Love Fortunes and Other Disasters

by Kimberly Karalius

  Street vendors pushed their carts through the crowd, advertising snacks and coffee. The delectable scents tempted her; she was just about to give in and buy a little pink box of pastries when Sebastian stiffened and turned slowly in a circle.

  Fallon stayed close to avoid being crushed by the crowd. Children darted through the square, screaming and laughing. Indecipherable talk flooded the air as people passed in a hurry. She didn’t know how Sebastian could pick up one particular voice. But he had.

  “There,” he said, his voice rough with urgency. He grabbed Fallon’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

  She didn’t know who they were following. Faces blurred as she broke into a run, her feet sliding on the cobblestones as they left the square.

  “He’s ahead of us,” Sebastian barked.

  Fallon only saw clumps of people before them, their outlines darkened by the cloudy sky. “How far?”

  “Close.” He found a gap in the line at the bus stop and ran through it. “He’s talking now. You can hear him.”

  The townspeople were roadblocks. Fallon’s hand slipped out of his. The moment they let go, running became easier. She kept her eye on Sebastian’s back. Sounds assaulted her from all directions: water splashing, the low rumble behind the clouds, cars screeching, chatty couples scraping forks and knives against plates. But then the thread of conversation came upon her.

  “… glad you agree with me. The drink special had heart-shaped ice cubes. There’s no way I was ordering that,” said a voice cutting through the cacophony.

  The man who spoke had a loud voice. He came from somewhere ahead of them, within a group of rowdy men in a tightly woven pack. If she took away the street and replaced it with Anais’s drugstore … yes, the voice was familiar. Her pulse quickened. They were so close.

  Fallon’s foot slipped on the slick pavement. A deep puddle collecting in the gutter cushioned her fall, but soaked through her coat. When she tried pushing herself up, her palms stung—the skin had been scraped off, spotted with pebbles and dirt.

  Someone grabbed the back of her coat, tugging her to her feet. Sebastian’s worried gaze met hers. “Are you okay?”

  Fallon wanted to rub her temples to ease the ringing in her ears, but her hands hurt. She started trembling with cold. “You’re going to lose Hal,” she said, “keep going.”

  He shook his head. “No way.”

  “But the mission…”

  “I can find Hal again,” he said sharply. “You’re more important.”

  Fallon opened her mouth to argue, but her teeth chattered instead. An innocent breeze turned vicious as it sent icy needles up her body. She was sopping wet, her clothes heavy and useless.

  Sebastian grabbed her by the elbows and gently led her away from the sidewalk and up against a building, out of the way of foot traffic. He examined her hands, noting the thin trails of blood running from the open wounds, and pulled a tissue out of his pocket. “Sorry,” he said, dabbing at the broken skin. It wasn’t the most hygienic way of cleaning her wounds, but he did manage to dislodge the bigger pebbles and flecks of dirt.

  She flinched when the tissue touched her skin. “No, I’m sorry. We lost Hal because of these terrible shoes. No traction.”

  Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Aren’t those shoes family-approved?”

  “Duprees don’t run very often.”

  He laughed and gently stroked the backs of her hands. “We’re going to need bandages for this. Should be easy enough to find in one of these shops. But your clothes are another matter. You won’t make it back to the complex like this.”

  Fears of catching pneumonia raced through her head. “What should we do? I didn’t bring enough money to cover an entire outfit.”

  Sebastian sighed loudly. “Fallon, you’re the only girl in the entire world who could make me curious about how much a wardrobe costs. A princess like you must have spent entire kingdoms for your coats and dresses.”

  “I prefer my uniform. It makes things easier.”

  “I’m sure it does. But a princess in disguise is always discovered in the end.” Sebastian winked. “Come along. I can’t compete with your high standards, but it’s my fault that you were running and fell. I’ll pay for a new outfit for you.”

  Fallon grabbed a fistful of his coat, then cringed from the pain. “You don’t have to, really.”

