by Summa, S. E.
Rolf had hypertrichosis and, when living, had traveled with a freak show as “Rolf the Frightening Werewolf Boy.” Though how he had ever pulled off the frightening part was beyond Seraphina’s imagination. He acted like a canine as much as he did a human. The leader of the traveling carnival sideshow had rewarded all dog-like behavior and punished Rolf when he acted too much like a normal little boy. Rolf died when he was only seven years old, and the violence of his murder scared him so badly he failed to cross over the veil when it opened for his spirit, leaving a very confused little ghost trapped in the mortal realm.
“Miss Sera? Will you sing me a song? How about the one with the little songbird?”
“I will in a little bit, Rolf. First, we have to talk. Remember when we discussed the house rules?”
“But Miss Sera, I didn’t remember how the jars went. I tried my best to put ’em back in order. Really, I did. And I didn’t drop ’em this time. I was super-duper careful. See, first I put the one on with the smelly green goop. And then the black powder smells like licorice but makes me sneeze. And then the one that rattles like old bones when you shake it really, really hard…”
Seraphina shook her head, and her shoulders drooped. She hadn’t realized Rolf was down in the apothecary messing with the jars again. The purpose for the chat was only to get him to stop pestering Finn because he was losing his patience with her little ghost pet.
“Rolf,” Seraphina interrupted.
“… I like to put some in my hand and then spit on it cause it fizzes up something awful.”
“Rolf, enough.”
He would go on and on at this rate. How many of the apothecary jars had he gotten into anyway?
“Are you mad, Miss Sera?” Rolf turned and looked up at her.
“No, of course not. However, when we are done here, you do have to go down to the shop and show me every single jar you touched. I need to put them back in order before Finn has a coronary.”
“Finn’s gonna have a canary bird?” Rolf’s voice rose.
“No, Rolf. A coronary. Um, before he gets real upset.” Seraphina tried not to laugh. She wasn’t very good at this whole discipline thing, clearly. “What I needed to tell you was no more rubbing on Finn’s legs, or anyone else’s for matter, while you are here.”
“Aw.” Rolf whined and made sounds like a mewling puppy.
“Come on now. We are talking like people. You don’t have to act like a doggie with me, Rolf. I like you just the way you are.”
Rolf stopped his puppy whining and smiled.
She said, “Remember, I explained this before. Others cannot see you the way I can. You scare them when you come out of nowhere and rub against them.”
“Dat’s the whole point. I like to scare them, Miss Sera.” Rolf laughed. “You shoulda just seen how high the Sin Eater jumped. He said worty-dirds after that, though. I covered my ears.”
“Worty-dirds?”
“You know. Cusses,” Rolf whispered and then much louder, “He knows a lot of them too.”
Rolf’s eyes were big, but his tone implied he was impressed by Finn’s colorful vocabulary.
“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” Seraphina shook her head. This was exactly why this whole situation was so difficult. He was so young and had the attention span of a hyperactive cocker spaniel. “Rolf, I bet you will have so many new adventures after going behind the veil.”
Rolf stiffened and scooted his belly across her legs. He rose and sat by her, picking at his nearly transparent shoe laces. “I thought that was what I wanted, back when I died. And again when Ms. Allen left me behind.”
Seraphina said, “We talked about that. She died too, Rolf. I’m sure she looked for you and tried to keep her promise. Most humans only have a short window of time to cross over. Besides, you said you had followed some children to the park that day.”
“They were playing and the little boy wasn’t being fair. He peeked while he counted, so I pulled down his britches when he found the pretty girl with the blue dress.” Rolf snickered.
Seraphina nodded. She’d heard the story, at least ten times. He must have really thought his trick was funny.
“Focus, Rolf. We’re talking about the veil, remember? You helped me with my spell on the book and it worked perfectly. I was able to link your emotions, the sadness you used to feel, to the book. Thank you for sitting so still under the table until the auction was over. I really appreciate your help. Now, I want to help you. You should have crossed over the veil a really, really long time ago. I don’t want you to ever feel lonely or afraid again.”
