Love Fortunes and Other Disasters (26 page)

“Use one of my scarves. They're warmer than what you brought,” he said.

“Thanks.” Fallon looked over her shoulder. “And don't follow me outside. Today could be the day you discover a hole in the fence.”

Sebastian took a bite of grapefruit and made a face. “Not enough sugar.”

“I mean it.”

“My immediate plans involve a shower,” he said, digging around for sugar and finding honey instead.

“Good.”

Fallon pulled on a second sweater, her coat, and grabbed one of the scarves hanging in Sebastian's closet. The snow had been ruined early that morning by the dogs boarding at the clinic. Tracks cut up the backyard. She knelt down to examine a tiny paw print in the snow.

Marion sat on a cushion, her feet bare and her arms loose on her knees. She didn't meditate like the books said; she looked too relaxed, her face deliciously slack. “Come sit by me,” she said.

Fallon lost her balance and crushed the paw print. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Marion grumbled and shifted so that there was room for another person on the cushion.

Fallon sat down, careful not to let her shoes touch the cushion. The fog curling on the horizon distorted the gray sea. “I've been thinking about the fortunes.”

“They shouldn't exist,” Marion said gruffly.

Fallon smiled. Marion would probably get along with the twins.

“I'm supposed to be a spinster. Zita's fortune says that no one will ever love me in return,” Fallon said. “But I have Sebastian, and I think … part of me hopes that we've already beaten our fortunes.”

Fate played cruel tricks on spinsters. Some went through dry spells, where romance novels provided them with heroes, while others had men plucked and pulled from their lives as quickly as a windstorm. Fallon had thought that her own dry spell began with the arrival of her fortune. Then Sebastian surprised her. He had been there all along.

“Fortunes can be tricky,” Marion said, opening her eyes.

Fallon sucked in her breath. “You should hate me.”

Marion stretched, uncurling one finger at a time. “That seems like a waste of energy.”

Fallon looked at her, surprised.

“Would you willingly hurt Sebastian?”

“Never.”

“Then don't vilify yourself.”

Fallon hugged her knees to her chest. She had been greedily collecting her moments with Sebastian to pack them in a box, much like Dorian had. Deep down, maybe she believed that his fortune would come true. That she couldn't stop it.

“I'm not a poet,” Marion said, gentler than she'd sounded before. “I heal and destroy with my hands. Words can be twisted into other meanings.”

Fallon lifted her head and looked at the blinding white sky.

 

chapter 21

TREMORS

When Fallon turned the key, she had trouble opening her door. She pushed a little harder, one hand still gripping her suitcase, until something made a tearing noise at her feet. A piece of paper caught underneath the doorway. Written with a dying pen on blue paper, it simply read:

You're the one who discovered the pink phone. It's only fair you join us tonight. Meet us behind Zita's shop at 9pm.

—F and M

*   *   *

Snow turned to slush in Grimbaud. The roads were salted quickly, so as not to interrupt the tourists spending winter in the charming town. Fallon wasn't too cold as she entered Verbeke Square, recalling how much more intense the snowfall was in Glastonberry. Her navy trench kept her warm enough.

Zita's shop closed by dinnertime during winter break, but that didn't stop the light show. Pink spotlights cast hearts on the outside of the shop. Fairy lights framed the second-story display window.

The other buildings were dark. Fallon saw a policeman sitting in front of an empty caf
é
, nearly half-asleep. Before she could step into his line of sight, a pair of hands pulled her into the shadows.

“Don't even think of saying hello to him,” Mirthe whispered. “The police aren't our friends tonight.”

“I guessed that much,” Fallon said. The twins wore black capelets and striped leggings with matching, stuffed backpacks. The robber eye masks were especially telling.

“Phase three will be ready,” Mirthe said, “after tonight.”

Femke shushed her.

“Fine. Let's get on with it.”

After Mirthe's blunder at the student government meeting, Femke had taken over as the paranoid one. Fallon wondered if that was a twin thing—to absorb what the other lacked in order to remain balanced. She mimicked the twins as they used the shadows to travel unnoticed towards Zita's shop.

