Liz nudged Riley. "Seriously, there are other people here.”
Riley lifted her chin toward the girl. "I know her. She borrowed my paints in Art."
Liz quirked an eyebrow. "Well, she's borrowing his tongue now. Doesn't he play tuba in the band?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, they'll be at it a while. Band geeks practice. A lot."
"Liz."
"What? Just saying.”
“Is there something else you could talk about?" Riley checked her phone. "Like the time we've wasted waiting here."
"Not wasted, I promise. And it won't be long—we're next.” Liz was flushed, shifting from foot to foot. "You think she plays the lottery?"
"Yes, and she came here to celebrate.”
"I'm so nervous. Aren't you even a little curious?"
"No, not really. It’s not like it’s real."
"Oh, it is. Last year, after the gypsy told me about Gavin being all wrong for me, which he so was, she told me about you."
"About me?"
"Yeah, you hadn't even moved here yet. She said that she'd see me and my new friend next year. It's next year, and here we are." Liz put her arm around Riley's shoulders. "Prophecy fulfilled."
"Self-fulfilling prophecy." Riley grinned and pulled away. "Hey, wait a second. Is that why you asked me to sit with you at lunch my first day?"
Liz wrinkled up her face and shook her head. "What? No, so not. Hey, wait 'til you see her. She's got this long black hair, way past her butt, big ole' boobs you couldn't drive a toothpick between, and these crazy blue eyes, like, like, what's the name of that really blue ring your mom wears?"
"Sapphire."
"Yeah, like that. Sapphire. And when she goes into a trance." Liz shivered. "It's wild. So wild. Last year, she told me to beware of the dog. I tell you, I ain't looked at Muffin the same since."
"Muffin? Two-ounces-of-fluff Muffin? You're afraid of her? Because of this," Riley struggled for the right word, "this fair-hopping charlatan who works the town's fall festival?"
"I'm telling you, she knows stuff. Like I said, real deal."
"Uh huh. Look, that last girl's been in there a while. We could go get that churro you wanted and come back." Riley checked her phone again. Twenty minutes and counting, but Liz was already shaking her head. She wasn’t budging. Riley sighed. "How long does it take to tell someone they'll meet a tall, dark stranger?"
"You forgot handsome."
"Even she can't guarantee that." Riley rubbed her arms, glad the feeling of being watched had passed. "It's all subjective anyway."
"No, handsome is a deal breaker." Liz pointed to the couple still going at it. "I mean, you can't do that with ugly."
"I don't know if 'can't' is the right word. I mean technically—”
"Ugh, Riley. I do not want to think, technically or otherwise, about ugly kissing or ugly whatever that might turn into. Bleh. I just want to know when I'll die so I can avoid it."
"You can't avoid death, Liz. And anyway, she's just telling people what they want to hear. You'll get rich. You'll find true love. Don't bet on horses with fat jockeys. Anyone paying the smallest bit of attention could size you up and tell you all about yourself."
"Okay, let's hear you predict my future. You tell me what you think I want to hear."
"Okay. You'll marry Nathan Roth."
"A given. The gypsy said fated love was our destiny. And?"
Riley tried out an exaggerated Romani accent. "You have long life. I see little kids in your future. You will teach, no? Have big family?"
"Stop it. No so loud." Liz glanced toward the tent. Her lips were tight, her nostrils flared. The look Liz was giving her reminded Riley of her mother's wait-until-I-get-you-home death glare.
Riley laughed, and a hazy vision of Liz as a soccer mom dragging three kids along crossed her mind. "And you'll have three kids. A boy and two girls."
"Three kids?" Liz frowned. "Let me run that by the expert. Sounds way off. How'd I ever get my body back?"
The tent flap parted. The girl who had been ahead of them came out walking like she hadn't quite mastered her legs.
Liz tugged at Riley’s arm.
"Another satisfied customer. Now, our turn." She sounded a little breathless. "Let's go."
Riley hung back. "Maybe just you this time. I'll wait out here."
"Nope. Me and a friend. That's the prophecy."
"Would you stop saying prophecy?"
"No. Prophecy. You're going in. And be nice. And I mean church nice."
"Mm. Is that in the prophecy?" Riley ducked at the entrance and bumped into Liz who had stopped short.
"Cool, huh?" Liz's voice was wobbly. "She's got more stuff this year."
Candles illuminated the space. The low table at the back overflowed with colored scarves. They crowded around the crystal ball and a set of false teeth that were agape and glowing. But no gypsy.
Riley perched on the edge of the table and crossed her arms. "More like cheesy."
"Yeah, yeah. You're so much more sophisticated, Ms. New York City." Liz sat in the chair in front of the table and reached a finger toward the teeth. "This is so wild. I told you it was wild."
The rustle of silk silenced Liz. They both looked up.
Standing at the tent's back entrance was a young woman dressed up like the daughter Morticia Adams and Elvis might have had and wearing just enough perfume that Riley caught a faint trace of orchids.
The woman sniffed the air. "You want to know about death."
She sailed over to the table, her pale skin glowing under the lights. She put a long, red nail to her temple and closed her eyes. "Death stalks you."
"See?" Liz whispered the word to Riley, and then her head snapped toward the woman. "Wait, what? Stalks me?"
