Nieve (30 page)

“Always thought that Twisden guy was a shady character,” said Dr. Morys, as Artichoke nabbed yet another cookie. “But, my golly, house theft, tax evasion, polluting, cruelty to animals (including the human kind), not to mention turning his wife into a coat rack. Not murder, but as good as. Or as
bad
as, I should say. He'll be in the clink for life.”

“Helps that Molly's brother is a judge,” agreed Gran. “And a former
chaise lounge
.”

“Didn't take it lying down?” offered Dr. Morys.

“Tsk, Jimmy,” Gran admonished, but chuckled nonetheless. “Nieve, more cookies, pet? Tea?”

“Have to go help, Gran. Thanks, though. Be back for dinner.”

“Bring Lias.”

“If he'll come. He's getting . . . more and more restless. Can't sit still.”

Lias had been living at Nieve's place, trying to get the hang of family life. Her parents wanted to adopt him officially, and Nieve loved having a ‘brother,' despite all the bad things she'd heard about the species from female friends. Lias himself wasn't exactly overjoyed with the idea. He liked everyone a lot, especially Sutton, who had been teaching him how to play baseball, but claimed they were spoiling him with all the good food, and comforts, and attention . . . and kindness, especially that. Something that only Weazen had shown him before.

“So?” Nieve had asked. This was a problem?

He shrugged. “It's too nice, I'm not used to it. I'd rather be out roaming, free,
ye ken
. Not trapped, in school an' all.”

Nieve could understand that, the school part, although it was great to have Mrs. Crawford back in the classroom. “You just want to hunt for
her
, in whatever form she takes.” She knew he had terrible nightmares, she'd heard him crying out at night. But he never told her about them.

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. You
do
. And you don't have to, Lias. You're not tied to her anymore. She has no power over you.”

“Ah,
phalanges
.” Lias rubbed his hands together. “Splendid samples.”

Nieve laughed. This is what Prosfessor Manning had said when he noticed the toe bones in Lias' hand, all that remained of the toes that Elixibyss had sliced off his feet when he was a baby – not a laughing matter. She had used them to concoct some sort of binding – or bonding – spell. Her hold on him. She'd convinced
him
of it, anyway. Convinced him that there was no escape, no matter how many times he ran away.

“Did the professor ever find his pipe?” Lias asked.

“Doesn't smoke. He only remembered later.”

And at this they had both laughed.

“Want me to read your teacup before you go, hen?”

Nieve peered into her cup, blackened tea leaves clumped together ominously on the bottom. “Um, no, I don't think so. Thanks just the same, Gran.”

“How about a little joke then?” said Dr. Morys.

“Okay.” He'd tell her anyway, no matter what she said. “Shoot.”

He cleared his throat, and asked, “Now, why is it, do you think, that ducks fly south to Florida every year?”

She smiled. How many times had she heard this one before? Ten? Twenty? But he had to tell it, he had to finish the joke he'd started so many weeks ago. “Gosh, don't know, I give up.”

“You do, eh? Well, because . . . it's too far to walk!”

He cracked up and Nieve's smile widened. It was the best she could do, but she meant it.

“I'll tell you something else, Nieve,” he said, more seriously. “That's what happened to me. When I was in that coma, the way ahead was like a long dark tunnel. I trudged on and on, thought I'd never get to the end. Then all at once I felt your hand touch mine. I turned and saw a light moving in the other direction, the direction from which I'd come, and that's when I decided,
what the heck
, I'm going to follow it, I'm going back. That other way is just too darn far to walk!” He reached out and patted her hand. “Some other time for that journey, eh Nieve, some other time.”

“Not soon, Dr. Morys. Please.” She glanced once more, worriedly, at the leaves in her teacup, and at the alarming pattern they were forming. “What would we do without you? What would Artichoke do?”

“Artichoke?” He smiled at the brave and true friend resting at his feet, then reached down to scrub his head. “Why, he'd eat
all
the cookies.”

–Thirty-Five–
Amulet

N
ieve ran down the hill to town, fast. She knew she had to hurry, a bad feeling was crawling around in her stomach. As always, though, she loved the running itself. It felt great to be wearing her old runners, too, and booting along on her own steam. Feet pounding the ground, hair slapping against her back (Gran had picked out the knots), wind whistling past her ears. The leafy shoes had been an adventure, and she would never again run with such astonishing speed and ease – but she much preferred this. Besides, she was no slouch, and was on Main Street in no time.

She waved at Mr. Exley as she peeled past his renovated store. He'd cleared out all the jars and boxes full of creepy stuff left behind by Wormius & Ashe (gone before Sarah could deal with them), and had opened an antiques business, claiming that he'd developed a real feeling for old furniture. As he returned her wave from behind the counter, Nieve noticed that he was wearing his “Rock On!” T-shirt. She wondered if his legs still creaked when he walked.

