Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(2)
Sofie twisted her mouth in annoyance. “What are you talking about? It worked!”
“You call that success?” He gestured to Sofie’s left, his eyebrows raised mockingly.
She turned curious eyes to follow his hand. Her stomach dropped when she saw the body lying motionless beside the bed. “Nathan!”
She flew across the room with inhuman speed, dropping to her knees to clutch Nathan’s beautiful face, needing to see his rich chocolate–brown eyes gazing adoringly at her. She released a sharp gasp when she saw the vacuous gray of death staring back at her.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to us,” Mortimer answered through gritted teeth. It was obvious that Nathan’s death was the least of his concerns.
1. Sofie
“See you tomorrow, Betty,” I called out to the shelter’s evening receptionist as I passed the front desk. The plump, middle–aged woman responded with a gentle smile and a quick nod before turning her attention back to the homeless man standing beside her.
I held out my hand as I stepped onto the dimly lit sidewalk, testing for rain, expecting it. A relentless, bone–chilling drizzle had laid siege to Portland for the month of September—the kind of gloomy, wet weather that made a person dream of hibernating under a heavy blanket until spring.
To my pleased surprise, my hand encountered not a drop—no rain yet, anyway. I tucked my umbrella under my arm and began walking toward Congress Street, a nightly ritual after finishing my volunteer shift at the shelter. There was something therapeutic about wandering through the city’s Art District, admiring the hopes and dreams of local artists on display. More importantly, it dragged out the inevitable trip home before curfew. I was never in a rush to get back to my foster home.
Half a block up, I found a scruffy old man lying across the sidewalk ahead of me. “Evening, Eddie!” I called, smiling gently. Eddie split his time between the shelter and a nearby alley. “I’ll bet Betty can find you a nice, warm bed tonight.”
Eddie clambered to his knees with surprising agility and, seizing the corners of my navy raincoat with his grimy hands, began a recital of complete gibberish, his fervor increasing exponentially as he rambled on. “Oh, chocolate pools flatter my wretchedness. Yours is the face of an angel, complete with heaven’s cream and a halo of spun gold. You are a goddess!”
There were random moments of lucidity with Eddie, days where we could chat normally about trivialities like the weather and local politics. Other days I found him perched on a makeshift pedestal, ranting about giant beasts lurking in the shadows. Then there were days—like today, as he made my dull brown eyes, pallid complexion, and blonde hair sound like gifts from the gods—when he was a whole new kind of crazy.
“No, Eddie. I’m not your goddess, but thanks … I’m flattered.” I gently patted his hand.
Three drops of water landed in quick succession on my nose, then the rain began to fall. Drat. “Do you need an umbrella?” I eyed the roof of Eddie’s home in the alleyway behind him—a cardboard box cleverly shielded by the four umbrellas I had provided for him over the last two weeks.
Eddie responded with his familiar vacant stare, placid eyes indicating he was now there only in physical form. Reaching down, I gently tugged at his arm. His body resisted, as unyielding as a concrete statue. I knew it was hopeless. “Oh, Eddie,” I sighed. “You’re going to catch pneumonia if you stay out here.” I popped open my own umbrella and wrapped its handle within his hands, hoping it would keep him dry until his mind returned and moved his body indoors.
Wrapping my arms tightly around my chest, I set off at a brisk walk. I could handle a little rain. As if Mother Nature were privy to my thoughts, the sky suddenly opened up and the light drizzle evolved into a monsoon, pouring buckets of water onto my head. I began running blindly, seeking shelter.
Guilt welled in the pit of my stomach as I ran, picturing Eddie sitting on the sidewalk with one measly little umbrella to protect him. I should go check on him. Maybe the cold rain snapped him out of his daze, and I can convince him to stay at the shelter tonight. Yes, that’s the right thing to do. It’s only a few blocks back, if I turn around now—
My shin collided with something solid. I stumbled, executing an awkward cartwheel before crashing facedown in a puddle on the concrete sidewalk.
How long I lay in heap on the sidewalk, disoriented, faintly aware of rain permeating my clothes through to my skin, I couldn’t say. I regained my senses when I couldn’t hear drops pelting the sidewalk anymore. Crawling to my knees, I wiped the mucky water off my cheek and checked for blood. None. No scrapes or cuts. My shin didn’t appear to be broken or even hurting, though it should by all accounts be shattered. Maybe I’d earned a bruise at least. Otherwise, miraculously, I was fine.
The victim of my inattentiveness was not so lucky. I groaned, my hands flying to my forehead in dismay as I appraised what looked to have been a lovely and expensive stained–glass object, now scattered in dozens of pieces. I leaned over to begin collecting the shards.
“You’ll cut yourself,” a woman’s silky voice called in a French accent.
I looked up. A stunning redhead stood in a doorway, regarding me with eyes that were the most peculiar shade of pale mint green—so pale, they appeared inhuman. She has a good point, I realized as I regarded the jagged piece of glass in my hand. “But I can’t just leave it here. Someone may hurt themselves on it.”