The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels
Page 122
‘A clairvoyant? They are some skills of mine that are listed on my website. Most people feel more comfortable calling me a medium rather than a witch.’
‘That’s understandable. Sorry to ask so many questions, but what is a Pagan, then?’
‘Pagans follow an Earth-based religion, like the people of the Wiccan faith, for example, but there are many other Pagan religions besides Wicca.’
‘Okay. I think I’ve grasped it.’ She nodded in appreciation.
‘Now, tell me your story. Tell me why you’re here.’
She started at the beginning, the incident in Amiton upper grounds, when the car almost hit her, and then covered the impossible things she’d seen over the past few days. She told of what happened in the kitchen, of the voice she heard.
As she shared the story, she tried to place Tamara’s age. The medium’s face looked proud and smooth, the way she moved was sprightly, and her hair was a vivid orange colour, but she came across as someone in her late sixties. Juliet couldn’t tell what exactly gave away her years.
Once the story was told, Tamara remained still for a while. She seemed to be in deep thought, her eyes aimed at her lap. Looking up sharply, she said, ‘I think I know what’s happening to you. Give me your hands.’
Juliet took off her gloves and placed them down. She stretched out her hands towards Tamara, who took hold of them. Tamara used one of her own hands to scan over Juliet’s palms.
Thoughts were obviously going through the medium’s mind. She raised her hand to Juliet’s face. With the same movements, she scanned it, as if her hand were a metal detector searching for treasure inside of Juliet’s head.
‘You’re different,’ said Tamara. ‘I don’t know what you are, but you’re different.’
Juliet laughed, hard and loud. This was too rich. ‘I’m not paying for you to put on a show. I thought you could help me.’ She moved back to her seat and put her gloves back on.
‘It’s not a show. No one like you has ever come to me before.’
‘What do you mean like me?’ How could she have been foolish enough to believe this woman could help?
‘What did you feel when the car almost hit you?’
Juliet paused. I went over the edge. I felt myself die. It had been so vivid, but then she’d opened her eyes to the dark-haired guy holding her. ‘What does it matter?’
‘You felt something, didn’t you?’
‘I felt the car hit me. I saw myself fall and die. But here I am. Not dead. I obviously imagined it. So what does it matter?’ Impatient to leave, she spoke abruptly.
‘You were meant to die.’
‘What?’
‘You were meant to die, Juliet, and in fact … you kind of did.’ Tamara’s tone was serious, so much so that Juliet found herself considering the crazy notion. She recalled the bus journey after the incident, how she’d felt disconnected, like she was there but also somewhere else.
‘That doesn’t even make sense.’
‘I will put it simply for you. Life is varied; some people have a fate, other people don’t. Your fate was to die that day, but you were saved.’ She spoke the way a school teacher would to a child. ‘When you were pulled out the way of the car, you were physically saved, but you spiritually died. You are displaced, Juliet. Your soul is in the Otherworld, but your body is here.’
Dumbfounded, she didn’t reply. She reminded herself that she was an educated woman, she owned a café, she was business-minded and fairly successful, and there was a real world where none of this poppycock existed. And on that conclusion, Juliet took forty pounds out of her purse and passed it to the ‘witch.’
‘Here’s your money. Thank you for the theatrics, but I have real things I need to get back to.’ She turned to leave.
‘No, wait, Juliet. Listen, please. You are seeing ghosts because you are anchored in two worlds: our world and the Otherworld. Because you are in both, you can see spirits from the realm that lies in between the two: the Spiritworld. If you heard a spirit say Help me, like you said you did, then you are not in danger. It wants your help and won’t leave you alone until it gets it.’
Realising Tamara hadn’t changed the record, Juliet continued to exit. She opened the front door, but before she walked out, Tamara shouted, ‘Halloween will be a vulnerable day for you. The Spiritworld can be unpredictable that day. Be prepar—’ Juliet slammed the door. The wooden bang rolled through the tiny hamlet, an anomaly in the tranquil setting.
