Page 19 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)

However, as I stood in Ivory House’s library, I had the sudden urge to partake in a tale or two, if only to use it as an excuse to lounge about. It was certainly more welcoming than any library or school I had ever been in.

Otis departed to press a hand against the wall. The silver glow from Mr. Hawthorne’s cloak appeared, little more than a shimmer, and spread from ceiling to floor. “Ivory House has these runes everywhere. These runes allow the house to be…”

“Ever-changing,” I finished for him.

“Yes, Ivy has a mind of its own. That is one of many reasons enchantments on thinking creatures is forbidden. Magic is alive, in a way. The more enchantments Rooke lays upon Ivory House, the more sentient it becomes. The same with people.” Otis tapped his thigh above the prosthetic.

“If I tried to regain my leg through an enchantment, one could not guess what may happen. I may die simply from trying.”

“What about plants and animals? I have witnessed artificers blessing crops, and you study botany, do you not?”

Returning to his arm, we moved on from the library to pass a handful of extra rooms that may have once been for guests, if Mr. Hawthorne had those.

Instead, they became storage rooms for his endless oddities, one of which was nothing but clothes.

If he let Ivory House become a shop for a day, he would make a small fortune, though he clearly didn’t need the coins.

“Blessing is not how I would explain it. Animals have the same issues as humans, but plants are a gray area. That is why I find them so fascinating!” Otis’s eyes had a brightness to them, an excitement that one could taste, sweet as sugar.

“Artificers can enchant soil to be fertile so the herbs grown will be stronger, and thus, their effects more potent. However, enchanting individual plants is unknown. Most of our medicine contains herbs from enchanted soil. As you know, those herbs cannot regrow a limb or bring back the dead, but they soothe the sick and dying.”

Otis hesitated outside a set of double doors constructed of painted glass.

If I were an astronomer, I would know what constellations were on the glass, but all I could decipher was its beauty.

Past the doors laid an outlandish contraption tall enough to nearly touch the domed ceiling constructed of panels.

The long device had cogs along the shaft that connected it to the floor and a small hole at the end.

I gawked at the contraption while Otis went on about his research papers.

“However, a paper by Mx. Ellencot theorized that enchanting individual herbs in a careful pattern could result in the enchantment of people, albeit not permanently. Eating an enchanted fruit could give one supernatural strength or the ability to fly. Rooke and I offered our services. If anyone could decipher the patterns, it would be him. Alas, our sovereign fears the repercussions and finds it unnecessary considering all we have already accomplished, so there have yet to be any approved studies.”

Realizing I wasn’t paying attention, Otis wandered to my side and asked, “Have you seen a telescope before?”

“Oh, sorry, no.”

“They’re used to observe the stars.” Otis approached a golden handle on the wall. Tugging the handle, the dome ceiling cracked open. “Tonight we could take a look, if you’d like.”

One glance at Otis had him remembering why that wouldn’t work.

Frowning, he pushed the handle up, and the ceiling closed. “My apologies. However, you are always welcome to use the observatory after the cure is found.”

If it was, though I didn’t say that aloud.

Otis hugged my arm. “I apologize for babbling. I got carried away when I meant to be taking you on a tour.”

“There is no reason to apologize. My knowledge of magic is subpar at best, so this will be quite the learning experience,” I said.

“And a successful one.” He put a gentle pressure on our connection. “Trust in Rooke. I know he can be a handful, but he is good at what he does. ”

I didn’t doubt that he was capable in his way.

We stood in the proof of his abilities, but that didn’t mean he could defeat a demon’s curse.

Mr. Hawthorne admitted this was not his area of expertise, and I never heard of any tale where one cursed made it out alive.

While tales were exaggerated and spun into lessons or entertainment, they were inspired by truth, and the truth was, demons were dangerous and deadly.

Otis led us further through the halls, opening the occasional door, only to slam it shut, as if the mess embarrassed him.

The cleaner rooms I could see were the formal dining area, a lounge, then the music room.

Charlotte would love it. Every instrument I could think of, plus a hundred more, adorned the facade.

The music room was bigger than a cathedral, an entire wall made of windows to view the garden beyond, and adjacent to that were scrolls upon scrolls of sheet music.

“If my cousin could see this, she would never leave.” I laughed while running my fingers over a nearby violin. It hurt to think that I wouldn’t see Charlotte for some time, all of them.

“Once you’re better, we will have to bring her here for a visit,” Otis declared.

“Can you play?”

“The piano, yes, but I fear my skills may be rusty, and my fingers are not as agile as they once were.”

“What of Mr. Hawthorne?”

“He has made his attempts.” Otis clutched the lining of his petticoat and gritted his teeth. “I am relieved he has ceased them. You are lucky not to have arrived when he took up the flute. I feared for our health.”

I giggled at the thought, then took another gander at the room. This, like the other rooms, had so much stuff everywhere, yet Mr. Hawthorne didn’t play. I understood him having a piano for Otis, but once he realized music wasn’t his forte, why did he keep it all?

“Has he always been like this, keeping everything and anything in sight?” I asked.

“All this is rather daunting, isn’t it? I’ve been here a few years and have become accustomed to it, I suppose. As for Rooke, he buys what he wants when he wants. ”

“How incredible for him,” I mocked.

Otis frowned; the crow lines around his eyes deepened. He settled his hands along the lapels of his jacket. “Yes, he has accomplished much to get where he is. I do hope you will not think too poorly of him. Those born to so little can grow up to want more.”

