Art of Intrigue

"We must find The Etcher."

Althea looked up from her homework to see Delbert Lunt's bald head leaning over the shop's counter.

At least he's not wearing that plunger on his head today, she thought. "Why?"

Lunt straightened his tie and then pulled something from the jacket of his gray suit. "I got this in the mail at the bank."

He held up a business card-sized piece of glass. Etched into it was a picture of Althea's Mother, screaming in terror.

"Where is Madame Oberlin?"

"Mom!" Althea went white. "She was going to talk to someone about redoing the windows."

"Who?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. It was somebody she heard about, who wasn't in the yellow pages."

A sound, like water freezing across a lake, crackled from the front of the store. Lunt pointed at the shop's front windows. A driving rain flooded across them, pouring the outside gloom into the shop, so at first she didn't notice white frost spreading across the glass to the left of the door. Clear voids were left as it spread, forming a picture. It was a gravestone, with her mother's name on it. Above, words read in reverse, 'The Journey's End'.

Lunt shivered. "I hope you have more fortune-telling cards."

She reached under the counter. "Let's go."

Just outside the shop, she fanned the cards in front of her, written side away from Lunt. "Ask your question."

"Where is Madame Oberlin?" He drew the card, then grabbed the entire pack and stuffed it inside his coat.

"What are you doing?!"

"The water made the ink run! I can't read a blasted thing."

He looked into her eyes. "You're going to have to use your gift. Think! Or better yet, feel it, Althea. You can save your mother. Where do we find her?"

Althea's mouth gaped open and closed. She felt small. She felt desperate. She felt a heavy weight pushing down on her. She felt--

"I'd kill for a hotdog right now," she muttered to herself.

"What?"

Althea's head hung low. Rain ran down her face, hiding the tears from her eyes, then dripping from her nose and chin. "I'm such a bad daughter. My mom is missing and all I can think about is food."

Lunt brightened. "Did your mother have a favorite hotdog stand?"

"The Shake Shack. Why?"

He hailed a taxi. "I have an idea."

Her eyes scanned the patrons around the outdoor stand. "I don't see her."

"I'll check the park," Lunt said. "You stay here and keep watch. Perhaps we'll get lucky."

The rain had slowed to a slow drizzle, but the crowd was still small. Althea felt hollow, drained emotionally, and slumped into one of the wire chairs furthest away from the stand.

"Oh!" On the table in front of her was a rain-soaked sketch of the front of their shop. In the other window of the drawing, the word 'Defeat' taunted her.

Every inch of Althea's body ached. Her mother was all she had.

"Althea?"

She jumped. "Mom?"

Her mother stood by the next table, her face a mask of pain. A strange man had his arms around her, pulling her forward. He was thin but muscular, in jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt that was spattered with something that looked like blood. His face was gaunt, elongated by a pointed goatee on his chin. His eyes were sunken in dark circles.

Althea jumped at him. "Get away from my mother!"

"Althea!" her mother shouted.

His eyes locked with hers.

Althea felt herself freeze in place, her spirit leaving her like sugar melting in rain. Every ounce of strength she had struggled against it, but the pull was unrelenting.

Mom!

She collapsed into her chair, unable to stand.

Her mother sat down next to her. The Etcher perched in the seat across from Althea, his gaze still locked with hers. She felt herself about to lose all that she was.

Lunt's hand clamped down on The Etcher's shoulder. "Marcus! Good to see you."

The spell broken, Althea gasped. "What's going on? Why did you kidnap my mother?"

Her mother looked at her. "He did no such thing. He's been redesigning the windows. We're going for something more edgy. See? 'Defeat Your Journey's End' with a gravestone. That should pick up our séance business, don't you think?"

Althea sputtered. "The windows really changed."

Her mom frowned. "You're not the only one with talents, dear. He's outstanding with any glass or metal."

"Why is he covered in blood?"

Madame Oberlin laughed. "That's ketchup. When the rain came, we ran for cover. I twisted my ankle and smeared my hotdog all over him when I fell."

The Etcher's deep voice said, "You were right, banker."

Lunt sat down in the other chair. "That was a hypothetical discussion and you knew it. I certainly didn't want you to frighten anyone. What was the point of this card, then?"

Madame Oberlin spoke up. "That was my idea, I sent them to all my friends. I hoped it might boost his business. It got your attention, didn't it?"

Lunt tugged at his tie. "That it did."

Althea blinked. "You mean no one was ever in any danger? I was frantic for nothing?"

The Etcher shook his head. "Not for nothing. I now know your gift is not limited to cards. I pride myself on knowing the entire community, and their abilities. We'll meet again."

Something about the way he said it chilled Althea.

He turned to Lunt. "Debts must be paid. I'll make your new lobby centerpiece. Something out of Greek mythology, so it has a classical 'rich' feeling. Perhaps the banishment of Phineas, the seer."

He smiled at Althea.

Lunt shrugged. "The board should like that. Since you won't give out your address, you'll call to set up a time?"

On the way home, the way The Etcher smiled at her stuck in Althea's mind. She couldn't help thinking that her life had just become more complicated.

Find more by N.J. Kailhofer in the Author Index.

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