Wingheart: Luminous Rock

Chapter 3: A Turn for the Worse

Chapter 3 - A Turn for the Worse

Magnus kneeled to collect the morning paper at the foot of the doorstep. Dawn's glow smarted his eye as he rose. The storefronts lining the opposite side of the street were still daubed in shadow, the sun's rays only beginning to seep over the eastern rooftops.

Magnus turned to grip the chill-bitten handle of the apartment door tucked behind the end of the bookshop window. Striding through, he made his way up the steep flight of stairs to the second floor.

He entered the apartment. The living room was fairly large for a residence so discreetly nestled above a bookshop. Blanketed by the dull shine of a floor lamp, an oval glass table stood before a beaten couch and a pair of matching seats. Though the premises were well kept, they were piled with dated newspapers and book-filled cardboard boxes that had found their way upstairs from the bookshop's packed storeroom.

Magnus' gaze immediately took hold of the scintillant book on the table—his father's book, MorningStar, which stood out like a jewel in an otherwise drab tableau. His heart flinched as he picked up the book. It had been a little under a week since he'd first discovered it; the previous night, he'd finally turned its last page. His brother had promised him an answer to every one of his questions once he'd read the book entirely, and Magnus wouldn't waste a day to hear them.

He turned and headed left, through the doorway of the kitchen. Drake was there, rummaging out a pair of plates from the overhead cabinet. He whipped around and hastily laid the dishes on the dining table, outstretching a hand to his younger brother to accept the morning paper. "Thank you, Magnus."

But as Magnus approached, he dropped the newspaper onto the table and passed MorningStar into Drake's open hand instead. "I've finished it," he declared. "Just last night. Now we can talk."

Drake gaped, as if caught off guard. He hardened his grip on the book and stammered when he tried to muster a response. Then he laid the book aside and quickly diverted his attention back to the kitchen counter. "Later. Later this afternoon when the shop is closed. We can't spend time now discussing something so...complex."

"The shop doesn't open for a couple hours," Magnus protested. "Can't you at least tell me now why those books were hidden down there in the first place?"

"Please, Magnus, these aren't questions I can answer in five minutes!" Drake hastened to distribute cutlery over the table, dodging eye contact with his brother.

"You don't have to," Magnus countered. "We can talk over breakfast. I don't expect you to answer all my questions now; I just want to know why you'd hide our own father's past from me! I've waited a week to ask you!"

Drake picked up his head and feebly attempted to reply, but he was cut short by a clamant rapping on the apartment door. The brothers stiffened and spun toward the noise. Seconds later, the knocking repeated. Drake glanced at his wristwatch as he hurried out of the kitchen. "Who in their right mind...?"

Magnus trailed his brother through the living room and down the entrance staircase. Drake strained to peer through the door viewer, then pulled away with wide eyes. He turned the lock and swept open the door. "Cecil!"

A wiry, middle-aged man stood in the entranceway. His face was framed with dark-gray hair that straggled down the length of his neck and brushed the collar of his olive-green trench coat. His sapphirine eyes were bright, but his smile was thin and faltering as he greeted the older Wingheart. "Good morning, Drake." He tipped his head, hands buried inside his pockets. "I—I'm sorry for disturbing you so dreadfully early."

"Oh, no disturbance at all! Come right in!" Drake showed Cecil Handel inside the tight vestibule. "But what on earth brings you here at this hour? Is everything alright?"