The Curse of Thelonious [✓]

thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Oh great!” Lera groaned. The two of them had sneakily snuck away from their school group and exited the Natural History Museum as quietly as they could. Atlas had found a map showing Wakelin Manor and they were headed over there to scope out some clues but had gotten lost on the way.

The two teenagers were currently on a random high street, having asked a kind looking woman with kids for directions. She had pointed them towards a bus stop and told them exactly where to go and how to get there. Lera had thanked her profusely before realising they had both forgotten which number bus she had said.

Instead of asking someone else, Lera found herself walking towards a random shop across the road. She didn’t know why but she felt drawn to the dimly lit Wiccan-like store called The Golden Amulet. It was quite dirty and the people walking on the pavement completely ignored it, as though the witchcraft wasn’t even worth their sight. “What are you doing?” Atlas asked quietly, completely baffled when she had turned the opposite direction from the bus stop.

“I– I dunno!” she exclaimed, confusion manifested in her voice. “I didn’t think about it. My feet just moved by themselves, it was instinctive!"

Atlas shivered as he looked up at the occult store. Even when they were out of Clearford, it always felt as though something was following them. It hadn’t caused any harm to them so he was hoping it was a gentle guide but could they place their trust in an invisible otherworldly being? 

“I guess we can check it out,” he muttered, pushing the door open with his fingers. The windows were covered in posters featuring skulls and the like, strange beads hanging from the ceiling. Their eyes widened as they walked in; the shop was so much bigger than what it seemed on the outside. Every wall housed a set of shelves with books neatly lined up and there were a few glass cases freestanding with objects inside.

“This is creepy,” Lera whispered, quiet enough for just him to hear. Atlas didn’t reply but he couldn’t help mentally agreeing as he caught sight of a range of menacing statues on a wooden table. Every flat surface they could spot was crammed of exotic coloured feathers, cloth pouches and funny shaped bottles full of mysterious substances.

Atlas felt an uncontrollable shiver run through his body, as though a raging force was trying to push him out of the store. He was about to tell Lera that they should probably leave when a pattering of footsteps alerted them of someone else’s presence. From behind the till, an old man emerged, smiling knowingly as he caught sight of them.

“Err, hi,” Lera chirped, trying to sound polite although the place was giving her the creeps. The man nodded, his face weathered as he barely glanced at her before focusing his intense gaze on Atlas. 

“Welcome to my store,” he murmured, his eyes still studying the boy in front of him. “My name is Kevon. I assume you’re here for some information on breaking the curse that’s killing those around you?” he asked them, much to their bewilderment. Lera was going to explain that they didn’t have a specific purpose and had just wandered into the shop but Atlas beat her to it.

“How do you know about the deaths? What are you talking about, what curse?” he asked menacingly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the old man. Kevon nodded thoughtfully as he ran a hand through his greying hair, eyes still deeply trained on Atlas. 

It took a while but he finally answered, shocking them. “I can see the curse surrounding you: a black mist. Its tendrils are wrapping around you boy, it’s inside you.”

Lera’s face had lost all of its colour as she watched Atlas’s eyes darken in something akin to fear. “So I am evil?” he asked quietly, as though he’d already suspected it. Both of them would have believed the man was just a sham until he mentioned the curse. It was true, it was all true.