Always.
About Angelique
Angelique Archer lives in the Washington, D.C. area and works in law enforcement. She started writing at the tender age of eleven, fascinated by the alternate universe in the original Star Wars trilogy. By the time she was thirteen, she had already written three full-length books. After studying and working abroad for several years and obtaining her Master’s degree, she decided to set a bucket list goal and publish a book before she turned thirty. Mission accomplished! Since her first novel, The Undoing, Angelique has also published its sequel, The Hell That Follows, as well as The Town in the Mountain, The Valley of Ash and Shadows, and The Tracks in the Snow, limited-edition novellas within anthologies.
When she isn’t working or writing, Angelique enjoys traveling the world and learning new languages to add to the four in her repertoire. She is always up for an adventure and loves dancing, horseback riding, spending time with loved ones, antiques, reading by a cozy fire with a cup of steaming hot tea, collecting unique survival tools (including a machete, crossbow, handgun, and various knives)... and of course, losing herself in her writing.
Keep in touch with the author online and at [email protected].
https://www.facebook.com/Angelique-Archer-Author-357663831072111/
Festival of Gaslights: Beginnings by Bokerah Brumley
Festival of Gaslights: Beginnings
When an orphan girl is run over by a carriage in New London, Effie Frank must use the Tikvah Stone to heal her. When the child wakes, she offers Effie a sacred scrap from a holy scroll, inscribed with a secret spell that will animate the fabled Chanukah golem.
New London
December 1885
Effie Frank wrapped the small roast tighter in the butcher paper and tucked it in the corner of her shopping basket, doing her best to ignore the commotion at the end of the block.
She shifted the basket and her lace handbag on her forearm. She would have to make room for the carrots and potatoes their house manager, Agnes Craig, had requested for their evening meal. On market street, between the storefronts, smaller, less affluent vendors set up booths.
Effie paused at the pickle vendor that usually set up next to the butcher shop. She moved from pickle barrel to sauerkraut barrel, taking deep breaths of the different kinds. A dill would be lovely alongside the carrots and the peppered roast.
A family passed by, a mother and stairstep girls, the oldest on the cusp of womanhood. While the mother stopped to study the goods in a stall, the oldest managed the milling children.
Within moments, the youngest two began slapping one another.
Before the mother noticed, the oldest daughter leaned close to them. “You remember the story of the Chanukah golem? Do you know how he came to life?”
Both shook their heads.
“By eating up all the naughty little girls in the shtetl.”
They both squealed and then darted after their mother who had moved onto another open-air stall. The oldest girl straightened, a pleased smirk resting on her face. She met Effie’s gaze, her eyes twinkling as she moved away.
Effie grinned behind her gloved hand. Perhaps if the family had inherited the mythical Chanukah golem, they could send it to do the shopping.
New London hadn’t needed the help of the Chanukah golem since she’d been a little girl. Four murders left the townsfolk terrified to leave their homes, and the rebbe summoned the golem to hunt the evil that lurked in the shadows. How that beast had frightened the whole shtetl.
All except for Effie.
Magic had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Once, to her mother’s embarrassment, she’d run out of their home wearing only her nightgown and bumped into the rebbe who sent her back home to her mother’s arms.
The shopkeeper called out to her, interrupting her musing. “Come inside? Vanilla for sweet breads, Effie? Strong pepper for the beans?”
She shook her head. “No, Yankel, thank you.”
He wished her a good week and turned to the next potential customer.
Ahead, a group of jostling, shoving people turned a corner, and Effie pulled her coat closer, trying to block the cold wind, and she tucked a strand of her hair beneath her head scarf. She glanced both ways and then stepped into the morning bustle of the New London thoroughfare, pausing for a carriage as it rolled by.
Effie’s early morning trip to market street hadn’t been planned, but Agnes required every spare moment planning for next week’s eighth-day party. It would be the year’s largest social function at the Frank house, a long-standing tradition her mother began after their father died. Agnes already felt guilty enough for not making her daily market run herself, and Effie wasn’t about to increase the old woman’s stress with a delay.
As Effie prepared to step onto the walking path on the other side of the street, a flash of blonde blipped across the edge of her vision.
A rumble filled the air.
Effie frowned and turned toward the sound. An iron prison wagon careened toward them without a driver. The four-horse team shrieked and neighed, pawing at the air as they bolted down the street in a zig-zag line. Chains dragged the ground, and sparks poured from beneath the metal links. The ping, ping, ping of sixteen hooves punctuated their thundering.
Effie jumped forward, but her heel caught in her long skirts and her ankle twisted. She pitched backward, back toward the street. She groped at the air, trying to regain her balance. Could she get out of the way of the out-of-control team in time?
The Tikvah stone was too far to draw its magic. Her heart stopped beating and climbed into the back of her throat. She landed on her bottom in the middle of the street. She tried to scramble to her feet. She took one step, but her ankle gave out, and she landed back in the dust and muck.
Too late. Too late. Too late. Her thoughts pulsed in time with the galloping beasts. Crawling proved nearly impossible.