  Sebastian unpeeled each of her fingers from his coat. Then he pulled her into a hug.

  His coat was too thick to hear his heartbeat, but when Fallon rested her ear against his chest, she found the rise and fall of his breathing to be just as comforting. She shivered fiercely and felt his hands at her waist, pressing her closer.

  “See?” he said.

  She breathed in his scent. Something clean and with a touch of grapefruit. “What?”

  “I can’t even keep you warm. So new clothes it is.”

  “Is that the point of this?” she asked.

  Sebastian pressed his cheek against hers. “Of course, princess,” he said hoarsely. Turning away from her, he pointed at a store down the street. “How about that store? Lots of pink.”

  Fallon had a feeling that he was lying. Sebastian hadn’t needed to hug her—and certainly not with such affection. A strange sensation had burned low in her belly as she clung to him, his breathing as steady as the tide. When he’d rubbed his cheek against hers, her toes curled inside her terrible shoes.

  Sebastian was already walking toward the store.

  “Wait,” she said, hugging her arms to put off the shivers. “That’s a baby store.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Use your eyes,” she said. “The window display has cribs in it.”

  Finding a cheap store selling apparel for teenagers wasn’t that hard, since Fallon had always been curious about them. She never went into one without Anais. They found a store leaking bright plastic jewelry and sweet pop songs. Evening shoppers darted amid chaotically arranged racks. The clothes hung limply on the hangers. Robbie would disapprove. Her parents, having learned from their son, would also have steered her in the other direction.

  But if she didn’t give in and buy new clothes, she’d end up with a debilitating cold. For the rebellion’s sake (and her own health), she needed to get dry quickly.

  With Sebastian at her side, Fallon took a shuddering breath and stepped inside.

  chapter 15

  MAN BEHIND THE VOICE

  Fallon’s scrap of bravery fled the moment she examined the clothes. The slacks had loose buttons. Piles of sweaters folded on the sale table had stretched collars. Threads hung loose from sheer blouses hanging on the walls. She didn’t dare check the tags for the listing of materials.

  Sebastian tracked down an employee and asked for a first aid kit. Since the salesgirl was squeamish, Sebastian cleaned Fallon’s hands with alcohol and wrapped the bandages snug. “There,” he said, smoothing the last fold of bandage. “Now you’re infection-free.”

  “What?” she asked. The music caused the entire store to throb.

  He shook his head. “Let’s find you some clothes.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re not scared,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Did you see the loose threads?” she said, gesturing at the blouses. “I can’t wear that.”

  Sebastian smirked. “Can’t say I’m surprised. But you need to try harder. This place is like a warehouse. You’ll find something you’ll like.”

  Fallon cast a doubtful look.

  “You have to. No one’s catching a cold on my watch.”

  She flexed her fingers. The store was heated, but her clothes weren’t drying fast enough. The amount of bad clothing overwhelmed her, but she tried not to think like her family. What do I like? What would I want to wear, no matter what it was made of?

  “Did you see that display over there?” Sebastian said. “Says it’s some new brand called Cassiopeia.”

  The display was shaped like a giant fireplace,
cardboard flames bright inside the hearth. The clothing on either side had a different feel than the shop’s other items. When Fallon ran her fingers over a dark sweater with neat, geometric patterns, the material felt soft and sturdy.

  “You don’t wear patterns, do you?” Sebastian said. “Could be worth trying on.”

  “Yes, I think it is.”

  He patted the stacks of jeans folded underneath the flames. “Then take one of these too.”

  “You know, most boys would hate shopping.”

  He shrugged, his carefully cultivated boredom in place for the first time that day. “When you’ve had a lot of girlfriends, you learn that it’s not about you. It’s about making them happy.”

  The comment stung; she didn’t want to think about his past girlfriends. “It’s a good thing you’re not dating anyone now. You can be selfish.”

  Sebastian lowered his eyes. “I’ve never stopped being selfish.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” he said, sighing, “that you need to go get changed. No more chattering teeth.”

