Standing miles away from where the tribes lived, I unloaded crates of fish and tossed them into marked bins along with other workers while orders were shouted in our ears.
Workers never spoke to me. Though they were different from the English settlers we worked for, I was different from everyone. The abomination in a burlap sack.
The small port was wedged between two shipbuilding centers. Oncoming ships blew their horns, and squeals and whistles from trains whipped by in ten-minute increments as they chugged across the railroad behind us.
Trout, salmon, and sea bass were emptied onto my table. With gloves covering my hands, I sifted through them quickly, dividing, tossing, and weighing. My life had become a tedious routine, but I kept moving as the ocean breeze blew past me from every angle. The captain’s cost wasn’t cheap, and Mother needed the last fare before departure.
During the entire walk home, I clutched the cigar tin in my pocket, and inside the cigar tin was the rolled envelope. I’d always kept it on me, having just finished my ninety-ninth book.
Fourteen years had passed since Ambrose gifted me this mysterious envelope. At this point I’d become more attached to the idea of the mystery than to wanting to peek inside.
When I returned to where we were staying, the small basement was dark, except for the oil lamp. It lit a weak glow across the floor, landing on mattresses shoved into the corner.
Mother and Celia were sitting at a small wooden table, a candle melting between them. In the few years I had known Celia, she had gone out of her way to avoid speaking to me directly.
I emptied my coverall, fanning coins across the wooden table for them to see. “The last of it is all here,” I assured her.
Celia twitched her nose, flipping her top lip up in a way that looked as though she was smelling it, a tic she often did. She then took half the money. The coins clanked together when she dropped them into a drawstring pouch. She stuffed the pouch inside her white dress pocket, a few pats against her hip for good measure.
“We will leave an hour after midnight. The ship departs at four in the morning.” She slid the remaining coins to Mother. “For our departure.”
“And Stone?” Mother asked.
My gaze slid between them.
Celia twitched her nose once more, refusing to look at me. Much like everyone else. “Everything will go as planned, Miss Clarice. Don’t you worry.”
Her words should have been reassuring, but an uneasiness stirred in Mother’s tired eyes. She knew the only way to break the curse was to journey to a town she had only spoken of in her nightmares. She had hardly said the town’s name when awake, almost as if each timeWeeping Hollowwas uttered, it had cost her.
I had worked tirelessly for her and Celia. After tomorrow, Mother could live out the remainder of her years without spending one more day worrying about mine. She could put down roots and start a family. She was a beautiful woman with many years left to live. But if Mother wanted to end this plan, I would not show resentment. Upon her request, I could free her of me, walk away, and never return.
Celia set a plate and drink in front of me.
I disregarded it, reaching out to take Mother’s hand into mine.
“We don’t have to leave. You have the choice to stay here.”
For the first time, Mother could not look at me. Her gentle hand slipped from my gloves and fell into her lap. “Eat dinner and get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”
I dropped my sack-covered head and leaned back in my chair, turning my attention to the corner of the room where a spider spun its web in the dark cranny.
After working for almost eighteen hours, it was a battle to keep my eyes open. I peeled off my gloves and picked up the cup, entranced by the web and the shapes it was hiding.
I gulped down the drink through a soggy rye straw that was slipped under my mask.
The drink left a grass-like residue on my lips ... and something else.
The taste was bitter on my tongue, and once it settled inside me, there was an unimaginable stabbing pain in my chest. The cup slipped from my fingers, no flashes, fades, or memories attached to it, and I clutched my heart and lungs, unable to breathe in.
All the air was sucked from my lungs. My voice was gone.
My insides felt as though they were being pulled apart and lit on fire.
Confused, I widened my eyes, my gaze springing to Mother’s for help.
But her sorrowful eyes turned away.
I did not understand, and the room spun and spun.
