13. Old Salts
Old Salts
A walking tour of too-cute-by-half Oak Haven was the sort of experience Elias usually lived to avoid. As Kelly Melrose guided him along cobblestone streets lined with cutesy shops, he could feel his molars start to ache.
But even his practiced cynicism faltered when they paused at Spellbound Books.
The window display featured an actual working beach scene.
Not a painted backdrop or a collection of props, but honest-to-God sand and surf within the confines of the storefront window.
Miniature waves rolled gently onto a shore no bigger than a dining room table, leaving behind foam that sparkled like diamonds dissolving into the sand.
Elias could swear he caught the scents of salt air and sunscreen.
Scattered across this impossible beach were dozens of small figures, each no taller than his thumb.
A rabbit in a blue jacket was building an elaborate sandcastle, while a girl with gravity-defying pigtails performed handstands in the surf.
A regal lion was attempting to retain his dignity while an elephant in a green suit sprayed him with seawater.
Above the scene, enchanted words floated across the sky: HAPPY SUMMER! READING IS MAGICAL!
The whole scene pulsed with gentle, childish joy, the kind of window display that would stop traffic, if Oak Haven had such a thing. All of a sudden, Elias felt oddly wistful for a childhood he’d never quite been allowed to have.
“And this,” Kelly moved on, pointing out a shop with a door painted in swirling blues and greens, “is All Who Wander. It’s Luna’s favorite, of course, since it’s a travel agency. She’s been pestering them with imaginary trips since she could talk.”
Elias studied the window display, which featured a spinning globe that had sprouted tiny wings and was trying to fly off its stand. “She’s an ambitious young woman.”
“Too ambitious, if you ask me.” Kelly’s tone carried a note of maternal exasperation, the particular tiredness of a mother whose child insists on dreaming in the wrong direction. “And no practical sense whatsoever. The mess she’s made of our reservation system . . . my goodness.”
“Mrs. Melrose,” he said carefully, “if I may—”
“How many times have I asked you to call me Kelly?”
“Of course. Kelly. Forgive me, but I think you were pretty hard on Luna back there.”
Her expression turned cool. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, she did rescue me from the Void. It annoys me to admit it, but I’d still be there if not for her. And she’s pulled my bacon out of the fire several more times since then.”
Somewhere, Elias could hear a sword being removed from its sheath. “Nevertheless, Mr. Shaw, I think I know my daughter better than you do.”
“I’m just saying, she might benefit from a bit of encouragement. She’s clearly capable of remarkable things.”
She studied his face with the intensity of a banker examining a counterfeit bill.
“Luna has the potential to become the most powerful witch Oak Haven has produced in centuries. The raw magical ability she possesses could reshape reality itself. That kind of power . . .” She paused, choosing her words carefully.
“It’s intoxicating. It makes you believe you’re above the struggles that shape ordinary people’s lives.
And we’ve all seen what happens to children who are never told no.
“Do you know why I have her working the reservation desk? The gods know it’s not because she has any affinity for it whatsoever.
But she needs to understand what it feels like to be frustrated.
To deal with mundane problems that can’t be fixed with a wave of her hands.
She needs to know what it means to fail.
” Kelly’s voice softened slightly, but her resolve was firm.
“Empathy, the real empathy that comes after knowing failure? That’s what will keep her from becoming a tyrant. ”
Her certainty was so complete, Elias almost believed her.
But then he remembered Luna’s face when she’d opened that portal to save him: not triumphant or power-drunk, but scared and determined and hoping desperately that she had the strength to do what was needed.
Hardly the face of some tyrant-in-waiting.
“I think there might be a middle ground between dangerous arrogance and crippling self-doubt.”
“How fascinating. A confidence man, of all people, lecturing me on arrogance.”
Can’t debate that one. “Fair enough, I suppose.”
“In any case. Shall we continue our tour? I believe you’ll find our hardware store particularly interesting.”
Elias had never found a hardware store interesting, not once in his life. But he wasn’t going to be picking another argument with Kelly Melrose anytime soon.
Williams Hardware was a squat old building with weathered clapboard siding, a wraparound porch that sagged here and there, like a structure that had done its best for centuries and would appreciate a nap.
A hand-painted sign declared “Williams Hardware—EST. 1724—NO SPELLS” in cheerful yellow letters.
But what really caught Elias’s attention were the three elderly men sitting in rocking chairs, drinking coffee from mismatched mugs and arguing with the intensity of Athenian philosophers.
“—telling you, Nine, that storm’s coming in from the northeast, not the southwest—”
“Horse feathers! Look at those clouds, Ten. Any fool can see—”
“Any fool except you, apparently—”
“Gentlemen,” Kelly called out as they approached. “I’d like you to meet our distinguished visitor, Mr. Elias Shaw.”
The argument stopped mid-sentence. The men turned toward the visitors with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion.
The eldest of the group, a man with a deeply lined face like a map of every storm he’d ever weathered, slowly rose from his chair.
“Elias Shaw, I’ll be damned. You’re a long way from Chicago, son. ”
“Do I owe you money?”
“No, sir. Name’s Earl Williams, but most folks call me Nine on account of I’m the ninth earl in the family line.
Great-great-great-grandson of the original earl.
He was a pirate, if you can believe it. And these reprobates—” Nine gestured to his descendants “—are Ten and Eleven. All of us boys married witches, which is why I’m still kicking at 121.
” He extended a gnarled hand. “I knew your reputation back in the day. Selling all that swampland to a big shot like Upson Burke. What kind of fool move was that, anyway?”
