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Celestial Souls, Book I: Christine
Chapter Five: Something Wicked...

I was right – I was always right when it came to my mother.

“You idiot!” Mama snarled, looming over me. Her hands were on her hips, which was her trademark you’ve-really-done-it-now look. I felt my heart sink at this – I hadn’t expected to get off lightly, but still, house arrest after six, and now what?

Work was what.

“I expect she’ll be workin’ it off,” Ruth said. There was no question about it, and my mother agreed. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she wouldn’t protest.

“I’ve got school,” I said. Ruth waved her hand.

“I can be accomodatin’, but you’re still gonna work.”

The details were hammered out slowly through the hour, and we finally returned home with my mother looking very pissed off. That was the nice way of putting it.

“You should have been grovelling,” she said. “I didn’t raise you to go into someone’s house and break their things. I don’t care if it was an accident.”

“I said I was very sorry before you showed up.”

“You didn’t say it often enough.”

I didn’t argue.

Ruth had not scheduled me to work until Tuesday, so it was with relief when I went to school on Monday. O’Reilly gave me an odd look as I walked in. I don’t know why; maybe she was having some sort of mid-life crisis for all I knew. But Religion passed without incident, and when I settled myself down in History, Shelby offered this unhelpful comment:

“They’re staring.”

“Good for them,” I said. “How was your weekend?”

“Boring,” she said. “No one stops by. Why haven’t you come by?”

“I...kind of got involved in something last weekend and now I won’t have weeknights free for a while.”

Shelby’s interest seemed to peak at this; she leaned forward, propping herself up on the desk.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

I glanced toward the popular group, for some reason; they seemed to be clustered around Carly (as usual) but something seemed different...

“Well,” I said slowly, “There was this thing over the weekend, and I wound up working someplace near here for...a while.”

She made an impatient, say-more gesture with her index and middle fingers. “Tell me more, Chris. I haven’t heard any good gossip in days.”

“This isn’t something I want spread around.”

“Of course not, but I want to know!”

“There’s a little store not far from here, and I won’t get into how, but I wound up breaking a mirror and she – the owner – insisted I work it off.”

Shelby’s eyes widened. “Breaking a mirror? That’s bad luck!”

Before I could say anything further, Rourke walked in, a thick red binder tucked under his arm. I felt relieved at the temporary break.

The break lasted until lunch, when, after we had gotten out lunches and taken a seat just outside the cafeteria, Shelby again demanded to know what had happened over the weekend that would make me more isolated than I already was. Trying not to sigh, I attempted to explain: how I had stumbled across Eric while out of the house, how we wandered through town, how we stumbled across the little shop, and then, a blow-by-blow description of what happened while inside.

I deliberately omitted a few details; the ‘Konnie’ had been downgraded to a run-of-the-mill employee, and the frequent use of a foreign language was dropped (and what was that language, anyway?). Shelby listened patiently throughout, eating her lunch. When I finally finished, I waited to hear her reaction, hoping she wouldn’t harp on Eric – I had heard his name from her too many times.

She paused her eating to answer. “Huh. I guess that is bad luck. That sucks!”

“No kidding.”

“Eric’s working there too?” (There it was. Only a matter of time).

“Yeah, but I don’t know when. They worked that out by themselves.”

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want you to finish saying it.”

Shelby looked mock-offended. “You haven’t had a boyfriend since you got here, and Carly trying to hook you up with her asshole ex doesn’t count. Here’s a guy who I think’d be perfect for you, and you ignore me. I am trying to help you.”

I grinned at her exaggerated reaction. She could be a drama queen, but she was a drama queen who didn’t take herself too seriously at times. “I don’t think I need help.”

Shelby grinned right back. “I dunno, Chris. Maybe you do.”

Her tone was clearly joking, yet one of Carly’s lackeys – they were walking by us far more frequently than they ever had before – took the opportunity to get a jab in: “Yeah, you need all the help you can get to get a normal guy – he’s way outta your league.”

“Says who?” I said, but by now she had entered the cafeteria and my voice was drowned out.

Tuesday was no different than any other day: Religion, History, lunch with Shelby, and then Gym and Music. Gym was thankfully in the classroom that day, for the often-dreaded health portion of the course, and so while I was late to Music as usual (we still had to change), I was feeling fine and not sore in any way. The music the class made was not so fine, but I liked to think I wasn’t doing so bad. Once you figured out where all the keyholes were, it goes pretty smoothly.

By the time the end of the day hit, Shelby looked surprised when I made a beeline for the back.

“Working?”

“Yeah. I’ll call tonight.”

“Talk to you then!”

Ducking into the washroom, I threw on a change of clothes while everyone drifted outside. I wasn’t going to go to work in my uniform. Besides the fact that it looked stupid, they seemed to have a thing against St. Francis’ students. Throwing my coat on, and then my backpack, I wandered out to the parking lot. It was full of activity as people drove home, and as I walked through it, I tried to keep an eye out for cars.

The street outside the lot was empty, and I kept an eye out for the sign as I walked. I tried to retrace my steps, and found it easier than I had expected. We had passed that house under renovation, and I did again, then we had turned...

Sure enough, the old house came into view after a brief walk, the large wooden sign grabbing my attention (and I don’t think the bright colours had anything to do with it). Managed by R.E. Kendrick, the sign read in smaller print. I hadn’t noticed that the first time around. Beneath it, a second sign advertised pottery classes for young children every Saturday afternoon. Oh. I happened to work Saturdays with the deal we’d hammered out – “just keep Fridays free, because I have lessons taking up my free time,” I had said.

