Page 23 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“Will the demon come after the town next?” came another.
“Demons don’t attack anyone on sight,” Mr. Hawthorne said from the doorway.
Miss Beamy slinked between his legs to lap up the delectable crumbs on the floor. Slate flew in to land on a table, where he picked at a half-eaten slice of bread. The woman at the table squeaked and scooted back, letting Slate munch in peace.
Baxter shuffled by to join my side, where his feverish attention shifted between me and the artificer fruitlessly wiping his shoes on the grass. Upon realizing the boots would need a thorough cleaning to be salvaged, Mr. Hawthorne gave in and adorned a charming smile that earned a room of admiration.
“Just because a demon is out there doesn’t mean everyone is at risk. Demons have a type, which I will discover once Miss Moore and I speak further on the matter, but I am getting ahead of myself.” Mr. Hawthorne took Aunt Agnes’s hand, no doubt loving the blush he put on her cheeks. He proceeded to kiss her knuckles. “My name is Rooke Hawthorne, Grand Science Artificer licensed by the Eldari Council and the High Sovereign of Sidore. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Then he turned his attention to the awestruck tavern. “And the people of Westshire, your future savior bids you a good morning, as good as it can be, all things considered.”
Your future savior… I disliked him entirely.
Aunt Agnes wore a lopsided smile, nervous and excited by Mr. Hawthorne’s presence, as was everyone. Two visits from artificers in such a short time, plus my disappearance, that was the most that had happened in Westshire since its inception. It was a shock none of the older folks didn’t drop from a heart attack. Someone should check on Mrs. Bakerswell. One hundred and two was not a good age to be taken aback.
“How are you here, artificer? Did you save my Indy from this demon?” asked my aunt. I stood beside her, where she gripped my arm like a lifeline.
“Not yet,” he replied, entirely out of place in the old tavern. His affluence paled the surrounding colors, misplaced among the cracked mugs and patched curtains. He deserved to be in a museum or a gallery rather than a rundown town.
He looked at Ysabel. “Are you the owner of this establishment?”
“I am,” she replied.
“May I?” He gestured to the counter. “It would be best if I spoke with everyone so they are aware of the situation.”
Ysabel bit back a smile. Miss Francesca never asked about trumping along the tables. Ysabel let it happen because the spectacle brought business.
“Go right ahead,” she replied.
Mr. Hawthorne lifted himself onto the counter. He didn’t look out of place as the center of attention, nor did he have any issue gaining it. In fact, that was the happiest I had seen him. It was a shock he didn’t wither up and die from the lack of eyes on him at all times.
“Unfortunately, a demon has taken residence in your woodlands, and Miss Moore crossed paths with her two nights ago. As I previously mentioned, this demon will not attack everyone,” he said carefully.
“How are you certain?” Ysabel asked.
“She cursed Miss Moore because she is of interest. Demons cannot resist what draws them, typically a shared feeling or a strong emotion they yearn to feast on, andthey will grab someone the first chance they get. That means she would have gone after all of you during your search if she wanted you.”
The crowd shifted. Everyone looked somewhere between relieved and mildly horrified. We couldn’t let her stay in the woodlands, not when so many had to use it. She would threaten our lives in more ways than one.
“The good news is that everyone who searched the woods up to this point is safe from this demon. I imagine you must travel through the woodlands for a variety of reasons, so I suggest you let everyone know of what has happened. If anyone must travel, those who searched and returned safely should be the only ones who do so, and they should warn neighboring villages,” he said while pacing the counter.
“What if the demon comes into our village? How can we protect ourselves?” asked Ysabel.
He spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly like he ordered an orchestra. “Demons like to stick to specific territories. This particular demon has made the woodlands her home; otherwise, she would have gone after people in Westshire by now. Instead, she waited until Miss Moore came into the woods, and she will do so again. However, she could try to coax you through illusions, whispers, but nothing of violence. She will try to trick and deceive, so the best defense is avoiding the woodlands entirely.”
“But our woodlands have always been safe. Why would a demon come here? What called her to my Indy?” Aunt Agnes had yet to release me. Her hold said any would regret trying to tear us apart.
“I will seek these answers for you,” Mr. Hawthorne said. “The High Sovereign has been informed of the demon’s relocation to the woodlands. I sent her a letter after I met Miss Moore.”
He hadn’t mentioned that, though I suppose I didn’t see him once he left me to clean.
“What will our sovereign do? Will she send soldiers?” someone asked.
“Most likely, but demons are troublesome things. They rarely leave unless they want to. She could remain nearby for a long time. However,” Mr. Hawthorne turnedhis strong attention to me, “I have agreed to assist Miss Moore with the curse the demon has laid upon her. By doing so, I could discover more answers on how to evade or chase her from your lands entirely.”
The tavern released a relieved sigh. Baxter pressed a hand to the small of my back. I unintentionally leaned into the touch, then berated myself for it. He shouldn’t act like nothing changed, and neither should I. What transpired put me in an abnormal headspace, one that sought comfort and familiarity. I couldn’t let that confuse me.
“I am sure you have more questions, but for now, I need to speak to Miss Moore’s family concerning our work.” Mr. Hawthorne sought Ysabel again. “Is there a private area we can use?”
“Upstairs.” Ysabel nudged my aunt toward the stairs. “Go on, Agnes. Take the girls to one of the rooms. They’re all open.”
