Strange Tidings
When the bounty hunter arrived at the cliffside cottage, the tracking spell on the coral bladed knife in his breast pocket gave a shuddering sigh and petered out. It had found its owner.
The scent of baking bread mingled with the brackish air off the ocean as he approached the dwelling. The cottage could only be described as a hovel, but it was a neatly kept hovel. A tidy stone wall surrounded a well-tended garden, and summer flowers faded in the window boxes thanks to the autumn chill.
Before he could knock on the weathered door, a flash of red caught his eye. A winding path led down to the beach where a young woman with hair the color of sunlight through amber meandered through the shallows.
His heart stumbled. Is this the monster?
Before he could seek the answer, the door opened.
A woman of middling years with grey-touched hair tucked under a black lace cap stood in the doorway. She didn't look surprised to find a stranger on her doorstep.
Her eyes flicked to the hunting rifle slung across his back, and the blade sheathed on his belt.
She turned and moved deeper into the cottage. "Come in, traveler," she called back to him.
He followed her into the home. She doesn't suspect a thing.
The woman busied herself with a pot of tea and while she poured two cups, he took the coral dagger from his pocket and placed it on the table.
~
BOSTON MORNING POST
SEPTEMBER, 1889
HELP WANTED - 193 LIVERPOOL ST, sensible shop assistant need for Mr. Grange's shop of curiosities. A good cleaner preferred. The witless need not apply. Respectable wages will be offered to qualified candidates. Please call at 9:30 a.m.
~
From the moment she first set foot on the cobblestones of Liverpool Street, Cora decided she liked the shop of curiosities. It's jovial blue facade and faded gold lettering was a brilliant break in the endless, pallid grey of Boston harbor. She liked the shopkeeper, Mr. Grange, just as well, but he wasn't quite so jovial as his storefront.
"I don't like tomfoolery, do-nothings, or idle gossips." Mr. Grange led Cora through an aisle of the shop crowded with clocks, both functional and not. "Keep the shop tidy and help customers when they come in and you'll do fine."
The store was full of many things Cora expected to find in a curiosity shop: mismatched sets of silverware, empty watch fobs, souvenir bells, and trinkets of every sort. But there were many more unusual things that sailors sold or traded when they got into port. Mr. Grange paused in front of a heavy velvet curtain. "Has anyone ever told you about the memory of objects."
She shook her head.
"The objects in this room have memories stored in them. Some are good memories. Others hold darkness inside. It is probably best if you do not touch any object in this room."
Cora eyed the red curtain warily. "Why keep things like that?"
"Profit. People will pay a hefty price for objects with certain memories."
"Why? What do they use the memories for?"
Mr. Grange shook his head. "It's best not to ask. They never should have been brought here in the first place."
~
Dearest Grace,
I cannot go an hour without thinking of you and our sisters back home. Boston is so very diverting, but Mr. Grange keeps me so busy I've scarcely had the chance to enjoy it. He's a stern, particular man but I think he has taken a liking to me. He says if I keep on like this, he may even teach me how to sure up the ledgers. I think in a years time I'll be running the shop myself. I'll tell you this: the day he hands the keys over to me, I'm taking everything from the back room and dumping it into the river Charles. I can hardly stand to go into there to dust, let alone take customers back there. Mr. Grange says it's the foul memories in some of the objects. I don't even want to know what kind of person would want a teapot that a housekeeper once used to poison an entire family. I get the shivers just thinking of such things.
On a happier note, Grace, I feel I must tell you about the brightest spot of my day, for I can't talk to Mr. Grange about such things. There is a young gentleman who walks past the shop every morning at 10 and every afternoon at 3 when he comes and goes to work, I assume. He cuts a fine figure in his black suits and has the loveliest waves of dark hair you've ever seen. If we'd had such gentlemen in Salem, you would have been able to drag me to many more public balls.
Sincerely yours,
Cora
~
Cora's head snapped up at the tinkling of the bell over the door. With the setting sun slanting through the store windows, it took a moment for the figure to move deeper into the shop and into her view. Cora dropped the tarnished silver ring she was polishing at the sight of the gentleman. She nearly overturned the tray of greying silver jewelry at the sight of Cassius Murdock walking towards her.
Mr. Grange would have scolded her mercilessly if he'd seen her reaction. He had teased her so when she'd asked for the man's name weeks ago. The heavy silver ring made a terrible racket for such a small thing as it rolled down the aisle and came to a stop at Mr. Murdock's feet.
