Scars, Spells and Secrets

Chapter 1

Elizabeth locked her room door and left the boarding house. A strong breeze blew her curly hair off of her shoulders, the scarf headband she wore keeping the strands out of her eyes. Her sandals scuffed against the pavement as she stopped to tug the hem of her tank top down from where it had bunched up uncomfortably over her long skirt. I've got to find my sunglasses, she thought as she squinted into the sun. Across the street, movement drew her attention. She had to shield her eyes with her hand to see the person hunched against the car parked in the gravel lot across the street.

He was wearing all black, despite the heat, and was against a dark van. From what she could see he was scribbling in a notebook. She couldn't tell anything about his age other than that he was a teen or older, with his face down to the pages that he wrote on. He finally looked up and froze. Elizabeth sighed softly; this wasn't the first time that an insurance person or private investigator was spying on the residents. Her landlady seemed to specialize in renting rooms to those who were on hard times, some of which due to injury. Every so often someone would come by on a stakeout and try to catch a tenant lying about their condition so that they could get benefits.

Oh well. I'll have to tell Mrs. Maurel when I get back, she thought, then waved to the man on the other side of the street. She burst out laughing when he practically dove behind the van as if he could somehow avoid having been seen. With a small shake of her head Liz set on her way.

The sidewalk was cracked and dirty, still containing streaks of half washed away dirt from the last rain storm. Elizabeth carried with her a simple wrist strap wallet, a gift from her father on her last birthday and an extravagance that she wouldn't normally give herself. Her old wallet had been beaten up beyond repair, held with colorfully printed tape more than the original material.

Elizabeth didn't splurge on herself often. Not on clothing, or shoes, or makeup. However, she did buy herself art supplies.

It wasn't that she didn't have plenty that were gifted to her, but most people didn't know exactly what she would need. She had plenty of the kits for beginners, of cheap acrylics and oils, of poorly bound paintbrushes with their bristles leaving more hairs than paint on her canvas.

No; if she would splurge on one thing it would be her watercolors and brushes. Canvases as well, but those she could at least get as gifts and have them be quite workable. There was a niche store that she liked going to, one in the middle of the small older section of town that still had facades from the turn of the century when it was built. There were murals put up, some faded and nearly illegible in their lettering. One that she was particularly fond of was an old Coca-Cola advertisement that had been painted based off of some of their original ads, with an Edwardian woman in a large hat. In the last few years it had been lovingly restored. Elizabeth smiled up at it as she passed, briefly imagining what the woman must have been like who sat for the portrait. Had she been married, perhaps to the painter? Had children? It was an incredible stretch, but could she still be alive today, or one of her children perhaps?

She was lost in thought for at least a block, coming back to herself in front of a shop that she didn't recognize. Elizabeth turned to stare at the doorway, head tilting slightly. It was a used book store, the windows filled with ancient looking tomes. She studied it for a moment, then found herself drawn to the entry. Her father collected old books: first editions and the like. Perhaps she could find some kind of treasure for him for his birthday. After all, it was coming up in about three months, and Christmas was just before that.

A faint chime sounded above her head as the young woman stepped inside, gasping softly at the lovely feel of the cool air in the store. It was strange-she'd been through this walk to the art store dozens of times in the last year alone and had never seen this storefront. It could be new, but the shop held that strange scent of old books that had been on the same shelves for years, if not decades. There wasn't any dust on the goods within, which all looked well cared for. The bindings weren't coming apart, and the leather didn't seem to be peeling on a single one of them. She walked slowly, brushing her fingers over a few of them. When the shopkeeper spoke, Elizabeth started badly, letting out an undignified squeak.

"May I help you find anything, young lady?"