Unbound, page 7
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It isn’t.”
They lapsed into silence. Alannah took that time to compose herself. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. “My grandmother tried to find a way to break the curse and she never could. When she died, I realized that we were never meant to break it at all.”
“So that’s that?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That’s that.”
“I’m sorry, Alannah.”
She shrugged. “I can’t break, but I can end it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I refuse to pass this curse to anyone else. I can’t break it, but I can make sure it dies with me.”
Chapter 10
Elliot couldn’t sleep. First, he was too hot. He would fling the covers off and close his eyes for a few minutes. Then he was too cold. For an hour, he wrestled with the quilt in an effort to find the optimal temperature. Once achieved, the tension drained from his body and he sank into the mattress. But then his arm or leg would start to ache. Shifting his position would alleviate it for a moment, but then something else would hurt. It was the dance of an insomniac. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. Not tonight.
I can make sure it dies with me.
He was beginning to understand why she was so distant. After so much loss, he couldn’t blame her. Then there was the curse. She was willing remain alone and die alone in order to stop it. Elliot understood how noble it was, but it was sad to think about. And now she was stuck with him. It made him wonder what his presence here could change for her.
With a sigh, he flung the covers off once more and sat up. He wasn’t sure what time it was. There were clocks throughout the house, but none of them told the same time. Elliot hadn’t decided if it was a quirk of an already odd house or a feature. But he did know it was late. Alannah was probably asleep. He was as good as alone. Knowing that, he couldn’t help but wonder about the stairs in the closet. He wanted to know where they led. And if she was asleep, she couldn’t stop him from finding out. Was it wrong? Probably. But he was trapped here. He might as well find out everything he could about the place.
The floor warmed under his feet. His footsteps were light. The door creaked when he swung it inward and he paused, wincing at the sound, but he didn’t hear Alannah stir. Moonlight barely lit up the darkened hallway, leaving it bathed in shadows. Elliot waited for his eyes to adjust before tiptoeing down the hall to grandmother’s room.
Elliot held his breath as he passed Alannah’s door. His heart thudded against his sternum so loud that he was worried she would hear it. Please don’t wake up. He reached for the doorknob, but the door opened before he could touch it. Under normal circumstance—ones where he wasn’t trapped in a magic house—he would’ve turned tail and run the other way. Doors opening by themselves was the beginning of a horror movie. But it was the least terrifying thing to happen to him lately. He stepped inside the room while his hand brushed against the wall to find the light switch. The door didn’t wait. It began to close the moment he stepped into the room. He found the switch right as the latch clicked. Warm yellow light filled the room.
The sheet covered the mirror once again. He didn’t need to remove it. He needed no guidance. The knob of the closet door was warm as if someone had been holding it. His heart raced, and in his excitement, he pulled the door open without caring about noise. The stairs, barely lit by the light of the room, disappeared up into the darkness. Elliot used the wall to guide him upwards up and up until shadows enveloped him. In the inky blackness, there was another door.
He wasn’t given time to hesitate or change his mind. The door opened.
Moonlight filled the room from a large round window. Impossible. He had never seen the window from the outside. But here it was. It illuminated every corner of the cluttered room. Shelves lined the left side, filled to the brim with books. Most had nothing on the spines, others had gold or silver lettering, and some had symbols etched into the leather. On the right side was a large cabinet with jars and bottles littering the shelves. Purple, green, blue, clear. Some shimmered. Some were empty. Some were filled with weird substances that he didn’t want to touch. Boxes were stacked beside the cabinet. Elliot leaned over to look in them. More jars and bottles and papers and trinkets.
“Magical junk,” he murmured, snorting under his breath.
In front of the window sat a desk made of purpleheart. Leaves and vines were carved into its curved legs. Elliot stepped closer to see flowers etched into the surface of the desk. His fingers traced the grooves. He didn’t know what kind of flower it was. While everything else was overflowing with treasures, the desk only held two things. A plain book and necklace. The black cover didn’t indicate what was inside. He carefully flipped through the pages so he didn’t bend them. It looked like a journal. I probably shouldn’t read this. Elliot closed it.
Elliot picked up the silver necklace and wiped the dusty surface of the pendant with his thumb. The gem was a deep amber with a black slash down the middle. It reminded him of a cat’s eye. What was it used for? He frowned, holding it closer to his face as it he could discern its function by doing so.
The pendant blinked at him.
Elliot tossed the necklace with a shout. It struck the window with a thunk before falling to the floor. The pendant shattered on impact. “Oh…shit,” he whispered. Shit, shit, shit. Alannah was going to kill him. He knelt down to pick up the pieces but some were too small. Sweat beaded on his brow. How was going to explain this to her?
Maybe I can glue it together? She’ll never know.
“Elliot?”
He jumped, flinging the shards back to the floor. “Alannah!” her name came out louder than he meant it to and he winced.
