Winter's Spell, page 17
Roxy returned with a small plate and two pickle spears.
“Mm, pickles,” said Tessa appreciatively. She was suddenly starving, but she also wanted to talk to Roxy. “Do you have some time to hang out?”
Roxy checked the large, masculine watch on her left wrist. “Yes. I do. Not a lot but enough to chat.” She smiled at Tessa a little shyly. “I had a great time yesterday.”
Tessa flushed with pleasure. “Me too.”
“Did you have a good morning?” Roxy picked up a towel and slowly began drying off some glassware behind the bar. It was a slow day without many customers, which Tessa was glad of. She didn’t want to be interrupted.
She began eating her food and chatting with Roxy between bites, all the while admiring her practiced movements, picking up the various glasses—tulip-shaped, snifter-style, pint glasses and others that Tessa didn’t know the names of—and drying them deliberately and carefully, checking in the light to make sure they had no spots, and then placing them carefully in their places. Her sleeves were rolled up halfway, exposing the hands and forearms that Tessa so longed to have around her body.
She quickly pushed that thought aside as she felt her whole body getting hot immediately.
“Yes. Pretty good. Though…”
“What?”
“We went to the bookshop in town where we are going to have some promotional events, and I got kind of a weird vibe from the new owner, Isidora.”
Roxy paused in her work. “Oh really? Like a Barb bad vibe?”
Tessa nodded.
“Tell me more.”
“I don’t know. I just got a bad feeling at the shop, like something was off. And then I got the major creeps when I shook Isidora’s hand. Lisa said I’m making too much of it, but it just felt weird.”
“Lisa was there too?”
“Yes. But she said I was overreacting. Which I guess is possible. Sometimes I overthink things.”
“You seem pretty intuitive to me,” said Roxy with a warm smile. “I always say, follow your gut.”
Tessa smiled back. “Right now, my gut is pretty darn happy. This fish is amazing.”
“I’m always glad to hear we have a happy customer,” said Roxy, her tone of voice flirtatious, sending Tessa’s mind into a whirl of emotion.
“You seem pretty happy here too,” said Tessa.
Roxy was thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah. I am.”
“It’s a nice gig?”
“Definitely,” said Roxy. “And who knows? Maybe it’ll be more than a gig. I could see myself working here, you know, full-time. I never thought I’d want to leave Salem, but with a job like this, I think I would consider it.”
“Oh really?” said Tessa, her heart unexpectedly dropping into her shoes. Roxy’s staying in Ptown to work at a brewery was not the fantasy she’d been building in her mind. “Would you really want to work in a restaurant?”
“Why not?” Roxy lay down the rag now that she’d finished with the glasses. “Free food and booze, great coworkers, fun vibe. Plus, learning about how to brew beer has been really interesting, even if I’m still just learning the basics.”
“Sure,” said Tessa. She took another bite of her sandwich to cover her consternation. Why would Roxy want to work in the service industry when she was clearly so good at so many other things? It didn’t make sense. “But it’s not really a career, is it? I just mean, you are so talented and smart—you could do anything with your skills.”
An odd look crossed Roxy’s face that Tessa wasn’t sure how to interpret. Roxy opened her mouth to respond just as they both heard someone call her name.
“Roxy, we’re ready to get started.” Jack waved to her from the staff entrance. “Hi,” he said to Tessa politely, but it was clear that he was in the middle of things, impatient to get back to it.
“Duty calls.” Roxy smiled and doffed an imaginary hat at Tessa.
“Have fun,” said Tessa.
“I’ll text you later,” said Roxy before disappearing into the back.
Tessa finished off the last few French fries on her plate before flagging down the bartender at the other end of the bar and asking for her ticket. She couldn’t help feeling that their interaction hadn’t quite gone the way she’d hoped, and she wished she could call Roxy back and have a do-over.
Back in the theater office, she only had a few minutes to get ready for rehearsals. A look at her schedule only made her heart sink—she wouldn’t have any free time, day or evening, until the weekend to see Roxy. But Saturday was only two days away. She messaged Roxy and proposed they do something together, with Mo, if necessary. She didn’t want Mo to feel left out either. Being Lisa’s assistant was no walk in the park.
At the last minute as she was about to head to the theater, she added one more line to her text: I’m sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable earlier. I didn’t mean to. But she immediately deleted it. It was too soon for misunderstandings, wasn’t it? Instead, she wrote, It was great seeing you today. Can’t wait to hang out again soon!!!
Hopefully that message would be enough to communicate to Roxy how much she meant to her and how interested she was in her. Because she was. Very interested.
Chapter Fifteen—Roxy
Roxy woke up on Friday morning feeling more confused than ever—about Tessa, their kiss, and her weird comment at the brewery.
She knew there was a spark of something between them, that much was clear. But was it really any different than all the other sparks she’d had with other women? Was it any different from what she’d had with Amy? Everything had felt completely real and amazing at the start with Amy, too. How was she to know that things would be different with Tessa, especially if she rushed into things with her?