Elias blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected anyone in this sleepy hamlet to know about his past. “Uh, let’s call it a moral imperative. Burke destroyed my family, so he left me no choice. How do you even know about that?”
“Hoo, boy. Any man with sense kept track of the great ones.” Nine’s grin revealed teeth that had seen better decades.
“Being born here in Oak Haven means I never got to experience it firsthand. Can’t leave town, you see.
None of us non-witches can. Step outside the town limits and you forget everything about this place the minute you’re gone.
The spell keeps the town safe from folks who might not appreciate our unique way of life.
But it does mean a man spends his whole life reading about the world instead of seeing it. ”
What a prize idiot I’ve been. Here he was, wallowing in his own displacement, when this man had lived through the twentieth century as a spectator. At least he’d tasted the real thing before losing it. “That must have been rough.”
Nine settled back into his rocking chair.
“Rough? Son, it was downright torture some days. Reading about all that excitement, the whole world gone wild with possibility? And me, stuck here watching it all.” He gestured at the deserted street.
“Don’t get me wrong, Oak Haven’s a damn fine place.
Good people, beautiful countryside, and I got myself a wonderful wife who’s used her magic to keep me around far longer than I deserve.
But a man can’t help wondering what it would’ve been like to dance at the Cotton Club or catch a Cubs game at Wrigley. ”
“Course, we did our best to bring some of that excitement here to Oak Haven,” Nine continued.
“Had ourselves some real doozies of parties in the Twenties. You boys weren’t even around,” he said to his progeny rocking away on the porch.
“Hoo boy, Oak Haven witches knew how to throw a wing-ding, I’ll tell you that.
Music that played itself, drinks that never went flat, dancing until the sun came up.
And the fashion . . .” He whistled low. “Even here in the sticks, our ladies knew how to dress. Hemlines up to here, beads and pearls, hair bobbed short as you please. No offense to present company—” he flicked his head in Kelly’s direction “—but they don’t make ’em like that anymore. ”
Elias immediately thought of Luna. Not that she dressed anything like a flapper.
But something in her attitude reminded him of those bold women of his time.
Sharp comebacks always had at the ready.
Pure flapper spirit in modern dress. Hell, he thought, she’d have been right at home in the Green Door Tavern, making the other dames turn pretty green themselves.
“You know what I miss most?” Nine said. “The music. Real music, I mean. Not this nonsense they play nowadays. Give me Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra, or better yet, King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band. That was music you could feel in your bones.”
“I saw Louis Armstrong play once,” Elias offered. “At a little club in New Orleans, must have been 1925. Just a young fella, but when he played that trumpet . . .” He shook his head. “It was like listening to pure joy.”
“What about Bix Beiderbecke? Ever hear him play?”
“Once, at a private party on the North Shore. Rich folks trying to buy themselves some culture, you know the type. But Bix . . . hell, that man could make you weep with a single note.”
“Damn right! Say, you’re welcome here anytime, Shaw. Reckon it must get lonesome sometimes, being the only one who remembers.”
“Thank you. That . . . that means more than you know.”
“I reckon I do, actually.”
Kelly, who had been chatting with the other Earls, turned to them. “Nine, I hope you’re not filling Mr. Shaw’s head with too many tall tales about—”
She never got to finish the sentence.
A crash of thunder, and the afternoon light took on a sickly, greenish cast. Cheerful flowers in Williams Hardware’s window boxes began to wilt, their petals curling inward. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled.
Three figures materialized in the middle of Main Street.
Identical black suits and top hats and tiny round sunglasses and, most alarming of all, identical expressions of grim determination.
Each carried a staff topped with what looked like a crystal that pulsed with malevolent light.
The tallest of the three stepped forward, aiming his staff directly at Elias.
When he spoke, his voice carried across the street with unnatural clarity.
“Elias Shaw, by order of the High Council of Magicians, you are to return with us immediately, to face judgment for your unauthorized departure from the Void.”
Shaw froze. Oh no, he thought. Rattle the bars, summon the wardens. After spending a century having been caught, he’d forgotten the feeling of being hunted.
But Nine was on his feet immediately. “Like hell he is.”
Kelly stepped forward, her entire demeanor shifting from hostess to lioness in a heartbeat. “Thugs aren’t welcome in Oak Haven. Leave. Immediately.”
The lead magician reminded Elias of every loan shark he’d ever met: politeness wrapped around a lead pipe. “Mrs. Melrose, isn’t it? We have no quarrel with you or your quaint little town.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have a constant quarrel with our little town. I’ve begun to suspect you exist for no other reason.”
“We’ve come only for Shaw. Surrender him, and we’ll be on our way.”
“And if we refuse?”
The magician’s staff pulsed brightly. “You’ll see what happens when our patience with this witch-infested backwater runs out.”
“How about that, boys?” Nine turned cheerfully to his relatives. “A little excitement around here at last.”
Eleven kicked over his rocking chair and grabbed a rusty harpoon hidden behind the porch railing.
Meanwhile, Ten produced a cutlass that caught the afternoon light as if it had waited decades for this exact conflict.
Even Nine was suddenly armed, brandishing a flintlock pistol he’d been storing underneath his rocking chair for fifty years.
Kelly’s fingers sparked with magical energy. The magicians raised their staffs in response.
Elias stared at them, these near-total strangers with zero reason to risk themselves for a century-old con man. “Hey, sport,” he whispered to Nine. “Maybe don’t get yourself mixed up in this.”
“Bah!” The old pirate loaded his flintlock with transparent satisfaction. “You’re our guest. In Oak Haven, we take hospitality seriously.”