Natalie's Legacy [sequel to Natalie's Diary]

[13] Knight of Pentacles

KNIGHT OF PENTACLES

Rhys

Salem was a sea of red, from its brick herringbone crosswalks to Colonial revivalism to maple trees spilling leaves to the ground. It had the type of prestige Cullfield never could've managed. There was the advantage of the coastline and proximity to the city. Salem was meant to be seen and Cullfield had always been a town that wanted to turn itself into a time capsule, buried in the ground and until somebody came along to open it up.

The street, closed in by sturdy brick storefronts, lacked the one thing I counter-intuitively wanted to see. The crowds were devoid of a man in sunglasses lurking too close. It should have been comforting not to find him there when I looked over my shoulder, but I would have preferred to know where he was. Like I knew where Lucas was.

It was useful to track my threats. Cementing Lucas' location was the only reason to let Jane and Bia hunt for him. The only thing buying me any time was knowing he wouldn't be waiting where anybody expected him to be.

Jane's warning kept ringing in my head as I followed the painted red line worn down by a hundred visitors following a treasure hunt of macabre history. It was too possible to blow my head start blindly following vague clues. I could let them lead me down an easy path I didn't have to think about. If all it took was being at the right place at the right time, I wouldn't need to make up my mind about anything. I wouldn't need to choose.

The Hawthorne Hotel was close to the mall, though. Close enough to warrant investigation. It was even visible down the straight shot of Essex Street. Easily within reach, beyond the throngs of Hallowe'en enthusiasts.

Salem's legacy felt less like history and more like a lantern set out to attract the weird and the gothic into the open. 

They came out. In droves. I slipped through the street packed by people who wanted to have their fortunes read and to take rocks home in small paper bags. They paid for the luxury of a glimpse into the future, thrived on the open interpretations.

I could shout that I could see the future and nobody would care. Nobody would think twice about a declaration like that. I could buy up tea leaves and pendulums to see if that helped me clarify my dreams or summoned Natalie to answer my questions.

It wasn't Cullfield. It wasn't one neon sign glowing 'psychic' in a window. It was streets dedicated to magic. Wands for sale and altar dishes, Tarot cards in every color. Candles in pillars and tapers. Stores that sold sage by the bundle and smelled like three dozen kinds of incense.

Natalie could have lived in Salem, celebrated instead of ashamed.

She could have lived and kept her uncanny abilities for herself and we both could have avoided our follies of fate.

It would be too obvious to be hanged in Salem, too cliche but my fingers found the memory of rope burn easily. 

In another timeline, maybe Cam had the guts to see it through. Maybe that was a version of the future Natalie could've predicted. A convincing suicide pact of Cullfield High School's best and brightest. A good newspaper headline to excuse our town for their role in our lost futures. 

All I could ask of the Hawthorne Hotel was to tell me how to cut down the figurative rope for Jane and for Bia.

Essex felt too much like a tunnel, blocky rust red buildings on either side. Hawthorne Street intersected and I felt like I could breathe again.

The hotel's Federal-style footprint took up the better part of a block, but it backed onto a park. The curved arches of the Palladian windows tried to make up for how chunky the actual structure was.