The Great Grey

It had been nearly three days since Nathaniel had been insulted by Jacob Smith. And although he was still hurt, and the worst of Jacob’s words still echoed in his head, he found himself missing his company. Granted, they had only a handful of conversations together, and most of them — unfortunate. And yet there was something in Jacob that Nathaniel could not let go. Not that soon, at least. Not without trying to remedy this awful situation they kept finding themselves in.

The final decision required some bargaining, but on the third day Nathan finally convinced himself that if there was still a possibility of reconciliation, he should take a step towards it.

Besides, he had to check if the poster was still on that shop wall.

The bell above the door chimed a familiar tune.
Nathaniel had taken yet another half-day off, leaving the parlour to the family under the guise of scouting for new vendors, and was now entering Jacob’s shop with the weight of the most recent events heavy on his heart. There was at least something that could help this time around, though: the absence of Mrs Whittlock and the likes of her. Not that Nathaniel had any intention of letting his emotions of the foulest kind overflow yet again, but it was still easier to breathe without the presence of the ghost of the past.

The shop appeared empty at first, but as soon as the chime called for its owner, Felix Forsythe emerged from the depths of the fancy mystery cave of wonders, and Nathan’s heart leaped with a promise of a miracle.
“I forgot my gloves,” Nathan said, taking the hat off. “And I also want a reading from you.”

The second day after Nathaniel Blackwood left the shop forever was the hardest. On the first day, Jacob was too agitated and tired to worry about what transpired then. He locked the door, slumped on the floor and sat there, among cobwebs and dust for a long time before he could drag himself upstairs into his bedroom. On the third day, he was busy with the visitors, but on the second one, the business was damnably slow, so there was nothing to distract him from noisy, heavy thoughts.

In his thoughts, Jacob kept returning to that unfortunate evening when Nathaniel stormed off after learning his name. Over and over, he recalled the words he said and heard, and they burned within him bitterly as if he swallowed a handful of angry coals. It made him claw at his chest. He considered going to the funeral parlour and apologising to Nathaniel, but when he remembered the fit of unreasonable jealousy. It was for the best that Nathaniel left, Jacob decided, continuing to simmer in his regrets.

The advertisement poster of 'Blackwood and son' was still taking its glorious place on the wall. Jacob had a notion to take it down so it wouldn't stare mockingly into his soul, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He liked the thing; the gentle lily on the top of the sturdy casket provided that ‘memento mori’ look he strived to maintain in his shop. So it stayed, even if it meant that Jacob should avert his eyes from this wall forevermore.

A wind chime, echoing across the shop, made Jacob emerge from his dressing room, where he tried to read a novel and failed, tripping over the same page again and again. He was expecting a customer, but the stately figure of Nathaniel sailed in instead without as much as a hello. Jacob’s heart leapt (Nathaniel was back!), dropped (he returned only for the gloves) and jumped up again with a mighty thud (he was staying for a reading!). After such a whirlwind in his soul, Jacob found it especially hard to hide his smile.

“A reading? But, of course, sir. Please take a seat. Just let me lock the door first so we won’t get disturbed, and we shall start,” making an effort to look serious, he promptly closed the door and turned the key before gesturing to the table, which served for reading or dining, depending on the time of day, mood, or occasion. “What kind of reading would you prefer? Cards? Tea leaves? Palms?” he started blushing and mentally thanked his complexion for making it unnoticeable.

Was it time to be cautiously optimistic again? Nathaniel kept coming back to that feeling with Jacob, but it was hard to predict whether it was truly justified this time.
But Jacob was smiling and seemed eager to do the reading, which Nathaniel chose to interpret as a good sign. The locked doors were an even better sign in Nathaniel’s book.

“I would like a palm reading,” answered Nathaniel. “So let’s start with that, if you don’t mind.”
Leaving the coat and the hat aside, Nathaniel sat at the table and looked up at Jacob, who was still moving around the floor in his shop owner role.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour the other day, I was…” Nathaniel got unexpectedly flustered all of a sudden, quickly cleared his throat and put his hands on the table, prepared to show any line his magical host might demand.
“So, Mr Forsythe, how do we do this? Do I need to show my coin to Papa Legba for his blessing to get a good reading? Or does he demand… something else? Anything else.”

