Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 20

The next two weeks seem to fly past.

August Turnbridge and Aileen Reed each verified, with grudging reluctance, that what Ambrose had told us was true—they were once Augustus and Aileen Thorne, brother and sister of Aengus, and possessors of unique, strange, and costly gifts.

August's passion was spirits—specifically Scotch whisky—and his gift was the ability to unfailingly produce the best of the best. His gift-relic was an old bottle—empty, but with a once-priceless label—which he kept at his distillery in a safe.

Aileen was an artist, and her gift was to paint landscapes with the realism of a photograph—a skill that had since lost some of its value, as photography had progressed, but which was still impressive nonetheless. Her relic was a paintbrush, which she kept in her studio, in a jar of other paintbrushes on a shelf.

Like all the occultists, the two had also been gifted with excessive long life and youth, and both appeared still to be the ages they were when they had made their Faustian bargains—August a robust thirty-eight and Aileen a well-preserved fifty.

Those who had already been victims of the thefts also came out as their true selves. Mathilda Oakfield and her children, Penelope and Brutus, had been reluctant at first to admit their connection, but at last—having discovered that there was no longer any point in concealing it—they had corroborated Ambrose's account as well.

As yet, none of them had suffered any ill-effect of having lost their gift-relics, except that they now lived in a state of constant dread.

Only Thaddeus Barker remained unaccounted for, having never turned up again after the night of his party. The last anyone had seen of him, according to what the witnesses had told the police, he'd gone into a bedroom with one of his guests, and later she had emerged alone. There'd been no sign of him since.

Neither had there been any word from the thief.

Before each of the previous thefts, the victims had received some sign that they were next, and of when the thief would strike—as Thaddeus had with the cat-paw stamp on the invitation. Until either Aileen or August was given such a warning, there was little for us to do but watch, wait, and learn what we could.

In the meantime, I continue to adjust to my new life and, after that first rocky start, it's going rather well.

Ambrose kept his word—and his distance—after that last conversation. He greets me, morning and evening, on his way to and from the clinic, and sometimes sits and watches me as I work in the garden or prepare a meal. I learn that what compliments he gives are honest, because he offers criticism just as honestly, and that while his wit is often cutting and his judgment harsh, it's always fair.

He's good company, and little by little I grow comfortable with his presence, and no longer stutter when I speak to him or feel the blood rush to my face every time I meet his eyes.

As for my new job, Shanti spoke the truth about her shop, and I find it quite easy to work there. For one thing, there are very few customers.

When they do wander in, looking a little lost and bewildered, I greet them and then leave them to browse. Eventually, they'll end up standing in front of one shelf or another, and I'll ask them what they're looking for. They'll tell me, but their eyes will be fixed on something else—often on an unrelated topic. Then I'll mention that books on such-and-such are on sale today, or sometimes pull the item off the shelf myself and mention, casually, that another customer had been looking for it earlier.

I don't know how it works, or why, or if it's just the way of things, but almost without fail, once I draw attention to the item, the customer buys it, and goes away happy—or at least satisfied.