Of Soul and Flame

Part Two

I look up from organizing the silverware in the various drawers as a figure in a dark red cloak enters the shop, the bell above the door tinkling pleasantly.

"Oi, we're closing up shop," I call, not unkindly. "Come back tomorrow and we'll have fresh things ready." The figure says nothing, apparently staring at the ground.

"Excuse me," I say more loudly. "Sir... Madam... We are closed for the day, it's past sundown."

"I need a place to stay the night," a male voice says from under the cloak. Surprisingly, it sounds like the speaker is trying to pitch his voice lower, as if he were younger than he wanted others to know. Becoming suspicious, I come from around the counter, small kitchen knife in hand... just in case.

"Does this look like an inn to you?" I ask, voice firm, hands shaking slightly.

"No. That's why I want to stay here." I think about that for a moment, confused. "Please," the boy continues, his tone desperate and more than a little scared, "Don't tell your family or anyone, just let me sleep in your storeroom or your barn or somewhere out of your way, please. Please help me," he ends in a whisper. I take another step closer, cautiously, glancing around for my parents. They must be accounting for inventory and locking the storage areas, or maybe sharing a cup of tea as they often do at the end of the day. I should be with them.

"Who are you?" I ask, stalling as best I can. I don't trust this person, not after today's violent episode. The boy doesn't answer, but takes a step away from me, still hiding his face. "Why can't you stay at an inn? Have you run away from your parents?" I continue to question him.

"There isn't much time. People may be looking for me," he says cryptically, and for the first time, I notice his hands, just peeking out from the edges of the cloak, trembling slightly. 

"Who's looking for you? Why are they looking for you? Are you a criminal?"

"No!" he says adamantly, and I'm a bit taken aback by his sudden insistence.

"Enid, what are you doing out there? I already wiped the tables!" Mom calls. The boy tenses, and begins to inch toward the door, as if afraid I'd say he was here.

"Just, uh, pushing in the chairs!" I call back, and the boy relaxes visibly. 

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Come on," I say with a sigh, still not sure this is a good idea. "The attic is just used to store extra tables and decorations and stuff. You should be fine up there." I climb onto a chair and open the door in the ceiling, carefully unfolding the ladder as I go down. The boy doesn't even watch, just keeps his face down. It's kind of creeping me out. I jump down and replace the chair.

"Just fold it up when you're at the top," I say uneasily. He keeps his face averted as he shimmies up the ladder, and without another word, the ladder silently raising back into place. The trapdoor closes by a string from the inside, made just in case we ever needed a place to hide, and with a small clunk of wood on wood, the mysterious boy is gone.

"Enid?" I jump at the sound of my name, but it's only my mother, smiling at me from around the corner to the back hall. "What are you doing?"

"I was, uh, checking the tables and... chairs." Mom looks alittle skeptical, but she smiles anyway, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening slightly.

"Come on, then, everything is in order. It's past time to get you in bed," she points out firmly. I smile and walk through the door to her, but I can't help but sneak a peek back up at the ceiling. All I can catch is the glitter of dark eyes before the trap door shuts again, and I leave the dining area behind me.