Silenced by a Spell

by Fiona Grace

  “This is a genuine Victorian-era taxidermy,” Lacey continued. “Back when dressing up stuffed animals was all the rage.”

  A ripple of laughter went around the room. Lacey smiled. She liked to warm up her audience as quickly as possible, and felt bolstered by their appreciation of her humor. Still, it was best to assume her spooky audience would need a bit more invigorating than her usual crowd, so she decided to start the bidding low and encourage the sort of theatrics Gina had mentioned earlier.

  “Let’s start the bidding at fifty pounds,” Lacey announced.

  Her prediction was right. While several paddles went up into the air, the majority of the crowd remained still. Her peculiar patrons were in need of some drama.

  “Fifty pounds,” she said, pointing at a punk man with a mohawk, before looking over at a woman holding up her paddle a couple of seats away from him.

  “Fifty-five,” the woman said, nodding her hair of long, glossy hair.

  “Sixty,” a fairly normal-looking man with gray hair and a black band T-shirt countered, raising his paddle into the air.

  Lacey quickly pointed her gavel at him.

  “Sixty,” she confirmed, rapidly, knowing speed was the best way to get her audience riled up.

  “Sixty-five,” the glossy-haired woman quickly returned.

  “Sixty-five,” Lacey confirmed. “Can I get seventy?”

  She looked over at the first bidder and he nodded, waving his paddle above his head in agreement.

  “Seventy!” Lacey announced animatedly.

  Her pulse leapt in conjunction. So much for getting the crowd riled, she was the one becoming effervescent herself—and she was only on the first item! She’d forgotten just how much she loved this aspect of her job.

  “Seventy-five,” the female bidder said.

  “Eighty,” the punk man replied, before Lacey even had a chance to accept the woman’s bid.

  A hushed ripple of excited exchanges went around the room, and Lacey felt her pulse quicken even more.

  “Eighty-five,” the female bidder said.

  “Ninety,” the punk man countered.

  “Ninety-five.”

  “One hundred!”

  Lacey’s gavel was darting from left to right to left, pointing across the room between the male bidder and the female bidder as they clambered to win the bizarre taxidermied squirrel.

  “One hundred and fifty!” the woman yelled, now on her feet, her paddle held high over her head.

  Lacey, eyebrows raised in astonishment, heart pounding with adrenaline, pointed the gavel at her and confirmed, “One hundred and fifty pounds?”

  “One hundred and fifty pounds,” the woman said with a decisive nod.

  The people beside her were looking up with amused smirks. They were clearly thoroughly entertained. Lacey couldn’t have hoped for a better start to her auction than the theatrics this glossy-haired woman was providing.

  She looked over to the punk man. “Can I get one hundred and fifty-five?”

  The man twisted his lips, as if in contemplation. Then he crinkled his nose and shook his head. He was dropping out of the race.

  But that didn’t mean the bidding was over. There was now a sea of thoroughly entertained onlookers, many of whom seemed to be on the edges of their seat. Lacey opened the bidding back to them.

  “Can I get one hundred and fifty-five pounds from anyone for this delightful English red squirrel?” she asked, scanning the audience, making sure to make direct eye contact with as many people as she could.

  There were no more takers. The woman with the glossy black hair appeared to be hopping from foot to foot now with anticipation.

  “Going once,” Lacey said. “Going twice… SOLD!” She banged her gavel and pointed it at the triumphant woman. “For one hundred and fifty pounds to bidder number sixteen!”

  She banged the gavel again with finality, and felt her excitement peak. If she felt that good after just one item, that certainly boded well for the rest of the event!

  As Lacey quickly jotted down the outcome of the sale in her ledger, the audience murmured with excitement, and Finnbar hurriedly returned the squirrel to its display. Lacey’s staff were well versed now on how to keep up the momentum. Gina immediately appeared beside Lacey with the next offering—the scorpions in resin.

  Her auction was already off to a flying start, and now that she’d gauged the crowd, Lacey knew how much to push, and in which ways.

