* * *
The next morning, I awoke to find myself in the old, dusty study. I stretched out my tense neck. God, did I ache! The floor was a hard wood and the thin rug on top did nothing to pad the floor. I looked around and saw Amber sleeping peacefully on the floor beside me. Her face looked so peaceful I decided not to wake her. I occupied my time by looking over all the books lining the walls. Many of the books were old and probably out of print, relics from the past.
I was standing in front of a bookshelf of some first editions when I heard Amber stir behind me. I turned around and watched as she slowly got up. "Good morning," she greeted softly.
"Morning," I replied, quietly.
She stood up and stretched. She grabbed a brush from her bag and ran it through her long auburn hair while I turned back to the bookshelves. I tried to ignore my growling stomach while I waited for Amber to clue me in on the plan. To my surprise, Amber's stomach returned my growl.
Amber giggled and I turned to see a bemused smile lighten her face. "Let's get something to eat, James," she said. She grabbed her bag and headed over to the bookshelf I was standing next to. She pulled two dusty books off the shelf and was about to place them in her bag when I noticed how heavy they looked.
“I can carry those if you’d like. I have some spare room in mine. Besides, you’re bag looks heavy enough.”
“Great, Thanks,” she replied, handing the dusty books to me.
“What’s the game plan anyway?” I asked as she walked over to another bookshelf to collect yet another book. She pulled a bunch of cash from between the pages and stuffed the bills in her bag before replacing the book.
“I never did finish explaining things, did I?” She replied. She took a deep breath before continuing her story. “Last night I mentioned that my father made preparation to destroy the key,” she said patting her bag where the book was hidden. “The spell to destroy the key requires a few things. Some salt, candles, chalk, but it also requires a very specific antique item.”
“Like what?” I asked, leaning against the bookshelf. She pulled the book out of her bag and riffled through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. She turned it towards me. It was a crystal doorknob of some sort that was mounted on a brass fixture to a wood paneled door.
“What is it?”
“It’s a doorknob,” she replied. “A ruby handle doorknob. According to the book, it was the doorknob and lock that the key belongs to. The ruby is rumored to be a philosopher’s stone. It helped channel the spell in the key when it was created and still has some of the magic stored in it. The magic of the doorknob can be used to break the magic around the key.” She pulled the key out and showed it to me. That was the first time I noticed the key’s handle was shaped like the cut of the ruby on the doorknob. It was a typical gem shape with a pointed bottom and an ovular shape. “The doorknob is the last item I need before I can cast the spell and destroy the key. An old friend of my father’s owns an antique shop. My father commissioned him to find it and I recently heard that he has the doorknob.”
“Great, then let’s go get it.” My stomach rumbled, interrupting my drive to destroy the key. “After breakfast,” I added.
She chuckled and replied, “Good idea.” I followed her to the door – there was a lock on both sides – and she took a deep breath. After a moment, she inserted the key into the lock and the door opened. On the other side was a dingy alleyway between two brick buildings. Amber stepped through the door and I followed. The alleyway smelled like piss mixed with stale beer and rotting garbage.
“Ugh,” I complained. “Why did we have to go through this door?”
“It’s out of the way. The chances of someone seeing us walk through the door are very small. Come on,” she called, heading down the alleyway. “There is a delicious bakery around the corner.” I closed the door and chased after her.
There was a funky polka-dotted coffee shop right next to the alleyway. I followed Amber inside and I could instantly smell dark, rich coffee mixed with cinnamon from the daily special. It was intoxicating especially for two people with empty stomachs.
The quaint shop was a bit crowded, but we waited in line anyway. We both ordered a cinnamon bun and coffees. She reached into her bag for her wallet, but I beat her to it. I paid in cash, too paranoid to use my card, and she thanked me. The delicious buns were well worth it. We walked out, eating as we headed down the street. We devoured our breakfast before we reached the quiet neighborhood the store was located in.
The shop looked run down. It looked ignored. The dark green paint was faded and scratched. The front was coated in dirt and grime. The gold lettering looked tarnished and the “s” on “Antique Store” was falling off. Amber approached the door and walked through it without pause.
