Page 52 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“A frivolous event.” Miss Beamy’s tail flicked. “They didn’t invite my boy for many years, and he couldn’t even bring me. Preposterous! What else?”
“We stopped at the archives, and I wasn’t forced to go on a shopping spree, although I had an unpleasant run-in with a dog.”
“I am not surprised to hear that. They do not understand boundaries in the slightest.”
“I don’t believe this particular dog had much choice. Carline seemed to have control of it, if it wasn’t an illusion.”
“How unfortunate.” Miss Beamy rubbed herself against my arm. Her tail flicked under my chin. “I smell dinner. We best head downstairs before it gets cold.”
She hopped down to strut out of the room. Together, we went to the kitchen, where Mr. Hawthorne didn’t join us. A plate floated out of the kitchen, though. I made a mental note to pay attention while walking the halls. I wouldn’t want to run into an overflowing teacup or someone’s dinner plate.
It wasn’t until some time after dinner that Otis took me to the closed-off room. I brought old clothes with me to change into so I wouldn’t ruin the dress Mr. Hawthorne made. Going into the cell wasn’t any easier than the first time. Otis offered to bring a book to entertain me until the change, but I denied it. I’d end up tearing it to shreds, so I sat in the corner among the fresh blankets and waited, hoping these changes wouldn’t last long.
Then there came light, two of them in the corner. Carline visited, her silhouette a shadow. I willed myself not to scream at her. Mr. Hawthorne said to engage. Screaming wouldn’t help, nor would waiting. My body ached with that strange sensation, promising that I wouldn’t be myself in a moment. If I didn’t take the chance, I would lose it.
“You sent a dog after me today, didn’t you? You can control more than your wolves,” I said more than asked.
“I can, although my wolves are easier to manage.” I hadn’t expected her to answer so easily. She either underestimated the help I sought or knew what she revealed wouldn’t help.
“Why did you go after me, out of everyone in Westshire, even those who searched for me. You only chose me,” I said with a heavy tongue. My jaw ached, as if my teeth didn’t fit right in my mouth.
“You’re making conversation now?” She smiled—pleased or suspicious, I couldn’t be sure.
I willed myself to stay awake, to keep eye contact with her and remain myself, but every part of me shook. “I shouldn’t pretend you aren’t haunting me. It makes me feel worse.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.” Carline sat beside me like we were old friends. “I am guiding you, my dear, back to me, where you will have a home.”
“Is that why? You wanted to give me a home?”
She raised her hand to trace my cheek. I couldn’t physically feel her, so that helped keep me still rather than flinch at how close she got.
“I sensed your desires and thought you would be easy to take, but I have been proven wrong, and that makes me want you all the more,” she said.
“You shouldn’t frighten me so much if you earnestly want me to return. It’s making me believe you’re lying about caring for me.”
“I would frighten you no matter what I did, because you haven’t yet accepted my good graces,” she countered. “But I do mean it. I will care for you as I care for the others.” She rested a hand over my eyes that grew nearly too heavy to stay open.
“I’ve taken a risk going after you, my dear. Now, rest,” she said. “And know that, soon, the wolf will take it all.”
15
Where Indy Curses Coin & Limb
Therewasatail,fluffy and warm against my palm. I pinched the skin. The pain told me it wasn’t an illusion. I had an extra appendage.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I shrieked.
The door swung open, revealing a set of clothes by the door. With no one in the hall, I snatched them and dressed as quickly as I could. Good thing whoever brought the clothes left a skirt because the tail wouldn’t fit under a dress.
Mr. Hawthorne had to be in his office. Thanks to the curse, I had an incredible—and annoying—sense of smell. The scent of black coffee guided me to his office, where I barrelled into the room. Mr. Hawthorne sat at his desk, drinking from a steaming cup with one hand, and scratched Miss Beamy’s chin with the other. When he saw me, he spat out his coffee from laughter, and that had Slate shrieking from his nest. A handful of his trinkets scattered on the floor, causing the bird to scramble to retrieve them.
“This is no laughing matter,” I declared.
The tail curled between my legs. Mr. Hawthorne found further humor in that, forced to set aside his coffee rather than risk drinking it. His eyes shined wet with unshed tears, his laughter choked out in a snort.
“Stop!” I stomped my foot. “Is this a sign that my curse is advancing faster than we thought?”
“It is certainly a sign that this demon has poor taste,” Miss Beamy replied. “Dogs are such bothersome creatures with no style or charm. A tail such as mine is far more majestic.”
