16The Spell for Healing Lemon Tarts with Lavender Earl Grey Whipped Cream may be found on page 421.
17There are many better terms for an umbrella, all colloquial of course. “Brolly” is delightful, but less likely to be understood in the narrative by a US audience.
“Bumbershoot,” of course, being most superior, because why would you use “umbrella” when “bumbershoot” is an option? But then one must resign themselves to the fact that it is uncommon slang in the United States, and, in this story, the United States does not exist. But that’s another tale entirely.
18Gaeilge: Grandma/Granny. A term Saga uses for her maternal grandmother.
Saga also has a paternal grandmother whom she calls Farmor (Norwegian), though growing up she saw little of her father’s parents as they lived in Oslo. Now she sees even less of them, as nearly a decade ago they moved back to her Farmor’s home of Cape Town, South Africa.
19Gaeilge: My darling/my sweetheart.
Chapter 5
Avery
Two centuries of sleep without rest had lingering consequences, insomnia being the most notable. Was it a kind of stress response, or an aftereffect of breaking the curse before it had run its course? Whatever the reason, Avery had been awake all night.
Every attempt she’d made to sleep had ended in anxiety so sweeping that she’d bolt up to escape the oncoming panic.
It was unsound to believe that sleep would immediately entice an endless onslaught of nightmares. She combated the notion that centuries would fly by if she lost consciousness with empirical evidence to the contrary—her own experience prior to the curse. She read any book and article available in her personal collection that touched on sleep to abate the fear that in slipping into dreaming, she would surrender the ability to open her eyes. Still, the paranoia persisted. It was enough to drive one mad. Logic, in all other things, had been an old friend and ally. Here, it remained absent, and in turn, so did slumber.
The more it evaded her, the more her focus on chasing it intensified. She was staring at the ingredient list of an alchemical mixture for drowsiness when she heard the dull rustling of her neighbor downstairs.
Avery checked her pocket watch. It was 4:00 a.m. This meant Saga was rising nearly a full hour later than the night prior. She made a mental note of it.
Was this an irregularity in Saga’s schedule or merely the custom of this particular day?
She gazed out her window through the sheets of rain to the street below.The day before, a rather large lorry had arrived in front of Hudson’s at this time. Undoubtedly, deliveries for the bakery. The lorry was absent this morning.
She laid down on the floor, pressing her ear to the resonant old wood, trying to make out what might be going on below her.
While the activities themselves were too muffled to discern, Avery could tell Saga was casual in her rhythm. Waking up an hour later was intentional.
Her stomach grumbled and Avery straightened her arms and pushed up quickly, certain the low sound would reverberate into the flat below and alert Saga to her eavesdropping. She remained awkwardly in a plank position, tensely waiting for a change or pause in the downstairs’ occupant’s pace. Her stomach had been grumbling for several hours, but until she received the council’s stipend, she had no means to satiate her hunger until the café opened in two hours.
It wouldn’t do. She’d have to find other means of getting sustenance—or, more likely, a means of getting currency. She could take on smaller cases—even Mundane cases—to supplement her needs. She’d done it before, what would stop her from doing it now?
Gideon.
The council.
Possibly Lahiri.
She felt a strange rumble beneath her, and then, though muffled through the floorboards, the unmistakable sound of rushingwater.
