by Kelly Powell
Catherine sat back against the sofa, saying little, until the officer took his leave. Guy saw him out, and after closing the door, he turned over the sign. His gaze went from Catherine to Owen. There was a sorrowful cast to his expression; he did not try to hide it from them. These past few days were a weight on all their hearts. He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
They went out together into the chill autumn evening. In Fernhill Park, a few leaves still clung to the branches, while others covered the grass in a patchwork of orange and brown. The pond lay still and glistening, the old bridge creaking beneath their feet. The three of them leaned against it, peering down at the water. Catherine saw their reflections, Guy next to her and Owen on the other side of him. She was reminded of the three of them standing in the abandoned church, the gaping roof above them showing the night sky. She marveled at what they had accomplished since then.
Dusk was settling in, streetlamps glowed in the distance, and through the trees, Catherine could see on to the embankment, as well as the way toward the public cemetery. She’d thought the city so dull and gray, but it wasn’t—even as the weather turned bitter and the flowers wilted in window boxes, there was still light and warmth to be found.
EPILOGUE
RAIN SPECKLED the streets as Catherine set off toward the watchmaker’s shop. The air this morning was warm with the coming spring, and the city was just waking up. Awnings were lifted, window displays were set out, and mail coaches rattled down the road. When the green-fronted building came into sight, she clutched her trunk tighter, walked a little faster. The OPEN sign wasn’t yet upon the door. She knocked, keeping at it until the door opened and Guy Nolan stood before her.
He was dressed simply in a white shirt and a dark waistcoat, a pair of brown wool trousers, a watch chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket. With a grin, he stepped back, gesturing her inside.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he said in a rush. “This will be an adventure, won’t it?”
Guy had been sleeping poorly these past few months. He’d been quiet, working too hard, Owen had told her, barely looking up from his worktable until day’s end. Though as the weeks went on, he laughed more, ate better. One evening he and Catherine had taken a walk in Fernhill Park, and he’d told her he’d never been out of the city.
Catherine had received letters from her family all through the winter months. She’d set her mind on taking a stagecoach to visit home, saving up her coins at the print shop for the journey. She’d asked Guy if he’d like to accompany her, and he’d readily agreed.
Now she smiled upon seeing his packed trunk at the foot of the coatrack. “Yes, I believe so,” she replied.
Guy put on his coat and gloves and fetched his hat.
Owen appeared in the doorway of the back room, wearing a dark apron over his clothes. He said, “Good morning, Catherine.”
“Good morning.”
Turning to him, Guy said, “Now, Owen, remember Mr. Everley will be coming by to make sure you’re all right. You have the Dalys’ address, so you must write if anything’s the matter or if anything goes wrong—”
Owen’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll be perfectly fine. You needn’t worry.” He looked to Catherine. “You know I’ll be all right, don’t you, Catherine?”
She nodded. “Certainly you will.”
“Well, yes,” said Guy, jamming on his hat. “Yes, of course, but—”
“You’re going to miss the coach, I think,” Owen cut in. His eyes shifted to the clocks on the wall, and they gleamed even in the pale-gray morning light, ticking in unison. “You’d better hurry.”
Guy picked up his trunk. He looked about the shop as though seeing it anew, before settling his gaze on Catherine. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes.” She stepped back toward the door, glancing to Owen. “Take care, Owen.”
“Take care,” he echoed. “I hope you have a wonderful time.”
Guy called, “Goodbye, Owen,” and followed Catherine as she stepped outside.
The stagecoach left from a tavern near Elgin Square. It would take them out of the city, stop at a coaching inn for the night, and carry on through the country to the town where Catherine’s family lived. They walked quickly through the streets to meet it.
Around the corner, the coach waited at the sidewalk’s edge. It was painted yellow, a cheerful contrast to the overcast sky, and drawn by a team of four horses. Passengers were already crowding on, and Guy helped Catherine up into the carriage. Sitting beside each other in the dim, close space, they clasped hands atop the seat.
Guy murmured, “Thank you for inviting me along.”
She looked at him. He smiled a soft smile, his dark eyes warm and lovely. She squeezed his hand lightly and said, “Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Will your family like me, do you think?”
“Well,” said Catherine, grinning, “I’m rather fond of you, so I imagine so.”
The carriage door swung shut, the coachman disappearing to take a seat at the driver’s box. Guy grinned back. “Are you ready?”
The coach set into motion, horses’ hooves clicking over the cobbles.
Still smiling, Catherine said, “Yes.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m grateful beyond measure to my agent, Kristy Hunter, and my editor, Karen Wojtyla, for their patience and support as I wrote this book. Thank you for helping me make this story better, and for believing in me.
Many thanks to the wonderful team at McElderry Books for all their hard work, including Nicole Fiorica, Justin Chanda, Greg Stadnyk, Tom Daly, Bridget Madsen, Elizabeth Blake-Linn, and Chantal Gersch. Thank you also to the team at Simon & Schuster Canada, including my Canadian publicist, Mackenzie Croft. And thank you to Miranda Meeks for the gorgeous cover illustration.
A huge thank-you to my family and friends for supporting me and my writing.
To the librarians, booksellers, and readers—I’m so grateful for your enthusiasm and support. Thank you so much.
More from the Author
Songs from the Deep
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KELLY POWELL is the author of Songs from the Deep. She holds a bachelor’s degree in history and book and media studies from the University of Toronto. She currently lives in Ontario. Visit Kelly at powellkelly.com or on Twitter @KellyCPowell.
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Margaret K McElderry Books
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ALSO BY KELLY POWELL
SONGS FROM THE DEEP
MARGARET K. McELDERRY BOOKS
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Kelly Powell
Jacket design by Sonia Chaghatzbanian and Greg Stadnyk
Jacket illustrations copyright © 2020 by Miranda Meeks
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Book design by Sonia Chaghatzbanian and Greg Stadnyk
Library of Congress Cataloging in
Publication Data
Names: Powell, Kelly, 1991– author.
Title: Magic dark and strange / Kelly Powell.
Description: First edition. | New York : Margaret K. McElderry Books, [2020] | Audience: Ages 12 up. | Audience: Grades 10–12. | Summary: Catherine Daly’s ability to awaken the dead for a final goodbye goes awry when she and Guy Nolan, the watchmaker’s son, seek a watch but find, instead, a boy whose return from the dead draws danger to the three.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020020464 (print) | ISBN 9781534466081 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534466104 (eBook)
Subjects: CYAC: Dead—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Clocks and watches—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.P692 Mag 2020 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020020464