October Sky
Alledria Hurt
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Alledria Hurt 2015
ISBN-13: 9781310058790
Table of Contents
October Sky
Dear Reader
Other Books
"The well," a voice called. "The well."
Emmaline Simmons sat up in her bed and hunted for the source of the sound. At first, in the grog of sleep, her vision blurred and nothing came to her. A moment later, as she blinked her eyes clear, a man materialized in the mirror. He beat on the mirror as on a pane of glass and screamed though what she heard came out as a muffled whisper.
"The well."
"What well?" She sprang from bed and rushed to the mirror. The strangeness of the situation lost in the vestiges of a dream.
"The well of souls." The man in the mirror started to fade. His edges became clouded and indistinct. It drew closer and closer to his center until nothing remained of him but a glowing medallion. Emma searched the eyes of that little skull for answers but none came. It disappeared as well soon after. Kneeling in starlight before her mirror, Emma's heart beat fast. Something had happened, but what?
Morning peeped in the window and Emma awoke to stretch. The night before curled unclear in her memory, but she scooted out of bed and went to the mirror just the same. It sat in the corner reflecting the patterns of the room back at her. Kneeling before the mirror, she pressed her hand to the object. Her palm faced her. Her eyes sought some answer in the view, but there wasn't one to be had.
"Emmaline?" Her grandmother poked her head in. "Aren't you up?" Seeing Emma still in her pajamas, she pushed the door open and stood in the doorway. "Don't you have somewhere you're supposed to be?"
With a squeak, Emma threw herself toward the closet. Mr. Amon's shop. She was supposed to open. Oh god, she was late. Grabbing a sweater and tossing it on the bed, she planned her outfit on the fly. Long pants, an undershirt, then in the drawers for underwear, all in muted fall colors. The October sky had dawned brisk, blue, and chilly. Her grandmother watched her for a few moments then said,
"I'll be downstairs putting on some oatmeal for you. Hurry down."
"Thank you," Emma said as she dragged her nightshirt over her head. It landed in a flop inside the closet door. Emma dressed in record time and stopped only to drag on her boots. Her eyes went to the mirror once again.
"The well of souls," she said. What did that mean? Long boots on, she headed down the stairs. Maman, her grandmother, puttered about near the stove pouring hot water into bowls to soak the oats.
"I don't think I have time to wait for that to cool."
"That's all right. I made a thermos of coffee for you. Take it with you and get something warm when its time for lunch," Maman said, pointing to a red thermos sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. Emma pulled her coat on and buttoned it to her throat before pulling a cap over her head. Then she grabbed the thermos and headed out the door. Stepping out into a fast blowing breeze she shivered momentarily before trudging through the frost toward town. Mr. Amon wouldn't be in until nine. She still had time to get there before he did.
Holding the thermos in one hand, Emma pulled the ring of keys out of her coat pocket and fitted one in the lock. The tumblers turned and the door popped open with an audible sigh. Emma stepped into the shop and shut the door behind her. 8:30. Plenty of time to get everything set up so that when Mr. Amon got in, everything would be ready. She hurried to the curtain hiding the back of the shop from the public and put the thermos down and set to waking the shop from its nightly slumber. Walking over to the massive chest of drawers behind the counter, she laid a hand on it and tapped her fingers in a quick two step pattern and said,
"Good morning."
Lazily, a drawer opened on the far side. Another, closer to the top, opened and snapped shut in a quick motion. All over, the drawers yawned and shuddered. The red cabinet with gold fittings rattled slightly as it woke. Afterwards, she moved each of the shelves and tapped them, bringing them to life. All over the shop, the sound of rattling glass started. The shelves rearranged their bottles themselves putting the more expensive concoctions to the back and rotating the stock by age while Emma watched.
The alchemist's shop would be open for business in just minutes. Emma, meanwhile, went to make herself a cup of coffee as the waking procedures worked themselves out.
