Alchemy of Secrets - 2

Holland St. James had been counting down the minutes until tonight. She had tried on seven different dresses and five different pairs of shoes, she had curled her hair, she had even put on new eye makeup. And now she was about to ruin it all.

“I thought we were going for ice cream?” Jake asked, perfectly nice. Because Jake might have been the nicest guy Holland had ever dated.

When Jake had first come into the Santa Monica Coffee Lab a couple weeks ago, Holland had thought he was the perfect kind of cute. He looked more Clark Kent than Superman, with the type of dark- rimmed glasses that had always been her personal kryptonite. Then, he’d bumped into her, spilling some of his cold brew, and Holland had seen the textbooks he was holding. Jake was in grad school, studying to teach ESL.

On their first date, she learned he also volunteered at the Los Angeles Animal Rescue and the Echo Park Time Travel Mart, which was actually a nonprofit that helped children with their creative writing. On their second date, she learned Jake had recently become a vegetarian, and he rode a bike instead of driving a car because he wanted to do whatever he could for the environment.

Jake was genuinely a good guy.

Maybe there was a tiny part of Holland that thought he was a little too perfect, like an email without a typo or an airbrushed picture that needed one wrinkle. But that could have just been Holland looking for red flags that didn’t exist.

This was only their third date, but Holland hadn’t made it to a fourth date in two years. She really didn’t want to screw this up. And she was afraid she might have already done that minutes ago, when she hadn’t been able to stop herself from dragging Jake down this grimy alley, after seeing a poster that made her think of one of the Professor’s stories.

The poster had been plastered to the side of a cement wall. It was one of those vintage numbers, the kind that looked as if it should have been on one of the wooden postcards they sold on the Santa Monica Pier. Palm trees in sun-washed brown and green framed the charcoal silhouette of a man wearing a fedora and looking down at his watch. There were no logos, no brand names. There were actually no words at all to identify what exactly the poster was selling. There were just two initials on the faceless man’s cuff links: W.M.

The Watch Man.

It was the first thought that had entered her mind. Then she had taken Jake down this alley. She hadn’t been able to stop herself.

Holland had been raised on her father’s treasure hunts. As a child, she’d learned to look for clues the way other children learned to play with blocks or each other. Perhaps that was why Holland had never felt as if she quite fit in, until she found the Professor’s folklore class. Her stories made Holland feel as if she was on one of her father’s hunts again.

She hadn’t actually expected to discover anything tonight. Things around LA were always reminding her of the Professor’s stories, and Holland always felt compelled to chase them. She was perpetually darting down alleys she swore she’d never seen before, only to find a bar or a coffee shop or a bookstore she’d actually already visited.

But not tonight. Tonight, Holland knew she’d never been down this alley. She would have remembered the sign.

Curios & Clockwork

Inquire Within

The words hung from a sleek copper hook that shone against a door Holland wanted to believe was vintage but might have just been dirty. One glance at Jake and she could tell he was thinking dirty . He was possibly rethinking his choice to go on this date as well. She wanted to change his mind. She also really wanted to go through that door, and she wanted to convince him to come with her.

“Do you like urban myths?” she asked.

“Yeah—I actually love them.” Jake gave her smile that was far more Superman than Clark Kent. Holland felt a spark of hope that she was headed in the right direction again.

And yet … she hesitated.

The Professor had a rule about not sharing her stories with people outside of her class. No one broke this rule. The class required too much effort from students for them to then give the stories away for free, and the Professor always warned students there could be serious consequences to doing so. But Holland wasn’t a Folklore 517 student anymore, and it was only one story. But …

“Before I say anything else,” she said quietly, “I need you to swear on the life of your dog, or your bike, or that houseplant you’ve been working so hard to keep alive, that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.”

Jake grinned wider. “I swear.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, as if to seal the promise. “So, is this like a family secret?”

Holland froze.

She reminded herself that Jake came from a large family that was always calling him and sharing even the most mundane details of their day. Talking about family was normal for him. He wasn’t fishing for information.

Yet it took her several seconds to smile in a way she hoped looked playful. “It’s not a family secret, but it is something I’m not supposed to talk about. When I was doing my undergrad, I took this class called Folklore 517: Local Legends and Urban Myths. The class itself is sort of a local legend. You can’t register for it. It’s not on any website. You have to find it by word of mouth. Then if you pass the class, at the end of the semester, it shows up on your transcript.”

