Page 83 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“What would you have me do? Shall I end the enchantment now? We can have a funeral for her this afternoon.” Otis’s bluntness put tears in my eyes.
Using my palm, I brushed any strays from my cheek. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Unfortunately, that is the situation we are in. If I remove the enchantment, she will die. Rooke won’t forgive either of us. I am not even certain I could remove the enchantment without him finding out first.” Otis reached across the table for my hand. “It’s okay to be upset by this, Indy. I am too, but by now, the decision is up to Beamy, and she wants to stay.”
“Does she want to stay, or does she feel like she has to?” I stood, releasing myself from him. Otis sat back while I paced. “She told me about Luther and the promise she made. She feels like she has to watch out for Mr. Hawthorne, but he is a grown man, and she has lived a long life. I don’t want her to go, but death doesn’t care about what we want. When it’s your time, it’s your time. He’s abusing power to change that.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Otis challenged, and I didn’t have the heart to reply. “I don’t believe anyone who says that if they had the opportunity to bring back a loved one, any of their choosing, that they wouldn’t at least consider the option.”
“Have you considered it?”
“Plenty of times.” He laughed, the sound hollow and sad. His handles settled on the island, where he tinkered with a silver ring around his pinky finger. “I am seventy-three years old, my dear girl. I’ve lost my parents, siblings, and friends. Therehave been nights where my thoughts had gone dark, and I would have given anything to change their future.”
He wore sorrow like an old friend, sitting as a broken man, carrying a hundred stories covering the best and worst aspects that life had to offer.
“But you never did. You stopped yourself,” I still whispered.
“No, I simply didn’t know how.” His gaze fell away, drifting to another time, another place. “Had I known then what I know now, I fear I would have made the mistake of a lifetime.” Then he returned to the present and smiled. “You needn’t forgive him, and you may lecture him as I have and will continue to do so, but do not think he is the evil of all evils.”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling, unable to face Otis without breaking into tears. “I don’t… I’m worried about them.”
“I know.” Otis came around the island to offer a hug that I fell into. I never met my grandparents, but I’d like to think this is how it would have felt to hug my grandfather. Otis had a comfort about him, just like his beloved garden, a place where one could be accepted and at ease.
After a gentle squeeze, he released me to speak from the threshold. “You should pack up some of those mirrors in the lounge down the hall. Most of them are worth a small fortune, and they’ll be hard to track down.”
I laughed then fell back in my chair, feeling a little weightless. Talking to Otis eased some of my concerns. He was right. Mr. Hawthorne had his reasons, and none of us could fault him for that. I would try talking to him again, although we didn’t have much time. Once my curse was settled, our work together would be done, one way or the other. We’d never see each other again, and I wouldn’t know what became of Miss Beamy.
My hand fell on my chest that had become too tight. I took a breath that wouldn’t ease the pressure. My eyes burned, and I wiped at them. There were mirrors to pack up, if only to keep myself busy. I hurried to leave when I ran into a hard surface that ended up being Mr. Hawthorne himself. My face was still wet from tears that I couldn’t hide, even if I tried.
He frowned and took a step back. “Miss Moore, sorry, I didn’t expect you to be in here.”
“I wanted a snack.” And he wanted a late breakfast, seeing as I hadn’t made him anything.
“Are you going to let me through, or is there a toll I must pay?”
“Oh, no, um…” I stepped aside. His frown somehow deepened.
Mr. Hawthorne went to the fridge, where he retrieved a handful of vegetables. He went for spices next, leaving them aside while he got to chopping the vegetables on the counter. Aunt Agnes was fast, but Mr. Hawthorne proved he spent more time in the kitchen than expected. His slender fingers recognized the work, though there were moments where he rolled his right wrist, the one concealed by a brace.
“Is there something you wish to discuss?” he asked.
“Huh?” I blinked, realizing I was staring.
He finished chopping the vegetables and dropped them into a bowl, where he proceeded to dump different spices that had a sweet aroma. Though he had spoken to me, he wouldn’t face me, continuing to cook with his back to me.
I gestured over my shoulder. “No. I’ll be on my way.”
Humming, Mr. Hawthorne made a shape in the air with his finger. Silver light coalesced into a rune that sparked, then his salad swirled inside the bowl and settled.
He performed magic without a scepter. Back at the beach, too. I hadn’t really thought about it since, but I had never seen an artificer work without their scepter.
Unconsciously, I stepped closer, around the island. “How did you…”
Mr. Hawthorne faced me, holding his breakfast bowl to his chest. Meeting his eyes, even for a brief moment, reminded me of our argument, and I thought better.
“Nevermind.” I pivoted on my heel to leave.
“If you have a question, you may ask me,” he said, followed by the crunch of vegetables. Over my shoulder, he took a slow bite, attention drifting between me and his meal.