She stared at him, but he couldn’t tell if she was mad or if she looked mad because he had woken her and he was snooping. Something she had asked him not to do. More than once. She stood there in her rumpled black pajama pants and lilac tank top. Wisps of hair escaped from her braid. Neither of them said anything for a minute. Both were waiting for the other to speak first. Elliot didn’t want to go first.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, Alannah folded her arms across her chest. “I heard you shout…” she trailed off, looking around the room as if she was noticing it for the first time. “What is this?” she murmured.
“You don’t know? It’s your house.”
“I’ve never seen this room before.”
He watched her spin in a slow circle before moving to the bookcase. Her fingers stroked the spines of the books. “I don’t understand. How could she keep this from me?” The question was rhetorical, but she looked to Elliot as if he could give her an answer. His shrug made her lips curve downward. He didn’t know what to say.
Alannah didn’t stop moving around the room. She went to the curio and bent down to stare at the glass jars. All he could do was watch her in silence and give her a few minutes to take it all in.
Her eyes finally moved to the floor—to the shattered pieces of pendant at his feet—and she pointed. “What is that?”
“It was a necklace.”
“Was?”
“I uh…I may have broken it,” he admitted, while running his fingers through his hair.
“You may have broken it,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
Alannah drew in a deep breath and released it, her nostrils flaring. “How?”
“I thew it, not on purpose—”
Her eyebrow quirked.
“It blinked at me and I got scar—”
“It blinked at you. How did it blink at you?”
Elliot threw his hands up. “I don’t know, Alannah, probably some weird magic shit. I’ve seen a lot more of it than anyone needs to in a lifetime. The point is, it blinked it at me, I got scared, I threw it. “
Alannah sighed, scrubbing her hands down her face. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Ridiculous? Ridiculous!” Elliot’s voice climbed an octave. “You’re the one who lives in a magical house in the middle of a magical forest with things that want to kill me, but a necklace blinking at me is too much for you to believe?”
“You’re up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping. Snooping, once again I might add, through my grandmother’s things and breaking what could be an important heirloom and waking up everyone in the house!”
“Everyone in the house? Who is everyone? It’s only you and me!” He gestured between them. “Oh, and I forgot, the cat! Did I wake up poor Mr. Pinkus?”
“Yes, and I was sleeping quite well, thank you.”
Alannah uncrossed her arms and pointed at Elliot. “You have been nothing but trouble from the moment you came here!”
“Trust me Alannah, I wish I hadn’t. I would’ve been fine never meeting you or coming to this damn place!”
“Would you two please stop arguing.”
“No!” they shouted in unison, turning in direction of the third voice, but no one was there. Mr. Pinkus sat in the doorway.
There had been a distinct third voice. They both heard it. But there was no one else there. No one but the cat. And cats couldn’t talk. Or could they? Elliot stepped close to Alannah. He studied her expression, but she seemed just as confused.
He pointed at the cat. “Did he just—”
She shook her head. “Mr. Pinkus can’t talk.”
“Oh, but I can.” Mr. Pinkus’ tail thumped against the wood floor. “And you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
***
Elliot began to laugh. Not a chuckle or a snort, but full-on belly-aching laughter. The kind of laughter that made him lean on the wall to keep upright. Tears streamed down his face. He swiped at them, but they kept coming the more he laughed.
Alannah was glad someone found it funny. It felt like someone had kicked her legs out from under her. Her only companion, the one she grew up with and confided in, spoke. And not even to her, but to Elliot too. All those times she felt alone and mourned the friends and lovers she would never have, and the one who could’ve made her feel differently never break his silence. She sank to her knees.
As if sensing her train of thought—perhaps he could read her mind too—he walked over to her and place his front paws on her knees. “If I could’ve spoken to you all these years, Alannah, I would have.”
Elliot’s laugher trailed off.
“Why didn’t you?” Alannah asked, her voice no higher than a whisper.
“Your grandmother asked for my silence until you were ready. And when she wasn’t sure if she could trust me, she locked away my voice until the time came.” His eyes strayed to the pendant fragments on the floor behind her. “I did not deceive you.”
Her upper lip curled and she made a noise in her throat. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”
“I cannot lie.”
“You’re of the Fae,” she murmured.
“I am.”
Elliot moved closer to her. “How can you tell?”
“Fair Folk can’t lie. Not outright,” she said. “But they can still deceive and find ways around telling the truth.”
Elliot frowned. “It doesn’t seem like he’s lying.” He knelt down beside Alannah. “You said you would be able to speak when Alannah was ready. Ready for what?”
“To learn the truth of the curse. And break it.”
Alannah scoffed.
“So, there is a way?” Elliot asked.
“Possibly.”
“Possibly isn’t a sure end,” Alannah snapped.
Your grandmother believed you would be the one. I believe her. I believe in you,” Mr. Pinkus said. “I can help you, Alannah. Don’t you want the truth, the knowledge, a path other than the one you believe you must walk?”
Yes.
“It can’t hurt to hear him out at least,” Elliot encouraged.
Alannah nudged Mr. Pinkus’ paws off her knee and stood up. “Of course, it can. False hope can be just as hurtful.”
