Curse of the Laburnum

By Lindsi McIntyre

The cloaked figure stole into Deidra’s shop, flinching as the bell above her door signaled his arrival. Deidra looked up from the ancient, yellowed pages of her collection on Kumerian legends.

The cloak and hood were not unusual this time of year, considering the cold bite that followed him inside. Yet Deidra got the feeling it wasn’t the winter wind the man was avoiding.

He stepped deeper inside her shop, eyes scanning the room. Seemingly satisfied that she was alone, he pushed back his hood, revealing a weak jawline and dull green eyes. Eyes that held a calculating light behind their unassuming color.

This time, when he scanned the room, he paused over each of her shelves, likely assessing the value of her items. She knew that look.

“Can I help you?”

He started. “My apologies.” His calculating eyes swung her way. “I thought a shop such as yours… well… Where are all of your magical items?”

“I don’t keep any.” Not out here anyway.

“But then, how do you break curses?” His tone held the sharp edge of desperation.

Deidra sighed and set her book to the side. “I prefer to find alternative methods. Magic rarely fixes anything.”

“I see.” He did not sound convinced.

“You’re welcome to try your luck at another shop,” she said.

He went silent, and she raised her brow, a look that often worked wonders on the motivation of others.

His gaze swept from the door to her then back again, as if weighing his options. She could almost hear his internal conversation. How can you cure curses without magic? But how can she be so highly recommended if she can’t?

Deidra fought the desire to roll her eyes.

Finally, his shoulders straightened. “This matter requires the utmost secrecy.”

“I wouldn’t have lasted long in this business if I gossiped about my clients.”

He pushed back his cloak, revealing a bright yellow silk shirt embroidered with golden thread. His pants weren’t any better: mustard yellow clashing with green trim on the sides.

Deidra nearly laughed. It was not the kind of outfit one wore to blend in.

“This is, quite literally, a matter of life and death.” He held out his hand.

Deidra let out a soft whistle. The candlelight danced atop a beautiful gold coin in the middle of his open palm. Although she couldn’t tell what the bottom half looked like, because it had sunken into his flesh like a tick. Angry veins, so red they were almost black, spread out from the yellow edges of the coin. It was part of him now.

“The Laburnum.”

He quickly drew his hand away. “So. You’ve heard of it.”

“Of course I have. It’s my job.”

He relaxed a bit. “Of course. It’s just that…” He looked at the door again. Probably imagining a mob of people eager to hunt him down.

Deidra rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t you know what was going to happen once you made your wish?”

“No.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know he was lying. Anyone who knew about the Laburnum’s wish knew about its curse.

Deidra stood and turned to the bookshelf behind her desk and pulled out a well-worn, brown leather volume. She turned to the correct page, holding each one gently. The account of the Laburnum was brief. “Traditionally, the hand of the cursed individual would be cut off.”

The man flinched, hand clenching around the coin. “That’s unacceptable.”

“Agreed.” Using violence to solve problems was just as bad as using magic. “Technically, the hand wasn’t cut off as a last resort. The people cut the hand off to steal the coin.”

He rubbed his wrist. “That sounds about right.”

Deidra’s eyes wandered to his hand as she considered her options. His grip around the coin tightened more and more, as if she could snatch it away without him knowing.

Suddenly, the truth behind his curse became clear.

Deidra held her hand out over her desk. “Give it to me.”

He pulled away sharply. “I—I can’t. It’s stuck.”

“Just try. Give it to me.”

He snorted. “Why should I?”

“You want it gone, don’t you?”

He clutched his fist tightly to his chest. “If I could put it down don’t you think I would have?”

She shrugged. “Humor me.”

His hesitation spoke volumes. He didn’t want to hand it to her, whether he could or not.

Deidra raised her brow. “Look. If you don’t do something, you’ll be hunted down and have your hand cut off. Is that really better than just handing it over?”

Chin tight, he slowly stretched out his arm. She waited for what felt like an eternity before he finally unclenched his fist.

The coin dropped into her hand with a whispered thud.

He stared at it in disbelief. “How did you know that would work?”

“Generosity has always cured greed.”

He laughed and snatched the Laburnum back. Moments later a large bag of gold coins rested on her desk. He handed the Laburnum back to her. Then grabbed it back again.

“Do you know what this means?” He practically crowed.

The Laburnum’s curse was broken. Now he was free to make as many wishes as he wanted.

“It means our business is done,” she replied, brow raised.

He got the hint. Moments later she was alone once more. Pushing the sparkling bag of gold out of her way, Deidra went back to her book.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lindsi McIntyre is a linguaphile from Texas who hopes to use her words, both written and spoken, to bring glory to the Lord Most High. When not writing, she can be found lost within the pages of a good book, or watching the latest episode of her favorite tv shows, and drinking way too much tea while doing both.

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