  Fallon found jeans in her size and took them and the sweater into the changing room. As she undressed, she worried about Sebastian’s change in mood. His comment about being selfish bothered her. Just what had he meant by that? It was almost like he wanted her to solve him, but the clues were just too vague.

  The Cassiopeia jeans were comfortable and flattering, warming her clammy skin immediately. The sweater almost touched her knees, fashionably long. Fallon rolled the sleeves up past her wrists and turned to the mirror, finding beauty in the triangles that replicated themselves in different shades of green. Her shivering stopped as she stared at herself in the mirror. The clothes made her look like a different person. Someone more relaxed, but self-aware. She looked away only because she knew that Sebastian was waiting.

  The tags were snipped, Sebastian handed his money to the salesgirl, and Fallon left the store with her wet clothes in a shopping bag. Now that she was wearing dry clothes again, the cold weather wasn’t so bad. “Thanks for the clothes,” she said.

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  “I seem to be collecting favors from you,” Fallon said. “First, you agree to help me thank Hijiri, and now, we have to start all over again with trying to find Hard-boiled Hal.”

  Sebastian smirked. “Actually, I know exactly where to find Hal.”

  “You do?”

  “He was walking with a group of men ahead of us before you fell. I don’t know which one he was, but the group was very familiar to me. Any guy would know who they were.”

  Fallon gasped. “You mean…”

  “A bunch of strange men, lonely, eccentric, and uninhibited by decorum,” Sebastian said, smirking. “They belong to the Bachelor Villas.”

  “Then we have to go there.”

  “Now? In your state?”

  “These clothes will keep me warm enough,” Fallon said with a thankful smile. “I’d rather we find Hal now. We’ve got plenty of time before his radio show starts.”

  * * *

  The Bachelor Villas were located a few blocks away from the Spinster Villas, but the two communities notoriously ignored each other. As Fallon understood it, neither the men nor women saw any value in getting to know one another when both were doomed to perpetual singlehood.

  “It’s sad,” Fallon murmured.

  Sebastian touched her elbow, leading her around another puddle. “What is?”

  “How they’re just giving up.”

  “They can’t help it.”

  “I know. But that’s why we’re doing what we’re doing. If we stop Zita,” she said, gesturing to the villas, “then we could end this too.”

  Like their twin, the Bachelor Villas was a courtyard surrounded by squat, connected buildings. Each building was whitewashed with onyx accents. A wall covered the entire perimeter of the property, keeping the townspeople out. Not that anyone would willingly try to visit. Until today.

  “There’s probably a community center,” Sebastian said, laying his hands on the white wall. “We could just be frank with them and ask for Hal. Or, we could claim we want a tour.”

  “Are you fated to end up here?”

  Sebastian pressed his lips together.

  “Come on. I need to know if you’re going to be convincing.”

  He seemed to choose his answer carefully. “It could be safer for me to live here after graduation, but no, I’m not doomed to be single. Romance is in my future.”

  Fallon bit her tongue as more questions bubbled up. “Asking for Hal probably won’t work. If he’s here, the others must be protecting him. Otherwise, someone would have found him by now. The tour would allow us a better chance at finding him.”

  Sebastian swung one leg over the wall.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have a better idea.” He looked over his shoulder. “The walls are paper-thin. We could hear him without having to talk to anybody.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of getting caught, but then she remembered Robbie’s request. He’d asked her to do something a little risky and dangerous before graduating. As a freshman, she was starting early. In jeans, she had no trouble climbing over the wall. The villas weren’t as quiet as she first thought. The shadow between buildings came from the courtyard, where men could be heard talking. Someone cooked meat on a grill; smoke trailed over the rooftops.

  Sebastian found a gap between the buildings for a modest garden; avoiding the unwound hose, he came as close as he could to the front of the building and listened for a few minutes. He shook his head. None of the men in the courtyard were Hard-boiled Hal.