Konnie was at the front desk when I entered; her belly pressing up against the counter as she leaned on it, chewing a stick of something. At the sound of the jangling bells that accompanied the door opening, she looked up, spotted me, and arched an eyebrow, her tattoos crinkling with the motion.

“You again,” she said, with no particular anger in her voice. This was good.

“Me again,” I said. “Ms. Kendrick said I was to start working here today.”

Konnie looked almost exasperated with this, and as with the last time I’d helped out, I got the distinct impression that I was ruining her usual routine. “You too? Bad enough Dessler boy come here and get in the way...Ruth!”

A familiar pale face popped her head in from the other room, her red hair styled in an elaborately odd style.

“Ah, there you are, hon! I was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

“I came here straight from school.”

“I s’pose you can only walk so fast,” she agreed. “Drop your bag upstairs, no one’ll get it there.”

So I did; my backpack and jacket were resting on a chair in Ruth’s country-themed kitchen. She met me downstairs again with a rag and a giant bottle of glass cleaner; it was a vivid, electric blue.

“Since you smashed one of my mirrors, it’s only ‘propriate that you start out cleanin’ the rest of ‘em. There’s a stepladder in the storeroom for the higher ones; go through that room there and it’s the third door on your left.”

“And what about when I’m done?”

Ruth glanced about. “Hon, have you ever counted how many mirrors there are? When you’re done – if you’re done before closing – you can clean the display cases.”

Giving a command of some sort to Konnie in that odd language, she proceeded to bustle off to the next room. I heard what could only be the sound of books being sorted. I glanced about, the bottle heavy – if there was one mirror, there were a dozen mirrors, all shapes and sizes. It would be best to start from the front and work my way back, so I decided the ladder was a good idea.

The storeroom appeared to be where cleaning supplies were kept, as well as a few bits of inventory that there was no other place for. As I grabbed the ladder – the metal was very cold – I accidentally nudged a box resting there; a book wobbled and fell out onto the floor. It was very old, with an embellished leather cover – no title or anything, but lots of flowing designs and faux-jewels. The pages were yellowed, but still relatively sharp and crisp. It was the same book I’d seen on the floor that last Saturday. I shoved it back into the box.

The afternoon was spent scrubbing down mirrors, seeing my own face over and over while Konnie dealt with the occasional customer. It was interesting hearing the people come and go; I was with my back to them most of the time and so I wasn’t paid much attention. Little old ladies were a surprising chunk of the customers, asking for things as varied as ‘chakra jewellery’ to tarot cards to old specialty books. Lots of times they were with someone, who I assumed were children or grandchildren, and those tended to be clearly bored and irritated by the constant country music.

“These mirrors aren’t really dirty,” I noted as I wiped the cloth across a round, gold framed one.

“Ruth ask you to clean, you clean. Not my fault you broke mirror.”

The customer there, her white hair in a short cut and wearing a gaudy metallic belt, paused from her browsing of the clothing shelves. “What’s that, dear?”

“Nana, don’t bother her,” the granddaughter said.

“I didn’t hear what she said.”

Wiping down the mirror in front of me, I partially turned to face her. “I accidentally broke a mirror last time I was here,” I said, projecting my voice a little louder than normal. It seemed to be an instinctive reaction. “So now I’m working off the damage.”

The woman, who had wandered over to where I was, gave me a look of pity. “You poor dear – that’s seven years’ bad luck! I’ll have to pray for you.”

I brushed it off with a smile. “Don’t worry. I can deal.”

The granddaughter, a girl a little older than me with her hair alternately bleached white and black, rolled her eyes. “Nana, don’t be stupid. There’s no such thing as bad luck.”

The woman wagged a finger at her. “You never know.”

She then headed over to the counter to pay, while the granddaughter lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I did that once too – at a family-owned restaurant, accidentally knocked something off the wall, and had to bus tables for a month. Accidents happen; don’t worry about it.”

“What happened after that?”

“I did so well I got on the payroll,” she admitted.

They wandered out shortly after that, leaving Konnie and I alone in the front room. But soon after that, Ruth replaced her at the front counter; Konnie seemed relieved for the break, lumbering upstairs and grumbling. She seemed to be in discomfort. Having never been pregnant, I had no idea, although my right arm, and just that arm, was getting sore from the constant wiping of the million and one mirrors in the place.

Ruth watched me clamber down from the ladder, the cloth very damp and blue.

“Don’t forget the ones tucked ‘way in the corners, hon,” she said pleasantly.

“They’re really not dirty, just dusty.”

“I know – but someone’s gotta get up there and dust ‘em – and what with Konstancja pregnant, I don’t want her doin’ too much hard labour, and I have a million things to do already...”

Her tone was light, and I could tell that the rest of my time there would likely be spent doing something just like this.

True to her word, I spent all of my afternoon cleaning each one of the mirrors until the thin layer of dust was gone, and they reflected that much clearly. Near the end of the stint, when it was growing dark and I could hear the clattering of pots and pans upstairs, a man came in. He wasn’t really attention-grabbing – very wavy blond hair and a nice suit – but after seeing mostly old women come in, his normalcy stood out automatically.

I was on the ladder at the time, wiping down a mirror bordered with very small-mirrored squares, and didn’t pay much attention until he addressed me.

