Page 22 of The Book of Heartbreak

‘Just so you remember next time,’ I say, my voice taut with annoyance, ‘I make my own decisions. I don’t need to be authorised to go out.’

‘Well, I can’t guarantee a next time,’ he says. ‘I have a busy schedule.’

There it is again, that arrogant grin.

When I throw him a glare, he puts his hands up defensively. ‘It’s just respect for our elderly. He’s our landlord, and your grandfather.’

‘I barely know him,’ I admit as we step outside the gate and onto the pavement. ‘We only met a month ago, after my mum died.’

He doesn’t respond for a while. A dog barks somewhere behind us, while a street vendor bellows in Turkish, as if trying to outdo the dog’s noise.

‘I’m sorry about your mum,’ Leon says at last, for once no mockery in his voice. ‘How did it happen – if it’s not too painful to talk about?’

I inhale slowly, at a loss for words. It’s the first time someone has asked about Mum, and all I’ve tried to do is leave her behind. A mother is hard to forget, but even harder to remember.

A motorbike roars past us.

‘Careful.’ Leon yanks me back from the road and closer to him.

His touch makes me nervous, mostly because I notice how hard it is to be near him and stay focused.

‘A car accident,’ I whisper, fixing my gaze on his worn-out T-shirt. ‘She was dead at the scene.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His grip tightens on my arms. I cannot bear him feeling sorry for me. I don’t need his pity.

‘I heard your mother’s gone too,’ I blurt out, pulling away from him. ‘Azmi’s been very chatty about you lately.’

‘My mama’s been gone for quite some time,’ Leon shares.

‘I was thirteen when she told me I was old enough not to need her any more and that Harika, my aunt, would look after me from then on. She left the same day.’ He averts his gaze.

‘It was difficult, but I got used to it. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. And I can’t say I care any more.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur, regretting my intrusion into such a personal matter, yet Leon seems unfazed. He looks so content and confident, it’s impossible to imagine him abandoned or heartbroken.

‘Don’t be.’ He smiles. ‘I’m better off with Harika. We’re kindred spirits.’

‘In what way?’ The question escapes me before I can rein it in. I’m drawn to his story, eager to understand his heart. His flaws. Everything that makes him human.

‘My mother didn’t possess the pure eye,’ he says. ‘For those without the craft, living in close quarters with the pure sight can be overwhelming. The path to our vision is not an easy one.’

We make our way across the road towards the seafront.

‘Sometimes,’ Leon muses, ‘if you can’t find a mother in someone else, you learn to be your own.’

‘I understand,’ I find myself responding, astonished that I’m in agreement with him for the first time.

Yet how could I not be? My own mother was often absent, lost in her pursuits of men who’d never love her back, and seeking solace in alcohol.

I suppose, like Leon’s aunt, Munu was the constant in my life; my kindred spirit.

In more ways than one. I sigh, reluctant to admit how much I’m missing her, how much hanging out with Leon feels like a betrayal of her.

If only she wasn’t so adamant about not trusting Leon . . .

Around us, runners and walkers are dotted along the shore, a few cargo ships strewn on the surface of the sea like fat slugs.

‘I finished reading the journal,’ Leon says as we walk along the seafront. My shoulder brushes against his arm. ‘I think you need to read it too. At least, The Book of Heartbreak . Perhaps you’ll find something in it that will speak to you.’

‘Me?’ I try to seem casual, but I’m compelled by his offer. I long to feel the weight of the journal in my hands once more, to flip through its yellowing pages and absorb its secrets. ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass.’

It’s a ploy, Munu whispers in my head. Don’t walk into a seer’s trap.

We seek shade beneath a sprawling sycamore tree, standing face to face. Leon studies me; if he’s disappointed with my response, he doesn’t show it.

‘Sufi Chelebi was no ordinary seer.’ He breaks the silence.

‘And you just stumbled upon his journal, as if it were a pebble on the shore. There must be a reason why the book has chosen you. Sufi Chelebi trusted you.’ Leon’s eyes never leave mine as he speaks, each word more intoxicating than the last. ‘So I too will choose to trust you, Silverbirch. I will tell you the real reason why I’m investigating the maiden’s curse. ’

I stand still, uncertain if Leon expects a response or not. A man who gracefully balances a tray stacked with bagels atop his head sashays past us. My throat dries as I wait to hear Leon’s top-secret mission. His confession.

‘The curse I’m investigating was instigated when a girl died in the Maiden’s Tower during the reign of the Eastern Roman Empire, and then it was stopped during the Ottoman reign,’ Leon begins. ‘And now I’ve read Sufi Chelebi’s journals, I know for certain that it was him who stopped the curse.’

‘So?’ I frown. ‘What’s left to investigate, then?’

‘Because the very same curse is still active. Something has awakened it. Perhaps something far worse. It’s why Grey tasked me to find Sufi Chelebi’s book.’

‘How can you break a curse?’ The breeze tousles my hair and obscures my vision. I no longer care if Leon senses that I’m cursed. I want to know. I need to learn if there’s a way.

‘It often involves sacrifice,’ Leon explains. ‘It’s the easiest, most guaranteed way.’

Even in the blazing heat, an icy dread creeps down my spine. My heart , I think, is going to lose the ability to love once I’m eighteen .

That is the sacrifice: my heart, me.

‘But it’s not the only way. There are . .

. a few methods. According to the craft’s doctrine,’ Leon continues.

That wicked flame of hope sparks to life in my chest again.

‘Curses are glitches in the divine system. Once a glitch happens, it’s usually followed by a string of unfortunate events – the thread keeps fraying.

