Page 69 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
It occurred to her that this—Jasper’s being here, changing somewhere outside his own home for the first time and showing his other self to her—was significant. He was pushing himself, spontaneously, and it wasnoteasy for him. In fact, he was wound so tight right now that he reminded Violet of a champagne bottle, ready to pop if she jostled him even a little.
She reached down, taking hold of his other wrist and lifting her chin to look him in the eyes. “Listen, you can go in my bedroom to change. I’ll stay out here—probably with a bottle of wine that you paid for and the fire going—and I won’t hear or see anything. Leave the door cracked, and when you’re ready, I’ll be on the couch. Alright?”
He lifted one hand from hers, rubbing his palm across his forehead. “Okay… alright. I’m sorry this is… I don’t know if I’m helping or making things worse, but I don’t want you to feel alone right now. Don’t be sad and alone, Vi.”
Smiling, she held his one hand with both of hers. Violet opened her mouth to speak, but the tremor of his grip distracted her. His skin felt warm and tingly, almost like it was buzzing. “Why are you shaking?” she asked.
“This is how it starts. The spidery, itchy feeling, remember? That hasn’t changed since I was nine.”
“Does it hurt?”
“I’m used to it now. Don’t worry about me. I can get the firewood for you before I… Are you sure it’s okay for me to be in your room? I’m honestly okay with going outside—”
“No,Jasper. You’re not going outside. And thank you for setting up the fire.”
He nodded, slipping his hand from hers and quickly moving toward the kitchen, then out onto the patio. As she watched him go, she couldn’t help but smile. It was a tired smile, but genuine. “Wine time,” she said aloud to no one before sauntering to the wine rack just outside the kitchen door.
30
Now
Violet had thought that she was tired. She should have been exhausted after the long morning walk out to Poppy Bridge, wrestling with a giant soft pine tree (resulting in unexpected elbow bruising) and the emotional rollercoaster of being robbed yet again.
But an hour after Jasper had come back, lit a fire for her and then stealthily disappeared into her bedroom, she lay on the couch wide awake. She rested on her stomach once more, her arm dangling over the edge and her nearly empty wine glass just within reach.
How could one sleep when literal magic was occurring in their house? She’d promised Jasper she’d stay away—and he’d made her promise at least three times. But everything in her wanted to see and know. To witness what exactly was happening to him right now.
Even without seeing it, Violet couldfeelit. At first, she’d thought it was her imagination. But when the fine hairs on her arms began to stand upright, her skin tickling with some indiscernible frosty sensation, there was no denying it.
She could feel Jasper’s change happening in the air—like a dank, invisible fog rolling and pouring through the halls of the cottage. Malevolent… Heavy. Something in it made her shiver. Centuries old, an unfathomable power and intent. A strong emotion backed with the icy blister of a winter wind. Deep sorrow or pain.
She lay there, eyes wide. Waiting. The fire burned and danced, but she barely registered it. All she could do was stare, her body almost paralyzed.
After a full hour of this, the tension finally broke. It felt as if Violet had been snapped out of a trance. She blinked her eyes, the warmth of the room caressing her skin once more, bringing her back to earth and light and hope. She pushed herself up, just enough to grab her wine glass from the floor and bring it to her lips. “Goodgrief.” She tilted her head back and finished it off.
As she set her glass back down on the rug, she heard it. The softest little padding and squeaking sounds, almost like a whisper. She looked around from her lazy position—underneath the coffee table beside her, scanning the floor by the tree, in front of the fireplace and over by the kitchen. But nothing. Only the faint sounds.
Violet smirked, thoroughly amused. “Let me see you…”
She waited. Still nothing. Violet glanced around again, but got smart and leaned over the edge of the couch. Her thick, curly hair hit the floor as she hung upside down, ignoring the rush of blood to her head as she peeked underneath the sofa.
“Aha!” The little gray mouse with starburst whiskers. Just as she remembered him. He was frozen there, planted on all fours toward the back edge of the couch. Violet frowned. “Are you going to stay under there all night? You said you’d keep me company.”
He sat upright on his haunches, his back curved and his tiny front feet pawing the air. Then he dropped back down. He moved sideways, not forward, then back to his original spot. Violet smiled helplessly as she watched him.So much hesitation…
She dropped her knuckles to the rug, curling her fingers in a gesture. “Jasper, come here, please. Before my head explodes.”
That seemed to prompt him, because he scurried forward a few steps. Paused. Then a few more. Violet wiggled her fingers again to encourage him, waiting. When he was close, she stopped moving her hand and laid it as flat as possible. She’d never picked up any kind of rodent before, but she imagined grabbing him and squeezing would be a bad choice.
When his whiskers brushed against her fingertips, she chuckled. He placed one tiny, clammy front paw on her fingers—sniffing, looking and hesitating. When he finally placed both paws on board, Violet used her free hand to scoop and urge the back of him up so that he was cupped within her palms. Using her good elbow and upper body strength, she shifted herself to lay back onto the couch with a groan. Her head spun and tiny white lights zipped past her eyes. “Wow, that was a terrible idea… especially after wine.”
Settling on her side, she rested her cupped palms on the couch, then opened her hands to deposit her fuzzy friend beside her. Her best friend. The boy with the big moon eyes… as a mouse. In her house. Cursed.
Violet laughed. “Jasper, this is utterlyinsane.” He seemed anxious, rising onto his hind legs and crawling about as mice do. He didn’t try to jump down, though, so Violet lay comfortably, resting her head on a throw pillow. The need to sleep fell heavy on her consciousness like a thick comforter.
Her eyelids drooped, her breathing deep and even. But she lazily flickered her eyes open when she felt the soft brush of whiskers against her nose. Drowsy, she started. “Are you hungry? We haven’t even eaten all day… and what about a litter box or something? I didn’t ask. I’ll be honest, Jas, I won’t be happy with you if I find mouse droppings in between my couch cushions tomorrow.”
And that was the last thing she remembered.