“Good evening,” he said politely, with a hint of an accent, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

I turned to properly face him. A lock of his ridiculously wavy hair was in his pale eyes, and he looked politely confused.

“Yeah, I’m new here,” I said, for what felt like the millionth time that day, “Working off an accident.”

Recognition seemed to flash in his eyes. “Ah, Ruth told me about you...Dessler, your name is?”

I shook my head. “No, Christine Schumacher. I was with him that day.”

“I see,” he said. I took a step down from the ladder, prepared to move onto the next row. Just then, as if on cue, Ruth strolled in from the book section, greeting the man warmly. Evidently she knew him—

As I turned back to the wall, I heard the quiet sound of a kiss. Okay, he was her boyfriend. I stepped down, the floor creaking as I did so. They were still there, evidently enjoying themselves – wow, he was tall, though everyone was taller than me – but it was difficult to get to that last row. I tried to lift the ladder, but it grazed the edge of a mirror – I hissed; I didn’t want to repeat that experience.

“Ah, you’re quiet,” Ruth said. “I like that. Not like that friend of yours; he talks too much.”

“I’m sure he’s just trying to be friendly.”

“No doubt, but it gets irritatin’ after a while and I don’t have the heart to tell him to shut up.”

There was a pause, before she continued: “This is my husband Theophanes.”

(It was then, as she gestured with her left hand, that I noticed the wedding band on her ring finger, the gem sparkling under the lights. For some reason I hadn’t noticed it before then).

“Nice to meet you,” I said to him; he returned the gesture, very polite. Ruth and Theophanes bantered for a bit in that same unknown language – I still couldn’t pinpoint it; it obviously wasn’t Germanic, it didn’t sound especially Romantic...maybe it was one of those odd isolated languages. Hungarian or Finnish or something weird like that. But they quickly finished and Theophanes bid me a good night before heading upstairs.

Ruth surveyed the room. “Not too shabby. That’ll be all for tonight – I’ll get your things.”

It was just as well; I saw the headlights of my mother’s car pull into the driveway. I was not to walk home alone, she had insisted, and when she insisted on something she stuck to it.

Wednesday was an average day. The only thing worth noting was the continual advertising for the Halloween dance coming up. Decorations were being hung in the school; bats and pumpkins and spiderwebs were cropping up everywhere. In the front foyer, a giant scarecrow, sitting on some bales of hay and flanked by pumpkins, grinned goofily down at everyone who passed through the front doors.

“Are you gonna go?” I asked of Shelby, playing with a loose bit of orange crepe paper as I ate.

“Dunno,” she said. “I want to because Mom said I actually could – guess she figures no one’ll try anything with cops around – but even if I went it’d suck.”

To emphasize, she gestured to her ankle that was still in the brace.

“Maybe the brace’ll be gone by then,” I said.

“I don’t think so; doctor said it’d be a few weeks still. You can’t dance with a busted ankle.”

“Yeah,” I said. If Shelby wasn’t going, then I probably wouldn’t go either – it was no fun to go to a dance by yourself.

“I do wanna go,” she added, “Just to get out of the house. What about you?”

“If you go, I’ll go. I hate going alone to dances.”

“Have you thought about asking anyone? Like Eric. I’m sure he’d go with you; you can pass it off as a just-friends thing,” she said, quickly adding, “Come on! It’s not like you’re uncomfortable around him – from what I see you’ve spent a lot of time with him already. Ask him now before someone else does!”

Eric again, with me, again. Did she know she sounded like a broken record?

“Oh, I dunno,” I said lightly, “He might not go at all. Or he might think I’m coming onto him.”

Shelby looked mock-exasperated. “Chris, coming onto him is the whole point.”

“And what if I don’t want to? Last time we were alone we wound up getting into shit”—

“That was only once!”

“It’s been a month, tops; you just don’t hook up with a guy that fast.”

“Sure you do!”

“You, maybe, but not me,” I said with a grin.

She grinned right back. “Every excuse you makes only makes me righter. More right. You know. You’re just in denial.”

“You’re seeing things.”

Meanwhile, Carly’s lackeys, as usual now, passed by us on their way to the cafeteria.

“She sure is, Schumacher,” Carly said pleasantly. There was no further jab, no back-handed insult; she merely slipped into the cafeteria, the sounds of their laughter dissolving into the noises within.

“Bitch,” Shelby muttered. “But you totally should ask him. Worst that can happen is he says no.”

“Shelby, if he said no, you’d be pissed.”

“Yeah, but you couldn’t say you didn’t try.”

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own date?”

“Don’t have to. Shawn Eastbrook and I have a deal that we’ll go together if I feel up to it. And if I don’t...no one cares if a guy goes alone.”

I never knew where or when she made these little arrangements; she didn’t have a class with Shawn at all this semester, and I wasn’t sure about the next. But she planned, all right.

“Good you found something that works for you, but I thought he wasn’t calling you back? Like, ever?”

“Cornered him after French class,” she said with a wink. “Maybe you should corner Eric after school today.”

“Nah, not enough time. I don’t want to walk home.”

“Huh, yeah. Before History, then – or else I’ll ask him for you.”

It turned out I didn’t need to wait until the next day to ask him; we came by each other on the way to the bus. He had changed into a more casual outfit, his backpack slung on his back.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said back.

“Haven’t had a chance to talk much,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” he said. It was then that I noticed we were headed in separate directions; he was going for a side door, and I was going for the front. Something clicked into place in my mind.

“She’s got you working today?”

