by Lyla Oweds
Didn’t everyone go see fortunetellers as young adults? It was a rite of passage. “I’ve also seen a fortuneteller. Who cares?”
It was just my luck the fortuneteller I’d seen was full of crap. Because the nonsense that she sprouted at me would have caused a lesser, more proper woman to sue her for blasphemy. But I knew a fake when I spotted them.
“You saw a fortuneteller?” Michael raised his eyebrow as he studied me. “But you hate onmyoji.”
“No,” I clarified. “I hate shikigami.”
His eyebrows raised higher, and his head tilted. “But—”
“And I don’t like fortunetellers who ask for obscene amounts of money to explain the meaning behind their readings,” I added, crossing my arms. “There are those who take advantage of the innocent.”
Amusement leaked back into Michael’s voice. “Is that why you asked me if I could read your future? I thought you were being sarcastic.”
“I was being completely serious!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Does that mean you’ll do a reading for me?”
Within a blink, his expression closed, and his voice went cold as he responded. “No.”
My heart, which had begun to beat excitedly at the prospect, fell.
“Why not?” My voice came out whinier than I intended, but the disappointment was too fresh. “You can’t do it?”
“Oh, he can,” Gregory interjected, sitting back into his seat. “But he won’t.”
Michael’s eyes flared as he glared at Gregory, but the other man only shrugged. An instant later, Michael’s attention returned to me, regret leaking into his voice. “Gloria, I can’t do readings on myself, or those close to me. I tried before and… I just don’t have the right frame of mind for it.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he pressed his finger against my lips. “I did a reading once, for Gregory and myself. When we were in grammar school and I was still coming into my abilities. It was supposed to be fun. And it wasn’t.”
I watched him seriously, trying not to get upset. “A reading with—”
“Tarot cards,” he said, his mouth dipping. “I won’t do tarot. The cards and I do not mesh well.”
“But you use your abilities in your work.” I didn’t understand. Mr. Kohler had explained this much when we’d gone over everyone’s roles.
“Cards are tools for fortunetelling, amongst other things. I haven’t done a reading since that time. In my job, I rely on my premonition. I can tell if a lead is going to be worth the effort. I can make it so we’re in the right place at the right moment. Sometimes the future shows, unprovoked, in my thoughts. Like a picture on a television screen. But it’s rare. And that isn’t considered a reading, technically.”
I couldn’t be mad, not with the apologetic way his voice dipped. The act of fortunetelling itself seemed to hold terrible connotations for him.
“What did you see?” I asked, curious. “That made you never want to look again?”
He’d been stroking my knee in a comforting gesture, but at my question, his thumb stopped. His shoulders tensed as he looked at Gregory, who only pressed his mouth in a line and stiffened in response.
“What?” I repeated, glancing between the two of them. “I deserve to know. I’m not an idiot, you’re the ones who mentioned ‘foresight.’ So I know it has something to do with me.”
“But is it interference to mention it?” Michael muttered under his breath, meeting my gaze. “Who knows…”
“Who cares.” I pushed his hands from my knees. “Tell me already.”
He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he moved back slightly. “It said that Gregory, myself, and… one other person, were going to end up with the same woman.”
“What?” My pulse raced as my mouth went dry.
Michael continued, glancing away. “The reading turned dark after that. Usually projections of death are symbolic, and it’s not a common thing to forecast your own. It’s not a feeling I prefer to repeat.”
His death?
I forced myself to my feet, hiding my shaking hands in the folds of my shirts. My mind was a haze of thought, but my whole focus remained on keeping my outward appearance calm.
Gregory moved to his feet, and within an instant, Michael also had stood, holding my elbows. Even if he wasn’t aware of it at the moment, but without his touch, I might have swayed already.
“Gloria.” Michael’s tone was slightly panicked. “It’s not common to read it on yourself, but it’s not completely terrible. It’s just unsettling, and an experience I’d rather not repeat. It’s a fact of life, and the results were unclear. I just don’t—”
“I need to leave.” My voice sounded strange, detached, even to myself.
“Gloria, no.” Michael released one of my arms, and his hand cupped my cheek. “Don’t worry, please. Not everything is set in stone, and parts of it don’t make sense. Like Gregory said, it’s a joke. And there is more than one interpretation to these things. It’s late, don’t go out now. It’s not safe. I have a guest room. Get some sleep and we can talk about what it might actually mean later.”
I didn’t care where I went at this point, I just needed to be alone. I’d done something terrible, and I hadn’t even realized until it was too late.
“Where’s the room?” I asked. Running would only make it worse.
I didn’t resist as Michael took my arm and led me through the small townhouse. Gregory trailed behind, but I didn’t pay him any mind either. Helplessness consumed me.
I should have listened.
Michael showed me to a space, which I vaguely noticed was a pretty little bedroom, and to the wardrobe, in which he already had a change of clothing. Normally I’d have found this to be extremely creepy.
But I knew better now.