“But I’m not lonely anymore, Miss Sera. Cause I gots you now. I reckon you’re even a better friend than Ms. Allen was. She got all old. Plus, she could only hear me, but you can see me too. And you lemme sleep in your closet on your soft stuff. I pretend I’m a handsome prince…”
And here she was again, the exact same place they wound up every time Seraphina tried to convince Rolf it was time to cross over. She sighed.
Rolf stopped and said, “It’s Finn, right? Grumpy Sin Eater don’t want me here no more? We can just leave him behind. We don’t need him and his nasty ol’ cusses anyhow.”
“Rolf, I cannot leave Finn. Ever. I explained that to you. The curse, remember? Our only chance of breaking it is if we stay together.”
“I know, I know.” Rolf crossed his arms over his chest and his lower lip pouted. “If I promise to stop touching the Sin Eater, I can stay here?”
“Only until we get you across the veil.” Seraphina ruffled his hair. “Did you feel that?”
“Like a wind blowing on my head.” Rolf smiled. “Do it a’gin.”
“Okay, concentrate. I’ll do it again.”
Rolf giggled and shook his head under her hand.
Seraphina wasn’t sure she could open the veil on command anyway, but once she figured it out, Rolf had to be ready. Convincing him to go was yet another complication.
“All right, buddy. Miss Sera needs her coffee and then we have to straighten out those jars. Remember, I’ll be out most of the day so please be good for me, okay?”
Rolf nodded, but his mischievous grin worried her.
Seraphina took a sip of her coffee as she looked over the shop’s inventory report on her laptop. She’d ordered the usual items tourists would buy next month: shaped candles, a few costume accessories, colorful sugar skulls, and books on Samhain, Halloween, and Dia de los Muertos lore.
Stacks of boxes sat ready to be unpacked and stocked on the seasonal shelves, but she knew she’d forgotten something. Oh, the masks. She had another box ready to pick up at the Arcade’s post office.
The thought of masks and the Arcade brought a fresh wave of butterflies to Seraphina’s stomach. Last night seemed like a dream, maybe a whirlwind—dressing up, her spell, the auction, the music, and the mysterious Marceau. What a night. She’d been wrapped up in the moment, Seraphina told herself, and was caught in the thrill of the spell working and winning the auction.
Seraphina used to believe, with her whole heart, she would be free to experience love one day. Now, after so long, her hope was a fragile, flickering flame. She’d almost given up entirely, but then Seraphina discovered the Blackthorne Grimoire had resurfaced right there in Nashville. Maybe, just maybe, she was meant to find a way to free herself. It might have been fate that put the mythical book in her path. If it did, then surely the grimoire would have an answer. Seraphina had risked exposure by doing the spell at the auction. Magic was not to be practiced in front of strangers, especially among humans, but she’d taken the chance because of her desperate hope that something, anything, in book would finally help. She had to break free from the curse that had held her prisoner for so long.
Was Marceau someone she could love?
The stray thought was dangerous. No, she chastised herself. Even if the grimoire contained an answer, it could take months, maybe even years, to find. She could only imagine the mysteries the book would reveal. Thorough, dedicated st
udy of it could be her only focus now, not dark blue eyes and stolen glances.
Seraphina reassured herself things would feel different when she met with Marceau. The spark last night was from the excitement of it all, right? Beautiful masquerade costumes and the intoxicating music made anything possible last night.
Today, in the harsh sunlight and hot, humid air, she could not afford to indulge in romantic fantasies about handsome strangers. She knew where the kind of feelings she’d had last night could lead. For her, unfortunately, they were fatal.
Taking another sip, Seraphina refocused. One step at a time. Today would be all business. First, check the jars Rolf messed with. Then a trip to the bank and the Schermerhorn. She had made arrangements to pay her bid and pick up the book.
Assuming all of that went well, she was meeting Marceau at one o’clock. He said he wanted to offer his services. What could it mean? Well, he had some sort of magical ability, that much was clear.