The team made a hard right, heading directly for her, so close Effie could see the whites of the horses’ eyes. Their nostrils flared.
Effie hadn’t made it far enough. She scrambled harder, moved faster, but her legs tangled in her blasted petticoats. With the Tikvah stone recharging at home, she couldn’t even send calming magic to ease the terror of the beasts.
Effie leaned back on her knees and braced. She wouldn’t die in the mud. She’d go out, smiling at the sky. I’m coming, Mama.
A scream cut through the tumult.
“Look out!” somebody yelled. “She’s too close!”
A body, half her size, slammed into Effie from behind, lifting her upward and launching from the thoroughfare. When she impacted the ground, she rolled away from the road, coming to a rest against a pickle barrel and a bushel of apples.
The basket flew from Effie’s arm and landed on the cobblestone several feet away. The wrapped roast rolled across the cobblestone.
The short-haired stranger’s arms pinwheeled, and he staggered back, balancing on the curb edge.
Effie pulled her skirts high, and a gasp rippled through the crowd—propriety be hanged!—and she dove for the stranger. She caught him by the shirt front.
He winced. “Pull!”
She yanked him close enough that the prison wagon narrowly missed his shirt tails. Wind whipped around them. Effie’s curls fell over her forehead, and tiny dust devils danced over the path like dreidels.
Huffing, they stared at one another for a long moment, searching his face.
A close call. For both of them.
Effie unclenched her hands, and the young man took a step backward, dusting himself off. She scowled into the boy’s face. About twelve, but not yet sprouted, he reminded her of another face, someone she couldn’t quite recall. She’d probably seen his mother somewhere before.
“What were you thinking, risking yourself like that?” she asked.
“I didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t think, miss. I saw you in trouble,
and the rest happened.”
She took a breath and released it slowly. “I shouldn’t scold you.”
He grinned. “I’d rather be scolded than have my ears boxed.”
Effie scowled into the smudged face in front of her, trying to discern any mal intent. The hatless boy didn’t seem to have any, but something haunted him. He’d been running away from something when he came upon her. Something had frightened him.
“What’s your name, boy?” she asked.
He offered his grimy hand. “David, miss.”
Effie blinked once and then placed her hand in his. “Childish of me to get caught like that. Thank you for saving me.”
“Of course, miss,” he said.
“What were you running from, David?”
His eyes widened slightly, and he paused a moment. Finally, he answered, “Apparitions near the genizah, miss.”
“Apparitions?”
He shrugged and studied his toes. “Mirages. Rebbe says not to worry about them and, often, things are not what they seem, and there’s nothing new under the sun.”
“Are you in some sort of trouble, David?”
“Not any more than any other time. Worked out all right, though, if I do say so myself, miss.”
She studied him. “How so?”
“The golem didn’t eat my soul, and I was able to save a soul myself.”
Effie froze. The golem? They hadn’t had one in New London in ages. How could he be having the same thoughts she’d had earlier. “What did you say?”
David plastered another grin on his face, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “N-n-nothing, miss.” He scooped the basket from the ground and replaced the unharmed roast inside. He held it out.
Effie wiped her hands on her skirt and then took the offered basket. “You don’t look like it’s a simple nothing.”
The boy looked over his shoulder twice more. “Mama says my imagination makes me a fool. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a trick of the light.”
“Does the nothing have a name?”
He kicked at the ground, sending a palm-sized rock across the street. “My friend, Phineas, says he saw a golem last week. This morning, I thought I saw it in the alley behind the shul, trying to break in through the back door. All mud and dust and rot.” He shivered, and then he froze as though he realized what he’d said out loud. His cheeks flushed.
Effie frowned. He’d said what she’d thought he had, then. “A golem?” she repeated.
“Yes, ma’am. I told you.” He shrugged and tapped his head. “I’m a bit foolish in the head. Not worth a darn for numbers or lettering.”
Effie leaned close. “Can I tell you a secret?”
David’s eyes narrowed. “I think so.”
She raised her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth twitched. “I believe you.”
He stumbled back, and his mouth fell open. “Are you certain?”
“Of course.” She straightened her coat. “If you hear of anything else like this, be sure to let me know. My name is Effie Frank, and I live with my brother Avi Frank. We’re the keeper of secret things in New London.” While it wasn’t exactly true, it was enough truth to lay the groundwork to encourage David to tell everything he heard. “We’re interested in everything of interest in New London,” she added.
David peered at her as though he expected her to declare that she’d been joking, but Effie didn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time a golem had been one in New London, but the last Meddler had died out long ago. None of the inhabitants of their small town knew the secret words to animate earthen men. Had something changed? She studied the boy, trying to gauge his character.
He sighed, probably already counting himself half-witted for believing what his eyes tried to show him. “My imagination runs wild with me. Particularly when the night shadows are still long.”
Effie studied the sky. The sunrise light had brightened considerably, but the buildings still cast shadows dark enough to obscure details. She adjusted the basket handle on her forearm.
“True,” she said.
David waved to her arm. “At least it’s in butcher paper,” he said.
Effie tipped her head. “Also, true.”