Half an hour later, Mr. Amon, a tall slight man of Middle Eastern origin, bustled in. He stamped his feet there on the front step and took a deep breath of his shop as he stood in the middle of the stock floor. Emma brought him a cup of coffee from his private stash which she had taken the time to brew just as he liked it.
"The shop's all ready for you."
"I see," he said. "Very good. Have you wrapped the portion for Mrs. Snow?"
"Already and packaged just as you ordered."
The white wrapped packets sat on the countertop waiting for the final invoice to be attached. Mr. Amon insisted on doing that himself in his own crabby, tight handwriting. Emma didn't argue. His shop. His rules.
"Would you be willing to take it out to her? She's visiting with her sick aunt and simply cannot take the time away."
Emma cocked her head. Mr. Amon asking her to leave the shop during business hours just to deliver to a client? He never did that. Oh well, that would mean out in the cold she went.
"Of course, sir."
"Good. Let's get the first of the new orders started and then you can take it to her. She'll need it round about lunch time."
He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her before heading toward his mixing cauldron. The new orders for the day were laid out according to complexity, easiest first.
"Emma, I believe this first one you can do yourself," he said before taking a sip of his coffee. "It's only a wonderroot transformation spell meant for the parties on Halloween."
Wonderroot had a short lifespan so it could easily be used for something as short as one night. Emma looked at the name on the order.
"Michael Harpoon, do you know him?"
"I should think you would. He's a high schooler such as yourself."
Emma colored. His name didn't ring any bells. Maybe he went to the Prep school outside of town. Going to the appropriate rack, Emma pulled down the wonderroot powder. The recipe called for werewolf hair, which being a potent ingredient, kept in one of the drawers behind the counter. The drawer at first refused to open. The cabinet having a little fun at her expense. Finally, she put her foot down and said,
"ZAMARA."
The cabinet, abashed at being called by name, opened the drawer with a squeal. Two pinches of werewolf hair to make the transformation potent.
"I certainly hope he has checked the moon before using this. Moon madness would be a terrible party favor," said Mr. Amon. Emma nodded in agreement. A werewolf caught under the full moon spelt disaster for anyone nearby. She combined the ingredients in their proper percentages and took out the mortar and pestle. The wonderroot powder took on a gray glow and threw off tiny sparkles when mixed, but in order for it to fully take on the properties of the werewolf as would be needed for a proper transformation, they needed to be ground together so that the preparation could be taken like tea. Emma began the slow process of blending the ingredients together with slow, even pressure. While it could be done quickly, things would go much better if she took her time and did it slow. The mixture would be finer and thus easier to take.
Mr. Amon sipped his coffee and watched her.
"You are doing a fine job," he said.
"Thank you, sir."
"I am glad I took you on as an apprentice."
Emma smiled. Mr. Amon was not effusive, so being praised was quite good. With a now uniform po
wder under her mortar, Emma stopped.
"I think it's done."
"Then let's give some of it to Horus and see how it works."
Horus the mouse sniffed around his cage unsuspecting as always. If he knew what was coming, Emma wondered if he would protest. Taking some of the powder from the pestle, Mr. Amon sprinkled it in the water dish and then fed Horus a little salt to make him thirsty. The mouse went immediately to the water and lapped it down. The gray sparkles floated around him for a moment before his body began to change becoming longer and furrier. His limbs elongated as did his neck. A few moments later, they were looking at the world's smallest werewolf. Bending down, Emma watched him through the bars as he stalked from one end of the cage to the other.
"How long will he stay this way?"
"With his metabolism, minutes. We haven't given him enough to affect a long change." As Emma watched Horus, the door chime went off.
"Good morning," Mr. Amon said.
The man who entered looked at them both from under his hood. The two men shared a glance and Mr. Amon said,
"Emma, why don't you go to Mrs. Snow now?"
Emma turned to regard the man and then looked at Mr. Amon. The china of his cup quivered to create a light clacking. She went to get her coat.
"Are you sure you want me to go now?"
He hadn't moved.
