Smoke and Key by Kelsey Sutton

Author:Kelsey Sutton [Sutton, Kelsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: teen, young adult, romance, ghosts, magic, zombies, paranormal, historical
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-03-01T03:13:51+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It begins.

The music draws them to the tavern. As a result of Ribbon’s lessons or the need to forget the murders—just for a few hours—their excitement is even more obvious than it was before. There’s no hesitation to start the dancing. I stand behind the bar where I can avoid being trampled and Ribbon comes to stand beside me. “Did anyone fetch Brooch?” I ask.

Across the way, a boy bows and asks a girl to dance. She covers her mouth with skinless fingers and giggles.

“She had no wish to come,” my friend answers. She doesn’t look away from the crowd. Yellowed teeth flash in the light and skirts fly from the fervor of their movements. I watch the terrible loveliness of it all, smiling when Ribbon is coerced into a haphazard waltz with the reverend.

Toward the front, the strange band plays. The harmonica crows over the stomping feet and clapping hands. A young man attempts to play the fiddle, but without much luck. It sounds much worse than it did in its predecessor’s hands, the bow shrieking and whining over the ancient strings.

Still, it is better than nothing.

Politely declining a request to dance, I devote myself to being an observer. Courtesy of Handkerchief, since Journal was not present upon my arrival yesterday, the walls are decorated with odd items from their tower. A painting, the pages of a book with words that faded long ago, tree roots. I try not to fidget as I wait for Smoke to reappear. Earlier, upon his arrival, Ribbon had sent him on an errand for more decorations. Now I’m so intent on spotting him, in fact, that I nearly miss the newcomer slipping inside. No one else seems to see him as he drifts through the crowd. They are so unaffected by his presence, in fact, that I begin to doubt my own instincts. But then something catches the light. Though he stands across the room, shrouded in shadow, the gleam of those buttons is unmistakable.

Tintype.

If I don’t speak to him now, I never will. Either his ability to disappear or the suspicion on his head will see to that. I make my way in his direction and ignore the irritated glares people give me. Somehow Tintype senses my approach, and our gazes meet for an instant before he turns in an attempt to run.

Moving quickly, I seize his sleeve. “I need to know more!” I demand without preamble, not bothering to lower my voice. Everyone is watching the dancing, and the music is far too loud. “You’re my father. From what I remember, you denied me that. There’s a debt between us. I need more information about the curse.”

“Not here,” he mutters, trying to pull away again. His eyes shift. “I just came to see what all the fuss was about.”

Something hard and desperate comes over me. “You’re hiding from Eye Patch and the rest of the men, aren’t you? Do you suppose if I scream and announce your presence, you’ll live

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