No One Mourns The Wicked

Chapter 11

Morrighan hummed a tune as she walked to the Pawn Shop. The way was unfamiliar, but she was certain she knew it. Either way, Morrighan was happy to be by herself, unsmothered, outside. She could close her eyes and imagine things were the way she liked them.

She pulled her sweater around her. It was chillier now than it had been earlier. She was nervous. Her mother had mentioned something in passing about Mr. Gold. And since her mother had never mentioned anyone else, Morrighan was not sure what to make of it. But her mother was not here, and she was not keen on getting deported or whatever repercussions might come of her not going along with this. Besides, she had been here for nearly a month and nothing bad had happened. She only had seven more to go.

Her gut sunk. So much could happen in seven months. Half a year ago, she would have expected herself to be celebrating one year on broadways, her 18th birthday, and the end of her contract with Wicked. And her scholarship. Now all she had was the scholarship. And her birthday. But not for the same reasons.

A lot could happen in seven months.

She made it to the shop without a problem. Small towns were small towns. Everything was on or near the main street. She had been to practically every small town in Europe. Navigating them was like second nature.

She knocked on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Gold said, opening the door with a smile.

He led her into his shop. It was a small shop with shelves and antiques everywhere. He brought her over to the counter where he had some paper sent out.

"Regina took the liberty of sending me your resume," he explained.

"Okay," Morrighan said. She did not know what else to say.

He walked to the other side of the counter and picked it up. "So, you speak multiple languages?" he asked.

Morrighan nodded. "I can forward you the certificates if want," she said.

"No no. No need," he said. "And I see that your employment record is a bit unorthodox."

"That's putting it lightly," she joked, hoping to ease the tension.

"I just want to make sure that you have the proper skills to work here," Mr. Gold said.

Morrighan straightened her posture and looked him the eyes. Had Regina seriously set her up? Getting her an interview for a job that did not exist was not going to teach her a lesson. "I got all the skills required for a retail job," she said. "People skills? Look at my ears of acting classes, or the fact that I have a fan base. Work ethic? I have been working sixteen-hour days since I was four. Do not count family employment, I did five months on Broadway, eight shows a week. Never missed a show I was scheduled to perform."

In a split second, he used his cane to knock something off a shelf. Morrighan's reflexes kicked it. She reached for it in a fluid motion, catching it in an outstretched hand. It was a glass orb. Heavier than one might expect.

"What about heavy lifting?" Mr. Gold asked. He was keeping a stern face, but Morrighan knew he was impressed. Her instincts were good. "My son usually does the heavy lifting, but when he's at school I've got no one to help me out."

"Well I can lift my own body weight with one arm," Morrighan started, "and muscle weights a lot more than people tend to think. Also, while spinning. The centrifugal force actually creates more pressure," she started, explaining how a downwards pull was easier to hold that the diagonal one created by gravity and motions of the spin. Turns out one can learn a lot of physics when it is the same that saves their lives.