Eidolon: Curiosities, #3

By Hayden Thorne

Impoverished and pregnant, a desperate mother gains the attention of a dark entity, and a wish is made on a cursed object. Wishes of a young woman for her unborn child might be innocent on the surface, but in the hands of a death-god forever hunted by ghostly protectors in every country, no fulfilled wishes come without a terrible price.

And no one will endure the consequences of such a wish more than the baby whose existence is now inextricably linked to the otherworld. Young Emerick Sulzbach will have his future carefully shaped by a shadow world he can't see. Potential parents are dissuaded from adopting him. Hopeful young suitors suffer broken bones from inexplicable accidents.

When Bohemia's legendary guardian wolves come down from the mountains for their otherworldly hunt, dark events spiral around Emerick in such a way as to reveal not one, but two entities shadowing his steps. Because in addition to an unseen protector, there are also those distant, mournful cries from the lake: seeking him out, reaching out to him from beyond.

Eidolon is the third standalone novel of the Curiosities series, a collection of gothic fantasy tales about desperate wishes bound in cursed artifacts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hayden Thorne
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215141489

Hayden Thorne

I’ve lived most of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area though I wasn’t born there (or, indeed, the USA). I’m married with no kids and three cats. I started off as a writer of gay young adult fiction, specializing in contemporary fantasy, historical fantasy, and historical genres. My books ranged from a superhero fantasy series to reworked and original folktales to Victorian ghost fiction. I’ve since expanded to gay New Adult fiction, which reflects similar themes as my YA books and varies considerably in terms of romantic and sexual content. While I’ve published with a small press in the past, I now self-publish my books. Please visit my site for exclusive sales and publishing updates.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Hermine hesitated before the closed door. Her young pregnant lodger appeared to be entertaining a guest though it was past the hour of the no-visitor rule. That said, she’d always given the poor creature more leeway in this regard, for Odelia Fromm was not only pregnant, but quite penniless as well as a widow. It was as though Fortune had poured all of her malice into the young woman, who was only eighteen and was barely keeping things together.

A quiet burst of delighted laughter filtered through the thin door of the garret, and Hermine couldn’t help but press her ear against the door. It was a rare thing for her to hear Odelia laugh or see her smile unless the girl was talking about her unborn baby.

That’s my child? Really? He’s awfully beautiful, isn’t he? He certainly didn’t get that from his parents! Oh, thank you, sir. You’re too kind.

Hermine frowned as she strained to hear a response, and for a brief moment, she wondered if her hearing was going until she thought she heard a low voice murmur a string of undecipherable words.

Of course I wish it! What mother wouldn’t want the best for her child? Another brief pause followed. Well, it’s rather clear beauty will be a blessing for him, but—I don’t want him to be like his parents, poor and starving despite all the talent and good looks in the world. And—and I want him safe in the best family for him.

The low murmur followed, again a brief interlude.

I—I wish for success in my child, of course. I wish for him to—be adored and never be alone, unlike me and his father. If—and if he were to grow up to be as talented as his father in art, I wish for him to be successful in it. Oh. Only one wish? I suppose beauty will do. Poor Odelia’s voice wavered at the end of that melancholy litany of wishes, and Hermine thought she heard a ragged sigh drawn. Another quick pause.

Yes, yes—I’ll do anything for my baby. Anything! My wish—it’s not very original, I’m afraid, but it’s—it’s all I have to give him. Oh, how I wish I could watch over him forever, too, even after I’m gone. All mothers want the same thing for their children, you know. Beauty, success, protection, and—may I have two wishes, not one?

She broke off and sobbed pitifully now, and it took Hermine all she had not to barge through the door and embrace the unhappy creature and offer her whatever motherly comfort a humble landlady could. Something stayed her hand even as it hovered by the doorknob, though, and she found herself oddly helpless in her eavesdropping. Uneasy, even, though she didn’t know why she’d feel such a thing.

I want him to have everything his parents never had. Attention, success, and a—a guarantee of—company and love all his life. I don’t want him starving and begging for scraps. He deserves much, much more than that.