Seraphina would politely, but firmly, decline his services, whatever they were. Marceau tempted her, but no help he could offer was worth the risk, so she would say “no thanks” and that would be that.
She hadn’t even seen him without his horned mask. Maybe he was ugly. Surely, his forehead was huge. Or his nose could look like a beak. Perhaps, his eyes were too close together.
His eyes. They were a deep shade of blue and had sparked with both intellect and humor. His dark hair had been a little long on top. A lock had fallen forward and rested against his mask when he confronted her about the spell. Seraphina had fought the urge to reach up and touch it. He’d had a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his defined jaw. His mouth…
“What’s with that look, Seraphina?” Finn asked as he poured a cup of coffee.
She jumped so high she tottered and almost fell off her stool.
Finn regarded her beneath long eyelashes, trying to read her. “You look guilty,” he said while adding a copious amount of cream and three sugars.
“Yeah, well, you drink coffee like a girl,” she replied. Seraphina tried to appear cross but wound up grinning.
“Okay. Nice try, love. What gives? You were strange when you came in last night too. Said you won the auction, but that’s not what you were just thinking about, was it?”
Finn leaned back against the counter and peered over the rim of his mug as he sipped.
No. She was most definitely not talking about Marceau with Finn. If he found out she was meeting a strange guy for lunch, whom she had just been daydreaming about no less, Finn would blow it all out of proportion. He wouldn’t understand. He’d read way too much into it already and might flip out and try to stop her from ever laying eyes on Marceau again. Plus, he would worry. Needlessly worry, she amended. No reason to even go there. She needed to deflect. Now.
“So, I have been thinking about Kan… Khat,” Seraphina was quick to correct herself.
Finn squared his shoulders and frowned, defensive. “I have told you before, love. My relationship with her is not something I want to discuss. I will not…”
“No, Finn. Seriously. I’m not trying to pick a fight here.” Seraphina raised her hands. “I’m beginning to understand now. She told me a little about her past, and said you ate her sin, but I’m not sure she understood much about how it all worked before last night.”
“Khat told you I ate her sin? You two talked about what I do?” Finn’s voice slid up into a whole other register in disbelief.
“Yes, we sort of, um, bonded a tiny bit when you were sick. She told me about Virgil being her father, the stupid jerk face.”
Finn stood, sipped his coffee and started pacing. “I hope her feelings for me haven’t changed. She never mentioned any of this last night. I’ve held back on the less attractive realities of being a Sin Eater. It felt improper to discuss it too much at first when I was a relative stranger to her. And then, well, as things changed and we grew closer, I figured we were only a more physical pair. Less talking and more action.”
Seraphina fidgeted. “Yeah, moving on, please.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, I figured she wouldn’t know how to bring up last night.” Seraphina shrugged. “So on the bright side, she seemed kind of fascinated and open to learning more about what you do. I guess things will be easier now. I saw how much she cares about you, and it’s obvious you care about her.”
Seraphina flipped her spoon over and back, over and back, on the counter. Her words were not coming out well. She’d given this a lot of thought as she tossed and turned last night.
“Look, I think you should invite her to dinner tomorrow. I know you limit your time together here in the loft, and I don’t want you to do that anymore. You two have been together since the beginning of the year. It’s awkward with you tiptoeing around, trying to protect me from seeing you together, in love, whether you admit it to each other yet or not.” She stopped to give him a look. Finn lifted a shoulder in response, not committing to the idea, but not arguing it either, so she continued, “I appreciate the kid gloves, Finn, and I guess I did need it that way for a long time. I’m sorry if that’s made it hard for you to have normal relationships, but I think I can handle being around the two of you more now.”
“I just never thought you’d feel comfortable, would be okay, with being around a couple type situation. I would never, ever want to hurt you, love. I wouldn’t want you to feel…”
“Like a third wheel? I’ll be okay, really. She’s growing on me. Khat’s actually kind of sweet in her own way. It would be so nice to have a girlfriend I could talk to about everything. Someone who could know our full situation, you know? She handled the sin stuff really well, and I think with time I could open up. There’s something about her.” Seraphina smiled.
