Love & Omens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “I’m not making it fast enough. Blake’s still going to die, and the universe isn’t giving me any more signs to figure out why.”

  “What about the crow laying the necklace at your feet? You mentioned that last time you were here. Are there any other signs like that in your life or in the visions?”

  “There’s a crow that hangs around Blake’s house. It leaves shiny trash on his doorstep, so I assume it’s reinforcing the literalness of the vision. Other than that, it’s a normal cemetery. There’s some fog on the ground, which isn’t unusual in the morning.” She shrugged. “Every time I try to back out of it, I end up floating in darkness, like I’m not meant to see more, and I come back to the present.”

  Natasha leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Has that ever happened before?”

  “The darkness? A couple of times.”

  “Did you see anything in it?”

  “Once I saw a float falling apart and a decapitated ice sculpture rolling by, but I’m sure that was because I’ve been so caught up in the madness of Mardi Gras.”

  The priestess cocked her head. “Anything else?”

  Sydney’s eyes grew wide. “I saw headlights and heard a blaring horn. The next day, Blake and I were almost hit by a drunk driver.” Her pulse thrummed. “Should I be focusing on the darkness?”

  “It sounds like the darkness is the recesses of your mind. Places you haven’t tapped yet.” Natasha closed her eyes, swaying slightly as she shook her head. “You may find answers there, or you may only find confusion in your haste.”

  “I’ll try anything at this point.” Sydney went home and lit the meditation candle, slipping into her vision with ease. As soon as the casket came into view, she attempted to pull back, and once again, she was thrown into darkness.

  She held still in her mind, focusing on the blank canvas and willing something to appear. Come on, universe, show me what you’ve got. In the distance, a wavering image came into view. As it drifted closer, she made out the shape of a giant rabbit with long, white ears.

  A pocket watch appeared in its paw, and it turned its head toward her. “You’re late.”

  A gunshot exploded to her right, and the rabbit clutched its chest before dissolving into the darkness.

  Her eyes flew open, and she gasped, blinking the room into focus. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Sydney was never late for anything, and apparently, if she was, a rabbit was going to get shot.

  Could the rabbit symbolize Blake? Was he going to be shot because Sydney was late? But late to what?

  She groaned and cast her gaze to the ceiling. “Why do you have to be so goddamn cryptic?”

  She spent three more days in isolation, trying her damnedest to decipher that scene, but she couldn’t bring the rabbit through the darkness again. Her vision went back to the same scene in the cemetery, and it grew more and more stagnant the harder she tried.

  Could her mind have been playing tricks on her? Did the rabbit scene mean nothing more than the rolling Cheshire Cat head she’d seen before? Natasha wasn’t kidding when she’d said Sydney may only find confusion in the darkness. She was going insane. She needed to talk to Blake, but was it worth the risk?

  Sydney wrapped up the Friday night tour and handed her iPad to Claire. “Would you mind taking that to the office? My charger at home is busted, and we’ll need it for tomorrow night.”

  “Sure. No problem.” Claire slipped the device into her backpack. “Are you okay? You seem down tonight. Well…more down than usual. Did you figure out your premonition?”

  “No.” She sank onto a step in front of the St. Louis Cathedral and dropped her head in her hands. “I’m frustrated. Things are getting weird, and I’m not making any progress, but that’s not new.”

  “What is it then?” Claire sat next to her, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Stress?”

  She raked her fingers through her hair and stared up at the sky. A thick band of clouds stretched across the moon, dimming its soft light until it barely filtered through. “Honestly? I miss Blake. Spending all this time away from him has made me realize how much I care for him.”

  “Yeah, but you’re staying away from him because you care for him, right?” She smiled and bumped Sydney’s shoulder with her own. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  “How can staying away from the person you love be the right thing to do? It feels…wrong.” And there it was. Though she’d tried to deny it, refusing to let the word venture into her thoughts over the past week, she couldn’t avoid it anymore. She was in love with Blake.

  The corners of her mouth tugged upward, and a brief bout of happiness tingled in her chest in spite of everything. She loved him…and he was going to die. The tiny spark of elation blinked out like a candle reaching the end of its wick.

  Claire pursed her lips, nodding and gazing up at the Andrew Jackson statue in the park across the walkway. “Falling in love is the wrong thing to do. I will never let myself care that deeply for anyone, because the people you love are always taken away.”

  “That sounds like a lonely life.” Lonely, but perhaps less painful than the alternative. Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost had probably never lost anyone they truly loved.

  Claire picked at the seam of her jacket sleeve, her gaze losing focus. “My dad was everything to me. He was a superhero, and I idolized him.” She linked her fingers together, squeezing until the tips turned red. “To call me daddy’s little girl was an understatement. We were inseparable. Then, when I was ten years old, he had a heart attack. I was playing in my bedroom, and when I came into the living room to show him something I’d made with my building blocks, I found him slouched in the recliner. He wasn’t breathing.”

  “I’m so sorry, Claire. That must have been hard.”