At the risk of looking insane, she laughed to herself, walking doggedly back to the bus stop. What a waste of time. She’d never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. My fate to die. Yeah, right, so why I am alive?
The Willow bus stop didn’t even warrant a shelter from the rain, so all Juliet could do was stand there getting wetter and colder. Once she was settled on board the next bus that arrived, she pulled out her mobile to search the Internet for inspiration on new décor for the café. Maybe this way the whole journey wouldn’t be a complete waste of time.
She was annoyed to be soaking wet and wished she’d slammed the medium’s front door a bit harder. That’s childish. She’s just a crazy old woman. It doesn’t matter anymore.
A few wallpaper designs piqued her interest, so she bookmarked the pages on her mobile web browser. Afterwards, she texted Kim to apologise again for cancelling on Friday.
Feeling welcomed back to the real world, she went through a mental checklist of to-dos until the journey was over.
The night was spent making paella for dinner and then later relaxing in the bath with a bottle of wine. It was what she’d needed all along—a simple bit of relaxation to calm her panicked mind. Not a load of voodoo garbage and ghost talk. It was normal to have nightmares and hallucinations after a stressful experience. But it wasn’t normal to think ‘spirits’ were seeking your help.
Okay. That’s that figured out. I can forget this whole embarrassing episode and never bring it up again, ever.
Reassurance of mind equalled an easy sleep that night.
Chapter Five
IT HAD BEEN a busy week at Creaky Crystals. Although Nick was only contracted twelve hours, he’d been given overtime due to the Halloween buzz. Extra hours were much appreciated. But not on Thursdays, which he always had off for his appointments with Caroline.
The morning drizzled. Nick stood watching faint raindrops meet a puddle on the garden patio. He smiled from inside the kitchen, a big grin that stretched over his face. Other people might have thought the weather gloomy, but Nick loved the way light rain seemed to hush the world. The air was fresh, the sky practically colourless, and everything simple.
He put on some rainwear and stepped out onto the patio. There were sycamores in the back garden like the ones in the front, and they were almost leafless, with only a few of the strong-willed hanging on. Looking up at the towering trees, Nick remembered why he loved them. He adored the star-shaped leaves, which reminded him of the animated 1988 film The Land Before Time, one of his childhood favourites. Whatever the season, they were intensely colourful—red, brown, yellow, green. Also, the winged sycamore seeds were a joy as a youngster; he’d throw them in the air and watch them spiral down, mimicking a dramatic helicopter crash from a film.
Nick drew in a purposeful deep breath, cherishing the smell of autumn. Along with spring, it was his favourite season. The smell was mellowed with the crisp air of the rain, but it was nevertheless a pleasure to his senses.
After dawdling back inside, he got ready for his appointment.
No premonitions had come his way since the first one. And those painful flashes, well, he didn’t know what to think about them, but he was sure it was only a matter of time or practice before he gained control of his ability. He refused to believe it was just a random blip. A voice inside him insisted it meant something more.
Thinking on it longer, he remembered a story his mum had told him when he was younger. Her mother, Nick’s grandmother, had a dream a couple of weeks before s
he passed, a dream of her own death. She was already taken ill, but apparently she foresaw exactly when and how it would happen. Adults told kids exaggerated stories all the time, so there was no reason for Nick to believe it. Also, his gran was on a lot of medication; she might not have been ‘all there.’ But maybe there was some truth to it. He wished he could ask his mum.
His grandmother had died while his mother was pregnant with him. Some people believed trauma during pregnancy could result in the baby having a birthmark. Whether that was true or not, Nick certainly had a mark—a humble light-brown oval on his left side, roughly six inches below the armpit and towards the bottom of his ribcage. His mother used to tell him it was his gran’s way of living on. As a birthmark?!
When he arrived at the surgery and Caroline let him into the room, he was full of vigour. ‘Hello, Caroline!’ He beamed at her.