“Tell me about it,” Finn agreed.
“Khat was really confused when she realized how sins could make you ill. I think she wondered if you had eaten her sins at all.” Seraphina shifted her weight and straightened her shirt.
“Her sins are so minuscule. They didn’t even weaken me.”
“You need to tell her that, Finn. I think it would help her understand.”
The grandfather clock downstairs chimed.
“Oh, I have to hurry. I’m picking up the book today.” Seraphina ran down the hall to get dressed. She needed to be at the Schermerhorn in barely more than an hour.
Seraphina made it to the Schermerhorn with a few minutes to spare. She paid her bid with a certified check and was handed a leather pouch that held the large book. It was heavier than it looked. Seraphina allowed herself one quick peek before hugging it to her chest as she walked out into the sunny morning. She took her prized possession home and locked it in the apothecary safe. The shop and their loft had enough magical enchantments to rival Fort Knox, but she wanted to be cautious. She checked her reflection one last time and sternly reminded herself. All business. Pick up the mail, eat a quick lunch, and resist Marceau… ugly. He’ll definitely be ugly. With that thought repeating in her mind, Seraphina left for their rendezvous.
The Arcade felt like 350 feet of sauna today. Located between Fourth and Fifth Avenue North, the Arcade was a glass-roofed, two-story shopping district that had seen better days.
In 1903, it was the first shopping center in Nashville. Although the glory days were behind it, Seraphina loved the bones of the old building and thought it had character. She loved the art deco post office decorated by a round bronze seal of a mail carrier on a speeding horse. She walked there every day, except Sunday, to check the shop’s mailbox.
Art galleries lined the upper level. While small shops of all kinds, and restaurants, popular with the hurried lunch crowd, lined the mall’s lower level. Colorful state flags lining the Arcade hung limply in the humid air. A row of small, iron tables lined both sides, the perfect place to sit and watch people from all walks of life: transients, struggling musicians, blue-collar workers who kept the city running, and even wealthy executives in expensi
ve suits.
Seraphina always came when the lunch crowd was dwindling, but there was still a hint of hustle and bustle. Another hour or two and the place would be like a ghost town. Where was the fun in that?
She went inside the post office and waved at the clerk behind the counter. Bob nodded and went to the back room to get any packages the small rented box could not hold. She met him at the counter with a few envelopes in her hand and they exchanged the usual pleasantries. He handed her a medium-sized box, her masks, and a thick padded envelope.
“Thanks, Bob. See you, Monday.”
As she stepped back into the breezeway, Seraphina noticed the clock hanging above the middle of the second level connector. It was one o’clock.
Her mouth went dry. Maybe Marceau wouldn’t come. She hadn’t been rude, but she also hadn’t accepted his dinner invitation. She turned toward one of the exits as two homeless men traded enthusiastic hellos.
“May I assist you?” asked a masculine voice from close beside her.
Chapter Thirteen
Sneaking up on her wasn’t planned, but it had been easy. Marceau hadn’t meant to scare her. Well, maybe just a little.
Seraphina whirled and a padded envelope flew through the air. “Oh.”
Marceau stooped and picked up her discarded packet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Seraphina.”
He stood perfectly still. Seraphina’s eyes widened.
“I-I think you did. Why else would you be trying to hide a smile?”
Busted.
Marceau let the smile form. “Ah, direct. I remember now.”
“Ah, old-fashioned. I do, as well.” She tried to fight it, but she smiled too.
Seraphina walked over to an empty table and sat down with the box and stack of mail. When she looked back up at him, her smile had faded.
“I was pleasantly surprised when I googled this place, as you suggested, and saw it was a charming, historical landmark and not a place with video games. Why, may I ask, did you choose here? I would’ve taken you anywhere in the city. Nashville has much trendier places.”