“Yeah, three until close on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’m getting the idea it’ll take ages to work off...what about you? I never see you around.”

“Three until close on Tuesday and Thursday, and all day Saturdays. She doesn’t seem to want us to meet.”

“Huh. I’d switch in a minute.”

“Are you sure? Apparently she gives pottery lessons to little kids on the weekend. You want to deal with that?”

He grinned. “How hard can it be? Anyway, we should be going...see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

The bus ride was no different than usual. As usual, Mama wasn’t home when we were, and Thom immediately went to snack, which backfired when he realised there wasn’t much to snack on. It was only when she came home, carrying a bag of groceries, that that was fixed, and by then dinner would be ready soon.

That night the news announced twenty-three year old Daisy Milford was missing.

“Good God,” Mama said. “When will it stop?”

On Thursday, I tried Shelby’s advice.

“I’ll distract the bitches,” she said, almost gleefully. “Don’t worry about me; I can handle ‘em.”

Eric was heading to the portable when I caught up with him. In an unusual move for him, he was alone.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It was when I noted his expression. “You okay? You look worried.”

He glanced at me. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You look concerned.”

He shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant. “Oh, just...work stuff. Nothing you need to worry ‘bout.”

I didn’t know what to say. He continued: “But how are you?”

It was my turn to glance up at him. “Fine.”

“You’re okay after...last week?”

“Oh,” I said with understanding. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Nothing I can do but move on.”

“Good,” he said. “Good...”

“Seriously, you okay? I don’t bite,” I teased with a smile.

“Ah, it’s just...personal crap, really. Not getting along good at work. Nothing you need to care about.”

We had reached the portable by this point, and he quickly entered, holding the door open for me before heading to his seat squarely within the ‘popular’ section of the classroom. I could do nothing else, so I sat down at my seat. Shelby was already there; I think the teachers let her get out of classes a little early so she could make it to her next class.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Didn’t ask him. He seemed worried ‘bout something.”

“About what?”

“Dunno. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Chris, all you have to do is ask one little question – ‘do you wanna go to the dance with me?’ Doesn’t matter if he’s worried.”

That class went by unusually quickly, and the end half of the class was spent giving advice for upcoming university applications. At lunch, Eric greeted me, but did not stay long, becoming absorbed into Carly’s little clique. Shelby looked pissed. You would think she had a crush on him with all the talking she did; I didn’t hear her talk even half as much about Shawn.

When I arrived at the store by the end of the day, Daisy Milford had been found on the outskirts of town, perfectly safe.

“There’s bad things goin’ on,” Ruth fretted as she listened to the radio, “You two be careful.”

Konstancja snorted and some something in that odd language. Ruth smirked.

“What’d she say?”

“If anyone tried to steal her they’d be in a world of hurt, basically.”

(“And how,” she said).

“Now pass me that tape dispenser, hon; I don’t want this banner fallin’.”

Ruth wanted to set up the store for Halloween now; orange and black things were everywhere, and several pumpkins were on the front porch, waiting to be carved. Konstancja watched the proceedings with muted interest, seemingly confused about the whole display.

“I’m gonna get some candy on Sunday,” she said as I held the ladder in place, “Put it in a bowl so that on Halloween I can just put it on the porch and let them take it as they want.”

“That’s pretty much a recipe for disaster,” I said, “When I was little the apartment building we lived in did that, and all that happened is that one or two people would come along early and swipe the whole thing.”

“I don’t need to worry about no stupid teenagers, I need to worry about Theophanes. If he sees candy out he’ll swipe little bits here n’ there until there’s nothin’ left.”

Judging by the tone of her voice and the way she rolled her eyes, this had been a common occurrence in Halloweens past, and she smashed the tape onto the edge of the banner – Happy Halloween, it read in large orange letters. She stepped down quickly, tossing me the tape dispenser (“Put that ‘way for me, will you hon?”) before fiddling about with a decorative skeleton that was meant to hang from the door. The limbs did not seem to be doing what she wanted them to.

The song on the radio finished, and it sounded like there was to be a cut to commercials, until the announcer’s voice cut in:

“Breaking news, police have issued an Amber Alert for sixteen year old Jamie Morgan, a Caucasian girl. She stands at five-foot-three, one hundred and seventeen pounds, with black hair and brown eyes. She was last seen walking along Regent Lane wearing blue jeans, a pink shirt, and a black coat. If anyone knows any information they are asked to contact police.”

It then cut to commercial. It took me a moment to have things click into place; I had forgotten Black-Haired Morgan’s name, and the only thing that had come to mind was Janie, but I was wrong. Oh. Wow. Things were really getting close to home now, weren’t they?

“You okay, hon?”

“Fine,” I said. “I just realised I knew – know – that girl.”

“A friend of yours?” Ruth said, sympathy all over her face.

“God no,” I said. “She’s a cruel bitch to me. It just seems...weird.”

Ruth shook her head. “Cruel or no, no one should have to go through...well. You know. Hopefully they’ll find her soon enough – all the others have been.”

“Which is really weird,” I said, the tape dispenser still in my hands. “I mean, once would have been a stroke of luck, but they’re all like that.”

“Who knows why?” Ruth said.

“I dunno. Maybe that creepy guy has something to do with it,” I muttered.

“What ‘creepy guy’?”

“There were rumours that...well, a really weird pale-looking guy was hanging around schools and stuff. And then...” I trailed off, shuddering at the memory of the encounter. The whole situation was bizarre, and we were lucky to be all right.