  She laughed dryly. “You have no idea. It messed me up pretty bad. I never really got along with my mom after that, and my step-dad, Blake’s cousin, well…he’s a pretty cool guy, but I refused to let myself get close to him.” She shrugged. “He’s only been with my mom for two years anyway.”

  Claire wrapped her arms around herself. “Then Brooklyn… She was living with me because her own home life was shit. I let myself love her, you know? She was my best friend. We did everything together. Right before we graduated, she got a job waitressing and started dating one of the managers. Then she moved in with him, and I hardly saw her after that. She abandoned me for that worthless piece of…” She blew a hard breath through her nose.

  “Blake told me what happened. I can’t imagine.”

  “I can. I’m the one who found her. I went over there because she hadn’t called me in days. The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in, and…” Her body shuddered. “I knew she had gotten herself into trouble. Her boyfriend dealt drugs, you know?” She shook her head. “Anyway, love isn’t worth the loss, believe me. You’re better off without Blake.”

  What a sad view on life for a nineteen-year-old to have. Of course, if Sydney had been through all that Claire had, she’d probably feel the same way. She would gladly give up her “gift of sight,” as Natasha called it, to get rid of the pressure and guilt she carried around because of it.

  Sydney took a deep breath and blew it out hard. “I don’t think staying away from him is helping. It’s been a week, and he’s still in the coffin.”

  Claire cast her a sideways glance. “You’re not thinking about calling him, are you?”

  She drew her shoulders toward her ears. “I might. It hurts too much to be away from him.”

  “You can’t do that. He deserves a long, happy life, and you’ll just cut it short if you’re together.”

  “Even if we’re not a couple, there are still hundreds of ways I could be the cause of his death.” She’d never forgive herself if he died, but staying away from him obviously wasn’t the change that needed to be made.

  “You’re willing to risk his life just to be with him?”

  She opened her mouth to r
espond, but Claire had a point. Sydney’s emotions didn’t matter when Blake’s life was on the line. It wasn’t worth the risk. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Claire stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Please don’t kill Blake.”

  “I’m not—”

  Claire turned on her heel and marched away.

  A sour sensation churned in Sydney’s stomach as she climbed out of her car and trekked up the front steps. Her hands trembled, and she cursed as she fumbled with the key. It jammed into the lock on the fourth try, and she pushed open the door, marching into her living room.

  The damn meditation candle, nearly out of wax, sat on her coffee table. She plopped onto the sofa, heaving in a ragged breath as she snatched the lighter and set the wick ablaze.

  Not having Blake in her life was nothing short of torture. She couldn’t live another day without him, and until she talked to Claire, she’d made up her mind to call him. Now, she wasn’t sure.

  Straightening her spine, she took a deep breath and focused on the candle, clearing her thoughts and tumbling back into Wonderland. Her heart sank as she eyed the open coffin across the grassy path. Nothing had changed.

  She started to pull out of the vision, but she felt a tug toward the casket. Was it morbid curiosity? She certainly didn’t want to see Blake in his death state again. Once had been one time too many, but she couldn’t ignore the urge, like an electricity humming around the coffin. She had to look inside.

  Pushing forward in the scene, she approached the casket and peered into it. Ice ran through her veins, and she spun to see the faces in the crowd. She should have been standing next to Sean, screaming about it being her fault, but she wasn’t there. Instead, Sydney lay silent, nestled in the satin lining of the coffin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blake sat on the sofa in his living room, staring at the phone in his hand. A reporter on the ten o’clock news chattered in the background, and colorful scenes of a parade in Metairie filled the screen. Sydney’s parade would be happening soon, and then her krewe’s masquerade.

  With a huff, he tossed the phone on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch. He’d given her a week. A whole goddamn week of zero contact, and for what? Even with Bernadette’s sculpture out of the museum, the haunting activity hadn’t stopped. He’d found the same damn kitchen knife sitting on his counter three more times before he got frustrated and shoved them all into a drawer. According to Sean’s last update, the funeral premonition hadn’t changed at all, and the only progress Sydney had made was to see some psychedelic scene of a rabbit getting shot. Maybe that meant Blake would be shot too, or maybe it didn’t. No one knew.

  Obviously, the guilt Sydney would express at the funeral was nothing more than survivor’s guilt. She was too close to the situation to see that though, and it was his job to open her eyes. He refused to spend another day away from her when it would have no effect on whether he lived or died.

  He snatched the phone off the table and swiped the screen, but a simple call wouldn’t do. He needed to see her, face to face, so he could convince her they belonged together. She didn’t need to take all the responsibility for her visions.

  Rising to his feet, he grabbed his keys and trotted down the steps. As he yanked open the door, Claire nearly fell through the threshold, her hand held up to knock. He caught her by the hips, stumbling back as she threw all her weight into him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “There you are.” She turned and spoke over her shoulder to a dark-haired woman stumbling down the sidewalk. “Here he is. See?”

  She reeked of cigarettes, beer, and cheap bourbon. Clutching her shoulders, he gently pushed her back. “Are you drunk?”

  She giggled and straightened, swinging her hand toward the door jamb but missing it by half a foot. Her ankle twisted, and she toppled, but he caught her by the arm before she hit the concrete.