Odelia paused again, her sobs loud and so dreadfully heart-wrenching, but her guest started talking once more, the voice a curious hum weaving in and out of her hiccupping breaths.

I’ve got nothing to lose. I want rest. Life hurts too much. Please—will you let me watch over my baby even after I’m gone? May I—may I hold him when he’s older? Is that possible? Oh, thank you, thank you! Yes, yes, please guide his steps, too. Lead him where he’s meant to go as long as it makes my dreams for him come true, and I—I want to protect him forever! Beauty and protection then! You’ll do that for me, really? Oh, sir—thank you!

Hermine could barely hear the guest’s voice through poor Odelia’s continuous weeping, but at least the girl’s misery had abated somewhat, and her sobbing had eased to loud, ragged hiccups and a good deal of sniffling. At the same time, however, Hermine’s unease had deepened, and a voice in the back of her mind urged her frantically to intervene. She knocked furiously on the door, her heart beating a wild rhythm.

It’s me, my dear! she called through the door. Let me in, please!

Swift movement followed within, the door’s locks were undone, and Hermine was soon staring anxiously at the red, puffy, and tear-stained features of Odelia Fromm. The girl’s bulging belly seemed too big for her, and it was only a matter of time before the baby would come. And as usual, Odelia was only wrapped in a tattered old shawl that barely—if at all—kept her warm in the chilly garret she called her home.

And yet there was a curious light in the girl’s eyes as she regarded Hermine from within the dimness of the cramped space of her lodgings. Hermine couldn’t even begin to guess what was now going through the girl’s mind until a smile suddenly broke out on Odelia’s face.

Oh, I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this, dear girl, Hermine said as she took Odelia’s thin and clammy hands in hers. I heard you crying and thought you were in trouble.

No—not trouble, Frau Becker. Not at all. I was just being my emotional self, but I’m awfully happy now. More than I’ve ever been.

Indeed! I’m glad to hear it, child. Um—have you a guest here?

Yes! I was just talking to Herr Szarka, who—oh. He’s not here anymore.

Odelia had turned around and walked farther into the garret with Hermine following. Two old armchairs stood against one wall and faced each other, and on one of them sat a palm-sized oval portrait inside an intricately carved, dark wood frame. Hermine glanced around the little garret and found no one else huddling in a corner anywhere while Odelia sighed her disappointment.

Well. He left, I’m afraid, the girl said after a moment of confused silence. But she spoke with an easy calm as though her spirits had been eased, and she was now ready for anything Fortune would fling her way.

How would he leave, my dear, when there’s only one door to your lodgings, and I was standing in front of it the whole time while it was locked from within?

Oh—not the door, Frau Becker. The window. He always knocks on the window to show me the darling little toys and curiosities he makes. He says he sells them for wishes, which I thought at first was pretty stupid, for how can he eat with only wishes?

Hermine’s gaze settled on the single window in the garret, which had been thrown wide open, the gentle but cold breeze of the night blowing in. She couldn’t move from where she stood, the hair on her body having stood on end while Odelia continued her girlish chatter.

Mind you, I didn’t just let him in, Frau Becker. I know it’s against your rules to do that, but he was very insistent, and the first two times he called, he had nothing to show me, but he did ask an awful lot of questions about myself and my darling Bernt—the saints rest his soul—and then he came back tonight to give me this.

Odelia hobbled over to the armchair with the oval portrait and held it up for Hermine to see.

Isn’t he simply gorgeous? He’s my son, you know. Herr Szarka said so, and since he finally had something worth my time, I let him in, and we had a good long talk about my baby.

Hermine numbly took the oval portrait and looked at it, her breath stuttering a little at the sight of perfection. The young man in the portrait must be in his late adolescence or early twenties. He gazed out with a calm and easy smile lighting up features that appeared to have been conjured by the otherworldly. Dark auburn hair and eyes the shade of a rich, leafy green, faint freckles adding the right amount of charm to an open and trusting face—the youth might as well be the child of an autumnal god.