The door shut behind me, directions to the washroom echoing in my ears as I held a lace nightdress tight against my chest. My back touched the hard surface of the door, and a moment later, my legs gave out. I pressed the fabric against my face, trying to hold back the sound of horror that threatened to escape.
Michael’s prediction.
What she’d said had been so far-fetched I’d tried not to pay it any mind.
Me, in a relationship with three men. I was a wolf, we had one mate destined for us. And back then, the notion that I’d reject my own mate—if I had one—was laughable.
But it had happened, and I didn’t make the connection. I’d rejected Blake. Mostly because he was a condescending moron. But it didn’t matter. I’d fulfilled part of my prophecy. I was without a pack now. And I had rejected him because I wanted to give this thing with Michael a chance.
Michael, who was supposed to share a woman with two other men.
It was exactly what she’d told me all those years ago. She warned me that I was meant to have three lovers and not one. It had been laughable, because it went against everything that I’d ever been taught. Even when I overheard William suggesting the thing so casually, the thought was upsetting. Because it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural.
But right now, even the thought of that wasn’t what was so terrible.
I was a firm believer in destiny, in fate. And I’d never been normal, not by anyone’s standards. So I could get over being in an odd relationship if I was thinking objectively.
That wasn’t the problem.
He’d seen it, and so had she. If only from a different perspective.
I was going to lose everything.
Michael was going to die, and it would be my fault.
And I’d been too stupid to go back to find out how to prevent it from happening.
Chapter Eighteen
I was alone until the hallway clocked chimed midnight, which was longer than I expected. However, soon afterward, Michael eventually came knocking at my door.
“Gloria?” he asked. “Are you still awake?”
I hadn’t done more than change into my nightgown and curl onto the bed. My head felt fuzzy and my spirits damp. But the buzzing in
my ears had receded. So this time when he attempted to reach out, I responded without thinking.
Before he had a chance to knock again, I was already at the door, opening it to him.
“Hey…” He swallowed, glancing down at my nightclothes. But his attention only lingered for a moment—and I was in no state to be embarrassed by the almost-sheer cotton fabric. “Are you ready to talk?” he asked.
“No.” I turned from him, returning to the bed. I didn’t have the mind-space to send him away. The street-peddler’s words continued to linger in my thoughts.
“It looks like you are.” He tilted his head as he stepped into my room, closing the door behind him. He stood there a moment, studying me in the almost-darkness. “Is it the prophecy I mentioned? Because it’s—”
“When I started college, I saw a fortuneteller.” The words burst from me before I could stop myself, and I rested my chin on my knees. “I wanted to be a detective, and I was always curious…”
Understanding crossed Michael’s expression, and he ran his fingers through his damp blond hair. He had also changed into his pajamas—a red, checkered silk set—and touched the collar of his shirt before he sighed.
“So,” he said, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of my bed. “What did they say?”
“I would reject my mate, and would end up with three men,” I paraphrased, my voice slightly muffled by the quilt. I couldn’t even look at him anymore, not with the guilt of my next statement. “And that one of them was going to die because of me.”
He made a sound, edging closer to my knees. “Cards?”
“Palm reading,” I answered, tucking my hands under the blanket.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“I thought she was a fake!” The words continued to flow, guilt making me dizzy. “I’d already met so many people and never had a mate. Because of that, I assumed she was wrong about that. And I never imagined entering a relationship with multiple people after…” My words trailed off as my thoughts drifted to William. I didn’t want to think about my brother right now.
I shook my head. “She said I could stop it, but it would have been another session—”
“Gloria…” He crawled the rest of the way up the bed, settling himself beside me. And this time when he spoke, he turned my face toward his. “Did she say what would happen?”
“No.” His features blurred. “Just that it would be my fault. Because I didn’t complete my work in time.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “See, she’s wrong.”
“How so?”
“I’ll die eventually,” he said. “But not from anything you’ve done. When I die, it’s going to be because of my own hot-headed recklessness, and I will not regret it. Besides that, that fortune was only for that moment.”
I hugged my knees closer. “What do you mean?”
“Fortune readings are truly unreliable.” Michael shrugged and then pulled me closer to him. His arm remained draped over my shoulders. “When someone does a reading, it applies to the future at that instant in time. Circumstances change every day, that’s why fortunetelling is an art rather than a science. When someone tries to scare you with projections of calamity, they’re preying on your fears in order to fuel their business. Those people aren’t reliable.”
“So she was lying?” I glanced up at him. “What about your fortune?”
“She dramatized it.” Michael was studying a point across the room. “Like I said, I will die. But we all will die one day. The circumstances are unknown, and I’d rather not try to read further into it. It goes a bit against onmyoji guidelines.”
“But—”
“However.” He held me to him tighter. “You can rest assured that I’ve already taken every step to prevent that future from happening, short of losing you.”
“Are you still worried?” Michael parked the Bentley in front of a crumbling brick house and turned to me. He brushed his fingers softly against my cheek, still wearing the expression he’d adopted since last night. He’d slept in my room, and Gregory hadn’t even said a word when we’d come downstairs together in the morning.