‘Well, hello, Nicolas,’ she replied with appropriate reciprocation. She gestured for him to take a seat, and he did, sitting up straight and smiling. For a second, Caroline looked almost unsure of how to proceed. ‘You look very happy,’ she said.
‘I am. It’s been a good week, Halloween is approaching, and I love this time of year.’
‘It shows. Have there been any changes since we last saw each other?’
He thought for a moment, realising Caroline might feel a bit blustered by his sudden joy. ‘I saved a woman last Friday. Did you hear about the car chase?’ He quickly described the incident.
‘I did see about it on the news, but they didn’t mention the woman.’ Caroline’s response was calm.
Nick remembered what he’d concealed from the police. ‘The woman seemed scared and ran off before the police arrived.’
Caroline simply nodded, so Nick continued, ‘But anyway. I’ve been in a good mood since. I’ve never done anything like that before. The woman didn’t stop to say thank you or anything, but I feel good that I saved her life, even if no one else knows about it.’ Rambling, he had forgotten to breathe and had to stop.
‘I bet it’s a nice feeling?’ she explored.
‘It is. It’s like nothing else.’ The real thing on his mind was the premonition, but there was no way he was going to mention that. He didn’t want his therapist thinking he was crazy, rather than just someone who got depressed from time to time. I’d end up attending these sessions forever …
‘It’s nice seeing you smile,’ said Caroline, adding her own smile.
‘It feels good.’
‘We spoke about confronting your father last time, about the awkwardness you feel around him, and whether or not it is worth talking to him about it.’
At mention of his dad, his chest tightened with a slight drop in mood, but not for long. ‘It doesn’t seem as pressing as it did before,’ he said. ‘But I’m going over my dad’s soon anyway. I’ll see what it’s like.’
Caroline smiled again and waited. In his elevated mood, Nick realised he’d been gesticulating like a mad man. He let out a breath that portrayed: ‘Okay, I’m calm now.’
The remainder of the appointment transformed from a therapy session with a sense of direction into a genial chit-chat. Caroline probably thought it was okay to natter, seeing as one, she was being paid for it, two, Nick felt happy, and three, Nick had explored his thoughts and feelings a fair amount.
When he returned home, Nick spent the afternoon and evening in the snug. Books he’d read throughout the week were scattered across the floor, making it look like the dwelling of an untidy bibliophile.
His brain was crammed with mythology, and he’d grown bored of books on psychic powers after practising all of what they’d said to no avail. So now he picked up a novel he’d been meaning to get around to—Carrie by Stephen King. Yeah, it was about a girl with a psychic gift, telekinesis, but that wasn’t why he chose it. At least, it wasn’t the only reason.
Concentration wasn’t on his side. He read almost half of the book in one sitting but failed to grasp the story. What’s the matter with me? Although he felt happy, his thoughts seemed to want to be somewhere else.
It was getting late. Feeling stupid about reading in some kind of zombie-trance, he had a snack and then went to bed. Sleep didn’t come. His mind squirmed about. He felt a strong need to tell someone about the premonition. But whom?
Fin! Even though Nick didn’t see his best friend much nowadays, he was sure Fin would spare some time for him. Fin’s full name was Fintan Evergreen. Ha! But he went by Fin. Nick could also tell Alex Campbell, but there would always be that divide between them. They were friends, but no longer best friends. He couldn’t trust Alex.
The computer took some time to load, and then Nick signed in to Facebook. He was embarrassed to see there were ‘happy birthday’ comments at the top of his profile … from nine months ago. Most were from people he didn’t even know. The only recent notifications were game requests and event invites from yet more strangers.
I’m so popular it hurts, he thought, then had to laugh at himself. He clicked on ‘Messages’, then typed a new one:
Hey Fin, how are you?
I haven’t seen you in ages! Did you want to come over sometime soon and hang out? Watch some crappy films and play Xbox like we used to? We can order some junk food and talk about old times? I hope you’re doing well.
A click on ‘Send’, and that was that. Sleep came easier with the prospect of having someone to share his secret with.
