Wayward Favor || ONC 2024

Chapter 7: The Study

Magnus wants to explore my father's study first. It's locked, but he's insistent. If there are any relevant documents, they will be locked in there. Not that I've ever been in there before – I'm not allowed. 

I lead everyone up the narrow stairs, running my hand along the wooden banister. The click of May's claws follows us up the stairs. Discolored rectangles mar the opulent wallpaper of the second-floor hallway – the ghosts of what my family once had. They serve as embarrassing reminders of where fine paintings once hung. I lead everyone through the hall at a rushed pace, hoping they don't notice the evidence of my family's desperation.

I gesture to my father's study door. Two more gargoyles sit menacingly outside – May's tongue lolls from her mouth as she joins them in guard duty.

Jack tests the doorknob with the futility of someone who already knows it's locked. Magnus shares a dour look with his friend and gives him a nod. Jack mutters to himself as he kneels, pulling out his lockpick.

Magnus runs his fingers along the Eldwolfic inscriptions carved into the doorframe. According to my father, my great-grandfather carved the inscriptions on the frame when this house was first built for good luck. As the men try, and fail, to open the door, Lennette and I ignore each other. Maybe I should leave them here and go pack a bag, I'm wasting time.

"I can't get this door to unlock," Jack says, rocking back on his heels. "I wasted two skeleton keys to break the mage-lock and the lock is unlocked but it's not unlocked!" He grabs the handle in frustration, while alternatively pushing and pulling on the door. "There's no point in wasting time on the lock unless we figure out the Eldwolfic inscription." He slaps the doorframe.

"I've translated it and it's a riddle," Magnus says, glancing at me. "Do you know the answer?"

I raise an eyebrow. He can't be serious? Figuring out a riddle is not going to open a door!

"Never mind," he grumbles. "You're a girl."

What? My mouth drops open. What does being a girl have to do with my riddle-solving ability? I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Alright then, try me. What is this riddle?"

"More or less, it translates to: the lion eats the wolf, the wolf eats the crow, the crow eats the lion," Magnus says, gripping his chin. "It might be death." He presses a hand against the door and whispers, "Mortem."

Jack rattles the doorknob and shakes his head in disappointment. Do Jack and Magnus think my father's study door is magical and will open if we answer a riddle? I place my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh at these grown men acting like children. I grew out of believing in magic, curses, spirits, and fae when I was Lennette's age.

All the parlor tricks are just smoke and mirrors. Anyone with half a brain can wiggle their fingers, don a mysterious accent, and lift a tablecloth on a wire. My brother taught me sleight of hand and how most silly magic tricks work, but he knows all about these tricks because, deep down, David believes real magic is out there.

Belief in mystical flimflammery is what ruined my family! My father and brother talk about magic when they don't think I'm listening. They've wasted our fortune trying to turn our fortunes around using magic. It's a vicious cycle.

Just last month, they spent a week burning fancy, foul-smelling weeds in the four corners of our home to cleanse it. They told Celine and I it was a folk-remedy to keep termites from the foundations, but I heard them muttering about foul spirits and curses as soon as I left the room. Do they seriously think foul spirits are the source of our family's ills?

"How about life?" Jack suggests. "It could be life?"

"Liephen," Magnus murmurs, hand against the door.