Page 20 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“It is a deal.”
“Today would be nice,” Mr. Hawthorne barked from the open doorway.
He, on the other hand, did not have permission to call me Indy.
Mr. Hawthorne waltzed out with Miss Beamy trailing his steps. I followed their swift departure lest they leave me behind. Cobblestones led from the door into the foliage, wild as the forest smelling of wildflowers and pollen. No one tended to the forest as it grew wild and free, although I saw a garden in the backyard yesterday. Otis must take care of that.
The walkway curved with the forest’s natural movement, more like a stream than a path. There were more animals and insects here than expected, bees buzzing around flowers and birds in the trees. A traveling island hadn’t seemed like a suitable home, but the wildlife proved otherwise.
Slate launched from Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder to circle him, then me. I tensed under the bird's scrutiny. Though he had yet to speak like Miss Beamy, his eyes had a watchful, intelligent look about them. The bird ascended into the sky to disappear.
“No chasing field mice today, Beamy,” Mr. Hawthorne proclaimed ahead.
“Not even one? I so love field mice. They make the finest of playthings with their sweet shrieking,” she replied, her tail swinging quickly.
“Yes, and you love to forget the time, which we are short on.”
“Need I remind you, I am the only reason you passed your LAAs to begin with?”
Mr. Hawthorne guffawed.
“You have always been the one horrid at time, even with an alarm. You would have slept in had I not bit your nose,” Miss Beamy stated proudly.
With a bruised ego, Mr. Hawthorne said, “Now is not the time to discuss that, Beamy.”
“Then, may I chase a field mouse or two?”
“You may, but no more than two, and you will clean your paws before we return. I will not have blood ruining my cloak. It took me weeks to work out the enchantments.”
She snaked around his feet with the skills of a cat that had done it a thousand times. At least he was a loving cat owner.
We fell into a comfortable silence afterward. Soon, the trees cleared, and the edge of the island came into view. It was a sheer drop with nothing to warn of the end. Realization settled thick as molasses in my gut.
“How are we going to get down?” I asked, refusing to go further.
“We jump,” he answered.
I grew tired of everyone answering so nonchalantly, like I was the weird one rather than their magic.
“Must I remind you I am no artificer? I can’t fly.” And I had no interest in testing the theory. I preferred my feet firmly planted on the ground here on out and wished that the ground was, well, on the ground.
“You don’t need to. I didn’t expect an outing today, and your village wouldn’t be happy if I destroyed their fields with a rushed landing,” he replied.
“Can’t you open a door, like the one that brought me here?”
Mr. Hawthorne wore a blank expression. “I beg your pardon?”
“The door that I came through, it was just in a field.”
“A door? You poor pup, that night must have frightened you good.” Mr. Hawthorne laughed before catching me from under the knees to lift. I shrieked and grappled for his neck. He smirked, forcing his eyes to form crescent moons illuminated by a wicked light. “I told you, I’m stronger than I look.”
“And you clearly took more offense to me daring to imply otherwise.” I tried not to think of his fingers tightening against my thighs or the sturdiness of his chest pressed against my side. “May you sit me down?”
“That would not end well for you,” he said while approaching the drop. “I suggest you hold on.”
Miss Beamy leapt onto Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder, her eyes wild and bright. We reached the edge, where the world spanned below, familiar fields of wheat and cattle. We weren’t as high as expected, but that didn’t make me any less dizzy.
“Is there truly no other way to get down? I swore I came in through a door.” My hold on Mr. Hawthorne tightened. His scent enveloped me, coffee and crisp paper.