  “Next up we have this genuine antique curiosity,” Lacey announced. “Circa the Victorian era, and originally catalogued as part of a museum archive. Let’s begin the bidding at fifteen pounds.”

  She’d paid twenty for all four of the insects in resin, and was hoping that by selling them on individually she’d get a bigger profit.

  “Fifteen,” a man in black announced, raising his red paddle into the air.

  “Twenty,” a woman in black challenged.

  “Twenty-five,” a third person in black—whose appearance was so androgynous Lacey couldn’t tell whether they were a man or a woman—countered.

  “Okay, we have twenty-five pounds,” Lacey said in her rapid auctioneer’s voice, pointing at the androgynous person with her gavel. “Can I get thirty?”

  “Thirty,” the man said.

  “Forty!” the woman said, waggling her paddle board.

  “Fifty!” the third person said.

  “Fifty pounds,” Lacey confirmed. “That’s fifty pounds for these gorgeous museum exhibition scorpions in resin. Can I get fifty-five? Fifty-five? Fifty-five pounds from anybody for two perfectly preserved Victorian-era scorpions?”

  The first two bidders lowered their paddles, leaving just the androgynous person left. Lacey scanned the audience, looking for anyone who might be tentatively considering putting in a bid, but finding no one, looked back to the androgynous individual.

  “Sold for fifty pounds,” she announced, banging the gavel. “To bidder number twenty-four.”

  Ten times more than I paid for it, she thought, excitedly jotting down the winner’s number and price next to the item in her ledger.

  Despite the lower profit point for the second item, Lacey’s dopamine hit was stronger. She simply loved auctioneering. The thrill was unparalleled, and she was especially glad to have finally found a way to actually enjoy Halloween!

  Her employees had their orchestrated dance down to a tee, and as Lacey looked back up from the ledger, Gina was already there, having fetched the next item on the agenda from the velvet display—the ram’s skull.

  Even though it was the lowest ticket item, Lacey felt especially excited to sell this one. It was the first item that had lured her into the Ducking Stool pawn shop in the first place. It wasn’t an antique, and animal skulls weren’t all that difficult to find—indeed, she’d come across several during her countryside strolls with the dogs through the sheep fields—but it was a particularly attractive one, with very neatly curled horns. It was the sort of item a student would want to draw for their art exam. Lacey had decided to place it early on in the running to create a lull in the tension, before ratcheting it all the way up and steaming toward the finale of the grimoire.

  “Up next we have this gorgeous ram’s skull,” she announced. “I’d like to start the bidding at ten pounds.”

  From her place in the front seat, the purple-haired Madeleine suddenly sat up straighter. Her eyes sparked with evident excitement. Lacey recalled how she’d said she didn’t think she’d be able to afford anything on sale today, and she looked genuinely thrilled to realize that perhaps she could.

  The young girl tentatively raised her paddle.

  “Ten pounds?” Lacey asked her, with an encouraging smile.

  Madeleine nodded shyly. She was quite evidently too intimidated to speak aloud, so Lacey accepted her bid with a smile, before opening it up to the rest of the room.

  “Can I get fifteen?” she announced.

  “Fifteen,” the Hells Angels man announced from the bac
k of the hall, waving his red paddle in an arc above his head.

  “Fifteen,” Lacey confirmed, before looking back at Madeleine. “Twenty pounds?”

  Madeleine dithered momentarily, then nodded her head eagerly.

  “Twenty pounds,” Lacey announced. “Can I get twenty-five pounds? Twenty-five pounds for this gorgeous ram’s skull, anyone? I’m looking for twenty-five pounds.”

  She scanned the audience. The Hells Angels man had lowered his paddle, and there appeared to be no more takers. Twenty pounds was about right for the skull, Lacey decided—she would break even on it, and the sweet young Madeleine could get a win. She decided not to push it any harder.

  “Sold for twenty pounds,” she said, bringing down the gavel.

  Madeleine grinned widely at her win. And Gina gave her a wink.

  *

  The rest of the auction’s items sold far beyond Lacey’s expectations, so she was especially optimistic when the time finally arrived to start the bidding on the grimoire.

