Page 8 of Rise of the Melody
“Tell me how you did that,” I said.
He cocked his head, a devilish look crossing his features. “Oh, you believeIam the one who’ll be tellingyouanything?”
What??
“You can’t go around committing freaky hair crimes and expecting not to explain!”
The guy made a dry chuckle sound from his chest, but his eyes never lit up and his mouth never smiled. “That dye was a crime.”
“Rude,” I shot at him, feeling angry and confused. “How did you do it?”
His eyes pinched. “What sort-a question is that?” Now it was his turn to look confused, which baffled me even more, because why was my question strange to him? I felt tingly all over and an underlying anxiety began to rise in my belly. Then he whispered, “You really don’ know, do ya?”
My heart was steadily pounding too hard. After all the freakiness yesterday with Mr. G and just now in Churs, this was too much to handle.
“Look, it’s been amazing,truly, but I have to go fix my hair now. Thanks for that.” I gave CooShee a gentle tug, and this time he stood.
The guy took a step forward, and I swear his face was frozen in a mask of pissed-off hotness. He looked on the verge of saying or doing something, which sent a jolt of fear through me, but at that very moment a loud group of laughing people exited Churs and headed our direction.
Oh, thank Gaia.
Hot or not, this guy was probably a serial killer in training, so I stepped away backward, not willing to put my back to him until I was a little farther away.
“You can try,” he said in that alluring voice, “but you cannae hide. No’ anymore.”
“Bro.” Now it was my time to give a dry chuckle, though his words skated over me like an electric shiver. “Later.”
I turned sharply and speed-walked up the sidewalk, past the group of people, my heart lodged in my throat. When I glanced back, the guy was gone, probably back into the greasy alley where he’d come from. I petted CooShee’s head with my trembling hand. “Let’s see if any cabbie is brave enough to let you in.”
I glanced back one more time to be double sure he was gone. I’d seen lots of strange stuff in my lifetime in New York City. But today had been the top tier of creepiness. And it had caused a niggling thought at the back of my head. Something weird was happening. To me, yes, but something even bigger, more than just me. I was certain Aunt Lorna was asleep right now, but tomorrow we needed to talk.
Chapter3
Visitor
Icouldn’t sleep that night except in snippets of strange dreams. The next morning, I miraculously got CooShee to stay in the apartment while I went down to the shop—partly because of the giant bone I’d bought at the pharmacy to entertain him when I stopped for hair dye last night. I’d immediately re-dyed my hair when I got home, my hands shaking as I replayed my conversation with the guy from the alley. It took all of my willpower not to wake Aunt Lorna.
I was dragging now.
The shop smelled like lavender this morning, a contrast to the scents of sewage and diesel exhaust just outside these doors. I took a deep breath as I set out new bunches of dried sage for burning and let it out slowly. Aunt Lorna was in the back making soaps with essential oils and other fresh ingredients like oats and activated charcoal. A new bin was set out with small bags of gummies made yesterday, so I lined the shelves on the wall with them.
I wanted to confront her right away, but fear held me back. I was torn between wanting to know all the things and being scared to death of what she’d say. There was something to be said about living in ignorant bliss. Once I found out what was happening, I could never go back.
At ten o’clock on the dot I turned the door sign from Closed to Open and saw two men standing there—one handsome in a crisp suit, and the other feral-looking in jeans and a baggy T-shirt with a picture of sasquatch. Not our normal type of clients, so I was surprised when the suited man pushed open the door, walking in with a slight limp.
“Hi,” I said. “Welcome to Moonlight Apothecary.” As he stepped in, heat lightly sizzled my bare arms, and I rubbed my hands down until the sensation waned. It was the same weird feeling I’d gotten when the hot serial killer had stepped out last night. The other T-shirt guy stood outside with his arms crossed, looking up and down the street.
The suited man stared hard at my face before blinking and saying, “Yes, hello. Wow.” Still, he stared, as if studying me. Discomfort spread through my limbs and I backed away, moving behind the register to give us distance. He was nice looking for an older man, but his intensity and my buzzing skin had my instincts firing.
“Is there something I can help you find?”
“Colette MacIntyre?”
My eyes flew to his and my stomach swooped. Did I know him? Or maybe this was about the dog. People rarely called me Colette. Aunt Lorna had always called me by my nickname, and continued when she took custody of me. “Yes…?”
He shook his head. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m an old friend of your parents and you look so much like a mix of Henry and Finella, but especially Henry. Even with the dye and make-up. I’m Bryant MacCray.”
I shifted on my feet, emotions rising inside me. Something felt…off. Like he was being falsely nice.
