“He’s deaf?” Charlotte blanched. “How can he play?”
“Charlotte, trust me, it is not a hindrance.” The spider leaned in close to her. “You do not need your ears in order to hear that which you wish to create.” He winked before scurrying off to a different part of the burrow. He called out to her, “Please, have a seat! I am expecting other company and tea will be on shortly!”
Charlotte did as he said, finding one of the large, fluffy sacks and plopping in the center of it. She struggled to keep herself upright, though the softness of it swallowed her, her knees folding up to her stomach.
“I really like your home!” she said so that he could hear her from the other room.
“Thank you.” The Phaser reappeared with a bronze teakettle in one hand and two ceramic jugs in the others. “Earl Grey or chamomile?”
“Earl Grey, please.” She smiled, continuing to try and find her balance in the chair.
His mustache bristled again as he disappeared once more.
“Where do you find all of these things?” Charlotte asked, her eyes scanning the various pieces. There were clock gears, and only halves of sets of human pairs of shoes. There were dented pots and pans, many books, cuckoo clocks, lamps, hunks of un-polished scrap metal, stuffed animals, sculptures, photographs, silverware, snow globes, and about a million other things that decorated the spider’s home.
“I’m a junk collector. I collect junk.” Mr. Třínožka reappeared again with four cups of tea in each of his hands. “Like Horris.”
Charlotte laughed.
He gave one cup to Charlotte, set one down on a small, crooked coffee table, and placed one on the piano in front of Horris before sitting down in one of the couches. “It’s what I do. One spider’s trash is another spider’s treasure,” he said, sipping at his tea. “You wouldn’t believe the things I discover.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte heard Horris grumble under his music.
Charlotte took a sip, too, the hot steam bringing warmth back to her cheeks. She smiled when she tasted the milk and honey, exactly how she liked it. She sipped at it again. “So, who’s the other company you’re expecting?”
As if on cue, a familiar burlap figure came rolling down the tunnel, landing on his backside facing Charlotte and the spider, reeling from dizziness.
“Ah, Edwin! Just in time!” Mr. Třínožka said, one of his arms stretching out to hand him his cup of tea.
Edwin took it, eyes still spinning. “Thanks. Hi, Charlotte.”
“Edwin!” She giggled. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”
Edwin grumbled something incoherent and sipped at his tea.
The evening went on like that for just a while longer and the three talked and laughed while Horris continued to play the piano, seemingly oblivious to the goings-on behind him. Mr. Třínožka told stories of how he obtained some of his more interesting pieces before Charlotte finally stood up, stretching out her arms and legs.
“I better get going. Mr. Třínožka, thank you so much for your hospitality.”
“Any time, my dear. Don’t be a stranger! Say hello to Valek, and tell him not be so careless with a lovely little girl like yourself.”
Charlotte smiled once to Edwin, patting him on the head, before turning and exiting out the long tunnel from whence she came.
The wind had finally died down and the walk back to the steps of her home was quick. She could hear laughter coming from inside. That was when she remembered. Evangeline.
Charlotte burst through the front door, expecting to see the two of them just on the other side. The room was lit, but empty. She looked to see slight shadows moving from inside the library. Her stomach twisted with a feeling she didn’t recognize. She crept over to the library door, hearing Evangeline’s unmistakable, musical laughter. It made Charlotte’s cheeks burn.
Slowly peering around the threshold, the thing she saw next made something hard and icy shatter deep within her chest. Evangeline’s long, sleek body leaned over Valek, who sat in his armchair, tie undone, shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top. Her lips moved slickly across his neck and up to his mouth, and the worst part was…he kissed her back.
Charlotte froze in the doorway, wanting to run out again into the storm. But her legs seemed to be nothing but bricks of lead. A feeling twisted in her gut, like shards of serrated glass, as the onset of salty tears stung the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t realized her satchel had dropped to the floor, shattering the empty spell bottles inside.
Evangeline jumped at the sound and looked to see Charlotte standing there in the doorway.
Chapter Five
The Price of Sinning
“Char — Lottie…” Valek started quietly.
Charlotte saw herself out of body, staring back at him, slowly breaking into two pieces. Her mouth fell open in an effort to speak, willing something, anything to stumble out, but nothing would. Slowly, she turned and padded out into the night.
She walked a slow, even pace off the porch steps and back onto the stone footpath then stood there, sucking in a deep breath of rimy air. Exhaling, she could see her misty breath between the silvery plummets of rain. She straightened up and broke into a run. That was the only thing she wanted to do — the only thing her swimming mind could think of. She just wanted to run.
She prayed to God Valek was far enough away not to be able to hear her miserable thoughts, knowing if he had the opportunity, he would have been listening. Her throat felt thick as a fresh wave of bile crawled up her esophagus. Had she really just seen what she thought she had? Impossible. Out of every evil thing this nightmarish city contained, her very worst nightmare had been realized. The images flashed, vivid at the forefront of her mind, recalling that which had sucker punched her clear across the face only a few moments ago. She ran, passing the taverns and shops, not knowing where to turn next. There was no safe haven. She needed to find some place empty, some place quiet, where she could think.
Why did it have to be Evangeline? It just confirmed all of the fears that constantly tormented Charlotte in the back of her mind.
Nights she lay awake, conjuring up in her mind this very thing was somehow eventual, somehow inevitable. Tears from her eyes meshed so well with the cold rain on her face; she could hardly tell she had started to cry. Her lungs began to scorch in her chest after a distance and she bent in half, her hands on her knees as the tears continued to fall. Oxygen returned to her in a fury of blistering waves. Her shivering fingers wound absently around her silver whistle, habitual.
Charlotte straightened again and looked around at the desolate village square. Her teeth chattered as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, suddenly too aware of the zillions of goose bumps on seemingly every plane of her body.
She turned to her left to see a shadowed alley between the freestanding gothic cathedral and Broucka General Store. It didn’t look to her like it would a dead end, as the dank path seemed to twist around the side of the church walls. Perhaps this would be a good, quiet place. She began walking. A gargoyle loomed at her as she passed, its wretched jaws extended in an eternal howl, like it too was disgusted with the putrid love she hid so fervently from the one who raised her. She shuddered.
Sure enough, the washed cobblestone pathway turned and disappeared under a mound of dirt and grass. A low, black fence surrounded the entire churchyard, its twisted gate mangled and rusted. Grass, a brilliant emerald color, even in the dead of night, stretched to the moon, her ankles drowning in it as she walked. A stony fountain stood in the very center of the forsaken garden, its winged statue pointing his cherubic hand toward the night sky.