Page 13 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)

Others prayed for me, thinking my soul was already gone and I was nothing but a doomed walking husk. I had never been one of faith, having lost it the moment Mom died, but I wanted to believe that Carline could be beaten. I had to believe that; otherwise, this had been for nothing.

A villager shouted, “What does this mean?”

“Will the demon come after the town next?” came another.

“Demons don’t attack anyone on sight,” Mr. Hawthorne said from the doorway.

Miss Beamy slinked between his legs to lap up the delectable crumbs on the floor. Slate flew in to land on a table, where he picked at a half-eaten slice of bread. The woman at the table squeaked and scooted back, letting Slate munch in peace.

Baxter shuffled by to join my side, where his feverish attention shifted between me and the artificer fruitlessly wiping his shoes on the grass.

Upon realizing the boots would need a thorough cleaning to be salvaged, Mr. Hawthorne gave in and adorned a charming smile that earned a room of admiration.

“Just because a demon is out there doesn’t mean everyone is at risk.

Demons have a type, which I will discover once Miss Moore and I speak further on the matter, but I am getting ahead of myself.

” Mr. Hawthorne took Aunt Agnes’s hand, no doubt loving the blush he put on her cheeks.

He proceeded to kiss her knuckles. “My name is Rooke Hawthorne, Grand Science Artificer licensed by the Eldari Council and the High Sovereign of Sidore. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Then he turned his attention to the awestruck tavern.

“And the people of Westshire, your future savior bids you a good morning, as good as it can be, all things considered. ”

Your future savior … I disliked him entirely.

Aunt Agnes wore a lopsided smile, nervous and excited by Mr. Hawthorne’s presence, as was everyone.

Two visits from artificers in such a short time, plus my disappearance, that was the most that had happened in Westshire since its inception.

It was a shock none of the older folks didn’t drop from a heart attack.

Someone should check on Mrs. Bakerswell.

One hundred and two was not a good age to be taken aback.

“How are you here, artificer? Did you save my Indy from this demon?” asked my aunt. I stood beside her, where she gripped my arm like a lifeline.

“Not yet,” he replied, entirely out of place in the old tavern. His affluence paled the surrounding colors, misplaced among the cracked mugs and patched curtains. He deserved to be in a museum or a gallery rather than a rundown town.

He looked at Ysabel. “Are you the owner of this establishment?”

“I am,” she replied.

“May I?” He gestured to the counter. “It would be best if I spoke with everyone so they are aware of the situation.”

Ysabel bit back a smile. Miss Francesca never asked about trumping along the tables. Ysabel let it happen because the spectacle brought business.

“Go right ahead,” she replied.

Mr. Hawthorne lifted himself onto the counter. He didn’t look out of place as the center of attention, nor did he have any issue gaining it. In fact, that was the happiest I had seen him. It was a shock he didn’t wither up and die from the lack of eyes on him at all times.

“Unfortunately, a demon has taken residence in your woodlands, and Miss Moore crossed paths with her two nights ago. As I previously mentioned, this demon will not attack everyone,” he said carefully.

“How are you certain?” Ysabel asked.

“She cursed Miss Moore because she is of interest. Demons cannot resist what draws them, typically a shared feeling or a strong emotion they yearn to feast on, and they will grab someone the first chance they get. That means she would have gone after all of you during your search if she wanted you.”

The crowd shifted. Everyone looked somewhere between relieved and mildly horrified. We couldn’t let her stay in the woodlands, not when so many had to use it. She would threaten our lives in more ways than one.

“The good news is that everyone who searched the woods up to this point is safe from this demon. I imagine you must travel through the woodlands for a variety of reasons, so I suggest you let everyone know of what has happened. If anyone must travel, those who searched and returned safely should be the only ones who do so, and they should warn neighboring villages,” he said while pacing the counter.

“What if the demon comes into our village? How can we protect ourselves?” asked Ysabel.

He spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly like he ordered an orchestra.

“Demons like to stick to specific territories. This particular demon has made the woodlands her home; otherwise, she would have gone after people in Westshire by now. Instead, she waited until Miss Moore came into the woods, and she will do so again. However, she could try to coax you through illusions, whispers, but nothing of violence. She will try to trick and deceive, so the best defense is avoiding the woodlands entirely.”

“But our woodlands have always been safe. Why would a demon come here? What called her to my Indy?” Aunt Agnes had yet to release me. Her hold said any would regret trying to tear us apart.

“I will seek these answers for you,” Mr. Hawthorne said. “The High Sovereign has been informed of the demon’s relocation to the woodlands. I sent her a letter after I met Miss Moore.”

He hadn’t mentioned that, though I suppose I didn’t see him once he left me to clean.

“What will our sovereign do? Will she send soldiers?” someone asked.

“Most likely, but demons are troublesome things. They rarely leave unless they want to. She could remain nearby for a long time. However,” Mr. Hawthorne turned his strong attention to me, “I have agreed to assist Miss Moore with the curse the demon has laid upon her. By doing so, I could discover more answers on how to evade or chase her from your lands entirely.”

The tavern released a relieved sigh. Baxter pressed a hand to the small of my back.

