Page 64 of The Curse of Indy Moore
Mr. Hawthorne clicked his tongue. “Keep it on. Ivy has good taste. I made her myself, after all.” Grabbing the pocket watch from his pants, he checked the time. “Any minute now.”
The summoning circle glowed. Those silvery tendrils from the transit hall danced among the runes. Between them, a silhouette formed in a rainbow shade. Behind it, more silhouettes fluttered in and out of existence. Then the tendrils dispersed, and a woman stood at the epicenter, short and full, her eyes sharper than a blade and focused on me. Towers of books appeared at her back, precariously stacked, ready to topple from a light breeze. She wore a robe brightly colored in sunrise tones, her long brown hair tied into a knot atop her head. Her tawny brown skin had a shimmer to it, as if dusted by sunlight itself.
Curling her full lips, she asked, “Are you having a dress-up party?”
Mr. Hawthorne snorted. “No, Miss Moore is just very enthusiastic about her tiaras.”
I knew he was playing a trick, but I resisted the urge to kick his shin, seeing as I had done enough damage to him already. That damage didn’t go unnoticed. The professor gave his injuries a swift once over before turning her attention to me.
“I’m Indy Moore. It’s nice to meet you,” I said while removing the tiara, even if the damage had been done.
“A pleasure, although it would have been nice to meet under better circumstances,” she said then gave Mr. Hawthorne a disgruntled look. “What mess did you get yourself into? I hope it wasn’t because of one of your many romantic ventures.” The expert walked slowly, using a cane with a decorative sphere tip.
“While I won’t deny that I have had my fair share of curious encounters, these were no fault of a scornful partner of any kind.” Mr. Hawthorne nodded toward me. “I fear Miss Moore’s curse is advancing faster than we hoped.”
I flinched and stopped myself from squeezing the tiara. At this rate, I would break it.
“Which is why we are so appreciative of you accepting to help, though you didn’t have to come here, Professor Kumir. We could have come to you. I know youdislike leaving the manor, and your library is far larger than mine,” he said with a low bow. Otis did the same, so I mirrored them.
While about half Mr. Hawthorne’s size, Professor Kumir didn’t hesitate to snatch his cheek. He released a high-pitched squeaking sound when she tugged until he was almost eye level with her. “Need I remind you what happened the last time you visited my manor?”
Otis stepped forward with his hat pressed to his chest. “Professor, I have apologized for that. He was seventeen.”
“A reason for his actions, not an excuse,” she snapped, then jabbed a finger against his chest. “What do you really want, boy?”
She spoke that more of an accusation than anything else. There were questions in her eyes, directed toward Mr. Hawthorne, that only worsened from his pleading smile. She acted as if he was up to no good, looked at him like she expected him to spin a lie. She waited with her thick fingers perched on the top of her cane.
Mr. Hawthorne rubbed his cheek with his injured hand. “Exactly what I’ve asked for. You must be able to tell that Miss Moore requires our help.”
Professor Kumir brought her attention to me. She stepped forward, and I retreated, which caused her to hiss. “Stay still, child. Let me have a look at you.”
She brought her hand to my chin, her touch far more gentle than what she gave to him. Her knuckles brushed my cheek to push my head from side to side. She took my hands to run her fingers over my palms then pressed a finger to each of my nails. Lastly, she inspected my ears and gazed into my eyes for a long moment, where I was left uncertain of what to do, if anything.
Professor Kumir let go and stamped her cane on the ground. “Do you know who you work with? Were you aware that he stole my research? Nearly got both of us expelled from the archives because of it.”
A flush crept from Mr. Hawthorne’s neck to his ears. For the first time since we met, he wore genuine panic. He rushed to her side, placing a hand over his heart. “I was young, curious, and foolish, and I have more than made up for my transgressions, have I not?”
“I will decide that.”
He bowed low and stayed that way. “Then let me apologize once more. You know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. I am truly sorry about the theft, which was returned, and you must believe me; otherwise, you wouldn’t have accepted my invitation and brought all of this with you.” He finally stood to gesture at the door. “Please, come inside, and have a seat. Otis and I will bring in all of your supplies.”
Professor Kumir scoffed. “My materials can make their own way in.”
The books rose into a gale of fluttering papers at the mention of them. They swerved around us in quick succession, disappearing into the open doorway.
“You don’t have the use of an arm, and I’d never make Otis carry all this in. The poor man is retired. He should act like it,” she said.
Otis gave a slight laugh. “You know as well as I do that an artificer never truly retires.”
The professor smiled slightly at that.
“Then Otis and I will make breakfast while you speak with Miss Moore. She is desperate for your help,” said Mr. Hawthorne.
“I am sure.” Professor Kumir walked away, her words lingering almost as a threat. “You don’t realize how much help you need.”
While Mr. Hawthorne and Otis made breakfast, the professor and I went to the tea room. A pot waited on the table, the tea cups eager to be filled. She took a seat while retrieving lotion from her bag to rub over her hands.
Professor Kumir shut her eyes and brought the tea to her red-tinted lips, appearing peaceful. I did the same, holding back a cough because my sensitive nose couldn’thandle it. The tea smelled good, just strongly of flowers, and I almost sneezed but contained it.