Every shop had a back door, and Zita's was no different. Fallon huddled with the twins outside of it, waiting for the next move. They were going to break in, but how?

“Our dad has a special collection of squalls,” Mirthe whispered. “We're using some tonight.”

Mirthe took a small metal object out of her capelet pocket. Femke handed her a vial that whistled and shook in her hand—the squalls. After attaching the vial to the contraption, Mirthe pressed it against the lock and pushed down on a lever every few seconds. The contraption sent concentrated puffs of squalls through the keyhole. The squalls' pressure acted as a key, allowing them entry without leaving fingerprints.

The twins used the last of the squalls to push the door open and slipped inside. Fallon was careful not to brush against the door. The air made her dizzy; she held her breath, fighting the rose scent, until she couldn't any longer. Her mind started to dance away, playing with fantasy dates of her and Sebastian.

“Remember your fortune,” Mirthe hissed, pinching the back of Fallon's neck.

Fallon gasped. Her mind cleared, bringing with it fresh heartache. Zita's shop was a hazardous interior at night. She kept her arms tight against her, using the light spilling in through the windows to help her navigate. Forbidden charms and candy machines were tempting distractions.

“Go on, take something,” Femke whispered. She held out a pair of black gloves.

“Why? We'll get caught,” Fallon said.

Mirthe shook her head. “Doesn't matter what charms we use tonight. Someone's going to know Zita's shop has been broken into. We might as well cause a stir while we're here.”

Fallon took the gloves from Femke and put them on. She hadn't come prepared to carry much with her, so she stole a whole packet of paper charm affirmations she could fold up and put in her coat pocket, along with some thumb-size potions promising the drinker a date free from tongue-tied shyness. After taking Zita's portrait from the villas, she should have felt more comfortable, but the charms were heavy in her pockets. She wanted to get rid of them as soon as possible.

The twins took a few charms themselves until Femke found the break area. The pink phone was mounted on the wall near the coffeepots.

Mirthe picked up the handset. “Let's give Zita a call.”

Fallon inspected the phone. “It's a direct line. Look. There's no keypad, just one red button.”

Mirthe shared a mischievous grin with her sister. “Then we have no chance of dialing the wrong number.”

Fallon wasn't following. “We came all this way to prank call Zita?”

The twins raised their eyebrows. “We need the phone,” Femke said, “because we need Zita's voice to figure out where she is.”

When Mirthe reached into her backpack Fallon expected to see a mysterious weather charm. Something typical of the twins and their sneaky, ingenious ways. So she almost choked on her disappointment when Mirthe pulled out a Sound and Seek toy.

The toy fit in the palm of Mirthe's hand; it was box-shaped with a tiny microphone sticking out of the top like an antenna. A big-eyed, smiling face had been painted on the toy with bright yellows and reds.

“Why do you have that?” Fallon asked weakly. Her parents had made her play with one as a kid to start honing her inspecting skills early. Sold in study charm shops, the Sound and Seek turned a simple game of hide-and-seek into detective work.

Mirthe danced on her toes in excitement. “Whoever created this charm is a genius,” she said. “Once you turn the toy on, it latches onto the first voice it hears—presumably the person hiding. It gives you one clue per game, using one of the five senses. Femke and I know this town so well, one clue should be enough for us. We're going to find out where Zita's hiding.”

“It's just a kid's toy. The range can't be good.”

Mirthe rolled her eyes. “This one covers the whole town. Femke and I stayed up all night tweaking the charm.”

Fallon blinked. Of course they did. There was the ingenuity she had missed.

Femke activated the toy, then pressed the button on the phone and held it down. The three girls waited, listening hard for the phone to change its tone.

Hearing Zita's voice for the first time made Fallon's palms sweat. A strange panic flooded her heart. Something dripped in the background, like the inside of a cave. Then Zita asked for Camille, her voice high and sweet in a grandmotherly sort of way. But there was an edge beneath it, like a knife cutting through cake.