The apology took Jacob by surprise. Perking up at such an unexpected turn of events, he joined Nathaniel at the table and caught his eye.
“Both of us were not at our best that day. I didn’t mean to offend you. I am truly sorry for that,” he confessed, taking Nathaniel's hands into his. For a brief moment, he considered hiding his face in these hands but quickly took hold of himself. First things first. Nathaniel requested the reading and the reading he would get. They could console in each other’s arms if it goes well, but not a moment before. It was a matter of professional honour, even if it was a thief’s honour.

“You are very generous indeed, Mr Blackwood. But Papa Legba is incorruptible. Your coin won't affect the outcome of your reading. I, on the other hand, am fallible. I might name my price after I finish reading your palm,” Jacob smirked slyly but then straightened his back and continued in a solemn tone. “However, we are missing one small thing before we start. It is customary to ask Lady Fortune a question. The future is vast and nebulous; it helps your humble guide to focus his efforts if he knows what he is looking for.”

It was about as far as his role as a fortune-teller could carry him. Seizing the opportunity, Jacob gently caressed the back of Nathaniel’s hands with his thumbs. Such a gesture was unnecessary to appease Lady Fortune or any spirit that might have been peeking into the room, but he did it nonetheless. For all its worth, it could bring him a selfish kind of luck.

“I’ll be ready to hear your price, Mr Forsythe.”
It was immensely difficult to find the willpower to keep playing the part of a regular client when Jacob touched his hands this way. Nathaniel could not hide his smile, but tried to at least restrain his immediate desire to make up for the lost time between them in a more energetic way.

“I am afraid I come to you and Lady Fortune today with a rather prosaic question. You see, I seek company and companionship. Someone to confide in, someone to call a very dear friend. And maybe more than that…” Nathaniel said, looking at Jacob's beautiful face. “I have also secured two seats for a theatre performance and want to take this special individual for a nice evening out. Food and drinks, too. Do you think I can ever find that special someone? Where do I look?”

No amount of magic trickery could prepare Jacob for how forward Nathaniel would turn out to be. It was the easiest reading in his life and also a bit ironic: even a man from the Mirrorside wanted one of two things — money or love. Jacob didn’t have to think long over a reply: “You might not need to look far. The one you are looking for could be right in front of you.” Instead of looking at Nathaniel’s hands as he was supposed to, he looked him in the eye. His own heartbeat was a testament to the sincerity of his words — a rare occasion in his line of work.

After saying that, Jacob averted his gaze again. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and he found it especially hard to continue playing his role. Nathaniel seemed to have such a powerful effect on him.
“So,” he cleared his throat before speaking further and finally lifted his eyes, “what does it make us then? Are we — for the lack of a better word — courting?” The thought was ridiculous. Courting was for ladies. It was something gentlemen resorted to doing when they lacked the charm to shake hands with the father of a future bride on the day of the meeting. However, neither of them wore a dress, so there was no point in waltzing around. And still, Jacob blushed relentlessly, and he already knew he would go to the theatre or anywhere else Nathaniel would invite him to.

After all, Nathaniel was Charon, Jacob remembered. The creatures of the Underworld did not have to follow the rules of ordinary men. The thought put him at ease.

“Are we?” Nathaniel sounded surprised. Probably because he genuinely was. “Well, I suppose that yes, we are courting.”

They were courting in a bit of a reverse order, but courting nonetheless, and that thought, although correct, needed a bit of fermenting in Nathaniel’s mind. Was there anything else Jacob expected him to do, then? And they would probably need to skip the ‘meet Jacob’s parents before pinning him to the floor with my body’ part for several strong reasons, so, in the end, Nathaniel chose not to be too worried about the particular wording of their blooming relationship.
He still had to make it… more right this time.