At length Hermine rallied, and she gave the portrait back to Odelia before marching over to the open window and shutting it. The girl had lost her mind, clearly. She’d gone mad from utter grief over her lost husband and her hopeless poverty, and only heaven knew how the child would be once born. With any luck, the unfortunate thing would survive without any ill-effects from its mother’s dreadful situation, and the oval portrait Odelia had somehow discovered could be nothing more than an illusion that was now worsening the poor girl’s madness.

How cruel Fortune could be, Hermine thought as she fought back the horror and the grief on Odelia’s behalf. A surge of motherly affection for the lost girl overcame her again, and she hurried back to her lodger and pressed her to join Hermine downstairs for a proper meal. Not that Hermine didn’t offer that time and again, but Odelia had always been shy about accepting charity and would only do so for her child’s sake.

I’d love to talk more about my baby, Odelia said—almost plaintively, at that, as Hermine gently guided her out of her wretched little hole. I made my wishes for him known, Frau Becker, and they’ll all be granted. Herr Szarka said it’s guaranteed, and it truly feels like I’m living out a fairy tale. And—and he agreed to bless my baby with more than one wish! Isn’t that wonderful? He was so kind to me.

We’ll talk about your child for as long as you’d like, my dear. Now come. I made some delicious stew for you.

And as she distracted Odelia with questions about the baby’s name and her hopes and plans for it, she wondered how best to summon a doctor for help without rousing the girl’s suspicions. Oh, what a long night it was going to be, she thought.

* * * *

And that long night turned into a long week and then a long fortnight till the baby arrived, at last, and the cramped little garret was filled with the little boy’s desperate cries.

In the meantime, Odelia gradually shrank to nothing more than skin and bone to the point where Hermine had to pay for a wet-nurse to come and feed the baby while she tended the ailing mother. More often than not, Hermine would come to the slumbering Odelia’s side to catch the patient mumbling in her sleep, seemingly lost in conversation with someone.

Payment’s due, Odelia often whispered tremulously while shifting uncomfortably under the tangled and sweat-drenched blankets. I owe—I owe much. Oh, Emerick—my poor baby.

Hermine would catch references to a guardian angel, promises made that should be kept, and pleas for the pain to end, so she could see her dearly missed Bernt. No amount of medication helped the dying mother, and Hermine’s helplessness reduced her to a state of speechless tears by Odelia’s bed.

It was perhaps another fortnight following the birth of young Emerick when the wild, helpless shrieking of the unfortunate baby rent the peace of Hermine’s home, prompting Hermine and two servants to dash up the stairs to the garret. It was a little past midnight, and the whole place all but shook from the uproar.

Poor little Emerick lay in his weathered old crib, sobbing and wailing and thrashing about in his threadbare blankets. Odelia’s bed was quite neat as though it hadn’t been slept in, and the oval portrait lay on the pillow, clearly laid there with purpose.

There was no sign of Odelia anywhere, but the garret window was thrown wide open, the icy winds of midwinter blasting through. It was a wonder Emerick hadn’t frozen to death, and with a frantic bark, Hermine ordered one of the servants to bundle up the baby and take him downstairs. More orders to get a fire going were made, and before long Hermine was alone in the garret.

She walked to the open window and looked out, not sure if she ought to be relieved to find no corpse lying crumpled on the snow-covered cobblestones below. That said, there was, indeed, a finality to the empty room, a soullessness in the air that spoke loudly of a permanently abandoned space—as well as an orphaned infant.

Hot tears sprang in Hermine’s eyes, grief gnawing in her belly at the thought of Emerick not even being given a chance in life. Hermine couldn’t keep the child—of that she was too sure. Once she ascertained the baby’s condition following heaven only knew how long of an abandonment to the winter cold, she’d need to seek help in placing the poor child in the care of an orphanage.

She closed the window and locked it against the night before giving the garret one final inspection. At the sight of the oval portrait, she sat down with a tired sigh on the small bed with the flimsy mattress and looked hard at the image. Confusion, grief, and a wave of fear overcame her as she lost herself in the beauty staring out at her.