Concern twisted his mouth. “Did I ruin it?”
“I’m not looking forward to explaining the smudges to the manager of our house, but I don’t think any permanent damage has been done.” She winked. “I’ll explain it was an extra tenderizing service.”
“I’m sorry, again, miss.”
“It was nice to meet you, David. Perhaps our paths will cross in the future. Softer impact, next time, I hope.”
He threw his head back in a belly laugh.
Effie fished a scrap of thick paper from her lace handbag. “If you need anything, be sure to come to us.” She handed it to the young man.
The young man took it, studying the front before he darted away.
Unless she missed her guess, she’d see David again soon. Possibly even before the day concluded.
Effie watched until he disappeared around the corner, her mind turning. With the recent community issues in the shtetl, she wasn’t sure what to think of golem rumors. They hadn’t had a golem in years, but why now? Why at Chanukah? What could be afoot in New London?
Effie tsked and then stepped into the grocer’s stall to select the remaining vegetable items on the short list. She selected carrots and potatoes, paying quickly. If she hurried, she could speak to her twin brother, Avi, before he attended shul.
Perhaps he’d heard something else about the strange goings-on in New London.
An hour later, Effie settled the grocery basket higher on her forearm and turned down their lane. Children played in the walking lanes on either side of the street. Carriages rolled down the cobblestone, and multi-level houses lined the street. She waved at the gaggle of children.
“Miss Effie,” a childish voice shrieked. “Look what I got! A gift from the rebbe. For you!” Her hand shot into the air, and something glinted in her palm.
“What is it?”
“I’ll show you.” Without looking, she darted across the street.
Effie gasped. “No, don’t run out.” She waved her arms. “Ruth, stop. Don’t.”
It was so much worse, watching someone else rush headlong into the same danger she had faced earlier that morning. Traffic increases as the lunch rush began. Inhabitants of New London hurried toward the café on the bowling green in the city park. The sunshine had brought them all out.
Too late, the little girl realized the large carriage that bore down on her. Not an iron wagon this time, a fashionable cabriolet moved down the street at a brisk pace. Two Arabians flicked their tails. The driver didn’t see her. Another rolled by from the other direction. Neither vehicle could move aside. More tucked in behind them.
A line of children formed along the road, screaming at their friend. Effie’s heart th-thumped in her chest, and her mouth dried. She opened her mouth to yell at Ruth, but nothing came out.
Ruth halted, covered her mouth, and hunkered down in the middle of the street, cowering instead of dashing out of the way. The crowd of children gasped.
“Ruth, get out of the street,” Effie yelled. She waved to the driver. “Stop! The girl! Stop!” She leapt forward, but two bystanders caught her arms.
“Don’t do it,” one said. “It’ll kill you, too.”
“Let me go,” Effie whimpered. “Stop! Stop!” Why was it happening again? To a child? Twisty turnabout.
Either the driver didn’t hear or he didn’t care. The uniformed man didn’t flinch at all. The team pranced around her, tossing their heads. They hesitated but the driver tapped their rumps with the whip, and the cab rolled on.
She curled into a ball beneath the stomping beasts. The tumult of the onlookers drowned out Ruth’s whimpers.
“She’ll make it. She will,” Effie whispered. “She has to.” She tried to yank her arms free, but the two held tight.
The whole street held
its breath as the vehicle rolled over her. At the last step, a hoof clipped her temple, cutting the skin. She cried out and then went limp. Bright red blood poured over the ground. When the carriage moved on, Effie flagged down the next cab. When the driver eased to a halt, she darted out to the small, prone figure in the muddy mush.
She crouched beside the unconscious girl. “Ruth. Ruth, are you there?”
The girl didn’t respond, and the observers had already started to move away. What was one lonely orphan?
Effie drew a ragged breath. “Ruth?” she whispered.
The bright blue eyes fluttered and slipped closed once more.
A taller, bigger youth appeared beside Effie as her hands roved over Ruth. He dropped to his knees beside Ruth. He opened her palm to study a silver bell, resting inside. He closed her fingers and then tucked the girl’s hand against her chest.
Effie glanced up. “David? What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“No, miss, I’m here for Ruth.” He brushed the hair out of the little girl’s face, and the familiarity registered.
“Oh. She’s your—“
“Sister,” he finished. Moisture glistened on his cheeks. “Is she breathing?”
Effie grimaced. She didn’t want to tell him what she knew could be the truth. If she didn’t get inside, to the Tikvah stone, Ruth would die.
He pressed closer. “Well?”
“She’s hurt,” Effie said, finally.
“Can you help her?”
“I’m going to do everything I can.” And then some. Effie scooped the girl into her arms, and David took the gift she carried. Ruth’s congealing blood smeared over Effie’s shirtdress. “Where do you belong, David? Is it nearby?”
Tears welled in David’s eyes, making him seem younger somehow. “We belong nowhere, miss.”
She shifted the small body in her arms. “Nowhere?”
“The rebbe lets us sleep on the rear porch of the shul. He stokes a fire, and we sleep in the donated rags of clothing.”
Wicked Winters Page 34