Jake looked all in. “So, it’s like a secret society version of a class?”

Holland nodded nervously, or maybe she was feeling excited. It wasn’t as if sharing this little secret was going to hurt anyone. “Each week, the Professor would talk about a different local legend or urban myth, and we’d have to swear never to share them. One of the Professor’s legends is about someone called the Watch Man. Supposedly, there are signs that lead to him around Los Angeles. If you follow the signs and you manage to find him, you can ask him the time, and the Watch Man will tell you when you’ll die.”

Jake’s expression shifted, a tiny worry line forming between his brows.

“It’s not as morbid as it sounds,” Holland hurried to say. “The Professor also said that you can make a deal with him to get more time, to live longer than you would have.”

“And you really believe this?” Jake asked. There was something in his voice Holland couldn’t quite place, but suddenly she feared she’d been a little too optimistic about his interest in legends. He was a normal guy who was probably used to going on very normal dates. And most likely he wanted a very normal girl.

Of course not.

It’s just for fun.

No—not even a little.

Any of these would have been excellent answers to his question; these were all things a normal girl would have said.

“Just come inside with me,” Holland hedged.

“Sure,” Jake said. And because he was a nice guy, he reached out and opened the door with the Curios & Clockwork sign for her.

Everything on the other side was milk glass and gold. A perfect row of milk-glass lights on golden cords lit a perfect floor of milk-glass penny tile with a number of shimmering golden tiles that spelled out the words tick tock .

There were no footprints, no smudges, just the glittering words, which winked like the flutter of a second hand under the glassy lights.

It almost felt like magic . Not big, miraculous magic but the simple magic of timeless things. Of two-dollar bills and handwritten letters, typewriters and rotary phones.

Holland might have said as much out loud. But Jake looked as if he wasn’t sure what to make of this uncanny room in the back of a strange alley. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for when he’d suggested they go for ice cream. He wanted a date who would look good in an Instagram photograph, not one who could end up on Dating Hell Reddit.

Holland had definitely misread this one, but she couldn’t go back now. This felt like the closest she’d ever been to finding one of the Professor’s myths in real life.

There were two doors across from them, and they were milk glass as well, glossy white, with golden handles and simple rectangular golden plaques in the center. One plaque said curios . The other said clockwork .

Holland reached for the clockwork door, hoping it was for the Watch Man. If she was ruining this date, it needed to be for a good reason.

The doorknob didn’t budge.

She tugged again. “I think it’s locked.”

Jake reached over her shoulder and knocked. Two loud raps of his knuckles.

“May I help you?” The voice came from the other door. The one labeled curios .

In the yawning doorway now stood a girl. She had pixie-cut platinum hair and a small nose ring, and she wore a fitted white dress the same shade as the milk glass. At first glance, she looked young, but there was something about the way the girl stood and stared that made Holland think her appearance might be deceiving.

Holland tried to see behind her, to get a glimpse of the curios inside, but there was only more white light.

The girl drummed her squared-off nails on the doorframe impatiently.

“We’re looking for the Watch Man,” Holland said.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” The girl immediately stepped back to shut the door.

“I just want to ask him the time,” Holland blurted.

The girl froze. “Are you sure about that, hon?” She followed her question with a look that said Holland would be wise to walk away right now and take the cute boy with her.

“She’s sure,” Jake said. “I want to know the time, too.”

“Really?” Holland asked.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his skin warm against hers. “If you’re doing it, I’m in, too.”

She wanted to ask what had changed his mind, but she was suddenly feeling too much nervous excitement.

The girl in white muttered something under her breath. It sounded like the word fools . Then she disappeared behind the door.

Time slowed inside the milk-glass hall as Holland waited for the girl to come back. Jake’s arm grew hot against her shoulder. This time, she felt like the uncomfortable one, hoping the girl would actually return.

Finally, the curios door reopened. The girl emerged, holding out pens and slips of paper that had carbon attached to the back. She pursed her lips. “If you two are certain about this, write down your names, along with the requested information, and the Watch Man will be in touch.”