Read The Thief Online

Authors: Aine Crabtree

Tags: #magic, #fae, #immortal, #feral, #archetype, #harbinger, #magic mirror, #grimm

The Thief (2 page)

BOOK: The Thief
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The appearance of a plate in front of me
broke me from my reverie. Bea sat wordlessly at the other end of
the table, with an identical plate. They were piled with mashed
potatoes and a thin brown gravy, green beans, and a pork chop. The
warm, rich aroma should have enticed me, but my insides recoiled at
the idea of food. Then again, I hadn’t eaten anything but the
in-flight peanuts in the last 24 hours, and it would probably be
rude if I didn’t at least try something. I reached for my fork.

Bea coughed a rebuke; I recoiled from the
silverware.


We say grace first, young
lady,” she said. “Bow your head.”

I obeyed, and as she spoke a blessing over
the food, I wondered if this was really my father’s mother. As far
as I knew he had never set foot in a church of any kind. I also
wondered if I could grow accustomed to a long pause before eating
while a small speech was given.


Bless this food to the
nourishment of our bodies, amen,” she finished, and lifted her
head. She picked up her utensils, so I assumed that was my cue that
it was safe to proceed.

We ate our dinner in silence. Well, I say
“we.” I spent most of my time sculpting my mashed potatoes, sifting
through my green beans, and avoiding the pork chop. I had a problem
eating anything that used to have a face. Finally Bea seemed to
notice my stalling.


Something wrong?” she
asked.

I mumbled a response.


What was that?”


I-I’m not really hungry,” I
stammered.


Don’t let good food go to
waste now,” she said. “I don’t know what kinds of snacks you’re
used to in the city, but I don’t keep them. We have three square
meals a day. If you wake up hungry in the middle of the night don’t
come looking for anything.”


I won’t,” I said, wanting
to disappear. I just wanted to hide somewhere until my dad came
back. Which he would. He just had to.

She frowned at my untouched plate,
commented, “Wasteful,” and continued to polish off her own. She
then stood, and excused herself by saying, “I have to make a
call.”

I stared out the wide breakfast window, eyes
unfocused on where the trees met the sky. The orchard trees weren’t
as tall as the ones that grew naturally in the forest on either
side of the house. The sky was only just now showing hints of a
sunset. I suppose I had the time difference to adjust to as
well.

What was I doing here? Who would kidnap an
anthropology professor? He had been prone to staying overnight at
the university sometimes, sleeping on the couch in his office, so
if it weren’t for the wreck the apartment had been in, it might
have taken me days to realize something was wrong. But despite the
chaos, there had been no sign of a break in. No forced lock.
Because of that, the police weren’t treating it strictly as a
kidnapping; they mentioned it was possible that he had run
away.

Even if he had - even if he had up and left
me without a word, without a note - surely there was a good reason.
Something horrible must have happened. Something to do with his
research, I was certain. He wouldn’t have abandoned me unless
something extraordinary had intervened. But how could I find out
what that was? Maybe there had been a clue at home, but I hadn’t
been able to find one before they’d shipped me here. How could I
help him half a country away? How could I go home again?

My gaze moved back to the table. Maybe I
could make up for not eating anything by washing up. Then I
realized that I had no idea what I was expected to do with the
plates. Put them in the dishwasher? Wash them by hand? Leave them
on the table? I went in search of the woman who was my
grandmother.

Passing the door to a room full of
beautiful, delicate teacups with saucers, I heard her voice towards
the front of the house. I would ask her what to do.

I approached the front sitting room and saw
her pacing, phone in hand. “You can’t expect me to deal with this
alone,” she was saying. “Have you seen her?”

I stopped, and took a step back, where I was
out of view. Eavesdropping wouldn’t help her to like me any better.
But I was glued to the spot.


If you saw her, you
wouldn’t say that,” she said lowly. “I’d swear it was that girl.
You’re certain she’s...?” Silence. “Well, that’s as certain as you
can get, I reckon. Yes, I know what I said...I take it back. She
has to go.”

I had to go...?
All the muscles in my chest froze rock
solid.


G-grandmother?” I said, as
if I were just walking up.

She spun, and for a second I thought I saw
fear in her eyes, but it vanished immediately. “Expect her
tomorrow,” she said brusquely into the phone, and hung up. Then to
me, “Yes, Juliet, what is it?”

I had to go. Tomorrow. My head spun. What
had I originally come out here for? “Um...the plates...should
I...?”


Leave them, I’ll take care
of it,” she said.

I had to go.
“If - if you don’t mind,” I said, “I’d like to go
to my room. I know it’s early, I’m just really tired.”
Tomorrow.


Alright, settle in and get
some rest then,” she said. She gave me a hard look, like she was
deciding whether or not to say something else. “Good night,” she
finished, and strode quickly past to the kitchen.

I looked after her blankly, and then climbed
the steps. One foot after the other. The sun was finally setting
outside, casting shadows down the hall. The floorboards creaked
underfoot and every horror movie I’d ever seen was rolling around
in my head. Had my father really grown up here? He had only ever
expressed at best disdain and at worst open loathing for small
towns and countrysides. “If you can’t handle the city, you deserve
the country,” were his exact words. Yet this house was at least
three times as large as our apartment, and the extra unknown space
unnerved me. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep without at
least looking at the other rooms. After all...this was probably my
only chance.

First I went to the room that connected to
mine. It had no closet, but a larger dresser, and a vanity with an
oversized oval mirror. An inspection of the adjoining bathroom
proved equally lacking in ghostly activity.

I passed the landing to the other side of
the hall. There were two rooms on this side, mirroring the other. I
opened the first door. It contained furniture very similar to mine,
though was even stuffier from the lack of a fan. The closet was
open and vacant. The emptiness comforted me. I closed the door and
went to the second one. The handle wouldn’t turn.

