“That’s why his clothes disappear. That’s why he was solid as a baby. That’s why he made it this far.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
I can’t sit any longer, pushing myself out of my chair and pacing near the hexatorium’s door.
Millie watches my frantic procession through the room. “But when Arbus cast the curse, it was laid upon Stephen’s mother—not Stephen himself.”
She pauses and I force myself to stand still and look directly at her.
“I can only guess.” She speaks slowly, deliberately. “But with his mother gone, there’s no way of knowing what the effect will be. If the curse was truly meant to span generations, Stephen may be all right. But there’s no way to know. As I said, by its own nature and intention, the curse is unstable.” Millie sighs. “Thus, it is unpredictable and very, very dangerous. For Stephen . . . and for you.”
I meet her gaze, unblinking, as I try to process her words. Unstable. Unpredictable. What do those words even mean? I’m looking for a doomsday clock with a precise countdown, but all she’s giving me is a sundial on a cloudy day.
Instead I focus on something I can control: myself. “Why would Stephen’s curse be dangerous for me?”
“Because you’re young and in love.” She smiles, but I look away. Love feels distant, while loss feels close.
“That will make you impulsive,” Millie goes on. “And less likely to consider risks to yourself.”
“I don’t care about that. Just tell me what the instability of the curse will do to Stephen.” I bring my eyes back up, looking at Millie hard, though my heart is flapping against my ribs like a bird that is falling when it hasn’t yet learned to fly.
She takes a quick breath. “You’ve proven my point. If you want to help Stephen, you must take care of yourself. With your attitude you could do more harm than good.”
“But isn’t that why I’m here?” I ask sourly. “So you can teach me how to take care of myself?”
“Most definitely.” Millie stands up. “And Stephen is safe enough. He’s survived the curse this long. He must be a resilient boy.”
I almost laugh, but turn my back on her instead. In my mind Millie’s claim is as good as someone telling me that we’ve made it through the earthquake, so there’s no danger from the aftershocks. All I can think of is that unpredictable nest of tentacles whipping around Stephen’s body. He’s not safe if one of them goes rogue and wraps itself around his neck to choke him. As far as I’m concerned, Stephen is the target of some spectral assassin that could strike at any moment, without any warning. I can’t abide Millie’s assurances that time is on our side.
I’m about to say so when without any prompting Millie scampers across the room, looping her arm through mine.
“Now, now, don’t frown like that,” she says as she leads me to the stairwell. “You’ll have wrinkles by the time you’re twenty.”
For a woman of her age, she moves with remarkable speed. I’m working hard not to trip my way up the steps.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To finish your training, of course.” Millie pulls me into the comic shop. I squint into the darkness.
“Saul, we have work to do,” she announces.
The hulking shadow behind the counter slides a curious glance at the tiny woman. “After all this time? You really think that’s wise?”
“Tut, tut.” She emphasizes her words with short claps. “Unless you’re worried you’ve gotten too rusty.”
I gaze at Saul as he unfolds himself from behind the desk. Standing, he’s over six feet tall. Despite her age, Millie looks like a child compared to this hulk.
“He’s coming with us?” I ask, not having given any thought to the big man who crouched, silently, in the shadows of the comic shop. If anything, I’d assumed he was a bouncer for kids daring each other into the store, wanting to catch a glimpse of the resident “witch.”
“Of course,” Millie says. “A spellseeker can’t work without a safeguard. We’d be much too vulnerable.”
She winces. “Though I hardly deserve Saul’s allegiance. I’ve told him many times to seek out someone who’s active. Not a has-been like me.”
Saul mumbles something under his breath that I don’t quite catch.
“You’re Millie’s protector?” I ask uneasily. He certainly looks the part, but I’m still not getting what sort of protection he’s offering.
“Shield,” Millie corrects. “Each spellseeker has a shield to watch over him or her while she pursues and rights the wrongs of cursecasters.”
With a series of painful-sounding pops and cracks, Saul is methodically stretching his arms, legs, shoulders, and neck. It reminds me of some rarely used machinery groaning back to life, in dire need of oiling.
“What do you need protection from?” I ask Millie.
It’s Saul who answers with a snort. “You think I lost this eye peddling comics?”
I’m doubly embarrassed when I not only stare at the scar that cut across his face where his eye should have been, but also shudder. This only makes him laugh.
“Now, now, Saul. Be gentle,” Millie chides, but she’s smiling fondly at the huge man. “She’s just a girl, and this is a frightening business.”
“Which is why she can’t be coddled,” Saul says.
I’m looking back and forth between this odd pair. They continue their banter—and it’s clear they’ve been close to hibernation in this dark Upper West Side shop. As they argue about my readiness for what’s ahead, reinvigorated by their new purpose, I feel as invisible as Stephen.
After five minutes of this I clear my throat. “So . . . what is he protecting you from?”
Saul glares at the interruption, but Millie blushes with embarrassment. “Of course, dear. But let me explain as we’re on our way.”
“Where are we going?” I ask over my shoulder as Millie fusses me towards the door.
“The subway,” Millie says. “It’s a good place where we can sit and watch without being conspicuous. The number of people getting on and off between Eighty-Sixth and Wall Street should offer a nice variety of curses. I haven’t made my way that far south in a while, but as I recall, the Financial District is, as a rule, bursting at the seams with curses.”