Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

The next day, Nat boarded the old maroon van that served as the college town’s bus. It made six lurching stops before reaching the end of Grand Street. She stuffed her Plant Morphology notes into her backpack, jumped off the bus, and unhooked Viv’s bike from the bus’s bike rack. Viv had agreed to let her borrow the bike as an additional favor in return for her disposing of the dead turtle.

Nat rode down Grand Street parallel to the river until the street curved north toward a limestone cliff. Solid gray clouds spread across the sky. Her cheeks stung slightly in the chill wind as she cycled past car-repair shops and small warehouses. She adjusted the strap of her backpack and scanned the mishmash of buildings along the road. In the distance, she spotted an illuminated oval sign that said “Gate’s Costumes” jutting out from a stucco building. The sign blinked erratically, and a tall warehouse loomed behind the building’s facade. The backside of the warehouse appeared to be built into the cliff wall. In the shop’s large plate-glass window, a zombie playing chess with an angel peered out at her.

A harsh chime rang as she opened the door. The shop smelled of musty clothes.

“Hello?”

No one was behind the glass-case counter. Nat walked past two changing rooms separated by a full-length mirror and display shelves laden with accessories ranging from wigs to glowing red teeth. Row after row of long garment racks, heavy with costumes, filled a room to the right. Another door behind the counter was closed.

“Hello?” she called out again and turned. A mannequin wearing a bear costume, a chef’s hat, and a checked apron loomed in a corner of the shop. The mannequin next to it wore leather lace-up boots, leggings, a belt, a sword sheath, and a sand-colored tunic trimmed with a vine pattern.

“Do you need something?” the mannequin in the tunic said.

Nat jumped. “You startled me! I thought you were just a dummy dressed up.” She laughed but stopped when she saw the man’s expression. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache surrounded his frown, and his blond hair was slick with sweat.

“Natalie.” Estos popped his head from behind an open door. He turned to the man. “Andris, this is Natalie, the woman Sister Barba hired.”

Andris wiped his brow. “Another mistake.” He turned and stepped into the room with the costume racks. “You have thirty minutes, Estos.” A door slammed shut in the distance.

“Don’t mind him,” Estos said. His cheeks were red, and the front of his shirt was drenched with sweat.

“I see what your sister meant about needing a little help with customer service.” Nat tilted her chin in the direction Andris had disappeared.

“My sister?” The flush drained from his face.

“Mrs. Gate. You called her your sister,” Nat said quickly, sensing she’d said something very wrong.

“No, she’s not my sister. She’s my aunt. Where we come from we call some women ‘Sister.’ Like Sister Barba. It doesn’t mean she is my actual sister.” Estos took Nat’s backpack from her hand and carried it behind the counter.

“Where are you from?”

“Canada.” He shuffled a few papers on the counter.

“Canada? Really?” She leaned against the glass top of the counter and tried not to stare into his eyes. “Not what I would have guessed.”

“It’s a big country.” Estos shrugged. “Barba’s tied up right now. She asked me to show you around.”

As Estos began explaining the rental system, Nat pulled out a green spiral notebook and started scribbling.

He paused. “What are you writing?”

“What you’re telling me.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t forget and have to ask someone.”

“I always ask, at least two or three times a day,” a deep voice boomed behind Nat. She turned. The squarest-looking person she’d even seen stood in the doorway leading to the room with the costume racks. His head was as bald as a plastic block and nearly the same shape. He wore a loose brown shirt embroidered with a vine, a bird, a sun, and a sword. The vine was the same pattern she’d seen on the inside of Barba’s arm.

“Natalie, Oberfisk.” Estos gestured between them.

The stocky man took a step forward and enveloped Nat’s hand with his, his meaty fingers squeezing tightly. “Nice to meet you.” His smile was wide and warm.

“You, too,” she said, returning the smile.

“Oberfisk will help you when you’re busy up here.” Estos pointed to the empty shop.

Oberfisk continued to grin. “Come with me, Ms. Natalie. I’ll give you the tour.” He extended a thick arm. Nat hesitated, then placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Estos, you’re needed in the back.” He nodded to Estos and his grin disappeared.

Estos vanished through the doorway without another word. Nat remembered Barba’s comments. Maybe the entire family, including Estos, were lacking in social graces.

The front door chimed. A short woman holding a gnome costume entered the shop.

“Perfect,” Oberfisk said, dropping Nat’s arm and rubbing his hands together. “Watch me run through this one, and then you can do the next on your own.” She followed Oberfisk around the counter. He limped slightly. Nat watched and scribbled more notes in her notebook as he accepted the costume return.