I twisted harder, but the
knob wouldn’t budge. I looked up. Carved into the door in crude
letters, as with a pen-knife, was a name.
Simon.
My father’s name. I released
the handle and backed away. The floor creaked under my feet. There
was a loud call of a bird outside. Startled, I raced back to my
room, shutting the doors to both the hall and the bathroom. I sat
on the bed, knees tucked up. Insects screamed outside. I recalled
the wide, yellow eyes I’d seen in New York - I’d been hysterical
when the police had come in, babbling about monsters. They’d sworn
that it must have been a cat, that I’d been seeing things. But cats
didn’t have teeth like that...I pressed my forehead into my knees,
trying to block it out.

Five minutes later there was a knock at my
door. She must have heard me running. “Juliet?” Bea said. “Are you
alright?”


Y-yes,” I
responded.

She opened the door, and I realized I didn’t
look alright, sitting like that on an unmade mattress.

Her look softened slightly. “It’s an old
house,” she said. “You’ll hear things creaking, but it’s nothing
more than boards settling.”

My father’s room is locked
from the inside.
“What are those bugs?” I
managed to ask instead. “They’re so loud...”


Crickets,” she said. “And
cicadas. Completely harmless. They live out in the woods. Afraid I
can’t do anything about them either. If you get used to them, they
can be mighty soothing.”

I swallowed. “I guess...” I wasn’t sure I
could find anything that loud to be soothing. Traffic outside our
apartment in New York woke me up constantly.

She gave me another of those looks, like she
was measuring me against something. “Here, get up,” she said,
moving the stack of linens. “Help me put sheets on this.”

I obediently took the other sides of sheets
as she handed them to me, and soon the thin, faded quilt was in
place.


I doubt you’ll get cold,”
she said, “but extra blankets are in the vanity in the other room.
I should tell you,” she stood briskly, “you’ll be starting school
tomorrow.”

My eyes widened. Tomorrow. Had I heard
wrong? Assumed too much?


Tomorrow is Monday, after
all. I figured the sooner you got into a normal routine the better.
It’s not the public school. There’s a private school down the road
that has...different entrance requirements.”

I couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by
that, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Anything to get me away
from her, I guessed. But at least I wasn’t getting turned out of
the house entirely.


I’m sorry,” I
blurted.

She looked at me curiously.


For all of this,” I said.
“For suddenly being here.”

She seemed surprised by my apology. “Don’t
worry about it,” she said. “You didn’t choose it.”

She didn’t say I wasn’t a burden. I hung my
head.

Bea rose, looking uncomfortable. “Good
night, Juliet,” she said, shutting the door.

With everything that had happened, one thing
baffled me the most: she hadn’t said one word about my father. Not
the whole time.

I reached into the drawer of
the dresser and withdrew the blank journal. I inspected the cover
more closely, this time, looking for some kind of mark. The
exterior was just some random scratches, but on the inside, just
near the spine, there was the imprint of a name, sunk into the
leather.
Kyra.

My breath left me. This was my mother’s - I
was holding something of hers! What was it doing in the back of an
empty dresser, in this house? Maybe it was something she’d left
behind, something that didn’t matter. It was empty, after all. My
thumb stroked the blank page. Maybe it was meaningless.

But what if it wasn’t?

I lay back on the bed, journal clutched to
my heart, and listened to the insects scream out a lullaby.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

Camille

 

Once upon a time, a girl and her guardian
left the safety of their home to make their way in the wide
world.

 


It’s a dump.”


The term is
fixer-upper.”


No, the term is dump.”
Camille looked up at Gabriel. “People will never eat here.” She
spoke in Japanese; he spoke in English. It was how they’d conversed
for years.


They will once I get done
with it,” he said with perfect confidence. He never seemed unsure
of anything he did, why should this be any different?

They stood in front of a small stone
building that was just a shade away from condemned. Weeds grew out
of cracks in the parking lot. The windows were filthy. The signage
out front had collapsed. In a tornado last year, they’d been told.
The method of its demise didn’t signify much to Camille - the fact
remained that it was useless. Gabriel somehow made it into a point
in the building’s favor.


A tornado went right in
front of this place, and nothing but the sign fell down,” he said.
“Solid as a rock. And I’d have replaced the sign
anyway.”


You need to replace the
entire building,” Camille said. “It’s a
church
, Gabriel. You can’t just start
selling croissants and coffee out of a church.”


That’s why we’re remodeling
it, kiddo,” Gabriel replied, smiling and squinting through the sun
at the traffic going by. “See all those cars? This place is
perfectly situated. There’s an entire business development park
just a mile down the road. And the school’s right around the
corner. You really have no idea how much Havenwood has grown in the
last few years. And I don’t have to take this from a fifteen year
old,” he chided.


Young or old, discount
sound advice at your own peril,” she said solemnly.


Thank you, Fortune
Cookie.”

Camille sighed and brushed her long, curly
gold hair out of her face. The sun glinted off the large iron
bracer that encircled most of her left forearm. This place was
sweltering, even though it was already November. Weather in the
southern United States was not kind. The humidity level nearly
rendered the air a solid. She’d left her favorite hoodie in the
car. Yes, they had a car, suddenly. He’d been her guardian for six
years, and they’d never had a car. Just like she’d never been
outside Tokyo, or gone to a real school. To her knowledge, Gabriel
had never started a cafe either, despite claiming to know all about
it. He was changing everything all at once. Tokyo to Alabama?
Really?


Why are we here?” she
despairingly asked, for what felt like the millionth time
today.


To check for vandalism,” he
said.


You know what I
mean.”


Ask me later,” he
said.

BOOK: The Thief
8.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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