“Power of positive thinking. Karma,” Laurie says. “Stephen is not a problem. He is a person. Invisibility is not a problem, it is a curse. Our mission is to help Stephen the person. Our quest is to find a way to break the curse.”
I love my brother so much I think my heart will burst.
Stephen smiles. “But the shop?”
“Sean says it’s not the comics part that gives the place its evil aura,” Laurie says. “It’s the back room.”
I have visions of mafia or drug kingpins. “Illegal stuff?”
“I don’t think so,” Laurie says. “More like occult stuff. Sean says they have a witch on staff.”
“Witches?” I say, frustration building again. “Give me a break.”
“Just hear me out.” Laurie gives me a hard stare. “Apparently this lady reads fortunes and the usual psychic stuff, but Sean mentioned something about hex breaking.”
“Hex breaking?” Stephen’s breath catches.
“Yeah,” Laurie says. “I think we should check it out.”
I balk, worried about wild-goose chases. “But Stephen’s dad said we can only break the curse by finding his grandfather.”
“That’s true,” Stephen says.
“And witches, Laurie?” I say, twisting my hands in the hair at my temples, sort of wanting to yank it out. “I mean, witches?”
“Because witches are so much more unbelievable than cursecasters.” Laurie glares at me.
“Touché,” Stephen murmurs.
“My point is we don’t know where to start,” Laurie says. “I’m not saying this is the end of our quest. But we need a guide, or a map, or something. We don’t know where to start. Maybe we’ll get some ideas from this place.”
“Can we go with mission instead of quest?” I say. “I feel like you’re trying to be our Dungeon Master or something.”
“I’m trying to elevate our experience,” Laurie says.
Stephen looks at me and shrugs. “At least we’ll get out of the house. I’m feeling trapped in here like I never have before.”
I get that. In some ways Stephen’s world got a lot smaller, his life limited, by his father’s confession.
“All right,” I say. “I’m in.”
“Where is it?” Stephen asks.
“In the garden level of a brownstone on Eighty-Fourth,” Laurie says.
“That’s an easy walk,” I say, partly wishing it was a bit farther away. I want to drink in fresh air, clear my head. Today is the first sunny day in weeks. I’m hoping there might even be a breeze.
“Yes, it is,” Stephen says. He’s already heading for the door.
* * *
I’ve done this before, walked the streets with Stephen. I can only think of it now in terms of before and after. The walk was like this before I knew. Now the walk is like that. It’s after. After I can see the deft way Stephen weaves through the world. The way he steers clear of the visible ones who would step on his toes, jostle him, or slam right into him. He is forced to constantly adjust, to always move aside. As we pass through the crowds of oblivious pedestrians, I want to yell. Perhaps if I shouted long enough, demanding the attention of enough eyes, forcing them onto Stephen, the sheer force of their stares would break the curse. It’s foolish and I know it, but my frustration makes me desperate. I want to solve this problem now. I’m afraid of Laurie’s quest. Quests are epic. Quests take forever. We don’t have forever. I don’t know that we have much time at all. A part of me knows that hearing the truth from his father has broken Stephen. I worry he’s in danger of fading away completely, of wishing himself right out of this world. I can’t let that happen.
Laurie focuses on the people, the sunlight, and the miraculous breeze as we walk. He can’t see the maze Stephen is forced to walk through. A labyrinth of bodies that no one has to navigate but him.
We pass the Museum of Natural History, moving into the busy residential streets of the Upper West Side. We stride past New Yorkers caught up in their own harried lives, ignorant of the questers in their midst.
“It’s just before Columbus,” Laurie says.
We get to Eighty-Fourth Street, passing small businesses and innocuous-looking apartment buildings.
Laurie hesitates, stopping just short of the intersection to look at a brownstone. “Huh.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Stephen remains silent. I notice how rarely he speaks when we’re in public. I understand that choice, but it only adds to my anger. The curse has even stolen his voice.
“This is the address.” Laurie points to the brownstone. It doesn’t look like any business exists here. There are no signs or advertisements. Passing it on the street, I would have assumed it was solely residential. My stomach drops a little, heavy with disappointment. But Laurie shrugs, heading for the steps that lead down to the garden entrance.
Stephen follows with me trailing. Laurie is staring at the door, which also looks nothing like a business entrance. No hours of operation listed. Not even a welcome mat.
“Do I knock?” Laurie asks.
“Just try the door,” Stephen says, making Laurie jump.
He apologizes immediately. “No offense. You still surprise me sometimes.”
“It’s okay, Laurie. I get that you can’t see me.”
Laurie nods and turns the doorknob. The door swings open and all I can see is darkness. Laurie pokes his head in and I hear him say, “Whoa.”
He disappears into the murky entrance. I see Stephen swallow hard before he goes after Laurie. My heart thuds against my ribs. I can’t explain the cool dread that’s gripping the back of my neck. I have to force myself to follow Stephen.
The first thing that hits me is the mixture of scents. One is familiar and among my favorites. I’m sure more than one person would call me crazy for claiming to love the smell of comics, but I do. They smell shiny and fresh. That scent would have calmed me if not for the others swirling in the shadowed space. Some I think I recognize: rosemary, melted wax. Others are exotic and so heavy I get a little dizzy.
It’s definitely a shop. I can’t wrap my head around the welcome sight of bins full of comics that I’d happily spend hours rifling through juxtaposed with the heavy velvet curtains covering the windows and the rows of burning candles on shelves that ring the room.