“Clear?” Oberfisk asked after the woman departed.

“Clear as mud,” Nat responded, smiling. Oberfisk’s face fell. “No, it really is clear. I’ve got it.” Nat tapped the notebook.

“All right, then,” Oberfisk said, looking relieved. “Let’s move on. The room to your right has all the costumes.” He limped to the doorway. Rows of costumes greeted Nat when she peeked through the entrance. She ran her hands over the gaudy fabrics as they walked past.

“It’s all alphabetical.” He pointed to the crudely laminated paper hanging from the end of each rack. A sign with a thick black
P
hung from one rack. “That’s the pirate rack. Needed a whole row for them. Never understood the allure myself.” He rubbed his bald chin. “
Q
through
Z
”—he pointed to the remaining rows—“ending with some fellow named ‘Zorro.’”

Nat pulled a fake foil from a Zorro costume and flicked her wrist, making a
Z
in the air.

“Why does everyone do that?” Oberfisk asked.

She dropped her hand and blushed. Oberfisk continued in his booming voice. “This door leads to the laundry room behind the counter.” He pointed to a door across from the row of pirate costumes. “And that door”—he gestured to a thick metal one at the back of the room—“leads to the workshop where Professor Gate and his assistants work on sets and special costumes for productions and such. The rest of the area back there is basically our house. If I’m not out here and you ever need any help, just ring the bell under the counter or knock on that back door. Someone is always on guard. No reason for you to come busting through there.” He laughed nervously.

“On guard?” Nat asked, wondering why they needed a guard.

“Well, er, Sister Barba and Sister Ethet are a little protective of their costumes and sets,” Oberfisk responded before turning toward the front of the shop.

That was the second time Nat had heard the name Ethet. The fact that they guarded their costumes was a little weird, but Nat could put up with a little weirdness for fifteen dollars an hour. The door chime interrupted her thoughts. She hurried to catch up with Oberfisk.

CHAPTER SIX

As Halloween approached, customers streamed in and out of the store, reserving and picking up costumes and buying accessories. The moment Nat passed through the shop’s door, it was a flurry of pulling costumes, writing rental tickets, ringing sales, and mending anything that needed mending. If she was lucky, Oberfisk would be behind the counter to greet her with a cheerful “Huya,” load her down with pull orders or mending, and send her into the back room with a slap on the shoulder. She’d slip on her earphones and replay a lecture while she pulled costumes, or she’d reread class notes while she mended, washed, and ironed.

The timing on other days was not so opportune. Three times she arrived to find Andris lurking near the door to the costume room. He would glare at her with his mud-green eyes for a few minutes and then disappear, leaving her to handle the store on her own.

On her first Saturday at work, Cairn—Professor Gate had told Nat to please call him by his first name—walked in laden with bags from a local drugstore. An even taller silver-haired woman was close on his heels. Nat recognized the angular woman with ebony skin immediately. She’d been introduced as a visiting professor during Nat’s freshman chemistry class and had observed a handful of Nat’s labs, including one where Nat had substituted for an absent teaching assistant. The lab was one Nat had conducted during high school and was simple enough to teach, but the woman had grilled her after class, questioning her on every detail of the experiment. After the barrage of questions, Nat had steered clear of the woman.

“Another trip to the greenhouse should provide all we need. At least, all I can get here,” the woman said as Cairn held open the front door. She paused and looked at Nat with her round brown eyes behind half-moon glasses. Nat felt like she was standing in the principal’s office. The woman kept her keen eyes on her as Cairn fumbled with his bags and shut the door.

“Natalie, this is Ethet Nightswain.” He gestured to the woman, who gave Nat a slight nod of acknowledgment. Nat noticed a small sun pattern on Ethet’s inner arm when she reached to relieve Cairn of a bag he was about to drop.

“Do you need help?” Nat asked, but Ethet and Cairn were already out of earshot. Nat heard the metal door to the workshop area slam shut.

The faces of Barba’s relatives became more familiar as the month passed. Besides Barba, Cairn, Ethet, Estos, Andris, and Oberfisk, Nat knew that at least two other men, Kroner and Riler, lived or worked in the back. They would quietly leave the store with Cairn or Barba and then return with groceries or other supplies.

One afternoon, as the sky was beginning to darken, Estos walked into the shop from the costume room. A puffy red welt encircled his right eye, and he favored his right leg as he rounded the counter.

“Oberfisk, Andris is ready for you,” he said in a strained voice.

Oberfisk took off the reading spectacles he used when he rang up tickets. “Fine, then. And I’ll remind him to go a little lighter next round.” Oberfisk gestured to Estos’ leg.