Deirdre’s was a quiet café in Amiton, out of the way and down a small street with a few gift stores and a barbershop. It was the kind of place that could only be found by people who already knew it was there.
Mora had put Nick’s lunch break at the same time as hers on Friday, so they went to Deirdre’s together, leaving Janet Morgan in charge of the store with the help of Michael and Alan.
‘So, Nicolas, spill the beans,’ she said after ordering them both cheese and tomato toasties and a pot of tea.
He was taken aback. ‘Spill the beans on what?’
‘You’ve been grinning all week … It’s not like you.’
‘Ha, thanks, Mora. I didn’t realise I’m usually such a grump.’
‘No, you’re not a grump, but it’s easy to see that you’re happier than usual. Your whole vibe is different.’
What does that even mean? He was giving off a vibe? I better stay alert and try not to revert back to the grump-vibe. When he didn’t reply, Mora continued with her assault. ‘It’s a woman, isn’t it?’
‘Mora! Not you as well? Janet’s been bugging me all week, saying I need a woman, blah, blah, blah.’
‘I’m not saying that. I’m just asking.’ She laughed at his over-the-top reaction as their order was brought to the table by a woman with curly auburn hair.
Deirdre’s, like the rest of Amiton, was decorated for Halloween. A hanging skeleton at the window was posed to greet customers, and a row of ominous pumpkin faces was huddled below. Creeping up the walls were black vines, and splatted in the corners of the ceiling were streaked white cobwebs. The tables were draped with transparent cloths, each torn and decrepit.
It was warm inside, interrupted by an intermittent draft from customers entering and leaving.
Mora didn’t ask questions while they ate, but she regularly smiled at Nick and looked at him with suspicious green eyes, as if to say, ‘What are you like, eh?’
After they’d eaten, they sipped at their teas and continued the conversation. ‘I know what it is,’ said Mora, as though a light bulb had flicked on above her head. ‘You’ve been different since that Friday. When you were late to work after that car chase. You like the drama, don’t you? A bit of action! You young ones love it.’
She didn’t just laugh at her own conclusion; she was in stitches. Her dead-looking yellowy-white complexion even turned red for a moment in her fits of laughter. Nick had been given an easy way out of the interrogation, at least, and he took it. ‘You’ve caught me out,’ he said. ‘I’ve never felt a rush like that before.’
‘You’re one of them adrenaline junkies; next you’ll be skydiving.’ She calmed down and coughed away the last of her giggles.
He supposed adrenaline must have coursed through his body to get him up the steps in time, but when he actually reached the top it all happened so fast. There was no thrill in the action itself. The real excitement was in knowing he’d had a vision.
If it had been a normal incident, no vision involved, then would he have come away feeling indifferent? Is that how empty my life was before the premonition?
‘Nicolas,’ said Mora, ‘more of our stock has gone missing this week. Have you noticed anything?’
‘No. Have you asked everyone else to keep an eye out too?’ Disbelief crept up inside of him. ‘God, it annoys me the way people think they can just steal.’ He was raised to respect other people and their belongings; even the thought of thieving offended his sensibilities.
‘I’ve asked everyone to keep watch. You make me laugh, Nicolas; you always curse in God’s name!’ She gave a playful shake of her head.
Although Nick regularly used God’s name in vain, he wouldn’t do it around people he knew would be offended by it. He’d hate to upset someone. ‘Sorry, it’s just a habit.’
‘I don’t mind, not really. He’s not my god.’ Mora laughed.
Nick wasn’t religious himself, and it was nice that Mora rarely mentioned her own beliefs. She wasn’t like Janet, who often slipped in praise to the Goddess mid-conversation or blabbed about the rituals and spells she performed. Mora seemed humble in her faith, and Nick admired that.
Getting back on track, Nick asked, ‘So now everyone knows stock is going missing?’
‘Yes, and I trust all of you, of course, but we have to be more careful when tagging valuable items.’ A drained smile twitched on her face.
‘What’s been stolen?’
‘Some of our jewellery this time. I’m sure of it.’