I stepped into the store behind her. The bell above the door announced our presence. I was amazed by the number of books and small nick-knacks the shop contained. There was so much stuff that there were only small isle ways weaving throughout the store.
An older man, who must have been in his late sixties, came limping up to the front of the store. “Can I help-” he began, but stopped when he saw Amber waiting by the counter. “Amber!” He greeted in relief. “Thank goodness you’re okay.” He rushed towards her and gave her a tight hug. “I’m sorry about your mother and father, dear. My condolences.”
“Thanks, Mr. Murphy,” she replied. Mr. Murphy looked over at me, finally realizing I was there.
He looked me over momentarily, “Who are you?”
“Mr. Murphy, this is James. He’s a childhood friend. I accidentally ran into him when I was being chased and one of the Dark Men attacked him,” she explained. “They are after him now too and he graciously offered to help me destroy the key.”
“Did he now?” Mr. Murphy replied, looking me over again. “You must be one crazy boy to get mixed up in all this.”
“I guess I am,” I replied humbly.
Mr. Murphy smiled at me approvingly for a moment and then quickly gestured for us to follow him. The shop was long and there were so many antiques that we had to weave through tight aisles and doorways to get to the office. I had no idea how Mr. Murphy did this daily with his limp, but he seemed to manage just fine.
His office was just as messy as the rest of the store. There were stacks of yellowed papers stacked about two feet tall on his desk. There were many filing cabinets with drawers overflowing with other papers and an old Commodore64 sat covered in dust in the corner of the office. He began riffling though his desk as he said, “I’m glad you got my message, Amber. I was worried you wouldn’t get word that I found the doorknob.”
“Yeah, I called around other stores and Marcus O’Brian, of Antiques Galore, told me your message.”
“Ah, Marcus, good chap. I’ll have to send him an extra special thank you gift. Ah, here it is!” He pulled a brown square box from under a pile of papers. He blew the dust off and opened it. Inside was the ruby doorknob and lock.
The lock looked like it had been simply cut out of the door. It was still attached to a part of the door, in fact. Amber picked it up gingerly. She looked it over and ran her fingers over the sides of the doorknob and the intricate brass lock. I inched closer to see. There was a rectangle of strange markings all around the edge of the doorknob, mimicking the shape on the key.
“This is it!” She said excitedly. She hugged Marcus in thanks and carefully wrapped the doorknob in a rag before putting it in her bag.
“James, can you please give the two books to Marcus?” She asked me.
“Uh, right.” I reached in my bag and pulled out the two books from her father’s study. I handed them to Mr. Murphy.
“You didn’t have to pay me,” Mr. Murphy replied, reluctantly accepting the books.
“My dad wanted you to have them anyway,” Amber replied. “And If I don’t succeed, you
may never get them.”
We stood in silence for a moment. I got the feeling that Amber didn’t really want to leave, but we didn’t want Mr. Murphy to become a target too.
“Ah! There is one more thing I’ve found that might be of interest,” he said, pulling an old book from under the same pile. He handed it to Amber. Over her shoulder I read the title, A Sorcerer’s Study.
“What’s this?” She asked.
“I’m not thoroughly convinced there are no more sorcerers out there,” Mr. Murphy explained. “I just don’t think there are any trained sorcerer’s out there. Just read through it and tell me what you think of it later.”
“Okay, thanks,” she replied. I could tell she wasn't thoroughly sure what to make of the book, but she put it in her bag anyway.
We were getting ready to leave when there came a loud crash from the store. All three of us turned a wide-eye towards the office door. Mr. Murphy stepped out of the office to investigate. Amber and I peered around him trying to see what made the noise.
The shop was dark and quiet. It was too quiet. The three of us took a timid step forward, out of the office. Mr. Murphy stopped us and whispered, “Get out of here and destroy that thing.”
“But we can’t just leave you here,” Amber retorted. “We can all leave right now.”
Another loud clatter stole all of our attention away for just a split second. Looking around,