He bent and picked up the trinket. With a wry smile, he returned it to Cora. "My apologies," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you." He had a lovely voice, a softness to his words that sounded warm as they tumbled off his lips.
Cora's heart sputtered and stumbled as she tried not to blush at her clumsiness and Mr. Murdock's admiring gaze. She returned the ring to the tray and tucked away her blackened polishing cloth. "It's not your fault," she replied, her stomach unsteady. "We rarely get anyone in at this time. I was trying to get my chores out of the way before closing time."
He chuckled softly and turned to take in the crowded shelves of the shop. "I've never been in here before, but that snuff box in the window caught my eye."
"Oh!" Cora jumped up from her stool behind the counter a little too fast. "I can get it out for you if you'd like to have a closer look?"
This seemed to make Mr. Murdock laugh again. "I'd love to have a look at it."
Cora went to the front window and unlocked the display case where the best curiosities were placed to catch the eye of passers-by. She retrieved the box with beautiful inlays of jade and handed it to Mr. Murdock.
He turned it over and examined it from every angle — he even held it up to the light to see how it caught in the jade. "It's a lovely keepsake..."
Cora watched the tender way his fingers handled the box and admired their pale, unmarked softness. She held her hands behind her back so he wouldn't see where her polishing had stained her fingertips black. "I'm sensing some hesitation." She hazarded a smile up at him.
Mr. Murdock looked at her in a way that made Cora's pulse race. "Perhaps I should come back tomorrow and see if my opinion of it changes."
"I think that's a splendid idea." Cora took back the box and replaced it in the window case. "I can even put it on hold for you if you'd like."
"I would love that." He followed her back to her counter.
Cora took out a hold slip and pencil. "Your name for the hold?"
"Cassius Murdock," he replied, the smile never leaving his lips. "And what is your name should I return tomorrow afternoon and find you're not here?"
"Cora Lemmon."
Mr. Murdock headed towards the door and stopped to look back over his shoulder. "Until tomorrow, Cora Lemmon."
~
Dear Grace,
I write to you with developments on my new friend Cassius Murdock. I needled some more information out of Mr. Grange and he seems to believe Master Murdock is the heir to a large shipping company. His father is a highly respected man who had the sense to invest in the western railway at the get-go. Master Murdock seems to share in his father's good reputation. He's widely regarded as a shrewd businessman and there is already great confidence in him to take over Murdock Enterprises.
Cassius (as he has asked me to call him) stops in daily to look at a snuff-box, but he never purchases it. I am starting to suspect he doesn't smoke a pipe. I don't want to flatter myself that this is a ruse to stop in and see me, because I'm not sure why a man of his consequence would set his sights on a shop girl. If he has no designs to court me then I shall simply be grateful for his daily companionship, for he is an excellent conversationalist and a welcome distraction from the monotony of working in a shop.
I will write again soon.
With all my love,
Cora
~
Cora's heart raced at the sound of the shop's bell. Her stomach jumped to find Cassius at the door. His face lit up at the sight of her and he closed the space between them with quick strides. He nearly toppled an umbrella stand full of walking sticks as he attempted to navigate the store's crowded aisles.
"Cora," he said like a sigh.
Cora couldn't place her finger on it, but something felt different. There was something hiding behind his smile. "Do you want to see the snuff-box again?"
"No — no there's something else I want." He seized Cora's hand and led her deeper into the shop where they couldn't be observed through the front windows. "Cora," he said her name again, this time there was more feeling.
Cora went still.
Cassius brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Cora." He laughed and a smile spread so wide over his face that it crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. "There's something I've... I..." His voice trailed off and he looked back over his shoulder.
"What is it?" Cora finally asked when he didn't continue.
"What is that sound?" Cassius dropped her hand and turned to find the source of the noise.
Cora's brow furrowed. "What sound?" she strained to hear anything besides the pounding of her heart in her ears.
"That singing," he said as he took off deeper into the shop.
Cora followed after him, dumbfounded. "What singing? Cassius?"
He darted around a corner and Cora followed only to see him duck behind the velvet curtain into the room of memories. In the dim back room, she found Cassius with a music box covered in shells in his hands.
The lid was open, but Cora couldn't hear any music coming from it. "Cassius, that's broken. It doesn't play."
Cassius' eyes snapped to her and he looked at her like she was insane. "You don't hear that?"
"No!" Cora moved to snatch the box from his hands, but he jerked it out of her reach. "Cassius?" Cora's blood ran cold. What could he hear that she couldn't?