I unintentionally leaned into the touch, then berated myself for it.

He shouldn’t act like nothing changed, and neither should I.

What transpired put me in an abnormal headspace, one that sought comfort and familiarity. I couldn’t let that confuse me.

“I am sure you have more questions, but for now, I need to speak to Miss Moore’s family concerning our work.” Mr. Hawthorne sought Ysabel again. “Is there a private area we can use?”

“Upstairs.” Ysabel nudged my aunt toward the stairs. “Go on, Agnes. Take the girls to one of the rooms. They’re all open.”

Before Mr. Hawthorne jumped down, he said, “Do not fret. This won’t take long. If your lovely tavern owner here doesn’t mind, I will return in a few moments to answer what I can.”

Ysabel nodded. While Mr. Hawthorne and my family headed for the stairs, Baxter took my hand.

“Be careful,” he warned, pointing his glare on Mr. Hawthorne’s back.

I squeezed his hand, then followed everyone upstairs.

The rooms at the tavern were simple, nothing more than a bed, a nightstand, and a pair of muted brown curtains.

Once, Ysabel had hunting memorabilia in the rooms, but one of the drunks knocked a deer head off the wall before nearly impaling himself on it.

They were removed and replaced by paintings done by a local hobbyist.

My aunt took the first empty room, where I sat Susannah on the bed, while Mr. Hawthorne shut the door.

Miss Beamy hopped into Maude’s lap to provide a perfect distraction.

Giggling, the girls scratched under her chin.

I couldn’t have been more grateful. Admittedly, also a tad jealous because she hadn’t been as keen for attention from me when I would so willingly give it.

Mr. Hawthorne placed his hands behind his back. “To speak bluntly, Miss Moore shall stay with me for the time being. ”

My aunt’s expression darkened. “What? Where? For how long?”

“We aren’t sure.” I took her arm when she looked to be struggling to stand. She leaned against me but couldn’t decide whether to face me or Mr. Hawthorne.

“Trust me, this is for the best,” I urged and pointed at my ears. “These aren’t all that has changed. I’m not myself at night, and it wouldn’t be safe to be around any of you.”

Charlotte sat on the bed with the twins. Miss Beamy had their undivided attention, but Charlotte was too old to be caught in the play. She worried over her bottom lip, her voice coming out as a whisper, “You won’t be gone long, will you?”

“I will do my best to return Miss Moore to you sooner rather than later, and she can stay in touch. Sending letters is easy enough.” Mr. Hawthorne was better at dealing with this than I expected. He danced around the honest answer, that we did not know what to expect.

Aunt Agnes rubbed her hands together. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’re doing for my girl. The payment—”

“Is unnecessary,” Mr. Hawthorne interrupted. “I am a scientist, and Miss Moore’s condition is rare. As payment, I’ve accepted this case to further our knowledge concerning curses, although I want to reassure you she will be well taken care of. I can do nothing without her consent.”

If I didn’t have manners—and wasn’t desperate—I would share how he took more convincing than he played off.

Miss Beamy rubbed her nose against Maude’s cheek when she cried and whispered, “If he annoys her in any way, I will bite all of his fingers and toes.”

Maude giggled and hugged her tight, making the poor old girl wince. Charlotte tapped Maude’s head, reminding her to be careful, but I appreciated Miss Beamy’s presence. She eased the girls with her loud purring and let them twirl her tail around their fingers.

“While you safely went into the woods today, I would suggest avoiding it in the future,” Mr. Hawthorne added. “I do not believe the demon will come after any of you, but since your niece is fighting this curse, it would be best to be cautious. ”

“I don’t think I want to go into the woods ever again,” Susannah whispered.

Based on my aunt’s expression, she wouldn’t let them go near it, regardless.

“I know this is a lot, but please don’t worry. There will be some, uh, helping hands arriving soon,” I said, earning a confused look from my aunt. I wasn’t much help, considering I wasn’t entirely sure what they were, either.

“Yes, a fellow artificer has offered to help in Miss Moore’s absence.

They are mannequins enchanted to assist with chores both inside and outside of the home.

Along with that, with your permission, I would like to lay a protective enchantment on the house as a precautionary measure.

It would require runes written on the main walls of the structure,” he explained.

“Yes, yes, of course, if you think that is best. This is… I appreciate all you are doing for us. Thank you,” Aunt Agnes said.

“You are very welcome.” Mr. Hawthorne turned to me. He felt entirely different to the pouting man at Ivory House, more in his element. “I suggest you take this time to walk them home and collect your belongings while I speak with everyone downstairs. Remember, time is of the essence.”

“I will walk home with you,” Miss Beamy declared, except Maude had the cat in her arms so carried would be the more appropriate term.

Aunt Agnes said nothing when taking my hand. Together, we descended the stairs in solemn silence.

Yet again, I put her in a poor situation.

She worried over me when I wasn’t meant to be the one she worried about.

Carline’s deal looked better and better every moment.

They wouldn’t be going through this if I accepted.

There would be no worry, no strife, no struggling, just a life of leisure that they more than deserved.

Downstairs, Mr. Hawthorne took to the counter to accept questions, and Baxter waited near the door, his gaze fixated on me.