Estos laughed. “Do you think Mudug or the Nala will go easy on me, Oberfisk?”

“It’s not going to do any of us good if you go in injured.” He glanced at Nat, crossed the room, and was out the door before Estos could reply.

“Go in where?” Nat snipped the end of a thread she’d used to sew up a small hole in a raccoon costume.

“Martial-arts competitions.” His pale eyes darted from her to the door and then to the counter.

He was lying. She set down the raccoon costume she was brushing. Estos’ back was to her as he mindlessly scrolled through costume orders on the computer.

“Do all of you compete?”

“In some form or another.”

“Is that what you do back there in the warehouse? Train for competitions? I thought it was for Cairn’s sets.”

“We use the warehouse for a lot of things.” Estos faced her. “Andris likes creative anachronism and period fighting. He trains us in sword fighting, close combat. We use some of the space for that kind of thing.” He turned back around, punched the keyboard, and printed a list. “Barba wants these costumes pulled and ready for tomorrow.” He stepped aside, allowing her to go ahead of him. “Lady before the limp.”

Nat shook her head and slid off her stool. She crossed in front of Estos just as he took a step. His leg buckled, sending him stumbling into her. She grasped him around the waist. He grimaced and pressed his hands against the counter.

“You can let go, Natalie,” he said, looking down at her arms. She dropped her hands and hustled into the costume room before he could see her cheeks burning.

Estos limped behind her. “Let’s see, one Zorro and two medium zombies.” He started down the row, holding the list.

Even though she knew he’d lied, Nat felt some sympathy for his physical state and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“You tag, I’ll retrieve.” She squeezed down the narrow row, pulled the three costumes from the tight rack, and hung them on an empty rack by the door. “What’s next?”

“Large umpire and a transient.”

She worked her way down the next packed aisle. “Is Annin at a competition?” She held the umpire costume.
Is he going to lie again?
she wondered. “I haven’t seen her here or in class for weeks.”

“No. She had to go back to Canada to care for an ill Sister. She should be back soon.” He glanced toward the door at the back of the room. The scar below his ear stretched thin and pink.

Canada. Martial-arts competitions. Creative anachronism. She hung up the costumes and dusted off her hands. “How does she pass if she misses so many classes?”

Estos studied the list and answered without looking at her. “Sometimes she watches a podcast of the class. But she usually doesn’t take her classes for a grade. Medium tarantula, small taco.”

She pushed her way down the next aisle and flipped through the hangers.

“Do you like working here, Nat?” Estos asked.

The question surprised her. “Sure.”

“I know we’re a bit different.” He sounded apologetic.

She hung up the taco and held out the tarantula costume for Estos to hang on the next rack.

He stepped back, holding up his hands. “I’m not much for spiders.”

“Come on, Estos, spiders? They eat insects and are easy to kill.” She dangled the costume in front of him.

“Not where I come from.”

“One of these days when I’m not working two jobs and going to school, I’d like to visit where you’re from. Weird accents, big spiders. Sounds like paradise.” She hung the tarantula costume on the rack. “What’s next?” She waited for a response. “What’s the look for?” He had a funny expression on his face.

He smiled. “I was just imagining you in my home country.”

“I’ve been to Canada before. I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not that different from here.” She leaned against the end of the costume rack. “Where exactly in Canada are you from?”

“North.”

“North, that’s pretty specific.” She rolled her eyes.

“You wouldn’t recognize the name,” Estos countered. He shoved costumes to the side, the hangers grinding against the rack. “My home is beautiful. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.” He gave Nat a challenging look. Her lips parted, but something about his expression stopped her from saying anything. He dropped his head, his voice breaking. “Some nights I dream that I’m home, and I can hear the horns from the trading boats, the bells of the Wisdom House, and my sister Emilia calling me to come in from practice.” He brushed his hand across his eyes.

Nat looked away, toward the massive metal door. After a moment, she took the list from him and made her way down an aisle. “Is Emilia your sister? Or a sister like Barba?” she asked, trying to keep the interest out of her voice. She knew he wasn’t lying to her about his home this time.

“Emilia is my sister.” He cleared his throat.

“Does she still live in Canada?”

“No, she moved on,” he said in a cheerless tone. He limped down the aisle and yanked another costume off a rack. They worked side by side in silence. When all the costumes were pulled, Estos asked if she could watch the front by herself.

“Of course.” She leaned against one of the racks, watching him limp toward the metal door. He paused with his hand on the worn knob.

“You would like my home, I think,” he said with his back to her. The door clanked shut behind him.