Edgewise

14

"Don't move, dear, the bète noir won't allow you to escape unscathed."

Mr. Henderson didn't have to tell her. Her shock at seeing him was all the distraction she needed. She bit down on another yelp as her foot unerringly found a shard of glass to impale itself on. The old man sighed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Broken glass? Honestly, you know better," he scolded at the rafters. He offered Calponia a warm smile, the same familiar smile that made her feel like Mr. Henderson was a long lost grandfather rather than her odd neighbor. "Do sit down, before you lose a toe. A mangled foot would be terrible in your line of work."

A tremulous smile twitched on her lips. "For the last time, Mr. Henderson, I am not a lady of the night."

He beamed at her as he hobbled over, dragging a dust pan and broom with him. As if he expected to find her surrounded in a mess. Then again, he usually did. "No, not a lady of the night, but you are a tavern wench. Moving up in the world, for sure."

She shook her head. "How did you get here?" She clapped her hands over her mouth, remembering the door she'd drawn in the hall with sharpie. "Oh, no, please tell me you didn't accidently stumble in here."

"I stumbled in here rather deliberately, I'm afraid. Do sit down, you are bleeding all over the floor."

Calponia obediently sat on the bed, her foot now throbbing since Mr. Henderson drew her attention to it. "Was fine until you said something," she grumbled.

He ignored her, sweeping the shards up from the floor and dumping them in the waste bin before he hobbled back over to pull a chair up across from her. "Alright, let's see this grievous wound here."

Calponia made a face tilting her foot for him to peer at. He seized it in his gnarled hands, reminding her very much how desperately she needed a shower after her experiences on Sanguinheim. After a moment of thorough examination he clucked his tongue.

"'Fraid we shall have to amputate," he said in a grave voice

"What!" Calponia tried to yank her foot away but the old man chuckled.

"Kidding! It's a little shard. Hold still dear."

She twitched and hissed as he pulled it free, producing a band-aid from one of his numerous pockets that he slapped on the cut. "One of them fancy medicated band-aids they make now. Will the wonders of technology never cease," said Mr. Henderson, easing her foot down. "Keep on eye on it, though, since its you."

She blinked at him, the other shoe finally dropping in her poor overwhelmed mind. "You know about the bète noir." She folded her legs, tracing the band-aid on the side of her foot. She gave a longing glance at the door, but Calponia had a feeling Mr. Henderson came up to see her for a reason.

"Right you are my dear," he said.

She gave him a horrified look. "Are you a mind reader?"

He laughed at her then, so hard he ended in a coughing fit. "No, no, nothing so special as that. You speak very clearly with your expression Calponia. You've always had an open face. Very easy to read." He reached over to clasp her knee, staring into her eyes with his yellowed washed out gray ones. "So very like your mother in that fashion."

Calponia felt her world shrink significantly. She kept tracing the band-aid on her foot, unwilling to meet her neighbor's eyes again. "Just how long have you known about me Mr. Henderson?"

He pulled back, sucking on his teeth as he leaned on his cane. "I have watched over you since you were born. Watched over your family before that. And I know a great deal about your curse. Such as the bète noir is inherited through bloodlines."

The information left her cold. Calponia drew her knees up, hugging herself as details of her life before to click into place. "My parents knew I would have it?"

Mr. Henderson's expression remained neutral. "In a way. Your mother was aware it was in the family because her brother possessed it when you were conceived."

"I never had an uncle," said Calponia.

"No, they wouldn't have told you about him," said Mr. Henderson. "He died shortly before you were born, thus ensuring the curse passed on to the next generation. His death was due to his own stupidity, something your mother never quite forgave him for."

Calponia swallowed. "How come I never heard of you before you were my next door neighbor?"

He suddenly looked very old. "I admit your parents death was a surprise. I never expected the bète noir to lash out at them so fatally. When they passed, your life began to spiral. It was a miracle convincing the landlord to let you into the apartments, despite how abysmal the place was."

This revelation further took the wind out of her sails. "I don't suppose you could convince him to let me back into that abysmal little place either?"

Mr. Henderson gave her a considering look, clearly wanting to tell her something but uncertain of how to do so. "I gather you've only began to communicate with your boss on equal footing."

Calponia smoothed a finger over her bandage, ignoring the dull throb of pain for her puncture wound. She'd had far worse. "You could say that," she glanced at her neighbor and long time voyeur. "I have the feeling you know more about him than I do."

Mr. Henderson gave her a complacent nod, shuffling his cane between his knobby knees. "We go back further than I care to admit. What has he told you?"

"Difficult to answer that one, since I am still wrapping my head around it myself," Calponia admitted. "He told me I was his first apprentice."

The old man went wide eyed at that, glancing at rafters. "He made you his apprentice?" The cane twirled between his fingers. "Now it makes sense why that fool dragged you to Sanguinheim."

Calponia swallowed. "He also said he was 'mostly human'."

Mr. Henderson's expression turned shrewd. "Does that bother you?"

"Not as much as I think it should," she said.

He chuckled at that answer. "There is still a great deal the two of you must discuss, though you are going to have to learn as you go, my dear." He leaned forward, catching her eye. "Things are happening already. More incursions are coming out of the woodwork. It will all spiral out of control much faster than any of us can anticipate."

Goosebumps rose along her arms at his words, feeling a weight drag on her soul. Homeless, and now her boss was in the middle of a disaster. She'd nearly died her first week on the job and Calponia was fairly certain it wouldn't be her last brush with mortality.

"There is, however, one aspect of your life you should stop fretting about," said Mr. Henderson, reaching out to clasp her hand. His skin was dry parchment against hers, and smelled faintly of baby powder and tea leaves. "You aren't here by accident either, Calponia Anders."

She blinked at him. His pronouncement eased the tight stress choking her ribs. "What do you mean?"

He looked up around the room, eyeing the sunflowers and the window that looked out to a panorama of natural beauty. "The Edgewise opens its doors to those with the greatest need. It is one of the true sanctuaries in existence. But it also has a will of its own. You could say, it collects certain individuals. It sought you out, my dear. It shaped itself to your desires. No matter what Mack says, the tavern has taken you in."

Calponia processed his words. The Edgewise was so much more than a tavern, she knew that now. But to actually call such a wondrous place her home?

Mr. Henderson rose to his feet with a groan and creak. "Think it over, Calponia. For now, I believe that lovely little transvestite and her friend are ready to receive more company."

Calponia rose to follow, pausing beside the low dresser against the wall, topped with more vases of sunflowers. She pried open a drawer to find it full of clothes, many in her favorite colors of cream and turquoise. After a moment she lifted one up, unsurprised to find it in her size.

Her eyes stung as she looked around the room of sunflowers. Home. Could she find a way to stay?

Calponia carefully set the shirt back in the drawer and headed downstairs to join the others. If what Mr. Henderson said was true, there were a few fatal obstacles to deal with first.