Page 57 of The Cursed Sebastian Storm

The man was on the phone, hold music crackling out of the speaker. He held the mouthpiece away from his face as he addressed Sebastian. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for the mayor. I might have an idea about the darkness.”

The administrator looked somewhat relieved. “Go ahead, though I’m not sure if she’s in her office. Everyone’s been all over the place today.”

Sebastian thanked him and headed down the hall. Most of the doors were closed, and when he reached the end, so was Eleanor’s. He knocked, but there was no answer.

“May I help you?”

Sebastian spun around, coming face to face with William, one of the city councilors. “I was hoping to talk to Eleanor.”

“She’ll be running around like a headless chicken, I’d wager,” William sneered, his nose wrinkling. “You won’t find her here.”

Sebastian glared. What a rude and condescending thing to say. “I’m sure she’s doing everything she can to deal with the darkness.”

William shrugged. “You’re that Storm boy, aren’t you?”

“My name’s Sebastian.” He gritted his teeth, stomach cramping uncomfortably. “We met at the meeting the other night.” He forced himself to hold William’s gaze even though he yearned to look at the floor and sink into the wall behind him.

“Do you have some urgent news? I know Eleanor likes having townsfolk stopping by for no reason, but you really shouldn’t be here without an appointment.”

Sebastian wanted to be anywhere but here. Dealing with this guy was making his heart rate climb. He hated feeling like he didn’t belong or wasn’t allowed to be in a space others were permitted to occupy unchallenged.

“I saw something odd in town the other night,” he muttered.

William narrowed his eyes. “What did you see?”

Sebastian reluctantly described the shade spectacle. Hazel had probably already passed it on to Eleanor when she’d gone to see the mayor after the incident at Parker’s, but after what Mila had told him, the event seemed even more significant. He wanted to tell the mayor about possible shade magic.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” William rolled his eyes. “Sounds like typical shade nonsense.”

“Right.” Sebastian looked around the man blocking his escape path. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go.”

William moved, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to get out of there. He’d get Hazel to call Eleanor again and pass on what he’d learned from Mila. Hazel and the mayor seemed closer than he’d originally realized. He was sure an extra phone call wouldn’t be a big deal.

On his way back down the street, he passed Beth’s souvenir shop. Light spilled out the windows and onto the dark sidewalk. Sebastian hadn’t ever spoken to Beth in person. He’d first written to the shop about his jam years ago, and Beth’s son was the one who’d come out to Storm House to pick it up each season.

Sebastian hesitated. He could walk by and write to Beth later. Or look up the shop’s phone number online and call her. But part of him wanted to go in and see if she was around.

Steeling himself, Sebastian opened the shop door. He was nervous even though the shop was clearly empty of customers. Maybe it was leftover discomfort from the run-in with William or the fact that he didn’t know what to expect of Beth.

Would she like him or wish he’d kept his distance?

He inched forward. A woman, maybe a decade older than Mila, stood behind the counter, preoccupied with her cell phone.

“Hi.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Um, Beth?”

“Yes?” She looked up.

“It’s Sebastian.” He raised his hand in an awkward wave. “I make the apricot jam.”

“Oh, hello.” Beth beamed. “I hope you’ve got some more ready for me. I’ve usually heard from you by now.” She glanced at a wall calendar tacked next to the register as if she’d had an appointment with Sebastian noted down.

“Yeah, sorry.” Sebastian stuffed his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket. “I’ve got a batch I can bring by before you close.”

She clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. The labels are all ready. Hopefully this weird weather—or whatever you want to call it—goes away before all the tourists get scared off. Your jam is always very popular.”

“Glad to hear it, but it’s probably your spooky packaging that sells it. I love the labels.” He smiled, the twisting in his gut almost completely gone.

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