I’d finally entered the town of Weeping Hollow.
But where were the people?
Where was Circe?
I clutched the pearls inside my pocket, squeezing them hard enough to make indentions in my palm. In case I soon had nothing left to hold onto, I was desperate for them to become a part of me.
“There are people in Weeping Hollow who don’t take kindly to strangers. They would burn you if they knew you were here,”she’d once told me, but I hadn’t told her that I was tired of hiding. I’d been on the run, from village to town to city, for most of my waking life. I was tired of running, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. Most of all, I’d already lost the only gift I cared about. I wasn’t about to lose the only person I ever truly cared about, too.
A distant sound came.
Music, violins, and bellies full of laughter.
It swelled in every wintry breeze brushing past me.
About half a mile later, I stood before a castle-like home with steep roof pitches and arched windows. A few men in long jackets, pressed pants, and leather shoes were huddled together under a breezeway, passing a lit cigar between one another and taking long drags. Motor vehicles lined the curved driveway, something I had only seen in films with Circe.
I slid my scarred palm across the side of one of the vehicles, feeling the smooth, cold metal beneath my hand. I closed my eyes, imagining it to be a horse and remembering its warm fur and the sound of hooves beating the earth.
One of the men broke away from the group and coughed into his hand.
He didn’t say anything and only observed me.
I shoved my hands back into my pockets and kept my head down, taking the steps up to where music and commotion penetrated the seams of the home.
The tall, arched doors opened to a swarm of people, laughter, and muddled conversations. Mostly in black, it was a sea of elegant dresses, tuxedos, and hands chained to silver chalices.
The home was an orchestra of soles and an abundance of souls. Footfalls bounced off the tiles below while candles hung in wrought iron fixtures from the coffered ceilings above.
Stragglers sprinkled the steps of the grand staircase, their sockets bruised as they stared out into nothing. Bodies posted against the wall in the narrow hallway, some nodding off while standing, others having conversations with the wallpaper.
I caught my reflection in the foyer.
A fool in a wool coat stood in the gilded frame—a person who didn’t belong in this home.
What am I doing here?I asked myself, the space suddenly feeling warm from all the people, the laughter, the music, the time shock. Then I felt smooth pearls slide between my fingers. I took a deep breath, combed back my hair with my fingers, and fixed my shirt.
Curious eyes glanced up at me. They turned their heads and dropped their smiles, and I felt the heat of their stare at my back as I walked by.
I looked for her in every face, spinning in circles and seeing nothing but strangers all around me. I squeezed into the next room, where a young couple was kissing in the archway. The sight trampled across my chest, but I kept moving until I was standing in a ballroom.
As soon as I broke through a crowd of skirts and skin, my steps ceased.
She was all I could see.
And she was breathtaking, blonde hair rippling down and clinging to that red dress she’d once talked about. I never thought I’d get the chance to see her wear it, and suddenly coming here was all worth it.
I fell back, admiring her, my fingers itching to feel close to her again.
It took half a second longer to notice the man dancing with her.
They weren’t dancing in the way we had danced. Their movements seemed choreographed, not sensual. They were everywhere, not still. But she was still dancing withhim, and I was standing among strangers, with more than twenty feet between us—far less than an ocean but far more than I desired.
At this moment, I was the outsider, unable to tear my eyes away from her.
I was someone who could never have a woman like that.
I could hear my pulse echo in my ears with every step she took.