"Yes, right now. She might appreciate getting it a little early."
The man said nothing. Emma gathered up the package off the counter.
"There's no invoice."
"She knows how much it is. Just take it to her," Mr. Amon said making a shooing gesture. Puzzled, Emma let herself out of the shop into the cold. Her last vision was of Mr. Amon walking up to the man and the two of them standing face to face. Then she was off the steps and going along the street.
The house of Mrs. Snow sat on a cul-de-sac on the northern edge of town where the portion of the town wall still stood. The house backed up against the wall as if it were being threatened by the street and looked startled with several large windows. Emmaline knocked on the door with a vaguely numb fist and waited. A man, dressed in the black and white of a servant, opened the door.
"Yes, Miss?"
"I'm looking for Mrs. Snow."
"You'll find her at the house of Petunia Evers. Go back up the street, take a right on Greenwich lane and follow it down to Marsha. The house is 26 Marsha Court." Then he promptly shut the door in her face. Emma blew into her fists and tried not to curse. She should have brought her gloves from home, but had forgotten them in her hurry to be out of the house. Maman would probably scold her for being forgetful, if she knew. Emma shook her head and turned to head back up the street.
26 Marsha Court stood on the corner across from a very similar neighbor. In fact, looking at them, they were twins of one another except one was done in blues, the other in greens. Emma knocked on the door of the blue house. A clatter came from behind the door. It opened to a woman wearing one shoe with a mass of hair corralled in a messy braid. She and Emma caught eyes and Emma bowed.
"I'm here to see Mrs. Snow. I'm with Mr. Amon's alchemist shop."
"Oh, yes," the young woman said. "We're expecting you. I'm Lucielle." Lucielle promptly wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed. "It's awfully cold out here. Let's get you in the house."
Bundled inside, Emma began to sweat under the heavy heat. The whole house felt like a sauna. She loosened the buttons on her coat and wore it hanging at her sides. Lucielle went to the staircase in the middle of the house.
"Come on, Mrs. Snow and my mother are upstairs."
Emma followed her up.
Lucielle went to a door, knocked on it, and then opened it. Stepping just inside the door, she said,
"There's someone to see you, cousin Snow."
Emma stopped in the doorway. The three women resembled one another, but only in features. One lay in bed and she wore the frumpiest nightshirt Emma thought she had ever seen. Her face was bright red and she sweated in the heat. Beside her, sitting in a chair, sat a woman Emma thought of as the soul of poise. Every curl in her hair laid down perfectly against her white forehead. She possessed the same mass of hair, but it hung thick down her back. She wore black and silver and a corset.
"Thank you, Lucielle," Snow said. "Mr. Amon has sent the recipe we asked for?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mixed himself yesterday and then held to increase its efficacy," Emma said.
"Good. Lucielle, bring me my bag from downstairs so that I can pay this nice young lady."
Lucielle hesitated, shot her cousin a look, then left the room. From the placement of a chair, apparently Lucielle spent a great deal of time in the room as well sitting on the far side of her mother from her cousin. Emma shifted from foot to foot then held the package out to Mrs. Snow.
"Please take it."
Four packets wrapped inside of white paper full of a tarry brown substance meant to be mixed with tea or strong drink.
"I will, dear, just as soon as I can pay you for them. That paper will keep me out if I don't."
Oh right, that. Emma had forgotten about the charm on the shop's paper to keep people from using the concoctions without paying for them.
Lucielle came back with a bag that matched Mrs. Snow's dress and plopped it down in her lap. Then she retreated to the far side of the bed and put her hand over the hand of the woman in the bed. Mrs. Snow came out with her payment, a few bills, but as she reached out to pay her a violent shudder ran through Mrs. Evers, the woman in the bed. Both Lucielle and Snow jumped to their feet to stop her from hurting herself as she convulsed.
"What's happening?"
"I think she's dying."
As quickly as the throes started, they ceased, dropping both women to their knees beside the bed. Emma watched as the two got up, one foot at a time. Mrs. Snow shook out her dress and went to press her hand to the woman's forehead, but Lucielle beat her to it.