And all day thus far, Michael had been trying to convince me over and over again that I had nothing to worry about. It was getting rather annoying, actually.
“It’s sweet that you care,” he said for the fiftieth time. “But there’s nothing to concern yourself over. I’m not going to die because you’re with me.”
“I get it already! But that’s not why I’m quiet.” I pointed at the house we were parked in front of. “Are you going to tell me how you suddenly know where Victoria Estrada lives?”
His lips quirked, and when he breathed in to speak, I cut in. “And you better not say ‘you felt it.’ Especially since you’ve just spent half a day trying to convince me that fortunetelling is crap. So, prove it.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.” The grin dropped from Michael’s expression. “And besides what we’ve discussed, there’s multiple interpretations that can be gleaned from a seer’s visions. Sometimes the real meaning of an event doesn’t become clear until after it’s happened.”
“So, it’s crap,” I repeated, turning my gaze toward Gregory. “Mrs. Estrada?”
It was Gregory’s turn to smile. “An anonymous tip arrived in our inbox this morning. A kind Samaritan, adept at research, tracked down our witness for us.”
Why did I have a feeling this Samaritan went by the name of Caleb Weaver? Curse him, I’d left my notes out that day in the library.
But still, this was rather impressive. “How does he know so much?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gregory replied.
“Fine, we’ll talk business, just for a moment.” Michael’s mood shifted, his tone serious. “Gloria, we’re going to do an interview—”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Michael said. “Obviously you know this. But this is different than with Jordan Bigelow. That interview was unconventional, and you were the center of attention. The fact that he spoke to us at all was a plus. Today, you’re to remain in the background. I don’t have a good feeling about this—”
“Victoria Estrada is an old woman,” I interrupted, unable to keep my expression from twisting. “What do you expect her to do, attack us with her knitting needles?”
“You never know.” Gregory shivered. “They can be formidable weapons in the right hands.”
This time I couldn’t hold back my scoff. “You two are ridiculous. Where is Mr. Kohler? Someone other than me has got to have a lick of sense.”
“Joe has a meeting with the council,” Michael replied, buttoning his cuffs. “But speaking of, he left a message for you.”
This got my attention. “What’s that?”
“He’s gone over your report about Petra Ward,” Michael said. “He commends your actions. He’s not the type to overlook injustice either. However, he did mention that you made two mistakes.”
My pulse was racing now, both in response to the praise, and also in anxiety. “What mistakes?”
I knew this shikigami business was going to look bad against me. But as for the other, I had no idea.
“You didn’t let Gregory know what was going on,” Michael said, leaning toward me. There was a sternness to him now—he wasn’t playing around. His eyes cut into my soul like steel. “You’re never to go into a dangerous situation without backup. Do you understand me? If I don’t get you kicked out of the department, I’ll punish you in my own way at the very least.”
“God…” Why was my face turning warm? “Fine…”
“And the second…” His severe expression lingered. “Until you’re actually employed by this office, you are not a police officer. It is a crime to profess to be one.”
I blinked at him, not expecting this and barely recalling my threat to the gangsters. “Really?”
Michael frowned. “Of course it is. You’ve learned this in school.�
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“I know that!” I pulled away from him. “It was a slip of the tongue, sorry. Won’t happen again.” My hands twisted over my chest. “What else?”
Michael tilted his head. “What do you mean? That’s it.”
They weren’t going to talk about the shikigami at all? Surely my cowering fear would be a liability. But Michael and Gregory were both looking at me, blank expressions on their face. And Mr. Kohler said there were only two things.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “That’s good. Are you ready?”
Victoria Estrada was a brunette whose hair hadn’t yet entirely converted to gray. And her bright eyes were chestnut brown with a hint of green which shimmered under the reflection of her unshed tears.
She took one look at us—at Michael, who was still displaying his badge—and her face fell. Lines of grief, which had been present previously, became more pronounced as her gaze moved to each of us in turn.
“Still?” she asked, the hostility that had been present gone. “This hasn’t passed us yet?”
Gregory cleared his throat, uncomfortable, as I blinked at her, surprised. She had given up hope, which I thought would be normal after fifty years, but still… She actually seemed distraught by our presence.
I couldn’t even comprehend.
But it was Michael who responded, flipping his wallet closed. His professional expression didn’t falter. “We’ve been tasked with looking into your sister’s case. New evidence has come to light, and we’re following some leads in that direction.”
“New evidence?” Her eyebrows raised slowly, and her expression closed. “What new evidence?”
“We’ll discuss that with you,” Michael replied, gesturing toward the room behind her, “if we can sit in private, and perhaps ask a few questions…”
She sighed, pulling the violet cardigan over her wiry frame as she stepped back into the house. “All right.” She nodded. “I’ll give you some of my time. But know I don’t hold out much hope for resolution. I’m resigned to live out the rest of my days without answers. Alpha will say as much also. Bringing up the past will do no one any good.”
