JC Coldwell's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

Hal left after breakfast. He kissed JC's cheek and said the errand was nothing. JC watched him go and felt the door in Hal stay shut. He should have let it be. Instead he stepped back inside the potion shop to breathe, where the walls were warm and the crowd was thin. The thoughts of the last few customers pressed at him. One near the door was sharp and loud. A woman worried about a sick dog. A man counted coins. Then a new thought cut through, cold and fast. Hal's errand. He's walking into that card room. They'll clean him out again. JC turned. He could not tell who had thought it. A stranger stood by the shelves, back turned, saying nothing. Was it real? Or was it JC's own fear, dressed up as someone else's voice? He could not know. He never could. That was the whole curse. He heard everything and trusted none of it. He pressed his hand to a wooden shelf. He had two choices. Ignore the thought and keep his promise to stay calm. Or chase it and maybe insult Hal by not trusting him. A small voice spoke at his elbow. "You're doing the scared thing." JC looked down. A girl stood there, nine years old, with wavy brown hair and sage ribbons. One eye was blue, one was yellow, like his. She held a broom she wasn't using. This was his daughter, KP. She helped her fathers run this shop, and she felt what people felt the way he heard what they thought. "You're loud today," KP said. She rubbed her chest, like his fear sat there. "It's not this room. It's you." JC crouched to her level. "There was a thought. About Hal. I can't tell if someone here thought it or if I made it up." KP tilted her head. She looked at the stranger by the shelves. Then she shook her head. "He's thinking about tea. That's all." She met JC's eyes. "The scared thought came from you, dad. I felt it start in you." JC went still. The cold voice had been his own. His mind had borrowed a stranger's shape to hide it, the way he hid everything. "So Hal's fine?" JC asked. "I don't know if Hal's fine," KP said. "I only know that one was yours." JC stood. The fear was still there. But now he knew its name. He had almost chased Hal down over a lie he told himself. That would have proved Hal right to keep secrets from him. He would not do that. He would trust Hal, and ask him plainly tonight, out loud. No mind-reading. No chasing. JC squeezed KP's shoulder. "Thank you." Then the door swung open. A man rushed in, breathless. "Is anyone here a friend of the blond elf? He's in trouble at the card house."