  “Now the item I know you’re all been waiting for,” Lacey said, gesturing with her arm over to Finnbar.

  Her employee picked up the grimoire and approached the audience, displaying it to them.

  “A medieval French grimoire,” Lacey announced.

  The atmosphere in the room turned electric. A hush fell over the entire audience, as every pair of eyes fixated on the medieval spell book. It seemed to Lacey that everyone had become suddenly very serious.

  Lacey had been unable to price the book during her online research, so her only guide was the enormous offer Eldritch had made to her earlier that day. She hadn’t gone into the auction thinking she would attempt to get such an audacious amount for the book, but considering how well the rest of the auction had gone so far, she felt suddenly bold.

  She found her courage and swallowed deeply. “I’d like to start the bidding at twenty thousand pounds.”

  Stunned whispers rippled through the audience. In the front row, Madeleine’s eyes widened with astonishment. The locals, too, began whispering with shock. Like Lacey herself, they had no idea about the significance of the grimoire. But the goth attendees did, and Lacey quickly discovered she’d made the right call. A dozen paddles went into the air.

  Among them, unsurprisingly, was Eldritch Von Raven. More surprisingly, Lacey spotted Alaric Moon with his paddle in the air. Him putting in a twenty-thousand bid on a book made his temper tantrum over a two-dollar cup of coffee all the more ridiculous.

  She intended to ignore him for as long as possible.

  “Twenty thousand pounds,” Lacey announced, pointing instead to the mohawk punk. “Can I get twenty-five?”

  All twelve paddles remained in the air. Lacey accepted the bid from Gina’s Hells Angels man. “Twenty-five thousand pounds, thank you. Can I get thirty thousand pounds?”

  Still, no one dropped out, and so Lacey pointed to an older lady with stark white hair, accepting her bid with, “Thirty-five thousand pounds.”

  Lacey could hardly believe it. She felt adrenaline begin coursing through her. Never in her wildest imagination did she think she’d be accepting bids for thousands of pounds! Hundreds, maybe, but not thousands. The book she’d bought on a whim was clearly some kind of important relic amongst this niche group of people, just as Eldritch had told her.

  She felt her palms growing clammy from the excitement of it all.

  “Can I get forty thousand pounds?” she asked, her throat suddenly drying up.

  Eldritch still had his paddle in the air, so she pointed at him and he nodded his acceptance of the offer. It was double the amount he’d offered her earlier in the day. Lacey was glad she’d stuck to her principles and declined him now.

  “Forty thousand pounds, thank you,” Lacey said. Her pulse was starting to pound in her ears. It was actually becoming difficult to stay focused. “Can I get forty-five thousand pounds?”

  She could hardly believe the words were coming from her mouth.

  A few paddles were lowered, and Lacey scanned the ones still up in the air. She found one in the hand of Alaric Moon.

  Darn, she thought.

  She’d been hoping to ignore him, since he’d been rude enough to “curse” her earlier. But on second thought, perhaps a sweeter revenge would be to profit off him handsomely…

  “Forty-five,” she said, nodding in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

  Alaric’s expression remained haughty and arrogant.

  There were still five paddles in the air, so Lacey took a risk and pushed the increments up higher. “Can I get fifty?” she asked.

  All but three paddles were lowered. It was down to Gina’s Hells Angels man, Eldritch Von Raven, and Alaric Moon.

  “Fifty, thank you,” Lacey said, accepting the bid from the biker man. She looked to Alaric. “Can I get sixty thousand pounds?”

  He nodded, with an arrogant look on his face.

  She looked at Eldritch. “Seventy thousand?”

  Eldritch looked like he’d sucked a lemon. He began to lower his paddle.

  “Sixty-five?” Lacey asked quickly. She was riding an adrenaline high and wanted to see if she could up her profit just a little more.

  Eldritch nodded and raised his paddle again, though he looked far from thrilled.

  Lacey felt a burst of triumph inside of her. She looked at Alaric. “Seventy-five thousand?”

  Without even hesitating, Alaric nodded with a smug smile.

  Wow, he really has money to burn, Lacey thought, as she turned her attention back to Eldritch. Sensing he was on the verge of dropping out, Lacey played it cautiously.