  “Here. Sit down before you hurt yourself.” He guided her down onto the front steps.

  “Your boss is hot.” The other woman plopped onto the sidewalk cross-legged and dug through her purse to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “That picture didn’t do him justice.”

  Blake scowled and sank down next to Claire. What had she gotten herself into? “I’m her cousin.”

  “Only by marriage.” Claire waved an arm, swaying. Her eyes were bloodshot, puffy like she’d been crying, but it could have been the alcohol. “This is my roommate, Samantha.”

  “You can call me Sam.” She passed a cigarette to Claire, her arm swinging from side to side a few times before their hands met.

  “You don’t smoke.” He snatched the cigarette from Claire.

  She grabbed his arm, nearly falling into his lap as she took it back. “I do now.”

  He set her upright and scooted to the opposite end of the step. “Where did you get the alcohol?”

  “On Bourbon Street, of course.” She flicked the lighter over and over, but it failed to ignite.

  “You’re nineteen. You’re not supposed to be served.”

  Claire laughed, dropping the cigarette and lighter to clutch her chest, lifting her breasts and pressing them together. “Look at these. I be served whatever I want.”

  “Me too.” Sam grabbed her own breasts, and both women cackled with laughter. “And we didn’t spend a penny.”

  He groaned. His cousin was smarter than this. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to accept drinks from strangers? Someone could have drugged you.”

  Claire wiggled her fingers in front of his face. “Not if I test the drinks first.”

  He grabbed her hand and peered at the swirling designs on her nails. “I didn’t think the drug-testing nail polish ever hit the market.”

  “It didn’t, but test strips did. Caitlin makes them into nail polish stickers. Aren’t they cool?”

  He released her hand and rubbed his forehead. “Who’s Caitlin?”

  “She’s our neighbor in the dorm.” Sam giggled. “Keep up.”

  “You still shouldn’t be drinking in public. You could get arrested, even in New Orleans.”

  Sam made a pshh sound and waved off his warning. “Claire was sad, so we had to go out.”

  “That’s right.” Claire crossed her arms. “I’m sad. Sydney is going to kill you.”

  “What?” A chill rushed through his veins. “Did she see something?”

  “No.” Claire leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

  He looked at Sam. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  Sam shrugged and took a drag of her cigarette. “I dunno.” She motioned with her head toward Claire. “Hey, she’s asleep. Do you wanna make out?”

  “No. No, I do not.” He shook Claire’s shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Blake!” She sat up, blinking.

  “What did Sydney tell you?”

  “Oh.” She glared at him. “She’s thinking about calling you.”

  “Calling me? You said she was going to kill me.” What the hell was she talking about? He needed to get her some coffee or food…something to sober her up. He couldn’t decipher the ravings of a drunk teenager.

  “She said she misses you. If you get back together, you’ll die.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “You’re all I have left in the world now.”

  “What am I? Canned dog food?” Sam crushed her smoke on the sidewalk and stumbled to her feet. Standing with her legs wide apart, she held out her arms as if catching her balance. “Whoa. Why is the street spinning?”

  Blake jumped up and held her arm, guiding her down to the pavement. Sam leaned against the steps and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Claire started to lean against the door again, but he set her up straight and knelt in front of her. “When did she tell you this?”

  “Tonight, after the tour.” She paused, studying him. “You don’t have to answer when she calls. You have me now.”

  Leaning forward, she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his. Faster
than his mind could form the words oh shit, he shot to his feet, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “What the hell, Claire?”

  “I thought… You were looking at me like… Like you cared.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  “I do care, but not like that. I’m eleven years older than you.” He parked his hands on his hips. “For Christ’s sake, we’re family.”

  She shrugged, lowering her head and flicking her gaze up at him. “Only by—”

  “Don’t.” He held up his hands. “This is not okay.” Shit. What the fuck was he supposed to do with two drunk teenagers on his doorstep? “We need to get you back to your dorm. How did you get to the Quarter?”

  “Uber.” She shrank in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest like a little girl. She was a little girl. This situation had gotten way out of hand, and he needed to put an end to it before he got blamed for something he would never do.

  “I’ll order one.” Sam dug in her purse. “If I can find my phone.”

  “No driver with half a brain is going to let you into his car in this condition.” He paced four steps away before turning on his heel and marching back. Goddammit.

  “Sure he will,” Sam slurred. “We have boobs.”

  “No.” No way was he putting them in a position like that. “I’ll take you.”

  “Oh, yay.” Sam moved up to the second step and rested her hands on her thighs. “A ride with Claire’s hot boss. I’m game.”

  Claire snored softly with her forehead on her knees.

  This is not happening. Careful not to tip her over, Blake maneuvered Claire’s purse out of her lap and grabbed her phone. He found Sydney’s number in her contacts and pressed the call button.

  She answered on the third ring. “Hey, Claire.” She sounded resigned. Tired. Like the past week had taken a toll on her.

  He tried to speak, but the words got stuck on the lump in his throat. None of this…not coming home, not the museum…none of it would mean anything to him without Sydney to share it with.