Stellina

Golden Heart

As Luka rifled through the jewelry box, his fingers brushed over smooth pearl beads that reminded him of silky wrinkles in a velvet sheet. The darkness seemed to swallow all his courage, confining him to that small space in Madame Riviere's bedroom. His fingers trembled even more violently as he heard the dull thud of footsteps echoing from somewhere downstairs.

He searched for a single, delicate chain with a tarnished golden heart dangling from the bottom. Yet all Luka's fingers felt were large, chunky beads. Nothing his mother would ever dream of putting on. I always knew Madame Riviere was too eccentric, he thought, his hands rapidly moving to another drawer.

Minutes ticked on. His breathing became more ragged as the footsteps thundered louder, as if someone were kicking his skull.

And then, he felt it.

A thin, delicate chain, tangled up at the very bottom of the drawer. Quickly, he withdrew it, cradling the necklace in his hand. Sure enough, as he held it up to the dim light seeping in from the door, a little gold heart hung at the bottom.

The locket felt much too small in his hand, however. And yet, perhaps it might be the one that belonged to his mother. Luka suppressed a smile, scarcely taking a moment to study it before darting toward the door.

Then all of a sudden, he froze. If Madame Riviere discovered the locket draped in his hand... He shuddered. And sure enough, just as he reached the door, the aroma of tobacco mixed with jasmine perfume drifted into his nose.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Luka quickly shoved the necklace in his pocket, hands trembling. The outline of her shawl drifted into view, a flash of purple sending his heart racing. He forced a smile upon his lips as he met her narrowed eyes.

"Ah, I was just looking for you, Madame. I thought you would perhaps be in here, so I decided to peek my head in," he said, now merely a few inches away from her. "It seems I was mistaken, though."

Her glaring eyes pierced into his as she raised her eyebrows, now a looming statue that sent chills down his spine. She outstretched her hand, a snake unfurling before him. "Come to my study, Fuhrmann." And like that, the jasmine-and-tobacco aroma dissipated slightly as she disappeared into her office. Gulping, Luka willed himself to follow her, soon collapsing into a leather chair directly across from the woman he so feared.

A sputtering of coughs erupted from his mouth as Madame Riviere blew a puff of stale smoke in his face. He averted his gaze, ignoring her accusing amber eyes and how the sweat began to pool on his forehead. All Luka could think about was Lina downstairs, a broom in her hand as she swept away all the dust and sorrows of the house.

Madame Riviere sauntered in closer to him, interrupting his thoughts. She rested her hands on the desk, mere inches from Luka.

"Look here, Fuhrmann," snarled Madame Riviere, getting right to the point. "I don't like how close you're getting to that scraggly girl."

Luka met her stare, his hands trembling. "What do you mean, Madame?"

"I've seen you with her. Teaching her that absurd instrument, the way you laugh when you're around her, your witty conversations. You know what the plan is, Luka. I cannot let that little girl mess it up, no matter how much you like her. She is vital to finding Stella."

"So you'll just potentially harm one child in order to save another." Luka gulped, imagining Birdie's reaction to finding her beloved child cradled in the hands of a stranger who would whisk her away to the person Birdie despised most.

He could never forget what happened the last time someone had tried to find Stella. After Luka had agreed to start working with Madame Riviere, Curt had described it so vividly to him, having rushed to the scene after the bookstore owner heard about the murder of his beloved friend, Madame Leroy.