“And then what?” Konstancja said.

“Konnie, be kind.”

I snapped back to reality. “Then, about, like a week or so before I came across this place – I was out to see a movie with Eric and a friend of mine – we came across this really creepy, pale-haired guy in the parking lot. I won’t go into details, but let’s say I’d be surprised if it wasn’t him.”

Ruth blinked. “What did this man look like?”

“I already told the cops I didn’t see much. Very tall, wearing dark clothing, and greyish-white hair? I couldn’t tell the exact colour. It was really dark that night.”

“Oh,” Ruth said. An odd expression was on her face. “Well you’d best thank your lucky stars, hon.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I just wish I knew who he was. He was speaking so quietly I couldn’t hear a damn thing.”

“Wouldn’t want to be overheard, I s’pose.”

“Yeah, but Eric was literally right next to us and he heard him just fine.”

“Maybe he’s just got good hearin’.”

“No, I swear this guy was talking in a whisper. There was no way any of us could have heard him clearly.”

“And yet one of you did,” Ruth said. She looked somewhat tense now as she fiddled aimlessly with the plastic skeleton’s legs. “Let’s not talk about creepy things. Everyone’s so tense right now it’ll only bring up bad thoughts.”

The commercials ended; the announcer came back on the air again:

“An update to the earlier Amber Alert; police are now looking for a silver Crown Victoria, thought to be a two-thousand model,” he said, and went on to repeat what he’d said earlier about Jamie and how people should call the cops if they knew anything. I didn’t know anything, but was beginning to wish that I did. It just seemed...off. Kidnapping and then release? Usually it was kidnapping and then rape, or murder, or assault, or something nasty, not released and found perfectly fine with no signs of assault or anything. Something was wrong about the whole thing, and between hearing the news and the memories of the parking lot encounter, I was on edge.

Perhaps that was why I jumped when Theophanes came in for the night. Ruth greeted him with a very forceful kiss, while I tried to calm my racing heart. One minute I had been fine; the next he was there, greeting me with a pleasant. “Good evening.” I mumbled something similar in return.

He was home earlier than usual, so I got the unwelcome privilege of hearing him and Ruth talk in that odd language. I didn’t really mind that much, except this time I got the distinct impression they were talking about me. It was very tense-sounding, spoken in low tones, and at one point Theophanes gave a sharp glance at me before looking away. They took the conversation into another room while I swept the floor. What were they talking about?

It rained hard that night.

Friday was a changed atmosphere at school. Besides the general panic – whispers were heard, wild rumours floating around (“They’re gonna start kidnapping the Catholics now, I bet.” “So just say you’re not Catholic.”; “I bet this is some sort of gang thing.”) – there was a very sombre air that fit the grey skies perfectly. I stepped off the bus, shivering in the cold, to see Carly and the popular group dressed in as much black as they could get away with, huddled together and not talking to any outsiders.

As I passed her, I saw clear fear in her eyes – but only for a moment. Our eyes met, and she quickly replaced the fear with a cool stare, just like her old self.

Even Shelby, at lunch, did not talk about Eric and I, or how Carly was such a bitch; she appeared to be in shock. Even when Eric wandered up – he was not wearing black pants like the rest of them – and sat near us, she still didn’t bring up the subject.

“Who’d have thought?” Shelby said.

“It’s happened before,” I said. It seemed to reassure her, but not by much. “It was only a matter of time.”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “Listen, Christine, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

His expression made it clear he wasn’t going to be asking me to the dance. We stepped aside to a deserted bit of hallway near the library; it only had a door leading outside on the end, nothing on the sides. I leaned against the wall – it seemed more relaxing that way.

“What’s up?”

He glanced about, to check and see if there was anyone there. Aside from Shelby on the bench, far out of hearing distance, there wasn’t really anyone. Finally satisfied, he turned back to me, his voice low.

“Listen, you work at the same store I do; have you noticed anything...weird about the place?”

“She and her husband keep talking in this weird language a lot,” I said. “Last night they were really going on about something. I dunno what.”

“Yeah, they do around me too...does he – what’s-his-name, the husband – ever give you weird looks?”

“Not really. Just once, last night, he shot me a look, but I don’t see him until nearly close.”

“He comes in about four-thirty during my shifts,” Eric said, his voice getting more urgent. “And from then until close he keeps a real close eye on me. We’re not talking just watching – I’m getting the idea that he’s really got it out for me and I don’t know why.”

I felt both sorry and confused. The poor guy just couldn’t catch a break at all could he? From Mrs. Summers thinking he was some sort of wife-beater in training to Theophanes apparently thinking he was out to rob the place – or something – he seemed to be squarely in everyone’s crosshairs. But why? Why were these girls being kidnapped, and now why was he being targeted? Unless he did some weird stuff while at home, I couldn’t see any reason for anyone to hate him. He was polite, well-mannered – a generally decent guy—

“What the hell?”

“I know, I know, it sounds like I’m being paranoid but I really don’t know what’s going on. I wanted to know if you were getting hated on too, but apparently not.”

“No, they’re generally okay. Kinda weird, but okay.”

“What if...what if you stop by today after school? I can drive you home afterwards. I just want to see if they’ll keep at it when you’re around.”

I swore. “I’ve got singing lessons after school. I can’t just ditch that.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want you missing something ‘cause of me. You work Saturdays? I’ll come then, in the early afternoon. Maybe they’ll let their guard down and you’ll see.”

