1 New neighbor

The city of Gardenia has always had a lively atmosphere. It was one of the few smaller towns in America where almost everyone knew each other. It was impossible to go out into the street and not meet someone you know. But today one of the districts was a little livelier than usual.

The young man put the last box full of things in the living room of his new house and dusted his rough hands off. Moving to a new place is never easy, and when you're moving alone it's even harder. Well, at least he thought so, that's why he hired a couple of people to help him.

"Mr. Fyre, we're done here? The boys and I have to go to the next place, wherever the hell Fried Street is," Greg, an older guy with a shiny bald head, asked from the hallway.

The teen turned around and nodded towards the head mover. "Yeah, you can go. And call me Nick, you're three times my age, for Pete's sake," but Greg only shook his head.

"Nope, any sixteen-year-old brat who can buy a fucking building by himself deserves my respect." One money exchange later, Nick was left alone in his new home.

Someone might ask, what is he doing here anyway? Well, after finishing his studies, Nick decided to move to a quieter city than New York and chose Gardenia. The city is located on the west coast of the United States of holy America, where absolutely nothing happed in the last decade. No, seriously, even the last murder case was almost ten years ago.

"Mmm… Now I have to unpack all this." Nick glanced at the dozen boxes and went outside to look at his new home. It was a very old two-story cottage, that's why the price was so low, the brick walls were painted a pleasant light red with large dusty windows, an overgrown roof garden from which vines descended on the walls – "I'll have to get rid of that, sorry plants." – and of course, a heavy, half-rotted, wooden door standing proudly in the doorway. Oh, and a small garage to the left of the building. At least that place was somewhat clean and new.

"This place needs a lot of work," he muttered. "Probably gonna do all the structural fixes tonight."

He went into the garage – lifting the large metal door up – and walked over to the box of cleaning tools. 'For now, I'll clean up normally, I can clean up the fun way later,' he thought. So, taking a bucket with a couple of rags, Nick went to wash the windows, thanking the warm breeze of summer for help.

An hour of mind-numbing work and seven large ass windows later, he was almost finished with cleaning outside. He had to go back to the garage for a ladder to get to the top windows. Only the last window remained, but before Nick could climb back up again with a bucket full of water, he heard a whistle from behind. "Ha, I never thought I'll see the day when this place gets cleaned up!"

Behind him stood a man in his forties with short blond hair combed back, tired brown eyes and a square jaw. He's wearing a blue polo shirt and beige pants with light colored sneakers. 'He's in good shape for his age, maybe he has a very physical job. Considering he smells like smoke and fire, I think he's either an arsonist or a firefighter, but he seems like a good man, so no arson for me,' Nick nodded to himself, happy with his guess.

"Hello there!" Nick smiled and extended his hand for a handshake.

The man threw his head back to laugh but shook the hand. "General Kenobi, you are a bold one."

"Finally! A man of culture!" Nick laughed too. "Nicholas Fyre, but you can call me Nick, just moved into this wreck today."

The man let go of his hand and wiped tears from the corner of his eye. "Mike Price, I've lived right around the corner for twenty years. You cleaning the whole place by yourself? Where are your parents?" he looked towards the garage, but found nothing but boxes and a large workbench.

Nick scratched his cheek. "If they're anywhere other than Arlington National Cemetery, I'll be concerned."

Mike snorted but immediately winced. "That's some dark humor kid. Somewhat funny, I'll admit, but dark. Don't tell my wife that, I'll never hear the end of it." He shook his head. "Need a hand? I don't think that lugging all these boxes alone is a lot of fun."

'On the one hand, I can do all this by myself in half a second. But on the other hand, it would be nice to know my neighbors if I'll live here for a long time.' "Why not? I'm already finishing the windows, so I'll start cleaning the inside of the house soon. The boxes can wait." Nick looked at the roof and frowned. "To be honest, I don't know what to do with the garden. I was thinking about just burning it down, but I don't think anyone will thank me for that."

Mike blinked a couple of times in surprise. "First, I'll ask you not to burn anything in this city, don't give me more work. But what's wrong with the garden? Of course, it will take a lot of time to make it even a little presentable, but to burn it immediately?"

'Ah, so a firefighter, cool.' Nick could see a silent question in Mike's gaze, so he decided to answer. "I love plants, honestly, but they wither from my touch," – literally, but Mike doesn't have to know about that – "And I know what to do and how, but nothing works."

Mike scratched his chin and looked intently at the roof, thinking about something. From the ground, only long green vines could be seen descending on the sides of the building and around the windows, but there was most likely also something else on the roof. "You know, Vanessa has been looking at this garden for a long time. She said it hurt her to see that someone just abandoned their garden to the mercy of fate, maybe she can help you with this," to Nick's raised eyebrow, he clarified. "Vanessa is my wife, maybe even our daughter Bloom will help this time. You know, I'll ask right now, they should be home."