They had chemistry, sure. But what about their lives and futures? Roxy couldn’t help bristling at the thought that Tessa had so easily shrugged off the idea of working full time in a brewery. Perhaps it was a sign that things weren’t meant to be.
Full of doubts, Roxy had retreated to her signature style—she’d avoided interactions with Tessa, even ignoring her last text after their interaction at the brewery. She had no idea where things were leading, but she was reminded of her vow to herself to take things slow as well as her promise to Mo to help her find her way home. There were things that needed prioritizing, she reminded herself, and running after a woman like Tessa, used to intellectual conversations about Shakespeare and dating famous stars, felt suddenly rather silly. Chemistry was one thing; a relationship was quite something else.
Roxy made a conscious effort to focus on Mo that day, and her issues. They had breakfast together and then made their way over to the museum. Although they were there only a week earlier, it felt like a completely different place.
The door to the museum had a bright shiny new lock on it, and inside, instead of the friendly if slightly dotty curator, Clare, there was a very serious woman with a very tight bun and dark-rimmed, square-style glasses. Roxy guessed she wasn’t that much older than her, but her entire vibe was that of someone much older. She looked the very caricature of a strict librarian, thought Roxy, who did not, strictly speaking, have the best relationship with librarians in general.
The woman was completely absorbed in some kind of account book she was working on at the counter, and after a few moments, Mo nudged Roxy, who then, very quietly, cleared her throat.
“Uh, hello,” said Roxy, as the woman looked up at them. Roxy felt as though she were being sized up.
“May I help you?” said the woman, whose nametag said “Rhoda.” She was the curator that Clare had mentioned. “I’m afraid the museum is currently closed to visitors, though the shop is open.”
“The museum is closed?” said Roxy. A look toward the entrance of the display area confirmed that there was black-and-yellow police tape across it. That was a bit surprising, given that the theft had happened over a week earlier. She gave Mo a worried look.
“Yes, unfortunately, we’ve had our second theft in a month,” said Rhoda, sounding less hostile now and more despondent. She sighed before standing up from the stool she’d been perching on as she worked. “Were you hoping to see something specific in the exhibits?”
“Actually, we were hoping to see something specific in the library,” explained Roxy. “Wait. You’ve had a second theft?”
She nodded sadly. “A book from the library, actually.”
Roxy looked at Mo again, whose eyes had widened visibly.
“We were here last week. We, um, kind of noticed that there was something missing from one of the displays. That woman Clare was really worried about it, and later I had to talk to the police about it too.”
The woman’s demeanor changed. She was friendlier and less guarded. “Oh, I see! Yes. Clare did mention that there were some guests of the museum who had noticed the missing artifact. Thank you so much for noticing that. We have so many artifacts here that sometimes, with just the two of us, it can be hard to keep track.”
Roxy felt herself flush with pleasure. She always loved being able to help with something.
The woman picked up a different book on the counter and flipped through it.
“Oh yes, I see,” she said. Her voice tightened, the warmth drained out of it once more. “You’re Roxy?”
Roxy nodded. “And this is my, uh, cousin, Mo.” She still hadn’t gotten used to introducing Mo. It always felt wrong to lie like that, even if there wasn’t a better option.
“You had signed up to look at the grimoire. You and Madame Clerval both signed for that book.” She looked suspiciously at her and Mo, an accusation clearly forming itself in her mind. “Was that some kind of a joke or prank?”
“What?” Roxy was stunned. Was there something about her that screamed she wasn’t a regular museum visitor? Or was there something else that just made people assume she was a prankster? Either way, it wasn’t flattering.
“You are very rude,” said Mo, who had been standing next to Roxy quietly until then. “We are the ones who alerted you to the missing bracelet, and we signed up to see the book that we wanted to see, and you are assuming bad things about us.” Her voice was strong and full of righteous indignation, eyes blazing with fire.
Rather than be offended at Mo’s tone of voice, the woman’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just been so disheartening to deal with the theft of two of our prized artifacts in our collections.”
“Was the grimoire the book that was stolen?” Roxy asked, putting two and two together.
Rhoda nodded. “The grimoire was one of the most unusual books in our entire collection. Not the oldest or most valuable—simply the most unusual.”
“Why is that?” said Mo, prodding her to go on.
“First off, it’s the only grimoire in our collection, and it looks to be quite old—early nineteenth century. All handwritten, too. We have no idea who the author is as it’s not signed by anyone. And, finally, the most unusual thing about it is, perhaps, that we have no idea of how it came into our collection here at the museum. It simply…appeared one day.” Rhoda ticked off each oddity on a finger before sitting back down on her stool and shrugging helplessly. “Of course once we found it, we logged it into our collections. We even had it out for an exhibit for a while, but too many people wanted to take photos of it with their flash on, and a book that old and fragile simply cannot be exposed to that much intense light.”
“Wow, what an interesting book,” said Roxy. “Now I really wish we could take a look at it.”
“Why did you want to see it?” said Rhoda. “It does seem awfully suspicious that two patrons request to see the same book—and that book is then stolen.”
“Are you sure it was stolen?” said Mo.
“What?”