It poured during the walk to the Salucci house, and by the time Carla answered the door, I was soaked.

“I’ll get a towel,” she said.

The lesson went on as it usually did, but I felt distracted during the whole thing. Usually the minute I worked on my warn ups I could generally concentrate, but today my head was spinning with bunches of different thoughts – Ruth, Theophanes, Eric, the kidnappings, Carla and her overly concerned look...

“Pay attention,” she said. “Your head’s in the clouds today.”

“Sorry,” I said automatically. “It’s been a rough day.”

“It happens. That’s no excuse to slack off. ‘Tip of the tongue’...”

But I wasn’t able to pay attention, even with the sheet music in front of me, the sounds of the piano, or the sound of my own voice, and even Carla noticed.

“Hopefully we’ll have better luck next week,” she said. “Why’s this day been so bad?”

“Oh...things.”

She gestured at me. “What kind of things, if you don’t mind?”

I shook my head, as if the action would clear it. It didn’t. “Oh, just weird stuff going on – a girl at my school was taken, and everyone’s all up in arms about that, and there’s been...odd things at work. Bunches of little things that are all piling up.”

Carla looked surprised. “Where do you work?”

“Some little New Agey shop on Queen’s Avenue. It’s run by a woman named Ruth Kendrick.”

Her eyes widened, just a touch, before she resumed her usual expression. “Well...stores like that tend to attract odd people,” she said.

I grinned weakly at that. “Yeah, but this is a different kind of odd. I can’t really explain it.”

Carla looked concerned as I left, and the last I saw of her was her worried frown as the door shut. There wasn’t much wind, so getting home wasn’t too difficult – just wet. I had to throw on a new set of clothes when I finally got home, dripping water all over the entrance mat.

“You be very careful,” Mama said to me when she got home. “I know you’ll do as I say, but that girl was abducted during broad daylight. Even if it’s not related, it’s still good to be wary.”

“I can’t stay indoors all day.”

“I know, I know – but I worry. If someone tried to grab you, would you be able to fight back? I could – I had to learn, and I taught Sylvia the same thing, but you...I never got a chance to teach you that.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to kick a man in the crotch.”

“Sometimes that’s not enough,” she said. “I feel bad flinging you out into the world defenceless.”

“I’m hardly the only person who’s ‘defenceless’.”

“Yes, but they probably don’t have mothers who could teach them how to shoot a gun.”

“I don’t really want to learn how to shoot a gun, so we’re good. Relax, Mama, I’ll be just fine.”

“I’ll relax when this is over. Until then you’ll just have to put up with me.”

When I went to bed that night, rain drumming against my window, I slept uneasily. It seemed like I was waking up every two hours, and for no real reason – I would check my clock, and the glowing red numbers said two in the morning, then four, then five-thirty...finally my eyes snapped open. I checked the clock. Seven forty-five. Shit, I thought. I had planned on getting up twenty-five minutes earlier.

I rushed through the morning routine, which felt weird, as I was used to being able to sleep in on the weekends. By the time I rushed out the door, a few cereal bars stashed in my purse, everyone was still asleep. Very weird.

It had long since stopped raining, and the sun was rising in the sky as I made my way to the nearest bus station, but puddles were everywhere. The bus trundled up at eight-thirty sharp, and it was a quiet ride from there to the school. (And the school itself – there’s always a bit of an odd feeling when you’re at school and no one else is. It just seems so big and empty, even if you couldn’t even get a seat in the cafeteria most days).

I made to the store in the nick of time (the clock had just hit nine), and vowed next Saturday I would get up at seven. Everyone was already there, though looking considerably sleepier than usual; Ruth was nursing a very big cup of coffee, steam rising from the mug; Konstancja was delicately sipping some orange juice, looking an odd combination of tired and nauseous. I was given a half-hearted greeting by both of them.

“We get maybe five people, tops, b’fore noon on Saturdays,” Ruth mumbled, “So just...sit down till I can figure out somethin’ for you.”

I took the opportunity to eat the cereal bars. It was a mediocre breakfast, but it would do for now.

The morning passed by very slowly; there were maybe two people that came in that morning, and it was only to browse. It was all I could do to not fall asleep. Ruth, once she had properly woken up after her third cup of coffee, put me to work helping her sort books. They carried an odd mixture, from self-help books to New Age books, to old versions of classics and everything in between.

“Rarer things go up top,” Ruth instructed. “I don’t care if some idiot steals the paperback version of Mistress Cleo’s Guide to the Afterlife, but if someone were to steal those old Encyclopaedia Britannica, I’d be mighty pissed.”

It was hard getting up top; I had to rely on a ladder. Theophanes came down to see Ruth about half-past ten, leading me to struggle with the old, heavy books until she came back. They were talking in their language again, softly, so that even though they weren’t far I couldn’t really make out what they were saying anyways.

We were given a half-hour for lunch, from quarter-to noon to a quarter-after; lunch turned out to be a plate of sandwiches Ruth brought down from upstairs. For some reason she insisted on giving me two big BLTs, piled high. They were almost too big; they practically fell apart as I ate.

“You’re mighty scrawny, hon,” she said by way of explanation.

Around one in the afternoon, Ruth slipped on a long apron and went somewhere in the back for the pottery lessons. Not long after, a parade of mothers and younger children – they could be no older than thirteen at most – came in, dropping the children off. I could hear Ruth talking to them cheerfully, and not long after the hum of many rotating potter’s wheels could be heard. I remained out front with Konstancja, sweeping and tidying the place, while she manned the counter.