"How much for the music box?"
"You have to be careful. The things in this room contain memories. They're dangerous."
Cassius finally tore his gaze from the shimmering mother of pearl that wove through the box's design. Cora had never seen him look so cold. "How much?"
Cora straightened herself up to her full height. "It's not for sale."
Cassius reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a billfold. He pulled out two fifty dollar notes, tossed them at Cora's feet, and left the shop.
Cora couldn't even hear the bright chime of the shop's bell over the sound of her blood thrumming in her ears.
~
Dear Grace,
I don't have the words to express my anger and sadness at Cassius Murdock's departure. I'm told he has left Boston on one of his father's ships in search of the voice whose memory is contained in that infernal music box. A fool's errand, no doubt. Mr. Grange says Murdock is a fool, but he has no sympathy for my feelings since it was I who sold him the box. He doesn't seem to care that I didn't have a say in the matter or that my dear Cassius has disappeared — where to, no one knows.
I was almost certain he was going to propose that terrible day in the shop. Despite his coldness and my anger, I fear that deep down I still want him back. I want to see him stroll by the shop window; I expect to see him walk through the door every time the bell rings. It's never him, but I still have hope he'll come to his senses.
I love him, Grace. I can't lose him.
~
Dear Grace,
I'm afraid I've had news of the worst kind. Cassius has returned alive and well, and before you wonder how that could be bad news, I'm afraid to report that he discovered the source of the voice contained in the memory of that box. It belongs to a woman he calls his Loreley. I saw them walk past the shop once. She has the loveliest red hair I've ever seen — she is beautiful. The word around Boston is that the wedding date has been set for next month. Flowers have been ordered and the seamstress says the finest silk lace has been purchased for the bridal clothes.
My heart aches for him, but I am determined to carry on. My pride is hurt, but perhaps a return home would do well to bolster my spirits.
With all my love,
Cora
~
Three Months Later
Cora heard the sound of the door's bell. She'd long stopped expecting Cassius to walk into the shop, so when she lifted her eyes and found him standing before her, her heart nearly stopped.
"Cassius!" she exclaimed and descended from the rolling ladder. She'd started to suspect she wouldn't see him grace the shop with his presence ever again. "I mean Master Murdock," she said remembering that he was now married and they were no longer sweethearts.
"Cora," Cassius said and it came out like a sigh.
Something was off. He seemed tired and years older somehow. Cora placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, "Cassius, is something the matter?"
"I-I think I've made a huge mistake."
Her heart fluttered against her will. "What... what did you do?"
Cassius ran a hand through his hair. "My Loreley," he said, his eyes clouded. "She is... different?"
"Different?" Cora asked, her stomach in her throat.
"She's a monster," Cassius whispered.
Monster? Cora didn't want to know what Cassius meant by the word. Something had certainly come over him to leave him so changed. Had it really been her? Was Loreley, the voice from the soundless music box really capable of scaring a man out of his wits. Unsure of what to say, she reached out and touched Cassius on the cheek. The stubble was rough under the soft pads of her fingertips.
Her touch seemed to wake something in the man and his eyes widened with fear. He brushed Cora's hand away and took a step back. "I have to go. She will know — she will know I've seen you, and she'll be angry with me."
Though she willed it, Cora couldn't move to stop him from leaving.
~
Boston Morning Post
Saturday, March 1890
NOTICE TO THE PUBLIC - The Boston City Police Department has issued a warning to the public to be on the lookout for any suspicious individuals or to report sightings of large animals including, but not limited to, dogs, bears, panthers, or other dangerous predators. On Friday morning at approximately six a.m. a maid in the house of wealthy importer Cassius Murdock discovered mangled human remains in the bed of her employer Master Murdock. Identification of the remains has been difficult as the bones were removed of all flesh, but the maid was able to identify Master Murdock's wedding band which was uncovered in the carnage. Upon further examination, the coroner was able to conclude that the bones belonged to Master Murdock alone and determined that his cause of death was at the jaws of a large animal with sharp fangs. It is believed that an individual let a vicious beast into the Murdock home, but as of this morning, Loreley Murdock seems to have disappeared from the area and it is suspected that she was either abducted or fled during the assault. Any sightings of Mrs. Murdock should be treated as suspicious and should be reported to a constable. Citizens are reminded, as always, to keep doors bolted and windows fastened until the culprit can be caught or the beast destroyed.
