Page 22 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“He’s an artificer. I’ll explain at the tavern. Now, let go.” I tugged harder, growing irritated that Baxter wouldn’t relent and seemed more focused on glaring at Mr. Hawthorne than letting me see my family.
Mr. Hawthorne wedged himself between us, forcing Baxter to drop my wrist. “Miss Moore said to let go.”
Baxter chuffed. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
“Rooke Hawthorne, artificer and Miss Moore’s colleague for the foreseeable future.”
“Colleague.” Baxter tossed a curious glance over Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder, then stood taller. He didn’t quite reach Mr. Hawthorne’s height, though he was a great deal more built. “Well, I’m Baxter Lionel, her partner.”
I guffawed and found the momentary joy of his concern replaced by anger. “We are not partners. You broke up with me.”
A light blush formed beneath Baxter’s eyes. “Ex-partner or not, we didn’t break up long ago, and I can hold her hand if I’d like.”
He pointed that last comment at Mr. Hawthorne.
“Ex or current partner, if the miss says to let go, then you should have the common courtesy to let go,” Mr. Hawthorne replied, then pivoted, so his cloak snapped against Baxter’s arm. “Let us head to this tavern, Miss Moore. If most of the townsfolk are there, I can explain the situation to everyone at once.”
Relieved, and mildly grateful for his intervention, I set off before Baxter could stop us. I hurried to Ysabel’s, uncaring of whether they kept up. All that mattered was seeing my family and knowing they were okay.
Throwing open the tavern door, my heart swelled seeing the room so full. Over half the village packed themselves between the tables, moving chairs and tables about to create room. Ysabel stood on the counter, talking about searching parties, then she caught sight of me. Her scowl flipped into a relieved smile.
“Indy!” Aunt Agnes surged through the tavern with her arms wide.
We met halfway, holding one another in a fierce hug. She smothered my cheek in kisses, making me feel like the young girl crying in her arms above Mom’s grave. The crowd dispersed, letting Charlotte, Maude, and Susannah join in the embrace.
They were safe. They were alive. I had them in my arms.
“We were so worried. I received a message, but it was the oddest thing, and I didn’t know if it was real or why anyone may lie about such a thing. Then you didn’t come home like the message said.” Aunt Agnes held my face in her hands. Tears spilled down her red cheeks. “Are you okay? What happened? Why…” She fell silent after holding me at arm’s length. She saw them. “Ears?”
“A lot happened. I’ll explain, but first.” I turned my attention to Susannah, who cried so much she fell into a hiccuping fit. Her face took on the same red hue as her hair. Kneeling, I settled Dolly in her grasp. “Sorry I took so long to bring her back.”
Susannah clung fervently to my skirt. “I don’t care if she’s home. I just wanted you to come home.”
“I’m home now,” I said and took her into my arms. She hid her hiccuping in the crook of my neck, made wet by tears. I held her close and wiped Maude’s tears with my other hand. Charlotte stood behind her, hands on her younger sister’s shoulders, while they both sniffled. She wasn’t faring much better.
I felt awful for making them worry, and there, for barely a moment, guilt grew for telling Carline no. They could have had so much more than we could ever dream of, but I was selfish, and we would continue to struggle because of that greed.
Ysabel approached to rest her hand on my aunt’s shoulder. “We’ve been searching for you since the day before yesterday.”
Clenching Susannah tighter, I asked, “You didn’t go into the woodlands, did you?”
“Of course we did. Susannah told us what happened. She came into my room after you didn’t come back. I stormed through town. We were searching, then I received that letter, and we waited, but we got anxious,” my aunt replied.
The thought of them in the woodlands where Carline and her wolves lurked made me sick. “Everyone returned? From the woodlands? Everyone is accounted for?”
“Seems so. I’m not too sure about Miss Tallow. She left early yesterday morning.” Ysabel crossed her arms, the anger in her eyes at full intensity. “Wouldn’t even consider helping, worthless trout. What is going on, Indy?”
The truth weighed heavily on my tongue.
The closest demon any of Westshire knew of was far to the south along the Tully River, where only fools dared to cross the bridge shrouded by mist. A handful of travelers, either ignorant or foolheartedly, took the bridge and never returned. Years ago, the sovereign sent soldiers to tear the bridge down, but the next day, they awoke to find their work undone. The bridge stood exactly the same, and that happened thrice more before the sovereign accepted nothing would change. The fearsome tales were always no more than that, a tale far enough from our borders that we needn’tworry about it. We hoped it would stay that way. Everyone would be mortified to learn the truth.
“There is a demon in The Misty Woodlands,” I declared.
The tavern erupted, whispers and shouts of the word demon full of fear. Villagers retreated and prayed to their gods. Old stories said demons would stop at nothing to get what they desired. If a demon wanted me, the safest place to be was as far from me as possible.
Others prayed for me, thinking my soul was already gone and I was nothing but a doomed walking husk. I had never been one of faith, having lost it the moment Mom died, but I wanted to believe that Carline could be beaten. I had to believe that; otherwise, this had been for nothing.
A villager shouted, “What does this mean?”