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "No problem, I'll wash the last window and see what I can do with the door."

Mike nodded and walked towards his house. Nick climbed the ladder again and continued to wash the window. 'Hestia help me.'

Bloom wanted to spend the day sitting at home and relaxing with her books, maybe draw a couple of new sketches or finish that damn picture she started drawing two months ago, – she herself didn't believe that she would finish it, but a girl can dream – instead her dad decided that it would be a good idea to help their new neighbor to clean his house. It was that old house covered with vines into which she made her way as a child.

"C'mon, Bloom, don't frown that hard," Vanessa lightly scolded. "I know that's not how you wanted to spend this Friday, but it's not that bad. If your father liked this Nicolas so much, then he can't be a bad guy."

Bloom rolled her eyes. "I'm not worried about him, but about a creepy two-story house that could fall on our heads at any moment. When was it even built? Some hundred and fifty years ago?"

Now it was Vanessa's turn to roll her eyes. Of course, the red house – a simple name used by almost all residents of their small neighborhood – was old, but not so old as to be on the verge of destruction. She chose not to tell her daughter about it.

Mike left the storage room with everything necessary for cleaning in his hands and walked straight to the exit. "Let's go! Adventure awaits!"

Bloom sighed. Honestly, she didn't know who in their right mind would have bought the red house on their own. Most likely some old man who's even older than the building itself. 'At least I'll stretch after lying in bed for a whole week.'

The whole family went to the red house, which as usual stood right around the corner and Bloom immediately noticed the changes. The windows that had been covered with a layer of dust as thick as her finger were now clean, the garage next to the house was open and several boxes with the writing work stuff on the sides were laying around. The half-rotted front door had been taken off its hinges and was lying on the work table, and their new neighbor was standing hunched over it.

"Hey, Nick, we're here!" Mike said and Nick looked in their direction. And to Bloom's surprise, he wasn't an old man.

"Oh, that was quick," Nick straightened up and turned to his guests, giving Bloom a chance to have a better look at him.

The first thing that caught her eye was his height, he was at least a head taller than her father, and he was already 6"1' (182cm), so the man would be around 6"6' (201cm). Tanned skin, four short horizontal scars under the left eye. His eyes were gray with a purple circle around the pupil, square jaw, straight nose and ash blonde hair. Nick wore a red T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms with Nordic rune tattoos, dark blue wide jeans and work boots. 'I admit, a Viking is definitely a better option than some random old man,' Bloom thought.

"Hi, I'm Nicholas Fyre, Mike probably already said that I'm your new neighbor. Thank you for the help," he said with a smile.

"Nonsense, what kind of neighbors would we be if we didn't help?" Vanessa shook her head. "My name is Vanessa, and this is Bloom."

Vanessa put her hand on her daughter's shoulder and she finally stopped staring at Nick. "Hello." she said in a very high voice, but fortunately everyone ignored her embarrassing squeak.

Mike put cleaning supplies on the floor and took a closer look at the garage. There were a lot of tools and unfamiliar machines inside, and tools and several thick boards of the same color as the door lay flat on the desktop. Mike blinked. 'Is he going to fix it? Huh, I'll have to ask him about it later.'

Nick looked at the family of three. "Right, I was thinking of starting to clean up from the upper floors so we didn't have to deal with the dust a few times." To be honest, it was the best choice, but something seemed wrong to Bloom.

She tilted her head in confusion. "Only dust? There's no broken furniture? I thought this place would be in a terrible state."

Nick waved his hand and picked up a pair of brooms. "No, the company that sold me this house brought it into good condition a couple of months ago, but they never cleaned after that. If I also had to buy new furniture, I would go insane."

Vanessa and Mike nodded and everyone went inside the house. Bloom didn't think that today would bring her any more surprises, but she quickly realized that today just wasn't her day. The old creepy house she remembered had completely changed. Furniture covered with white sheets, new floors, freshly painted walls and ceiling, as if the old house from her memories didn't even exist!

"Wow, I didn't expect this." Bloom was impressed that someone was able to restore the house. It was magical!

Nick nodded and smiled as he looked up at the first floor. "Yes, when I first saw this ruin, I thought: man, I love the damn place, I need to buy it."

The walls of the room were painted gray, and immediately to the right of the entrance was a wardrobe, to the left was a comfortable sofa flanked by small round tables. There was a huge Persian carpet in red tones on the floor, but for some reason Bloom felt that it wouldn't look well with the rest of the apartment in the slightest. Another sofa stood sideways against the far wall, and almost in the very corner there was a cabinet with a TV set on it. There was a round table in front of the sofa and an armchair with its back to the entrance. Even on the first floor you could live in comfort, well, if you're ready to sleep on one of the sofas.