~
Cora knew what she would find when she entered the villa off of Venice's Grand Canal. Always near water. Always followed by death. New York. Baltimore. Charleston. She almost had her in Savannah. It took a year before she resurfaced in New Orleans. It had been another long year since then, but Loreley was easy to find once Cora knew what to look for.
The house was darkened and Cora didn't encounter anyone on the great stone stairs. She slid the coral blade from its sheath and gripped it steadily in her palm. The door to the bedchamber was unlocked so she pushed the door open just wide enough to slip inside.
With the light of the moon slanting through the tall windows she could make out the figure slumbering in the bed. Cora tiptoed to the bedside and beheld the familiar figure lying there. Hair like glowing amber, and pale, white skin. Cora knew what was at stake when she lifted the blade high. Though Loreley looked almost human as she slept, she would continue her path of death and destruction if left unchecked.
Cora thought of Cassius and the tears she shed for him after his death and that was enough. She plunged the coral blade right into the monster's chest. The siren woke with a start. Her round pupils narrowed into slits and she opened her perfect red lips and made an unholy keening, unlike anything Cora had ever heard. Cora held the knife steady as the monster clawed at her face with webbed fingers.
With heart thudding in her ears, Cora was surprised to find how short the ordeal lasted. Loreley's grip slipped from her wrist and she gave her final sigh.
It was over. More than two years of pursuit had ended in this. Cora had thought long and hard about this moment — read everything she could find about destroying a siren, but something felt wrong. She tried to pull the blade free of the siren's chest but found it would not budge. Worried that someone would have heard the monster's keening, she fled the room.
She started down the stairs but the shuffle of feet made her stop. A glance back at the gallery above the grand staircase revealed a small figure looking down at her. A child. Cora's stomach lurched. She recognized the fiery hair, but it was the eyes that made her fall to her knees. They were Cassius's eyes.
~
The bell over the door to Mr. Grange's shop of curiosities jingled with an intimate familiarity. Cora's head swam as the musty, leathery scent brought her back to a forgotten lifetime. The toddler at her side gripped her hand with little, webbed fingers as they moved slowly into the recesses of the shop.
Mr. Grange appeared from behind a bookcase and stopped dead at the sight of them.
"Hello," Cora said. Her eyes burned at the sight of her old friend.
Mr. Grange looked her over before his eyes fell on the child. Anyone in Boston would remember and know who this little girl belonged to.
"I've done something," Cora said.
Mr. Grange looked back at Cora, and she couldn't find any kindness there. "What have you done?"
A knot formed in Cora's throat. "Loreley was a monster. She needed to be stopped. I needed to stop her...but I didn't know. I never knew she had a child — his child."
Mr. Grange was silent as he looked down at the little girl. She looked up at him with big, innocent brown eyes.
"She's just like her mother," Cora said. "Please, Mr. Grange. You have to help me. I can't — I can't —"
"Can't what?" Mr. Grange cut in. "Kill her? Keep her?"
When Cora didn't answer he shook his head. "Foolish child. You left everything behind with no warning. And for what? To rid the world of a monster? Or to take your revenge?"
"She was a monster," Cora insisted, her voice rising.
"Then what is she." Mr. Grange pointed to the little girl. "Is she but a creature who lives by her instincts? Who feeds when she needs to? Was her mother? Or is the monster the girl who decides to take life to avenge the death of a foolish sailor who fell for a siren's song?"
Cora didn't have an answer.
"I don't have to help you," Mr. Grange said. "You have made your choices and now you must live with them."
~
The woman stood when she'd finished her story and the bounty hunter's eyes fell on the blade where he'd left it on the table.
"Why tell me all this?" he asked.
"I want to know," the woman said. "You came here looking for a monster. Is the monster the young girl who killed a siren out of revenge for obeying its instincts or is the monster just the beast who kills because it must survive?" She walked to the window and opened the shutters.
Evening light and a balmy breeze float into the seaside cottage.
"I don't know," the man said as he caught the sound of something through the open window.
The woman seemed disappointed at his answer.
He stood and felt the floorboards sway under his feet. "What? What is happening?" He looked down at the remains of his tea. "Poison?"
She shook her head. "No. She's started to sing."
The redhead down on the rocky beach. The man stumbled as he attempted to move for the door.
The woman helped him up and escorted him to the door. The singing grew louder as she led him into the open air. "You'll have to go to her now," the woman said. "You won't be able to resist her long. I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For-what?" His words slurred together.
"She's hungry."
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