A flash so bright it seems to strike my chest. A star tearing across the lens, brilliant and immediate before it vanishes. I blink, breath caught halfway. In all my nights at this telescope, I’ve never seen anything so close.
It feels aimed at me.
July 30th
Lo! A beautiful sight unlike one I’ve ever seen. While peering through the telescope at Aquarius, a bright star fell from the sky and crossed my path. Is it a sign? A warning? In mythology, shooting stars were thought to be men thrown from heaven for their sins. Satan, too, fell like a star.
Arch’s eyes flash in my mind.
My pen stills.
Who is he, really? Why was he bleeding out in the back of Joseph’s wagon? Who would want him dead? Why would Joseph bring him here?
This cannot be a coincidence. Something bigger is at work.
I feel it in my bones.
The next morning, Joseph sits behind the front desk, hovering over the ledgers. His presence alone sets dread stirring in my stomach. Hoofbeatsclip-clopoutside, wheels grinding over the dirt. I glance out the window—Fred has arrived.
I hurry to open the door as he and Lucas unload the supplies. Fred hands me a cloth bag.
“Bills you asked for, Miss Alice.”
“Thank you.”
Joseph watches the exchange. When Fred departs, he steps toward me.
“What’s this?”
“Last week’s takings, sir,” I answer, calm as I can manage. I loosen the drawstring and show the stack of bills inside. “I had Fred exchange the coins. Easier to manage.”
Joseph studies me—too long—before saying, “As long as it’s accounted for.”
“Of course, sir.” I smile, though dread blows cold through my spirit.
He snaps the ledger shut. “Our patient must be relocated. Lucas will escort him to the residence after dark.”
“In our home?” The falling star flashes through my mind—bright, sudden—and Arch’s haunted eyes with it.
He scoffs. “Those rooms are for paying guests. That conference is far too important to risk any shortages. It’s shameful enough we’ve been left with this country post while Virgil runs the city hotels.”
“We’re the only location with an observatory,” I say calmly. “That counts for something.”
“It counts for little—this piddly post with a farmer’s daughter for a wife.” His voice drips scorn.
The insult stings, but I swallow it. “I’ve done all that has been asked.”
“A chair does what it’s asked, Alice. Doesn’t make it remarkable.” He waves toward the ledger. “Now—enough. That wounded man goes to the residence. The room is needed.”
I press a steadying palm to the desk. “Couldn’t you simply let him go?”
“I’m not asking permission,” he snaps. “And he stays restrained.”
Questions burn in my throat, but I swallow them all. There’s a wall around Joseph no one breaches.
“I should check on him,” I say softly.
I plate his lunch and climb the stairs, schooling my expression at his door.