Finally, her brain processed his words and Bloom looked at Nick in shock. "Wait, you bought this place? Not your parents?"

Mike winced for some reason and covered his mouth with his hand, Bloom noticed, but Nick only nodded. "They are too dead to buy me a house, although it would be nice. It would fit pa's style, throw help on me even from the grave. Ma would've been pissed though."

As Bloom tried to decide whether to laugh or ask if Nick was okay, Mike bit his hand to keep from laughing, and Vanessa was very concerned. "I don't think you should talk about the dead like that, especially about your parents."

"Nah, ma would kick my ass if I was still depressed after they died, and I don't even want to know what pa would do. Jokes are the best choice so they don't rise from the dead and kick me in the teeth," he shook his head and went to the second floor. "The door on the right leads to the kitchen, but now we're going upstairs."

Mike and Vanessa looked at each other Behind Bloom, but followed the owner of the house. The rooms on the second floor were much smaller than the living room, but no less cozy. There was another Persian rug in front of the stairs, but this time it was much greyer. "On the left is the washing room, a little further on is my bedroom, and behind it is my personal office," Nick pointed at the rooms with a broom. "Upstairs, as you know, is the garden, but I won't touch it."

Vanessa frowned, "Why? It can be a nice garden." She knew perfectly well that not everyone wanted and loved plants to take care of them. And a garden that suddenly popped up is nothing more than an unnecessary responsibility.

Mike chuckled and patted Nick on the shoulder. It looked ridiculous, considering that the man was much shorter than the teenager. "According to him, plants wither from his touch, but I'm sure he's just exaggerating."

"I really am not," Nick muttered.

After a little discussion, Vanessa went up to the roof to see just how abandoned the garden was. Mike stayed on the first floor to clean up there, but Nick warned him not to go into the garage, – "There's too much equipment that can and wants to rip off a finger or two." – and Bloom stayed with Nick on the second floor to help clean up and arrange the books. Nick had too many books, in fact, most of the boxes were filled with them to the brim.

The corridor on the second floor was quite wide. To the right of the stairs was another gray Persian rug, – "What? I like the style." – and in the corner between the walls of the bathroom and the bedroom was a bookcase. In front of the door to the bedroom was an armchair with a table on which stood a reading lamp.

So, while Nick cleaned his study and bedroom, Bloom stayed in the hallway and finished cleaning the bookcase. She already opened the second box of books and began to arrange them on the shelves. She ran her hand over the spines of the books, but her eyes caught on one interesting title: [The Practical Application of Sorcery.] written by someone called [A.P. Steinmann.]

The book was wrapped in leather and looked even older than the house. The title was embossed into the spine in cursive, and the front cover featured an intricate silver Magic Circle, filled with different runes and shapes.

Now, Bloom was very interested in everything related to magic. Fairy books, myths and hours spent on the Internet looking for strange occurrences will confirm this. On the one hand, it was a little impolite to read other people's books without asking. On the other hand, she was really interested. But before Bloom could decide what to do, Nick left his room with a broom in hand, so she quickly turned around, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Wha'cha got there?" Nick looked over Bloom's shoulder at the book and nodded in understanding. "Ah, Steinmann, nice choice. I didn't think you were interested in physics."

"Physics?" Bloom looked at the title of the book in confusion, and was surprised again.

In her hands was a copy of [The Practical Application of Statics.] with rather simple formulas on the front cover.

Bloom opened the book to a random page, and blankly stared when she saw the study of the static movement inside. "Am I so bored that I started to see things?" she muttered.

Nick chuckled and continued to put the books on the shelves in random order. "Dunno, but if you want to read something more interesting, then you might want to find something by Terry Pratchett. Steinmann writes smart things, but in such a dry way that even I feel dead just looking at the book."

After that, the day for Bloom merged into a blur. Even talking about nothing with Nick did not help her for a second, so when she left, she did not even think about the strange book.

Mike agreed to help Nick install an automatic watering system on the roof so he wouldn't have to touch the plants, and Vanessa said she'd come every weekend to check on her new project. Bloom exchanged numbers with her new neighbor with a promise to hang out the next day.

Nick walked his new friends to the exit with a smile and left for the office, Steinmann's book in his hands.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Nick put the book on the table and sighed heavily. "That was close…" His eyebrow twitched, but he remained where he was. "Anyway, I need to fix the door."

He left the study and the book slowly changed its title again, but there was no one around to see it.