She didn’t want to hear anymore. She found it difficult enough to process finding Elliot in a hidden room, a room she didn’t know about even though she’d lived in the house her entire life, but also the knowledge that her friend could speak and held the secret to breaking her family’s curse? Too much to take in at once.
She left them in the room to talk amongst themselves. There was no point in telling them to leave. Elliot had made it clear that her wishes would be ignored. She passed her room—sleep wasn’t a possibility—and trudged down the stairs. Tea might help. It wouldn’t, but she could pretend. The lights flickered on in the kitchen as soon as she walked in. The house sensed her agitation.
Elliot and Mr. Pinkus entered the kitchen while she grabbed her cup. She reached for a second with a sigh. They didn’t say anything to her. A chair scraped across the floor and creaked as Elliot sat down. Alannah kept herself busy measuring the tea leaves and adding orange peel to the cups. A terrible blend for sleep, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. Not with the possibility of breaking the curse hanging over her head.
A possibility she didn’t want to hope for.
What if she couldn’t? What if she listened to Mr. Pinkus and tried, and then failed? She had accepted what her life would be. That she would live in this house and die in this house. No children. No lovers. No one to prepare her body. She was going to wither and rot in this house. And she was fine with that. She was set in her choice.
Am I?
Alannah ran out of things for her hands to do. She stood at the counter with her back to them, her fingers tapping against the countertop while her mind raced. Everything she had thrown away, all of her dreams and hopes, wormed their way back into her head. The dream of simply leaving the fringe, of meeting real people, and of possibly never returning this place. It was a dream she had clung to as a child. Could she really have it again? How much would it hurt to let it go a second time?
The kettle whistled, momentarily pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into the cups, steam billowing in her face, and set the kettle off to the side. Elliot look away from her when she turned as if he had been staring at her back the entire time. Concern and curiosity warred in his eyes, but he remained quiet. Shockingly.
An inconspicuous book sat on the table in front of him. She imagined it was important if he had brought it. She placed the cups on the table. One for her and one for Elliot. Mr. Pinkus sat beside the book, his tail swishing back and forth. She looked everywhere but at him. If he thought her hurt would subside so quickly, he was mistaken. Knowing he could speak, but her own grandmother kept him from speaking, stung. Not to mention a way to break the curse and a hidden room.
She wanted to wake from this cruel dream.
Elliot slid the book to her. “It’s a journal. I didn’t read it.”
“Why not? You seem to like getting in my family’s business.”
“Please don’t start again,” Mr. Pinkus said, thwarting her attempt at an argument. “The journal belonged to your grandmother. She detailed as much of the family history that she knew. As well as how the curse began. She left it for you.”
Alannah dragged her fingertips over the supple leather, lingering at the edge. Half of her was telling her to open it while the other half was telling her to play it safe and never lay her eyes on it. She believed in me. Alannah didn’t understand why. If anyone could’ve broken it, it would’ve been her grandmother. She was strong and loving and insightful. Alannah lacked those qualities. Why me?
She pulled her hand back and reached for her cup. Piping hot tea scalded her lips and tongue but she kept drinking to avoid deciding. The pain anchored her to the present. She focused on it to keep her mind from wandering in circles.
“What are you afraid of?” Mr. Pinkus asked.
Failure.
Her grip on her cup tightened. “I don’t think I should read it.”
“Why not?” Elliot piped up. “This could be your chance, Alannah”
“Or it could be nothing.”
“You won’t know until you read it,” Mr. Pinkus said. “If you don’t try you will never know. Do you truly want to spend the rest of your life trapped here, wondering if you should’ve taken the other path?”
Alannah swallowed hard.
Mr. Pinkus tapped the journal with his paw. “Take the road less traveled, Alannah.”
Her grandmother believed in her. Maybe it was time she tried to believe in herself.
Alannah set her cup down and reached for the journal. She flipped it open. Elegant script filled the first page. She recognized her grandmother’s impeccable handwriting anywhere. It was a letter to her. But she didn’t read it. She would prefer to read it alone. She moved on to the next page. Skimming the words, Alannah realized it was about the original village they came from. A village. People. If Alannah were to find them, would they know who she was? Would she be welcome there?
“What does it say?” Elliot asked.
She snorted. “You’re so impatient.”
“I know. What does it say?”
“Our family came from a village of healers and craftsmen. Which I suppose would explain our affinity for healing and green magic.” She flipped the page. As she read, she felt Elliot’s eyes on her. His knee bounced under the table as he pressed his lips shut against the tide of questions. She found joy in making him wait. But her humor began to ebb the further along she read.
“What is it?”
Alannah’s forehead wrinkled and she frowned. “She writes about a woman named Moirne and her lover,” –Alannah turned a page, letting out a breath when she read the first line— “her Fae lover.”
Elliot leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So?”
She shifted in her seat. “My mother always told me the Fae didn’t like the witches, felt we were interlopers, and had rules against intermingling.”
“Are you telling me your family was cursed because two people fell in love?” Elliot scoffed. “That’s a little ridiculous don’t you think.”
