Celian reached up and cradled her face with his hand, smoothing her hair back and brushing the tears away. "It is all right, Madi," he soothed. "It is all right; you do miss her terribly, but you do not have to cry. Your memories of her are happy ones. You can remember those things, and keep them always." His voice rose in excitement, and he even smiled a little to cheer her up.
Madi could manage a small, brave smile, but it still hurt.
A gust of wind blew over them, and Celian’s Leonie instincts told him that a storm would soon arrive. He helped Madi to her feet.
“Come,” he said. “It is growing late, and we must get back to the house.”
Madi sniffed and nodded. Somehow, seeing the very top of one of the cottage’s gables gave her a small sense of comfort. Mummy would have been happy here, the thought crossed her mind with a swiftness that surprised her. Indeed, the heady wind buffeting the sea behind them, even as it swirled around them, seemed to be the laughing, loving swat of her mother, goading them on back to the warm comfort of the small house and the family who loved her. Madi gave a small sigh and leaned against Celian’s large hand.
He glanced down. “What is it?” he asked.
Madi smiled at him as they passed through the front gate. “Thank you,” she said.
He nodded with understanding. “You’re welcome, Madi,” he replied.
Chapter 7
The next day, a storm poured in earnest over the shores of Afton-by-the-Sea. The quaint, bustling town locked up tight and battened all their hatches as the sky seemed to rival the capacity of the harbor.
Mr. Fischer flinched at a clap of thunder, and wagged his head. He might as well close up for the afternoon, since there wouldn't be anyone coming in to buy a kite. He snapped the lid of the cash box shut.
In the next instant, the cash box tumbled to the floor with a clatter to rival the thunder outside.
"What in heaven—" Mr. Fischer squinted through his glasses, trying to see past the bits of glare the lights left. "Somebody's at the window!" He cried to himself. "In this storm?" He trudged over to the door, pointing to the helpful sign propped on the sill. "We're closed!"
The knob turned, and—because he hadn't locked it yet—the person stepped inside.
She wore a plain cotton dress and a thin frock coat, and she was sodden through.
"Conflagration!" Mr. Fischer croaked. "What do you mean by coming at this hour, Miss Mollie?"
"Four days, it's been—or near enough," she muttered, her eyes wide and staring at everything and nothing. "Four days, and have they found anything?" Her head snapped around to glare straight at him. "Not a bloody hatpin!"
Mr. Fischer flinched as if he'd been shot. He cowered against the wall as she circled like a lioness circles her prey.
"How fortunate then," Mollie assured herself, "that I know a man who sells lucky dragon lanterns!"
Mr. Fischer gasped, but frowned indignantly. "Of course I do!" He grumbled, slipping out of the corner and back to the counter. "This is a kite shop; we have all sorts of things here!" Perhaps there was still a chance she didn't really know.
Mollie smiled coyly. "But not just any lanterns; the lucky dragon lanterns are especially lucky around this time of year." She pulled up a round Chinese lantern, red with a series of Chinese characters in glittery gold paint. What appeared as a harmless piece of decorative filigree was in fact a very specific message, understood by few and known to even fewer.
Mollie continued. "I couldn't help noticing this lantern hanging in your window yesterday."
Irritation replaced the fear, and Mr. Fischer crossed his arms. "What of it? I sometimes display my merchandise for certain periods of time."
Mollie didn't relent. "I was told I could come here for... help, if I needed it. All I would have to do is come by when I saw that red lantern. I also heard," she leaned in, dripping on the counter top, "that the red lantern only goes up when there’s gossip of trouble in Redcar, or even here in town." She smiled as his haughtiness melted. "I think you and I both know there's more than kites for sale under this roof."
Mr. Fischer could not hold her gaze for long. There was a man in a brown suit under a black umbrella outside. He'd been there far too long, staring at the windows of the closed shop too keenly. "What do you want?" He finally sighed. Mollie wasn't one to be treated lightly nor dismissed easily--and she seemed to be in rare form this evening.
Her head tilted on one side, and she ran her fingers over the shelf of shiny collectibles. "It's Them, isn't it?" she said, one eye fixed on the nervous shopkeeper. "They take and take... but they've gotta keep it safe somewheres, don't they?" She picked up an imitation tin crown and set it on her head. "Playin' Who's Got The Button with all the fancy trinkets--and as long as there's money innit, they'll never find it, will they?"
The brown suit still loitered casually outside the shop. Every so often, he would glance inside, but Fischer couldn't be sure whether he was watching Mollie or looking for him.
"Dammit, woman!" he grimaced. "Why are you here?"
She laughed, staggering a little and tossing the crown to the floor. "I know!" She said, inching toward the counter at the back of the shop. "Knock-knock--Open the door!" A savage gleam lit her eye, and she lunged forward, grabbing two of the souvenir snow globes off the shelf. "Pay what we's owed, is it?" She dropped the globe in her left hand with a smash.
Mr. Fischer cried out and lunged forward. "Stop it, you mad fool!" he