Her parents' store was next door. They'd taken over Dunstan Warlock's bookstore when he hadn't returned to town. His landlord, Professor Manning as it turned out, discovered to his surprise (and no one else's) that Warlock hadn't paid any rent in years. Good thing the professor didn't pay much attention to mundane matters like money, Nieve thought. Her parents' screwy business would need all the help it could get. As for grunt work, she and Lias and Malcolm had been packing boxes full of dusty old dog-eared books for days, cleaning the shelves, painting the walls, and getting ready for the first delivery of stock, which had been delayed. The opening was only a few days away and the store was still bare. It didn't even have a name – nothing but a blank sign swinging above the door! (Gran had suggested they call it “Bats.”)

She skidded to a stop and was about to go in, when Frances and Mayor Mary stepped out, laughing together about the upcoming wedding.

“Nieve!” said Frances. “My compliments. You guys have done great work. The store looks fantastic.”

“Thanks. I keep telling Malcolm to take it easy, though.”

“Nah, he's so happy, it's been good for him.”

“Think it'll be ready in time?” asked Mary. “I must say, it's a dandy new addition to the downtown. It's bound to bring in some tourist trade. I was going to get rid of those quaint old street lamps, you know, but I've changed my mind.”

Spoken like a mayor. “Oh yeah, one way or another, we'll be ready.” She glanced through the window at Malcolm, who was polishing the antique brass cash register, a donation from Mr. Exley. “Even if we have to conjure stuff up with one of those magic wands my folks are getting.”

“Ha! I'd like to see that,” said Frances, although she
had
seen more incredible things, especially during her rescue mission to Bone House. “Say, Nievy, I heard you were going to be the flower girl at the wedding.”

Nieve made a face. “Molly decided to give the job to her revived Pomeranians. I don't care, honestly.”

“Cripes, I can just picture it,” Frances groaned. “Pure mayhem. If those yappy little mutts were mine, I'd be tempted to go the slippers route myself.”

Mayor Mary started to edge away. “C'mon Fran, we're late. Getting our hair done, Nieve.”

“Yeah, Mary's still trying to comb the cobwebs out of her hair, and I'm gonna get myself a beehive. Lotsa wildlife, eh?”

“Good luck with the opening,” Mary said. “We'll be there!”

“Looking gorgeous,” Frances added, catching up with the mayor. “What's the store going to be called, anyway?”

“Can't tell, it's a surprise. See you Friday!”

A surprise for everyone, including me, Nieve thought, pushing through the door and scanning the empty store. Empty except for Malcolm, who was playing with the cash register, pressing down the keys, pulling the crank on the side, and making the cash drawer zing open with a loud
briiiiiiiing
, then slamming it shut.

It was true, what Nieve had feared.

“Hey, Nieve!” said Malcolm. “This old machine is so cool.”

“Mal, hi.” She was delighted to see him, as always, home safe and sound, but . . . “Where's Lias?”

“He went out. Said . . . um, said there was something he needed to do, he wasn't sure how long he'd be.”

“Right,” she grimaced.

Malcolm gave her an apologetic look, and clutched at the arrowhead that Lias had returned to him. It was attached to a leather cord that he now wore around his neck – always. Although he had recovered amazingly well from his illness and from the abuse he'd endured, it had left him with more than a residue of anxiety. “Should I have tried to stop him?”

She shook her head. “No point. I wish he'd waited to say goodbye.”

“Maybe he thought you'd give him a blasting to keep him here.”

“I
might
have,” Nieve couldn't help but smile.

“Look, though, he left you this.” Malcolm pulled down the crank on the cash register and the drawer sprang open again. He picked a small object out of an otherwise empty change compartment. “He said you didn't need it, but he wanted you to have it anyway.”

When Malcolm handed it to her, Nieve saw that it was Lias' pewter amulet. She also saw, observing it more closely for the first time, that it wasn't an abstract design as she had thought, but was roughly molded in the shape of a sun. When she folded her fingers over it, enclosing it in her fist, it felt as if something was scrabbling in her palm, as if she had captured a tiny creature. A spider, say.

“Mal,” she said suddenly. “I know what to call the store.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Amulet,” she smiled. “That's it.
Amulet
.”

He considered it, but only for a moment. “
Yeah,
really. Your parents are going to love it. It's perfect.”

“Why don't we paint the sign?” she said. “Surprise them, everything else is ready.”

“Let's! Good idea. We'll make a real humdinger, with loads of colour, it'll be
psychedelic
.” Malcolm hustled off to the back room, where they kept a supply of paints and brushes and rags. “I'll bring the ladder, too.”

“Excellent. ” Nieve intended to follow, but moved instead toward the front door. Stepping out into the sunny street, her favourite street in the world, she gazed down it's length, and far into the distance along the road that led out of town, the fields alongside still blackened with sun-scorched weeds. In the spring those fields would be furred with fresh green shoots.

As for Lias?

Well, because she was a wait-and-see person, and not someone who jumps to conclusions, she decided that she'd just have to wait and see.

But on the other hand . . . Nieve clenched her fist once again and the amulet dug into her palm, warm and spiky and
maybe
even lucky. She had a feeling he'd be back.

Glossary