain made of pure stone.
A female statue stands in the middle—her head up towards the sky and robes adorning her figure.
If I remember correctly the Greek Goddess of prosperity would be Tyche.
She represented chance and fate, whether it was good or bad.
I dig into my purse and pull out a coin. Crows begin to gather at the top of her form, squawking as they perch. Amos hisses, his back arching with refinement, but he stays by my side.
“It’s ok Amos, they won’t hurt you.” I bend down and scratch behind his ears to ease his nerves.
A wish, huh? I don’t even know what to ask for? Not my mother—I know I’ll never get her back no matter how much I beg so I throw it with one thought in mind.
To solve her murder. To complete my life. To find love.
Is that more than one wish? Who knows.
The coin lands with a soft plop and sinks down to the bottom with all the rest of the coins. One bird flutters and squawks, his wings spreading out as he hurls toward me.
“Wait!” I squeal as I cover Amos.
A low meow leaves him as he coddles into my cheek.
The bird's broad frame barely grazes my face.
His talons come next, slicing against my exposed cheek as he goes back up into the air.
A sharp sting immediately heats my cheek and I press my fingers to it in disbelief.
When my gaze meets the red crimson on the tip of my fingers it feels like the sting intensifies.
“What the hell? Can my life get any worse right now?” I cradle Amos against me as I stand, picking him up in my arms.
My foot hits the statue and all the crows begin fluttering in the air. I briskly step away and run towards an open door before I’m killed by a group of pesky birds. I press my hand to the small slits in my cheek as I make my way up the two brick stairs and into the safety of the building.
“Afternoon Ms, how may I help you?” A soft male voice comes from my right and I turn to him, surprised.
His blonde hair is tousled to one side and his sparkling blue eyes draw me in. I smile the best I can and wave with my free hand.
“Hey, sorry for barging in. The crows outside started attacking me, do you have a restroom?” His eyes widen as I take my hand away from my face.
“Oh my God, of course. Right through here.” He guides me to the back of the store to a small restroom.
He peels open the door and turns back to me.
“I’m Alistair and who’s this little guy? Want me to hold him for you?” His voice is gentle, but I’m not sure If I want him to hold a piece of me. I look down at Amos in my arms and back at Alistair with uncertainty.
“Thank you, Alistair. This is Amos and I’m Sylvia, please be gentle.” I say and hold Amos out for Alistair to grab.
“Of course.” He nods and gently takes Amos in his arms. My cat squirms in disagreement but I peel my hand from my cheek and notice the blood. “I promise no harm will be done to Amos, he’s too cute.”
Alistair buries a hand in Amos' belly and he instantly calms down with a loud purr.
I glance at them one last time before I shut the door behind me.
I turn cold water on, rinsing my face and hands. When my hands are clean I dig through the bottom cabinet for a first aid kit. I grab an alcohol pad and bandaid from inside, placing them on the counter.
I look over the cuts in the mirror. They’re not bad, just four small surface cuts, luckily.
My lipstick is now smeared because of the crow's body hitting my face so I wipe it off. My dark hair is down my back in waves and my nose piercings gleam in the pale white light.
I dry the cuts off with a paper towel and rub the alcohol pad over the area to disinfect it. A hiss leaves my lips when the cold air hits the chemicals on my face. I blink away tears and apply the thick bandage to the area.
Now I’ve got to wear this ugly thing on my face on the first day of school, great.
A knock sounds on the door, knocking me out of my trance. I quickly throw away the trash and put away the kit.
As I pull open the door, Alistair greets me, a bright smile across his lips. Amos is back on the ground, attached to his leash, his gaze on something I can’t see.
“Oh good, you survived. All that blood I was worried you’d need stitches. You cleaned up nice.” His laugh is contagious as he steps back and allows me to step out of the cramped restroom.
I giggle and wave him off. “It wasn’t that bad after I got the blood off. Just small surface scratches. Thank you for watching him.”
I walk back to the front of the store and realize it's a clothing thrift store. Another favorite of mine.
“Well I'm glad you’re ok. Your first day here and you get attacked by those stupid crows. I don’t know why but they always perch on that statue.” He glances out the small window at the statue, his eyes boring into the clueless birds.
“Maybe she’s their mother and we just can’t see it.” I mumble as he passes me the leash. He turns back to me and nods.
“I like you. You’re different from the people here. Humble, mystical, and maybe fun.” He winks and a blush heats my cheeks at his words.
I laugh. “No fun here. Just a silly girl with a dream.”
His eyebrows raise. “Ambition, I like it. What’s your dream, love?”
My heart flutters at the new nickname, love.
“It’s stupid but to be a well known artist one day. I draw and paint anything, whatever speaks to me and this town screams at me, so I’ll probably be drawing it this week.” I awkwardly laugh at my own words.
What a dream.
“Sylvia, that’s not stupid.” My name on his tongue sounds foreign. At home I never had friends, never went out. “That takes skills, be proud of yourself and you’ll eventually get there. Do you go to Grimmwood Academy of Arts then?”
“Actually I do. My father enrolled me right before we got here. We live a few minutes from here in the big home up that long hill. I figured you’d know since you live here.” I sputter.
I’ve never had friends. Why does this feel so natural?
“That’s awesome. I go there too for theater.” My eyebrows lift in surprise. “I know what you're talking about. Mr. Angel's old home? Is it still as creepy as they say?”
“Theater sounds fun.” I nod with a smile. “That explains all the angel decor. Angel was his last name? And no not to me. It's very pretty, it needs some cleaning though.” I say as I shift on my feet, intrigued.
“It is. Yes, his last name was Angel. I’d love to see the inside.
They didn’t let anyone go in there after the incident and then it was put on the market for a few years but I guess you or your father bought it?
” He leans against the shelf behind him.
His fitted white shirt lifting, exposing his tan skin and v-line.
My gaze snaps back to his face and another blush heats my cheek. Jeez, I'm acting like a school girl, like I've never seen skin before.
“Umm.” I clear my throat and his smile never falters. Maybe he didn’t catch my stare. “You can come by anytime after school? I wouldn’t mind letting you see. My father wouldn’t care either.”
His smile widens and his pearly white teeth sparkle in the pale lights.
“I’d love that. I can tell you the story about the home, if you’re not too scared?” His eyebrows dance on his forehead with mockery and I giggle.