Eric came in about forty-five minutes after that, while Ruth was still in the back, talking away to the children. Over the sound of the radio, the bells jangled, Konstancja and I looked up, and he was there, his thick coat done up tightly. Konstancja’s eyes narrowed.

“You no work today,” she said coolly.

“I thought I’d drop in,” he said lightly to her. “I want to see Christine.”

“You see her on your time,” she said.

(Yes, maybe he was right – Konstancja was never warm to me, but she seemed to tolerate me now that I was doing most of the cleaning and setting up. From the little we talked, she never used a tone like that).

“This is my time.”

“Not for her. Christine, go upstairs. Get Theophanes. Should be at back.”

“Is that really necessary? He’s not doing anything wrong.”

She sighed. “Just...man counter for moment.”

And she was at the stairs and upstairs before I could even blink. Eric took a few steps closer.

“See what I mean? That’s mild,” he said, looking disturbed. “When he gets down here it’ll be even worse.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.”

The creak of the staircase alerted us to Konstancja and Theophanes; she was tight lipped, and he did not look pleased in the slightest. The radio continued to blare, the song concluding.

“Our top story, police have recalled Thursday’s Amber Alert for sixteen-year-old Jamie Morgan, when she was found along Albert Street this morning. She was taken to University Hospital but was found to be uninjured; police have no leads. If anyone knows any information they are asked to call police. A car crash at the corner of Dundas and Hyde Park has left a man dead and a woman seriously injured...”

Theophanes swept past me without comment, standing in front of Eric. Konstancja took her place at the counter again, giving me a sharp look and gesturing that I should continue to do what I had been doing. I tried to continue cleaning the display cases, but the brewing confrontation distracted me.

“I’m just here to see Christine,” he said slowly.

“You may see her on your own time, not here,” Theophanes said, rather curt. “Unless you have any business with Ruth or I, and I don’t think you do, I must ask you to leave.”

“I’m not going to do anythi”—

“I told you to leave. Don’t make me resort to the police.”

Eric raised his hands in a defensive gesture, glancing back between Theophanes and me.

“Okay,” he finally said. “See you on Monday, Christine.”

He said my name pointedly, as if to tell Theophanes it wasn’t him he was looking forward to seeing that day. And then, backing away, he left. The bells jangled as the door opened, and I saw him step down the porch and leave, hurrying up the sidewalk back towards the school. After a pause, he turned back to us (I had turned back to the display case, preparing to go back to cleaning now that the ordeal was over, though it wasn’t much of one).

“You,” he said to me, “are here to work, not to have friends over. I don’t want to see this happen again.”

He waved a finger at me to emphasize, but his tone was not the cool one he’d used with Eric – more lightly chiding. A mild annoyance, not the all-out hate that Eric claimed he was receiving. He disappeared into the back end of the store, where children were slowly filing out, followed by Ruth, her apron stained with clay. As I went back to cleaning, I heard more hushed conversations between them. That was nothing new by now; I should have expected it—

“No foolin’ around on work time, hon,” Ruth said as she walked into the front of the store, removing her apron as she did so. “You can see your friends on your own time.”

“I wasn’t expecting him here,” I said, only half-lying – for I’d literally forgotten his promise to show up until he had. “He just showed up.”

Ruth gave an odd little frown at that. “Then tell him to show up when you’re not workin’.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but the next thing I heard, Ruth and Konstancja were now holding a little private conversation of their own. I wiped down the glass in front of me, hearing the damp rag squeak against the glass. The thought of what they were saying again crossed my mind, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of the language. I thought I saw Ruth glance at me from the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t be sure.

Monday was a mixture of emotions – Carly and the popular group had all but fallen to pieces in joy at hearing the news, though Jamie herself looked unusually subdued, half-burying herself in a thick coat and hat pulled low over her eyes, somewhat oblivious to the shrieks of joy around her. Some people were giving her strange looks.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be so calm,” Eric explained. “Usually he gets almost mad at me, but that was very restrained.”

“And I can’t figure out why,” I said. “He turned to me not half a minute later and just told me not to have friends over on work time. Didn’t seem mad at all, just annoyed.”

I had an idea. “But that was when I was working. Mondays are free – what if I stopped by today?”

Eric looked doubtful. “And what are you gonna say?”

“That I think I left something there on Saturday,” I said. “They seem to tolerate me more; they might not kick me out as fast.”

And so, that afternoon, after a quick call to my mother (for I knew she would worry if I wasn’t home straight away), Eric and I walked over to the store. The day was bright and sunny; the streets were empty.

“You going to the dance next Friday?” Eric said nonchalantly. He seemed to be distracting himself.

“I dunno yet. It all depends if Shelby feels like going; I don’t feel like going alone.”

“Going alone’s not that horrible.”

“Do you have a date for the dance?” I asked, half-hoping the answer would be ‘no’.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Carly asked me the day it was announced, so I’m going with her.”

“Oh.” I blinked. I should have been expecting that; why hadn’t I thought of that?

“It’s just one dance,” he said. “No biggie.”

“Not to Carly, it probably isn’t.”

“Wait here,” he said, once we hit the street corner. “Wait maybe five minutes or so before coming in; that might throw them off.”

