Page 5 of Haunt Me, Maybe

She thinks I’m handsome.

“She’s about to think you make a great mouse pad,” I growled.

Mrs. Haverly stood once more, giant book in hand. “What was that, dear?”

I gave a strained smile and clutched the strap of my satchel so I wouldn’t strangle my familiar. “Nothing, ma’am.”

Brushing off my strange mannerisms, she opened the large tome to its next empty page and muttered to herself. Her small frown was concerning. Did she not have availability after all? I patiently waited as she flipped back and forth, the point of her pen sliding this way and that across the pages.

“Oh well, it will have to do,” she muttered. Finally, she gave a small huff and looked back at me with an apologetic smile. “Let’s get you two settled in.”

One more dig under the counter and then she rounded the desk, now with a key clutched between her fingers. Fenn hopped back in my satchel, and we dutifully followed to a staircase tucked away at the rear of what looked like a parlor. Autumn leaves twisted with string lights were woven around the railing, casting soft shadows on the hardwood steps.

Up she went, making conversation as if that could distract from the three flights we climbed.

“The room should already be made up for you.”

“Stop by the desk again in the morning, dear, and we’ll get you fully registered.”

“How long do you plan on staying with us?”

My shoulders ached, and my thighs burned as we climbed. By the time we reached the creaking, narrow staircase that led to the attic, I was ready to give up and sleep in the hall. That spice cake was already wearing off. My magic flickered from exhaustion, causing a small illusion of falling leaves to swirl indoors.

Where there were no windows.

Fenn gave a fat croak and absorbed it before Mrs. Haverly noticed, but my heart raced all the same. I stood close behind her as she whipped out the ancient key. Fitting it into the lock, she gave it a slight shove, and the door creaked open, like in every horror movie, to reveal a room way better than my expectations.

This seems…moderately un-terrible.

Coming from a familiar who complained about air, that was high praise.

“No one’s lasted long up here,” Mrs. Haverly said, stepping back so we had room to enter. “Most folks say it’s too drafty. But it’s cheap, dear.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a subtle understanding that she knew I couldn’t afford better. Either way, the room was perfect. I think I mumbled a polite thank you as she made her way back down the stairs, but my attention was on the room. A light rain tapped on the roof, the only sound on this abandoned floor besides my breathing and the sound of me dragging my duffel across the hardwood.

The attic room was warm enough, if not a little dusty and cluttered. Inside the entry, I took a deep breath, testing the air for magic. There was a faint prickle; nothing dangerous, but I planned to ward the room regardless.

I had a direct view of the bell tower from the single dormer window, and there were more mature maple trees along this side of the house; their soft leaves brushing the glass. Only one ancient rug covered the hardwood, but it was in good shape. The ceiling was low-beamed in places and angled in others, creating plenty of nooks and crannies for my more delicate objects from home, and there was even a small en suite.

Mismatched furniture wasn’t a deal breaker for me; it was comfortable looking, and the urge to face plant right on that bed and suffocate in the bedding was almost too strong to deny. I gently set my bags in front of the plush-looking pillow and sighed in envy as Fenn hopped out, his snout lifted in the air with snobbery judgment.

I recant my previous statement. This place smells cursed.

“Everything smells cursed to you,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I thought it held a faint scent of cedar, which I actually liked.

I practically swayed where I stood, thinking about the work it would take to get the room ready for the night. Exhaustion pulled at my bones, and despite his spry appearance, I could sense that Fenn was reaching his limits as well. The small illusions I’d maintained all night wavered, offering a brief glimpse at the truth underneath.

It was never a good thing when my magic was this strained.

“It’s not that bad,” I told Fenn, yawning halfway through. “We can lay low here. It’s quiet.”

I miss the swamp, he countered with an unhappy croak.

Didn’t we all? But the vast openness of the north was the safest for us right now. Further than my family ever settled, and the last place that Gideon would think to look for us.

I began to dig through my satchel, pulling out items too precious to leave in the car. My protective salt pouch and a small carved toad figurine came out first, and the floor creaked as I crossed the room to set them on an old writing desk. My lucky scarf was in my duffel, and I grabbed that next, hanging it on the coat rack shoved behind the door.

A shiver shot down my spine when I returned to the bed for my stack of journals. Breath clouding in front of me, the temperature of the room rapidly dipped. Fenn hopped to the edge of the bed and croaked as a faint thump echoed from behind a wall. I stiffened.