“That, unfortunately, means we cannot bed until we are wedded,” Nathaniel sighed and took Jacob’s palm in his hands. “Chastity is very important to me, Mr Smith. I am pure, and I hope you are pure too.”
Nathaniel nodded as if confirming his own words.

Nathaniel had an exceptional talent in leaving Jacob at a loss for words. His solemn look and a dry tone surely didn’t help. In moments like this, it was almost impossible to tell whether he was jesting. It took Jacob too long to recover — but then he did, he was ready for a rematch.

“You are a queer fellow, you know that?” tilting his head, he uttered at length. “But you are right!” Jacob squeezed Nathaniel’s hand, lifted his eyes to the ceiling (and the lustrous cobwebs that reigned there) and preached, his voice trembling dramatically. “We ought not to! We shall stay pure of heart and body as good Christians we are. We shall not fall into the temptation, Mr Blackwood, because the temptation is the Devil’s work! And the Devil is in the detail, in every corner and every crease of our bedsheets. I assent to your every word, sir, for truer words have never been spoken.”

He signed, winced in mock embarrassment and lowered his voice. “Though, I must confess I had a sinful impulse to invite you into my bedroom. I am thankful that you stopped me, sir. I will strive to be a better man from now on.” Concluding his performance on this note, Jacob gently tapped Nathaniel’s hand.

Touché. That was good. That was very, very good.
Nathaniel did not express any of his admiration out loud, but the smile on his lips said a lot to those who could read him.

“Wise words, my dear friend. I could not have put it better myself,” Nathaniel nodded along, thinking how good of an asset Jacob might become in their funeral parlour if he ever decides to change his vocation.
“But,” he caught Jacob’s hand with his fingers once again. “I think we should test ourselves. To go up there and see if we can abstain from sin.”

Nathaniel stood up first and took a chair to put it in place at the table (to try and be a gentleman probably for the last time this evening) when suddenly his fingers felt something sticky. He exclaimed in surprise, quickly withdrew his hand and realised that his fingers got caught in a spider web. On a chair, of all places.
“Oh.” Nathaniel pulled out a handkerchief and futilely tried to get the sticky substance off his hand. He vaguely recalled Jacob’s words about keeping those multi-legged things as pets and stifled a sigh of despair. But, he quickly reminded himself, putting up with this was a minuscule price to pay if dealing with these inconveniences meant he could be with Jacob.
“But first, my dear companion in purity, do you have running water in here?”

Nathaniel was smiling! He was smiling, and the playful glimmer that Jacob found so appealing appeared in his eyes again.

“Yes! Let’s test ourselves and abstain together!” Jacob concurred with a fiery enthusiasm. He was already rising from his chair, ready to fly up the stairs, when a cloud passed over Nathaniel’s face. “What’s wrong?” Jacob asked in alarm.

Ah. Spider webs. It was the only thing Jacob had in abundance in the shop. He lost count of how many generations of spiders have called the place their home. They were true masters of the place, while Jacob just lodged there. The spiders he brought along when he moved in clashed with the ones that lived here before, since time immemorial, and the Great Spider Wars followed. Or so Jacob suspected since wars among spiders tended to be tiny, quick and soundless. The Great Spider Reconciliation occurred after the Great Spider Wars and tiny spider sacks were laid in dusty nooks and corners of his — or more precisely, spiders' — shop. And Nathaniel just stumbled upon the aftermath.

“Oh, it must be one of Long Jenny’s brood. She is the fastest weaver, and all her progeny is pretty quick as well. She must have webbed it while we were talking,” after sharing this snippet of knowledge (to Nathaniel's evident dismay), Jacob bit his tongue and gestured his guest to follow him. “Of course, I have running water. I may live with spiders, but I am no troglodyte. Come.”

The closest washbasin was in the kitchen, but Jacob took Nathaniel upstairs, where the bathroom was more spacious. “Watch out! Low ceiling!” he warned as they reached the top of the stairs. “The bathroom is right there, at the end of the corridor. And welcome to my humble abode! You are the first person that entered here since I moved in — not counting a porter, of course,” gently touching Nathaniel’s back, Jacob blessed him to get rid of the spiderweb.