  “Seventy-six thousand?” she asked, upping the increment by just one thousand rather than the five or ten she’d previously been able to fetch.

  Eldritch looked crestfallen. He shook his head of glossy black hair.

  “Seventy-five thousand and five hundred?” Lacey amended, quickly.

  But Eldritch didn’t budge. His paddle holding hand flopped into his lap, and he lowered his eyes, breaking contact with Lacey.

  “Four hundred?” Lacey asked rapidly, lowering it even further. “Three? Two?”

  But despite her cutting the excess, Eldritch had clearly reached his point of no return. And boy did he look mad about it!

  Lacey was loath to give Alaric what he wanted after witnessing his outrageous temper tantrum in the coffee shop earlier, so she opened it up to the room for one final push.

  “Can I get seventy thousand and one hundred pounds?” she asked.

  But no counter bids came in.

  “Seventy thousand and fifty pounds?” she tried.

  Still no takers.

  “Seventy thousand and ten pounds?” she tried in one final last ditch attempt.

  “Just bang the gavel!” Alaric shouted.

  There was nothing for it. No one was willing to put in even an extra pound bid for the grimoire. “Going once. Going twice. SOLD!” Lacey cried, banging the gavel. “For seventy thousand pounds to bidder thirty-three.” She pointed her gavel with finality at the extremely smug-looking Alaric Moon.

  Everyone turned to look at him, whispering their astonishment at the enormous sum of money he was willing to part ways with.

  Lacey was just as astonished at the rest of them. She felt light-headed with excitement. Talk about a profit! She’d sold an item she’d brought on a whim for twenty pounds for seventy thousand!

  “Ladies and gentlem—men,” Lacey said, so excited she stumbled over her words. “That’s your lot! If you could please form an orderly queue in the main shop front and my two wonderful assistants will finalize your sales.”

  There was a hubbub around the room as people stood, satisfied with the result. The person who looked the happiest of all was Alaric Moon, the winner of the grimoire.

  Riding the high of the final sale, Lacey watched the attendees begin to file from the room. Then she noticed someone going against the flow. A short, stocky man was attempting to shove his way inside the auctio
n room.

  “STOP EVERYTHING!” he screamed. “I demand you cease immediately! This auction is illegal!”

  And just like that, Lacey’s balloon burst.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A murmur of shock went around among the auction-goers still in the hall. All eyes turned to the intruder. The ones he’d rudely elbowed on his way in looked particularly miffed.

  “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” Lacey asked, feeling very uncomfortable with how her auction had been derailed.

  “I’m the owner of the store The Ducking Stool,” the man said. “And that grimoire is not for sale.”

  Lacey gasped. She thought of the bored-looking goth girl on the counter who’d failed to find a price tag on the book and had tried to hand it over to Lacey for free. No wonder there was no price on it, if it wasn’t for sale.

  Lacey became very aware of all the eyes in the hall watching her and felt uncomfortable.

  “Perhaps we could talk in my office?” she said.

  The stocky man looked suspicious, but he accepted with a nod.

  Quickly, Lacey led him from the auction hall and into the small back office, where all her wedding magazines and to-do lists were still stacked up around the place.

  “I need you to give me the book back,” the man said again. “It wasn’t for sale.”

  “I understand,” Lacey said, thinking of her low-ball offer the goth girl had accepted without a word. “But the problem is I’ve since sold it on.”

  The man’s face flushed red. “No you haven’t. I just saw it with my own eyes on display.”

  “That was an auction display,” Lacey explained. “And the auction’s just finished. The book has been sold. I’m not the owner of it anymore.”

  “You weren’t the owner of it to begin with!” the man yelled. “It was never for sale.”

  It hadn’t taken much to return him to his enraged state, and Lacey regretted having trapped herself inside a small space with him … especially since his voice was clearly loud enough to carry down the corridor to the auction attendees anyway.

  “I’m sorry, but I paid for the book fair and square,” Lacey said. “Your clerk was going to give it to me for free because there was no price on it, but I insisted on paying.”