“What’s happening?” she mumbled.
“You’re forgetting me,” Cosimo had whispered. “It’s better this way. Safer for you. Tomorrow I will take a walk in the sun, and you will be free.”
Her words were slurring as if she’d had far too much to drink. Ondalune tried to fight the sensation, clinging to Cosimo’s lapels.
“Don’t do this,” she begged, but her consciousness was like a lost balloon floating up into the sky. Her memories were fading even as she grasped to catch the string.
The last thing she remembered was his kiss, gentle on her forehead, and his final words: “I’m so, so sorry, my love. Goodbye.”
Goldie reached her cottage well after midnight. Her muscles ached and her eyes were sore and swollen from the tears that would not stop flowing.
Her Uncle Burnie was waiting in her kitchen when she got home. He looked old. Far older than she remembered. She supposed this made sense, since it had been nearly a century since she’d last seen him.
“Hello, my darling niece,” he said. “We have so much to talk about. There’s so much I need to tell you.” He began to cough, an awful hacking cough that shook his whole frame. She laid a hand on his shoulder. He was thin and felt frail.
“Let me make you some tea.” She reached for the kettle.
“No need.” Burnside held up a flask with a shaky hand. He unscrewed it and took a sip, which seemed to calm the spasms. “I’m okay now.”
“Just the same, I think I’ll make some tea.” Goldie filled the kettle. “I could use it myself.”
“I’ve missed you so,” Burnside said, looking at her with watery eyes. “Look at you. Still so beautiful.”
“I’m having an unusually good hair day,” Goldie said wryly. She lit the stove. She was still wearing wet and sandy clothing, which was chafing. “I’m going to change into some dry clothes now, Uncle Burnie, but I’ll be right back.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” her uncle assured her. She noticed now that he’d found the folder of photos. He must have been looking through them before she’d gotten there. He’d pulled out one of her as a baby, and another of the house in Maine.
“We have so much to talk about,” Uncle Burnie said. “But just in case, I want to tell you what I’ve come to tell you first. There’s a young witch making her way to you and Cosimo right now. She has something you both need. It belongs to you, or rather, your family. It needs to be returned to the ocean tomorrow.”
“The amulet?” Goldie guessed.
“You’ve seen it, then?” Her uncle looked surprised.
“Only in a vision,” Goldie admitted. “But it seemed important.”
“It is.” Uncle Burnie suppressed another cough. “Zani will bring it. You should have it before the eclipse. You’re going to need it to end the curse.”
Item No. 071-C | So ridiculous it shouldn’t work. And yet
Cliché Kerchief
No one quite knows where the original Cliché Kerchief came from. Some say it was left behind at a pensione in Lisbon, folded inside an obtuse Russian novel that no one’s ever finished. What’s certain is this: what began as a gag gift now travels the world, tucked into the pockets of weary adventurers.
The delicate square of cotton is printed in relentlessly cheerful florals and trimmed with lace. This kerchief somehow resists creases, odors, and the general indignities of long-haul travel.
When your suitcase disappears over the edge of a ferry. When the last train of the night pulls away as you fumble with the ticket machine. When your directions insist you walk through a river. With a flutter, the kerchief comes to life, offering up one perfectly timed and wildly random piece of pocket-sized wisdom.
“This builds character.”
“Every cloud has a silver lining!”
“Let it go.”
Self-cleaning. Ever-faithful. Comforting in the way only something completely ridiculous and unexpectedly kind can be.
Best kept close. You’ll know when you need it.
Chapter28