"Her fever's broken," Lucielle said. "But her heart?" She leaned in to listen to her mother's heart. Rising her head, she shook it once before beginning to cry. Emma blinked away tears as well, crying more because Lucielle cried. Mrs. Snow remained dry eyed though she now looked at Emma with harder eyes.
"If only you had come sooner," Snow said.
"What do you mean?"
"The medicine was for her. Mr. Amon will not be getting paid for this."
The vehemence took Emma aback, but she couldn't quite blame her. Her relative had just died.
A shudder ran through the body and Lucielle sat back hard. Mrs. Evers hands groped at the air and a strangled cry tried to come from her throat. Emma and Mrs. Snow watched in wonder as the woman tried to sit up, upsetting the coverlet on the bed. Lucielle reacted first, throwing her body across the other woman's to keep her down.
"What's happening?" Emma asked.
"I don't know."
Lucielle screamed as Mrs. Evers threw her off with stiff movements. Mrs. Snow then attempted to restrain her, to no avail. Emma watched as the woman lurched forward and attempted to get off the bed but her legs wouldn't quite work so she fell to the floor. On the floor, she crawled, dirtying her nightshirt. The closer she came, the more Emma edged back toward the door. Then her hand touched Emma's ankle and grabbed with a vise grip.
"Let go!"
Emma batted at that hand and tried to pull her leg away at the same time leading to her ending up on the floor. Mrs. Snow grabbed Mrs. Evers by the shoulders and tried to bodily haul her away, succeeding in partially lifting the woman off the floor. Lucielle joined in with her cousin and they dragged the crawling woman to her feet where she tottered before lunging at them both. Mrs. Snow reached backward seeking something and came up with her bag which she used to hit Mrs. Evers. She tottered to the floor again, stiff legged and clumsy. Emma meanwhile had scooted herself out into the hallway where she watched with wide eyes.
Mrs. Snow hit Mrs. Evers again, bashing the bag down on the woman's head. Once, then twice. The third time, b
lood came spurting out. Mrs. Evers's skull cracked. Lucielle grabbed Mrs. Snow's arm and held her back from hitting her a fourth time. The body continued to jerk and try to crawl, but it made no headway. Emma couldn't unsee the way the woman twitched.
"What happened?"
"I don't know, but I think it's over."
Lucielle collapsed over the body of her mother and had a storm of tears complete with thunderous sobs. Mrs. Snow watched. Emma pulled her knees up to her chest and waited for her own shaking to subside.
"I have to make a phone call," Mrs. Snow said and stepped across Emma to go down the stairs. Picking up the packet forgotten on the floor in her haste, Emma stood up. Lucielle appeared to be going nowhere. Emma wondered if she should comfort the poor woman who shuddered through her tears. Wiping her sweaty brow, Emma started down the stairs only to hear.
"You don't even care, do you?"
Lucielle's eyes were weeping agates in Emma's vision.
"Ma'am?"
"You don't even care that she died."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"No, you're not. You just want to be gone. Well go. Be gone. Take off." She shooed with one hand and wiped her tears with the other. Emma continued down the stairs. "Heartless," was the last thing she heard Lucielle say as she made it to the lower floor. Mrs. Snow stood in the foyer with the telephone pressed to her ear.
"Yes. I want to report a sighting. What do you mean there are others already reporting things?" she said. Emma slid past her and stopped at the front door. When she turned back, Mrs. Snow waved her away and Emma went back out into the street. The cold slapped her in the face and she quickly buttoned up her jacket. After being so warm returning to the cold was even more miserable. It felt as if her fingers instantly went numb once again. She trudged back to Mr. Amon's shop with the vision of that woman crawling across the floor toward her and Mrs. Snow savagely bringing the bag down on her head. But the strongest vision was the one of the blood and how it ran in pearls down the woman's face after Mrs. Snow cracked her skull.
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