The Lost Apothecary(46)

If my fear of Mr. Amwell’s spirit was reason enough to visit the shop, Nella’s sense of impending doom was reason to make haste.

The muffled sound of rain continued; the storm had not yet let up. If Nella did indeed throw me out, I would be passing a long, wet night in the slick streets of London. I would not return to the Amwell house, not yet, and I doubted I had the bravery to sneak into a stranger’s shed as Nella liked to do.

“I intend to visit the bookshop in the morning, once the rain has ended,” I told her, pointing at the magick book.

She raised her brows at me, a skeptical look I was getting to know well. “And you still intend to seek a remedy to remove spirits from the house?”

I nodded yes, and Nella made a small grunting noise, then stifled a yawn with her hand.

“Little Eliza, it is time for you to go.” She stepped closer to me, pity in her eyes. “You ought to return to the Amwell house. I know you fear it greatly, but I assure you, your fright is needless. Perhaps when you step through the door and declare that you have returned, any remnant of Mr. Amwell’s spirit, real or imagined, will be released, and your heavy heart with it.”

I stared at her, speechless. I had known all along that a dismissal was possible, but as she had now declared it so, I could hardly believe she had the gall to send me away so easily—and into the rain, at that. I’d ground more beetles than she did, after all; she could not have done any of it without me.

I stood from my chair, my chest hot and thumping, and felt the childish sting of tears forming. “You d-do not want to see me again,” I stammered, letting a sob come forth, for I realized all at once that I was not as sad about being banished from this place as I was about never again seeing my new friend.

At least I knew she was not made of stone, for Nella stood from her own chair, shuffled toward me and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “I do not wish you a life of goodbyes, as the one I have lived.” She brushed away my stray hair with the back of her hand. “But you are unspoiled, child, and I am not the kind of company you want to keep. Go on now, please.” She took the magick book from the table and placed it into my hands. Then she abruptly pulled away from me, walked to the hearth and did not look at me again.

But as I stepped through the hidden door and away from her forever, I could not help but glance back once more. Nella’s body bowed into the warmth of the fire, as though she might let herself fall into it, and amid her haggard breaths, I was sure I also heard her weeping.



18

Caroline


Present day, Tuesday

That evening, after dark, I exited the hotel room as quietly as I could, careful not to wake James as he slept soundly on the sofa. I left a short note next to the TV—Gone out for late dinner. C—and hoped he wouldn’t wake to find the note anytime soon.

I closed the door softly behind me, waited impatiently for the empty elevator and hurried across the hotel lobby. Beneath me, the marble floors shone like a mirror, polished and bright. I chased after my own reflection, my face alight with a daring excitement I hadn’t felt in years. I grabbed an apple and a complimentary bottle of water from a table in the lobby and stuffed them into my crossbody bag, but I didn’t bother with pulling out my phone or a map; I’d walked this route once before.

Given the late hour, the streets were nowhere near as busy as yesterday; there were few cars and even fewer pedestrians. I made my way quickly into Bear Alley once again, the evening air calm and cool around me as I passed the same garbage cans and fast-food containers that I’d seen early this morning, each object frozen in time as though not even the breeze had ruffled it since my last visit.

Head down, I made my way to the end of the alley, and I found myself almost surprised to see it again: the steel gate flanked on either side by stone pillars, the overgrown clearing, and—I stretched my neck to see over the gate—yes, the door. It had taken on new importance already, given my time spent perusing the old maps with Gaynor at the British Library. I felt like I knew secrets about the area: that nearby, there once existed a tiny walkway called Back Alley; and just down the way was a place called Fleet Prison; and even Farringdon Street, the main avenue a few steps away, used to be called something different. Did everything reinvent itself over time? It was beginning to seem like every person, every place, carried an untold story with long-buried truths resting just beneath the surface.

This morning, I’d been grateful for the windows of the buildings surrounding Bear Alley, in case the plumber decided to come too close. But now, I didn’t want to be seen, which was why I’d left the hotel after dark. The sky now was a charcoal gray, only a hint of the sun’s last rays glowing from the west. A few windows of the surrounding buildings were lit, and inside one building I could see desks and computers and a stock ticker with bright red letters flicking across its screen. Thankfully, no late workers milled about within.

I looked down. At the base of the locked gate was a small red-and-white sign that I hadn’t seen this morning: NO TRESPASSING. ORD. 739-B. The back of my neck prickled with nerves.

I let a minute pass; there was no sound or movement other than a pair of sparrows flitting by. I tightened the strap of my bag and stepped onto the loose rock foothold at the base of the stone pillar and heaved myself to the top, where I teetered precariously. If there was ever a time to change my mind, it was now. Even now, I could still manage an excuse or explanation. But once I swung my legs over and landed on the other side? Forget it. Trespassing was trespassing.