My fingers traced the edge of the piano. “Mr. Hawthorne was not born to a family of artificers?”

“No, he was the first of his family with the affinity.”

“I see.”

We were always told magic passed through the family.

Those of great bloodlines rose to power because they were born to it.

The sovereign’s family had a rare few artificers, and they certainly surrounded themselves with more.

Many artificers became noble houses due to their lineage, if I remembered my little schooling correctly.

But if Mr. Hawthorne didn’t come from that, it would explain such a haughty attitude and his need to show off his accomplishments, except how did he have magic at all?

Mr. Hawthorne was more of an enigma today than he was yesterday.

I never understood the need, the want to show off, to have more than was necessary.

Greed made one ill, poisoned them with a desire that couldn’t be quenched.

When greed stole one’s heart, they became less a person and more a monster.

Their eyes glazed over, and they saw nothing as it was, but what it could be: an opportunity, a potential deal to be struck, a hand to steal from, and if you stood against them, you would meet a grisly fate.

I rubbed my wrist thinking how I never wanted to be like that. I would never become that.

“Let us take to the gardens,” Otis suggested. “They are quite lovely, and I think you will appreciate them. They may feel more like home.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

We went to the gardens, where Otis had planted a variety of species, like his greenhouse.

Their vibrant colors stood stark against the forest and the lush grass.

A stone bench had been erected near a pond full of fish.

Goldfish, I believed, based on their vibrant orange scales.

Miss Beamy sat on the ledge, eyes wide and butt wiggling.

She broke the surface with her paw, hissing when the fish scattered.

From out there, I admired the house, noting that parts on the left-hand side, the bottom portion of the castle resembled more of an old cottage, not so dissimilar from the one I lived in.

“That’s where Ivory House started.” Otis took to sitting on the bench and retrieved a sketchbook from his satchel.

He pointed at the cottage using a shading pencil.

“The cottage had been Rooke’s family home.

Once he made a name for himself, he bought a larger home and kept the cottage as his workshop.

Then he carefully maneuvered the two together.

The workmanship that took, dear me, I couldn’t explain if I tried. ”

“He doesn’t use it as a workshop now. His office was on the second floor,” I said. And in our travels, I had seen nowhere that resembled a cottage interior.

Otis drew while he talked. “It’s closed off from the rest of the house. It’s old, and he didn’t make many changes to it, just added on.”

I walked over to the cottage portion, where the windows were clouded over by dust. Wiping the outside did nothing.

The interior remained unknown, so I took to traversing the garden, inspecting the flowers that sang through my senses.

This curse brought on an abnormal sense of smell.

Ivory House, while in desperate need of a deep cleansing, had a pleasant aroma, likely thanks to the surrounding garden.

A splash from the pond had me wandering over to observe Miss Beamy’s desperate fishing attempts.

She swatted at fish, growling and chirping.

One she caught in her paws, but the fish squirmed and fell back into the water.

The water rippled with a hint of gold. Miss Beamy crawled along the edge in search of new prey.

I knelt to get a closer look at the golden fish, but it wasn’t a fish.

Carline stared back at me, her expression calm and eyes brilliant gold.

“Miss Moore.”

I shrieked, causing the fish Miss Beamy stalked to jump and splash.

Carline’s reflection disappeared among the ripples.

A mirage, a trick of the eyes from my rattled mind.

She couldn’t spare even my thoughts. I turned, half expecting to see her in the trees, but all I was met with was a frowning and mildly damp Mr. Hawthorne .

Heaving a long breath through his nostrils, he slid his wet hair back from his face. The splash caught him from the upper torso onward, leaving his shirt clinging to his form. My eyes betrayed me by taking in the disheveled sight of him.

“Pond water.” He gagged and raised his shirt to sniff, then gagged a second time. “You… scare quite easily,” he said when it was obvious he wanted to say much more.

“Most people would be frightened when someone snuck up on them,” I replied while forcing my eyes to meet his.

“I was hardly sneaking.” He gestured at the house. “It’s getting late. We should head to your room.”

My cage, more like it.

“Surely she can be out here a moment longer.” Otis set his artbook aside, giving a glimpse of the impressive work. The depiction of a rose bush was incredibly detailed, especially for having been done so quickly.

“You are welcome to fight her off if you are so inclined,” Mr. Hawthorne replied, turning away.

Otis offered a crooked smile, mouthing that everything would be alright. I wished I believed him.

Mr. Hawthorne took me to the room I previously destroyed. The window that had been there was no longer there. It was daunting and crushing, but there was nothing for me to destroy, save the nest of blankets in the corner and a handful of branches. I cocked a brow at him.

“Your wolf self seems keen on destruction, so I thought bringing in a few toys may help,” he explained, sounding far too happy about it.

“Thank you for such wonderful consideration.” I wandered into the room, my stomach painfully tight.

“You will be safe here, and we will be safe from you,” he said. He had more to say, a question to ask about my deal perhaps, though he stowed it away. “See you in the morning, Miss Moore. ”

I nodded then the door closed, leaving me beneath the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. I crawled into the blankets, covering myself in them as if they would ease anything.

Time dragged, what must have been bare minutes feeling like hours. My insides became hot, limbs twitching and breath labored. My jaw ached, like I had been clenching it for hours. When I looked at my hands, the skin shivered as if something lived beneath it. Then the world went dark.