Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

Hulda smiled, though in truth she wished the note were longer. She read it again, slower, and set it beside herself on the window seat. The papers in her hand left off exactly where Merritt had finished reading to her while she was recuperating from Silas Hogwood’s first attack. She was surprised he’d remembered the place so precisely.

“This is it.” She turned the ruby-studded cross over in her hands, gilt glinting in the candlelight. “Red Salvation.”

The priest hunkered into his oversized robes, getting comfortable. A warm smile lit his face, one that reminded Elise of her father. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

Warren bent over, holding up the magnifying glass. “But you know what this is, don’t you?”

The priest’s expression was unwavering. “Aye, I know. I’ve forgotten many things, but I know that.”

“Must be worth a fortune.” Warren held out his hand, and Elise placed the crucifix against his palm like it were a newborn babe. “I can easily see how this could bring a man happiness.”

“Then you see nothing at all.” Father Chummings clicked his tongue. “Do you know Latin?”

“I do,” Elise offered.

He dipped his head. “Then read the inscription on the back, child. Aloud, for your partner’s sake.”

Hulda put the page aside, curious. However, the story changed completely on the next page.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely old (but not really very old) rogue who lived in a dingy (but not that dingy, let’s be honest, he’s not a pauper) apartment in New York, who suddenly received a call from a very polite lawyer about a house in the middle of nowhere that was his. By the way, this house was haunted. Fortunately, the rogue did not believe in ghosts at the time, so he went anyway.

Hulda smiled. Something warm and strange ballooned in her chest.

The house was utterly terrible, as one can expect a haunted house to be. But fortunately for the rogue, someone competent came by. Competence claimed she was sent by a special organization with a truly terrible acronym, but truthfully her visit had been arranged by divine intervention.

The house (which later became a talking dog, but that is a story for another day) gradually settled down under her hand, and so did the rogue. In fact, the rogue found he no longer slept in and made pastries the highlight of his day; he woke (relatively) on time just to see Competence chewing absently on her lip while she was nose deep in a book, or chattering with the staff, or admiring the sunset when she thought no one was looking.

The balloon swelled. Rings of heat formed around Hulda’s eyes. She turned the next page, covering the second half with her hand, terrified she would read ahead and ruin it all.