“Are you sure it was stolen? You just said the book appeared in the collection, and you didn’t know how it got there. But what if it simply…disappeared, also?”
“That’s a good point,” said Roxy.
Rhoda looked a bit put out. “The book was most likely an oversight in one of our larger donation drives. I misspoke earlier when I said it ‘appeared one day.’ That makes it sound more mysterious than necessary.”
“It is a grimoire,” pointed out Roxy.
“Exactly,” said Rhoda, clearly frustrated. “Spell books attract all sorts of people, and not always the ones who should have access to one. Gives them ideas.” She paused and looked carefully at Mo and Roxy again. “You still haven’t told me why you wanted to see the grimoire.”
This, at least, Roxy had prepared an answer to. She knew she might need a legitimate sounding reason for looking at an old spell book in the museum’s collection. Not everyone was a kindred spirit like Clare. It was, honestly, a bit disappointing that Clare wasn’t there that day. Roxy had been looking forward to seeing her again.
“Mo here is doing a class project on magic and legends relating to magical creatures in and around Cape Code. For her community college class,” Roxy said. “When we came last week to see the exhibits, Clare mentioned that there might be some books relating to that topic in the collection. She suggested the grimoire.”
“Is that true, Clare? Did you suggest they take a look at the grimoire?” asked Rhoda just as Clare walked past the crime scene tape and into the shop. She was carrying two large cups of coffee, which explained why she’d been out when they’d arrived.
“Oh hello,” she said, her expression brightening as she recognized Roxy and Mo. “For a second there I was worried we had the coppers in again.”
“Nope, just us,” said Roxy with a smile. “Great to see you. Sorry to hear about the second missing item.”
“Not our month, is it?” said Clare with a tight smile before setting down the carryout cups on the counter. “Yes, Rhoda, I do think I suggested that they look at the grimoire. But honestly, I don’t think I would have even thought about it except for that Clerval lady coming in and asking about it just the week before.”
“I see,” said Rhoda. She was disappointed that Clare’s explanation was so reasonable.
“You don’t think they’re mixed up in all of this?” Understanding dawned on Clare’s face. “No, these two are just doing a project. Didn’t they tell you they were researching the merfolk?”
“Something like that,” said Rhoda. “Well, they won’t get to look at that grimoire today—if ever. And to answer your previous question, yes, we know there was a break-in to steal the book. Other objects were disturbed, and our security system went off.”
“Who would break into a museum?” said Mo. “Only a monster.” Her tone of voice was dark, her expression cloudy.
Rhoda nodded, her expression exactly the same. “I agree.”
Roxy wasn’t sure if it was only a monster. She could think of any number of magical individuals who might like to get their hands on an enchanted bracelet or spellbook. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Oh well,” she said finally. “I guess we’ll go and see what the public library has on the topic.”
“Wait,” said Clare as they turned to leave. “We might have some other books on myths and legends of Cape Cod. Plenty of stuff about the merpeople around here, don’t we, Rhoda?”
Rhoda took a moment to think about it before nodding. “That’s true. We do have a small collection on those topics. Most of it is bunk of course, but if you’re specifically interested in legends, then you’ve probably come to the right place.”
The change in topic galvanized Rhoda, and after taking down Roxy’s information, she allowed her and Mo to enter the museum’s library and archive. They left Clare to staff the shop, and Rhoda pulled down several books for them to look through. Soon enough, she left them to parse through it all while she busied herself with some other work at the back of the room.
Roxy and Mo spent an hour flipping through the books Rhoda had provided them with, but there didn’t seem to be anything about mermaid hunters or mermaid parts for spells or anything like that. Roxy was just about to give up in frustration as she skimmed the last book when a paragraph caught her eye on the topic of mermaids and their magical powers: Some even believed that the merfolk could turn other creatures into mermaids by cutting their legs with a scale from a mermaid tail in salt water under a full moon. This was how the merfolk kidnapped human children and kept them for themselves.
“Hey, look at this,” said Roxy, pushing the book over to Mo and pointing at the relevant passage.
Mo wrinkled her nose. “This is nonsense. We do not want your stinky children.”
Roxy chuckled. “Okay, so this is mostly legend. But what about this part? About turning humans into sea folk with the scale from a tail?”
She read the rest of the passage to Mo out loud, “There are some who believe that a scale from a mermaid tail can be used in magical spells or enchantments to endow practitioners of the dark arts the ability to change from human form to siren form at will.”
“I have never heard of such a thing. But this must be it. The reason why I am stuck here, hunted and in danger,” said Mo. Her voice trembled with fear. “Roxy, to cut a scale from my tail is death.”
Mo’s fear was palpable. Roxy’s breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. “Yep. I bet this is it.” She paused. “So what is a siren, again, exactly?”
“It is evil creature. They may live under water and above; but their changing comes at a terrible price. They will lose their sense of self the longer they keep their siren form. Eventually they will be nothing left but monster.” Mo’s voice was full of bitterness.
“Why would anyone want that?” It sounded horrible.
“Sirens have their own special magic powers. Perhaps that is why. The powerful always want more power.”