A painted likeness of an older Emerick, according to poor Odelia. But how on earth would she know this to be true?

Of course, what on earth would the girl go by, anyway? The claims of an invisible companion who came to her through the window and tempted her with curiosities she could purchase with a wish? Odelia had described it as something like living in a fairy tale, and Hermine could only shake her head at the doomed, delusional creature. Illness, poverty, and excessive grief had surely done her reason in, and she’d wandered off to heaven knew where in the middle of a snowy evening to die.

Hermine’s thoughts paused at that, and she had to frown.

No one heard or saw Odelia go down the stairs through the main house and the ground floor hallway leading to the front door. The front and rear doors had been securely locked, the windows on every room on the ground floor latched properly. Hermine wouldn’t be surprised if no one found Odelia anywhere downstairs, which made her wonder how on earth the girl could suddenly vanish.

Her glance strayed back to the garret window and the snowy night beyond.

What an absurd idea it was to picture Odelia as suddenly sprouting wings and fluttering off to some unknown destination. No, indeed. The unhappy young mother had somehow vanished without a trace, leaving her newborn baby behind with nothing but a mysterious oval portrait as a token of her dearest wishes. A strange representative of a tragic young woman’s dreams for a boy she’d never see again.

Hermine’s attention, again reverting back to the curiosity in her hand, suddenly shuddered, for there was something distinctly wrong about the portrait now that she’d had enough time to hold it and think more on it. Yes, the young gentleman in the portrait was indescribably beautiful and very likely destined to break dozens of hearts. Perhaps he might even be a talented artist like the man who’d been his father.

But the circumstances surrounding the portrait’s inception and its link to Odelia’s apparent descent into madness and then inexplicable disappearance couldn’t be ignored. And the longer Hermine regarded the sweetly smiling face looking up at her, the more repulsed she felt, and the more she was convinced of the portrait’s dubious significance.

This isn’t a fairy tale, she whispered at last. This is a curse, isn’t it? It is. I know it is.

And there was only one way of ensuring the curse wouldn’t carry itself through, and such method also promised a cleansing of her home of possible dark influences that Odelia might have unwittingly invited in in her grief. In another moment Hermine was hurrying down the stairs with the oval portrait clutched tightly to her chest, and in the small parlor where a fire had been lit, she threw the portrait and stood before the conflagration, reassuring herself of its complete destruction.

There, she murmured, dragging a slightly trembling hand across her brows. There’ll be no more of this wickedness in my home.

In the week following Odelia’s disappearance, Hermine took care to purge the garret of its contents till it stood empty, and she never rented it out to anyone again, no matter how desperate. She also made certain that the door to the little room be locked permanently, though it certainly didn’t stop the servants from exchanging frightened whispers about hearing furtive sounds like quiet footsteps coming from the empty room. The same kind of footsteps they’d grown accustomed to when Odelia was still with them, and she’d idly pace about the little garret while biding her time and holding on to whatever tattered remains of hope Fortune allowed her.

Chapter 2

Valentin watched the group of children running about in the late morning sun, tearing the air with their joyful shrieks as they played. He saw a good deal of chasing, hiding, and dancing in ring formation, and a wistful little smile curved his lips as memories of his own idyllic childhood stirred.

There were, of course, a handful of children not joining in on the fun, with all of them scattered and playing on their own, building imaginary fortresses with twigs and rocks they’d find in the vast open space of the orphan asylum’s rear grounds.

Well, almost all of them, anyway. Another sweeping gaze revealed a lone little figure some distance away, quietly watching the activity in the safety of a tree’s shade. The child—a boy, Valentin easily noted—appeared ghostly, clutching a doll against his chest as though seeking comfort from the overdressed inanimate thing. His skin seemed to glow softly in the shadows, though that was likely because of his complexion, his large eyes giving off an air of age quite unnatural to someone so young.

That’s Emerick Fromm, a voice piped up behind him, and Valentin glanced back to see Mechthilde Holzmann watching him from her desk, hands clasped demurely on the massive open log book before her.