  As her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness, Fallon picked out shapes. Bags of garbage languished behind the houses. The bachelors left television sets and yesterday’s dinners out on the grass. The wall was too close to the backs of the villas for proper backyards, but the bachelors used the space anyway.

  They wandered the perimeter of the villas, careful to listen for anyone who might sound like the radio show host. Fallon wondered if they were going to get caught. Surely someone was looking out his back window. “What if someone sees us?” she asked.

  Or tried to ask. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.

  Fallon stopped walking, puzzled. Even though it was chilly out, she felt fine. No pressure or scratchiness in her throat. No oncoming runny nose and croaky coughs. So where had her voice gone? She stepped on an empty soda can—and heard nothing.

  Panicking, Fallon grabbed Sebastian by the wrist. “What’s going on?” she mouthed.

  He said something back, but she couldn’t hear him. Sebastian craned his neck, examining the second- and third-floor windows of the villa they stood behind. He then searched the bushes and even checked the side of the house. When he returned, he wore a smile. He crooked his finger, asking her to follow him. They headed back to the wall.

  “Sebastian, I don’t get it,” she said. Her voice, suddenly there, startled her.

  “It has a limited range,” he explained, leaning against the wall. “As long as we’re this close to the wall, we can talk.”

  “What does?”

  “A silencing charm,” he said.

  “I’ve used silencing charms before,” she said, “and all they do is lower sound to a dull buzz. Not wipe it out completely.” She always bought a few during midterms and finals week so that no one could interrupt her study sessions.

  “Remember our visit to Femke and Mirthe’s house? They said that if we had the money, we could buy more concentrated charms.”

  “That would explain it,” she said. The man living in this villa had to have a good job to afford such a charm. “But why hang such an expensive charm outside, in the bushes, no less?”

  “I know the answer to that one.” Sebastian flashed a delicious grin. “This man doesn’t want to be overheard. Not by his neighbors. Not by the townspeople on the other side of the walls. Sounds a lot like paranoia, right? B
ut what if he has a secret worth protecting?”

  Fallon matched his grin with hers. “Hard-boiled Hal?”

  “This could be him.”

  They plunged back into the silence. This time, it wasn’t as frightening. Fallon ignored the heavy weight of the charm’s manufactured quiet, focusing on Sebastian’s back as he led her around the corner of the villa. He parted the nondescript bush against the building, revealing a copper charm shaped like lips. The lips had been sewn shut and tied at the right-hand corner of the mouth. Next to the bush was a basement window, glowing bright.

  Fallon knelt down on her knees beside Sebastian and peered inside. Despite the man’s precautions with the silencing charm, he didn’t cover the window. The basement had leather furnishings and a wooden table in the center. A man sat at the table, pressing the keys on a black typewriter.

  The man was in his twenties, with rather large eyes framed with thick black lashes. He had the body of an ex-athlete, with thick muscled arms and the beginnings of a beer belly. As he typed, he scratched his scruffy beard and grumbled. His T-shirt said something about burping the alphabet.

  Sebastian tapped as loudly as he could on the window.

  Even though the tapping was silent on their side, the man heard it perfectly. He stood up from the table, his face drained of color.

  Sebastian pointed to himself and Fallon, then to his right, indicating that they’d be waiting for him at the front of the villa.

  Fallon’s heart thudded as they walked to the front. This man could be Hard-boiled Hal. They’d actually found him. She was glad that she’d never been a big fan like Anais—her excitement came from aiding the rebellion, not from meeting a local celebrity.

  The man opened the door; he was wearing pajama bottoms patterned with pralines. “Trespassing is a crime—” he started.

  “We know you’re Hard-boiled Hal,” Sebastian said, raising his voice.

  The man leaped forward, slapping his hand over Sebastian’s mouth. “Quiet down,” he said.

  “Not unless you let us in,” Fallon said.

  The man groaned. “Fine, but not one word!”