With no real understanding of emotions, the celestials assume people are simple and lowly beings, when in fact, we are complex and intelligent.

Their inability to grasp our nature hinders their ability to resolve curses.

They can’t combat worldly problems as well as the seers can, and that makes individuals like me invaluable.

We study the origins of a curse, and analyse the reasons behind it, to present a solution.

Sometimes it’s a chance to fix past mistakes.

Heal the damage that the curse made,’ Leon explains.

‘In The Book of Revenge , Sufi explains how he unravelled the curse of Tirnava. A family of Christian villagers who lived in fear, disguised themselves as Muslims to escape persecution. Over time, their facade became their reality and they forgot their true heritage. Sufi Chelebi uncovered their hidden past and the curse that had plagued them for generations. With his help, they discovered that their true freedom lay in remembering, and the curse faded away once they did.’

‘Do you mean, they broke this curse . . . by recalling their heritage?’ I give him a measured look, trying to gauge the truth. It’s a lot to take in.

‘It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but, essentially, yes,’ Leon declares, retrieving a sherbet lemon from the pocket of his T-shirt and holding it out to me. When I extend my arm, he dangles it just out of my reach.

‘Any curse can be broken, Silverbirch –’ he flashes the lopsided smile I now know so well – ‘if you stop being snooty about the ways to investigate, and keep an open mind.’

I finally manage to snatch the sweet from his grasp, my fingers brushing his in the process. I’m not sure why I even fight for it, as I already have an entire bag of the sweets at home.

‘And what exactly do you gain by fixing these curses?’ I pop the sweet into my mouth, the tartness biting my tongue.

Leon considers my question, his gaze lingering on my lips.

‘Don’t tell me you’re acting out of the goodness of your heart.’ I frown, Munu’s warnings about seers and their underlying motives ringing in my ears. ‘You want fame, or money. What else? Let me guess . . . Will you be Seer of the Month if you break a curse?’

He doesn’t laugh, but at least he doesn’t look offended.

‘I won’t lie to you, Silverbirch. Those play a part in motivating me.

Just not in the way you imply.’ He smiles.

‘Do I want money? Yes. The museum pay is terrible. We rely on Harika’s tarot readings, and, well, since she became menopausal, her pure eye has been going downhill.

She’s lost a lot of clients. I need to look after her, just like she cared for me.

If I make a name in certain circles, we’ll attract patrons, paying clients.

Money would buy a house, and Harika wouldn’t have to worry about paying rent or retiring.

But it isn’t the only reason. The craft gives me the chance to be a part of something that can change the world.

The Hidden believe they know best for our destinies, but not all their actions are noble and fair.

Not all of them are like Grey. Sometimes they see curses spawn and they don’t lift a finger.

They watch suffering and tragedies, as if what happens in the world doesn’t matter.

Take the tower, for instance. Something crooked and fundamentally wrong happened there, certainly involving the Hidden, and it’s still plaguing unsuspecting mortals.

Who will set it right, if not me? I can help those unfortunates. How can I turn my back on it?’

I’m speechless. There’s no way these passionate, hopeful words can be an act. A wave of guilt washes over me for thinking him self-serving.

‘The craft is a dying tradition.’ He wrinkles his nose, as if the admission pains him. ‘It’s no surprise, given the long history of my kind being used and exploited by the Otherside, and even on this side. But with Grey, I’m lucky. He’s a good partner. He treats me as an equal.’

Not that I’m an expert on celestials, but judging by how they treat Munu, Leon’s remarks come as a surprise.

‘Working with him has already helped me. I’ve been given a training opportunity in Peru, where a great master lives near a city called Puerto Maldonado.

Istanbul isn’t the only city in the world with places like the Maiden’s Tower.

Curses spawn everywhere. Avebury Circle in Britain, Ponte Vecchio in Italy, H?ringe Castle in Sweden .

. . I want to uncover the tower’s curse before I leave, and have that achievement under my belt before I travel the world and write my own journals like Sufi Chelebi did.

’ His eyes lock on to mine. ‘With the fame that follows, perhaps I can become a master myself in a few years and inspire the next generation.’

I focus on the honey-coloured flecks in Leon’s eyes, telling myself that I’m not attracted to him. It’s just the heat getting to me, the blazing afternoon . Not his charming face nor his words that warm something in my chest, like a marshmallow toasting over a fire, or his heroic ambitions.

‘Please,’ Leon says, filling the silence between us.

‘Read The Book of Heartbreak . Respect the craft and the book as it has respected you. Perhaps then –’ his mouth curves into a smile again – ‘you may recall something of use. And who knows, you might even be the one to break the curse. Imagine the lives you’ll change.

I’d be honoured to document your great achievement. ’

‘Fine.’ I shrug, feeling overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and curiosity. Despite my reservations, I can’t deny the allure of Sufi Chelebi’s companionship, especially in Munu’s absence. ‘Bring it to me, and I’ll do my best.’

Communication is classified as Top Secret.

Circulation strictly limited to correspondents.

Subject: Urgent Retrieval of the Mortal Artifact

Date: 28 July 2025

From: Five the Fifth, Angel of Death, Field Operations, Mortal Termination and Transition, Mortal Affairs Commission

To: Grey the Compassionate, Associate Cherub, Curse and Malediction Archives, Worldly Index, Sacred Data Systems, Halotech Data and Integration Hub

Cherub,

It has come to my attention that one of your mortal acolytes possesses a valuable artifact – an old book of an Ottoman fool – exposing a potential security threat for certain historical cases.

I urge you to promptly return this mortal item to me and thus prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

This is a strict order.

Signed,

Five the Fifth