How do you know which child just caught my attention, Frau Holzmann?

The way you freeze up and stare long and hard. It’s something I’ve grown used to seeing in potential adopters when it comes to that child. He makes it rather easy to be picked out from the crowd, whether or not he’s actually in the middle of it.

Valentin raised a brow. He didn’t know where his husband was at the moment, but knowing Hanke, the gentle giant of a man was currently buried under a pile of screaming and laughing children elsewhere in the small institution. Valentin was the thinker of the pair—the coldly assessing academic who nevertheless yearned for a family he could lavish his affection on, which made him exceedingly picky. Hanke was much easier to satisfy, and having a child to raise for their own added an extra layer of something quite special to their extremely tiny circle of two.

What do you mean by that? he asked instead as he was determined to get to the facts first before consulting his jolly and wayward husband for a final decision.

Merely stating the obvious, Herr Sulzbach. Young Emerick is arguably the handsomest child in our care, Frau Holzmann replied coolly. His mere appearance catches everyone’s attention very easily. It’s only too bad it’s just as difficult placing him.

Why? Has the boy done anything wrong?

Valentin didn’t even know if those were the right questions to start with, but seeing as how he’d never been in this situation before, he was pretty much flailing in deep waters. Theories and cold, hard facts could only take him so far outside Medieval academy walls.

Frau Holzmann observed him in thoughtful silence for a moment, clearly weighing something in her head before moving cautiously forward with anything more. When she finally reached a decision, she visibly relaxed—by only a tad. She continued to talk without moving a muscle.

Emerick Fromm was surrendered to the orphan asylum when his mother disappeared from her lodgings just a few weeks after his birth. She herself was an orphan as well as a widow, and her landlady couldn’t keep the child. So here he is.

What happened to the mother? Was she found?

No. And Frau Becker had spared no expense in seeking help—apparently the girl was like a daughter to the woman, but she met with no success in her search for a body anywhere.

Frau Holzmann shrugged, looking for all the world like a fellow academic bent on reciting facts with professional indifference. Valentin certainly appreciated anything that dispensed with prevarication and the kind of tedious dancing around facts too common in the world around him.

She left no messages behind, and her behavior hadn’t changed to indicate a wild shift in her mental health according to the landlady and her servants, but she did suffer greatly from depressed spirits following her husband’s death and was known to get carried away with flights of fancy. I’m convinced she was driven mad by her situation and that her decline had been gradual and subtle based on witnesses’ accounts of her final days.

Did the father die of natural causes?

I’m afraid so. He was a gifted artist who failed to sell his work. Poverty and sickness, Herr Sulzbach, are lethal bedfellows.

Valentin frowned and turned his attention back to the quiet child hiding in the shadows. You’re correct in saying he’s a beautiful boy. Is his character good? And how old is he?

Indeed, it is, sir. He’s a bright little thing, very keen to learn, very curious about everything and everyone. He’s shy and sweet but, like all children, can turn into a little hellion if provoked or if the mood strikes him. Physical beauty aside, he’s very much an ordinary four-year-old boy.

He is? Then I’m shocked no one’s taken him yet.

Ah. So many have tried, Herr Sulzbach, but one way or another, everyone’s been discouraged or dissuaded. Don’t ask me why or how, Frau Holzmann quickly appended when Valentin turned to regard her with a puzzled look. It simply is. Young Emerick’s—let’s just say there’s something about the child that attracts attention but then turns people off when they try to take the next step. Oh, I’ve had requests from hopeful parents like you and your husband, and I’ve had similar made by less savory people with more malicious intent.

Frau Holzmann then paused, a faint smile vaguely lighting up her hard features. She reminded Valentin of a severe schoolmistress who’d put the fear of saints and gods in the hearts of children everywhere.

But the moment they meet the child, something happens, and they change their minds immediately. Then poor Emerick’s back to where he started while another child gets to go home instead.

Valentin sighed and waved an impatient hand at her. Do explain, please.

"Something happens. Nothing physical or visible, mind you, but something—else—transpires that