Mirthe pressed a finger to her lips and said nothing while Zita grew more agitated by the silence.

“My Camille wouldn't be quiet for so long,” Zita said. “I demand to know who's on the line.”

Femke released the button. The call died.

“I guess Camille talks to her more than we thought,” Mirthe said, hanging the handset back up. “We got what we needed.”

The Sound and Seek toy trembled as it printed a square-shaped piece of paper and spit it out onto the floor. Fallon bent to pick it up, but recoiled from the scent wafting from the paper. “What is that?”

Mirthe crinkled her nose. “The clue.” She picked it up with two fingers and stuck it in her pocket. “Let's get out of here first.”

Fallon tried not to look too relieved. She didn't want to stay in the shop any longer, clue or no clue.

The girls retraced their steps, managing to reach the back door without incident. However, Fallon smelled the familiar musky scent that meant Camille was nearby. Footsteps approached the shop. Two sets. She warned the twins, who seemed to always have one charm or another on their persons. “What do we do?” Fallon whispered.

“Watch this,” Mirthe said, tossing a stormy gray capsule into the air. The capsule erupted, spawning a thick cloud that rumbled and glowed bright with a sliver of lightning. Within seconds, Fallon could barely see a few inches in front of her with the heavy rain falling from the lone cloud, but she squinted and surmised that the two outlines in the rain were Camille and a policeman.

“The forecast said clear skies,” the policeman said, swatting at the rain with his baton.

Camille screeched, trying to use her hands to shield her already soaked hair. “It's obviously a trick,” she said, “a charm! I told you someone was sneaking around back here!”

The cloud only grew bigger.

Fallon had never been so thankful for a storm; it masked them completely as they ran in the other direction, water pouring down their backs.

“We're safe,” Mirthe said after they'd left the square and were back on the streets. The twins peeled off their masks before anyone saw them. They insisted on walking Fallon back to the complex.

“You look so scared,” Mirthe teased. “As if you've never broken rules before.”

“Not one this big,” Fallon grumbled. If she was learning anything during her freshman year, it was that rules broke apart at her feet, whether she liked them or not. “What should we do with the charms we took?”

“Oh, good point,” Mirthe said. “We don't want them. Maybe someone else would like free charms.”

On the walk, the girls planted the stolen charms in nooks and crevices, outside of houses and along the canals. When they crossed a bridge, Fallon released the stack of love affirmations, watching the wind carry some and let others drop into the water.

When they reached Fallon's apartment, she invited them inside, but they wouldn't stay long enough for her to brew them tea.

Femke toyed with the buttons on her caplet. “This may be hard to believe, but Mirthe and I have no doubt. Zita is underneath Verbeke Square.”

Fallon just stared at the twins.

“The sewers,” Femke said. “That's what you smelled from the Sound and Seek clue.”

When Mirthe handed her the clue again, Fallon tried not to shudder from the smell. The smell found its way from her nose to her tongue—she could taste the damp, dark underground. She handed back the clue, feeling slightly ill and in need of strong mint toothpaste to chase away the cloying scent. “You knew right away. Have you been in the sewers before?”

“It's not a place that anyone would want to explore,” Mirthe said. “Even the most devoted lovers of Grimbaud don't think of the sewers. It's just a given, something that all towns and cities have. But there are entrances all over town. Usually, only repairmen have the keys to go down there.”

“And our mother,” Femke added.

“But you're weather charm-makers. That doesn't make sense,” Fallon said.

“Our father's specialty is wind,” Mirthe said proudly. “Our mother happens to be the best at bottling earthquake tremors.”

Fallon was stunned. She'd never heard of such a thing. “Why would anyone want tremors?”

Before Mirthe could answer, Femke shushed her sister and blushed. “It's a private market.”

“I see.” She didn't.

“Since we don't usually have earthquakes here, our mother chases after them in other parts of the world. She's often away for months at a time. Like now,” Mirthe said. “But if there was ever an earthquake in Grimbaud, our mother has the keys to go into the sewers and safely collect the tremors. The closer to the earth you are, the easier it is to bottle them.”