As I watched him hurry down the street to the store, my mind wandered. What an odd situation this was. I was going just to prove to myself that...what? He was right; they were inexplicably treating him like crap? Or that he was wrong and just blowing things out of proportion? I didn’t know, and while the wind blew around me, I realised the whole thing was a little...weird. The only reason I was worried is because he seemed worried about his situation, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that...

After my watch had indicated five or six minutes had passed, I strode down the street, trying to look casual. I didn’t know quite what to expect when I arrived; was he going to be cornered somewhere while everyone yelled at him, or was I to expect snide comments? Stepping up onto the porch, I opened the door; the bells jangled.

Konstancja was not at her usual post; Ruth was there at the counter, and I didn’t see Eric. I could hear someone moving about in the back, but didn’t know what.

“Hon, you got your dates crossed,” Ruth said pleasantly. “It’s only Monday.”

“Oh, er, I think I forgot something here on Saturday. I thought I’d check here just in case,” I said, hoping my lie was convincing.

The doors jangled again. “Could you move, please?” a woman said behind me. Jumping a little, I half-turned, half-stepped out of the way to let her pass. With pale skin and even paler hair, she looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on it...

“Sorry,” I said. She glanced at me.

“You look familiar,” she said. “But I can’t place it.”

It came back to me then after hearing her voice more clearly: “Do you work at the hospital?”

“Part-time as part of my nursing program, yes,” she said blankly.

“I think I met you there,” I said. “A friend of mine had a sprained ankle.”

“I’ve seen lots of sprained ankles,” she said. “But that seems right...your last name is Summers?”

“Schumacher.”

It seemed to click for her too: “Ah, right, I remember you now. Christine, was it? I’m Serena Reine, and if you’ll excuse me...”

She darted past me and went towards the back.

“What did you lose, hon?” Ruth said carefully. I raced to think of something, something in my purse...

“A little address book,” I said. I didn’t really carry an address book in my purse, but I did have one. “With a black cover, about this big. I think it slipped out of my purse.”

“Your purse was upstairs, so maybe you should check there,” she said. “Konnie! Man the counter for a sec!”

As she led me to the stairs leading to her apartment, I could hear more clearly what was going on in the back: Eric was there, and what sounded like Theophanes and Serena; I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Eric was clearly confused.

“Excuse me, but I’m right here,” he said. “If you’re going to talk about me I’d like it if you could at least do it in English.”

Ruth unlocked the door and led me upstairs to the kitchen. It looked the same as it had before; a small stove and fridge were in one area, while a small table was further out. A small radio was on the counter, set to the same country station Ruth usually listened to.

“I put your purse here, so it couldn’t have gone far,” she said. “If Theophanes found it he mighta stuck it in the junk drawer...”

There was a call from downstairs. “Just a sec, hon; I’m needed downstairs.”

And she left rather quickly, striding down the stairs and shutting the door behind her. I trailed behind her, as she left, and got to the stairs just in time to hear the lock click into place. Seizing the handle, I tried to open the door, but it was clear this was no stuck door; it was clearly and inexplicably locked. What the hell?

Although the door was relatively thick, if I stayed close enough to it I could sort of hear what was going on – Ruth and Theophanes and Konstancja were all talking at once in that odd language. Theophanes said something very loud before being shushed by Ruth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Eric demanded.

“You be quiet!” Theophanes snapped. “I ought...” and the rest of his sentence was drowned out by his lowered voice.

Straining to hear, I stood stock-still in front of the door for what felt like half an hour. Meanwhile, the group out back were talking to each other, debating each other, all the while Eric was protesting – and more often than not, the only person I could understand.

“I didn’t come here to be harassed—”

“We’re not harassing you, we’re arresting you,” Theophanes said.

“For what? I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Keep your voices down!” Ruth hissed. “The walls ain’t made of concrete ‘round here!”

There was a long pause, and I was sure they were still talking, but lowered voices and my own reeling mind made it difficult to hear what. Arresting him? I must have misheard. I had to have misheard; he hadn’t done anything illegal. I was beginning to understand exactly why he was wary of work – but why were they treating him that way? This couldn’t be because of one broken figurine; no, there was something else at work here – but what?

There was another long period of silence, and I headed upstairs again, hoping perhaps that I could hear better if I went above them. The radio was still blaring, and I moved to turn it down...

“Our top story: another missing women in the string of kidnappings in the area. Twenty-year-old Carmen Seymour of St. James went missing Saturday evening from the parking lot of the local theatre. A Caucasian female, standing at five-foot-four and weighing one hundred and twenty pounds, she has short brown hair and blue eyes. She was last seen wearing blue jeans and a blue jacket atop a green shirt, getting into the driver’s seat of a blue Toyota with the license plate...”

The voice faded as I turned the volume knob, walking more towards the back of the house. I passed by several more rooms, obviously a bathroom and bedrooms, but I heard nothing there. Feeling frustrated, I was on my way back downstairs when the lock clicked and the door opened. Ruth was standing there.

“Sorry ‘bout that, hon!” she said cheerfully. “This door sometimes locks automatically and I’d completely forgotten ‘bout that. You find what you were looking for?”

I glanced behind her to see Eric working the front, sweeping. I felt myself relax a little.

“No,” I said. “I thought it was here but I must’ve been wrong...”

“Ah, too bad.”

She all but shoved me out the door, and all I could do was mouth ‘call me’ to Eric, making my right hand look like a cell phone in case he couldn’t read lips well. And so, standing outside on the porch, I slowly made my way back home, completely baffled at everyone’s drastic mood swings.