Page 40 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“Egotistical and maddening?” I asked as we traversed the pathway out of the park and onto the city streets. Homes and shops stuck brick to brick. Musicians played on street corners, and bakers called from their open doors, welcoming in hungry customers with smiles and fresh bread.
Mr. Hawthorne smiled, as if he wasn’t bothered to reply, “Artificers of less renowned family ties. Unfortunately, not all of us could afford picturesque schooling,and so, yes, I do love to chat and,” he adjusted the collar of his shirt, “look charming while doing so because an attractive face can get one far in life.”
“You think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“I have learned to, as it is necessary more often than not.”
“It is ridiculous.”
“It is,” he said, surprisingly. “Appearances, titles, last names. They have a commonality with magic; they are handed to those without reason. But I have the skill of magic and, apparently, the skill of appearance, so I use both to my advantage, which you should be exceptionally grateful for as it may lead to the end of your curse, and,” he tapped my nose like a misbehaving cat, “you are lucky to gaze upon one as fine as me all day.”
“Must you add that last bit? You were nearly tolerable for a moment,” I said.
He shared that smile again, the crooked and imperfect one that suited him far more than his charms. “I enjoy keeping you on your toes.”
I dared to release him only for Mr. Hawthorne to hold tighter.
“We need to stick close. I am not sweating in this suit all afternoon to find you when you get lost,” he warned.
“Oh, yes, we wouldn’t want to ruin one of your many priceless suits,” I mocked.
“No, we wouldn’t.”
Sighing, I readjusted my hold on his arm. “I have matters to discuss.”
“About my suits? I can recommend a tailor if you’re interested.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Dresses?”
“My curse, Mr. Hawthorne!”
“Do go on, then.”
I would have had the most wacky device not appeared before us: a type of carriage constructed of metal without horses, where a carriage driver sat in a boxed front. She used a stick jutting out between her legs to steer. Runes were carved across the facade, decorated to match the ruby and gold coloring. The contraptions sat four riders behind the driver in a separate compartment, though one individual openedthe back of their contraption to reveal an empty slot, where they stored a package. I stopped in my tracks to gawk at the strange things cutting around horse-drawn carriages.
“Ah, yes, I nearly forgot you are a country bumpkin who has never seen a carriage car. Now who is wasting our time?” He tugged on my arm, guiding us down a thin cobblestone street, where ivy ascended to the rooftops and flowers blossomed outside open windows.
“My humblest apologies for being unaware of the grand advancements happening in a capital so far from me, I never dreamed of seeing it,” I said. “What in the world are those things?”
I regretted asking when his proud smile threatened to blind everyone within a one-mile radius.
“Those are the carriage cars I mentioned yesterday. Inscriptions by yours truly,” he ran a hand dramatically through his hair, “are now being used to enchant vehicles that will soon replace the horse and carriage. They can move at twice the speed and require only a yearly inscription inspection. Isn’t it magnificent?”
“I like horses and carriages just fine,” I said, even if I was mildly interested. I just didn’t want him to know that.
His expression faltered, lips pursed like a petulant child. “Your lack of enthusiasm wounds me.”
My chest warmed at the implication prior to returning to my initial concerns. “I saw Carline this morning. She appeared in my room and spoke to me briefly. I told Otis, and he explained we may be attuned because of my curse. The sight of her unsettled me.”
“As it would unsettle anyone. What did she say?” he asked.
I relayed the information to him, hesitating to share the truth:“You’re not her daughter.”
I knew death at a young age. Death thrived in the warehouses, where illness spread and medicine was too expensive to spare us. I lost Mom the way many losttheir parents, friends, loved ones, to another plague locked on the streets, ripping through the poor that couldn’t afford treatment.
I didn’t need anyone to explain death to me when Mom passed. I understood she wouldn’t return, but my aunt did everything a mother should. She held me when I cried, washed the mud from my bloody knees after a fall, and made soup for when I grew ill. I didn’t believe she loved me any less than her daughters, but Carline’s words struck something deep I didn’t want to think about and couldn’t bring myself to say.