The woman ignored Liz and pointed at Riley. "Not you. Her."
Riley stepped back, a flutter of apprehension prickling at her spine. "I think you got the wrong girl."
"Your charms say otherwise. Tell me of that necklace you wear so close."
Riley felt for the necklace. The charms hidden under her sweater flattened against her skin. She could feel the metal pressing against her collar bone, cool and heavy. A tiny chill drew her shoulders in. "It's just a necklace. Trinkets."
"What I wouldn't give for those ... trinkets." The woman flicked her finger against the crystal ball. "You came to see the charlatan, but it is you who is the fraud. Am I wrong, Fae?"
"What?" Riley's stomach twisted, a knot of fear tightening under her ribs, squeezing her lungs.
"Her name's Riley." Liz's gaze ping-ponged between Riley and the woman.
"I know her name. Her true name."
What was the woman playing at? "I think I'll wait outside."
"Don't go on my account. Stay. Watch the show. Prove me false." She turned her attention to Liz. "Give me your hand, Elizabeth."
"How did you know my name? Was it the spirits?" Liz was looking around the tent as though she might see a specter feeding the palm reader information. Riley choked on a laugh, along with something else that begged release from her tight chest.
"Yes, how did I know? Spirits? Maybe. Psychic? Yes." The gypsy grinned, her voice light, almost playful. "Palm."
Liz stuck out a hand that was less than steady, hovering like a hummingbird over the glowing crystal ball. "I want to know how to avoid death."
The woman seized Liz's hand. "Shh. No talking. Angers the spirits."
A thick pause filled the room, broken only by the howling wind and the sound of the woman's rings clinking against one another.
The gypsy leaned forward. "I see that your life can be long." She breathed deeply and closed her eyes. "If."
Liz squirmed in her chair. "If? If what?"
The reader lifted her eyes to Riley. "Very long life for you— if you're willing to sacrifice the things you hold dear."
Liz stared at her palm. "What does that mean?"
The woman looked away from Riley and tugged Liz closer.
"It means give up the fries. What are you thinking it means?" She traced a line. "And your friend was right. Three children. Now, the means of your death."
She had heard. Relief filled Riley's lungs and a wave of embarrassment heated her cheeks.
The gypsy clucked her tongue. "Your life line runs out around—"
Liz yanked back her hand and rubbed it like she thought she could erase what might be written on it. "Maybe I shouldn't know."
"No? Don't want to know?"
"Can I change it? My death or destiny or…"
"Not likely."
"Oh." Liz drew her hand closer to her face. It was shaking. Riley walked up behind Liz and squeezed her shoulder. Liz jumped.
"What's the point of this?" Riley gestured around the room, surprised at her own vehemence. "If you can do nothing."
"I didn't say nothing. There's always a chance, a tweak you can make, a charm you can buy." The gypsy glanced at Riley. "But it only delays what will be. And when you know the future, sometimes it makes it that much more difficult not to run to it." She nodded at Liz. "Your life will be long enough, but if you want to know specifics, I will look."
"No, don't tell me." Liz laid a five-dollar bill on the spread of scarves and gave Riley a pasted-on smile. "Ready?"
"Well, Riley, your hasty friend still has time left. I didn't even get to the ball." The woman tucked the five into her cleavage, probably smothering Abe Lincoln. She grinned at Riley. "Your reading is free if you care to hear what the spirits are whispering to me."
The muscles at Riley's mouth felt paralyzed. She didn't know how the woman knew about her necklace, but she wasn't about to be fooled with smoke and mirrors, even if she had almost believed. Almost.
She shook her head. "Yeah, I know. I'll meet a tall, dark stranger. But thanks."
"So, this you know for yourself, eh?”The woman waved a hand over the ball. Gray fingers of smoke rose up and clouded the crystal. "Are you afraid of what you might hear?"
Riley heard the challenge and resisted.
Liz tugged at Riley's sleeve. "I'm ready if you are."
"Are you ready, Riley? Really ready?" The woman touched the ball. The smoke disappeared, and what looked like a hologram of a man was there and gone in an instant. "What would your father say?"
Riley went still. She couldn't know.
"Come on, Riley." Liz's voice was insistent.
Riley waved her off, straightened her spine, and ignored the tingle moving along her jaw. "No, Liz. It's fine."
"It's only for fun, no? You don‘t believe me." The woman gestured to the seat Liz had vacated. "Your palm."
Riley passed her right hand over the ball.
"The dominant one."
"You're very observant."
The woman flexed her jewel-heavy fingers."You would have no less, would you? Let's see what your future holds."
Riley waited for the show, an eye roll, a tossing head, anything that might suggest spirits were ready to play, but none came. Not even a touch. The woman peered down at Riley's palm and then, pushing her shoulders back, took Riley's hand in hers.
Her rings were cold, the hands, clammy, almost as moist as Riley's. The woman pressed her thumb between Riley's middle and ring fingers.
"Hold your hand steady, girl. This requires concentration."
"I am holding still." Riley bit her lip. Maybe her hand was shaking. A little. She focused on controlling her muscles.
The woman's thick brows met. She shook her head, bringing her free hand up to stroke her bottom lip. "There are so many lines."
Riley forced a laugh. "Maybe I have nine lives."
Liz's voice quavered behind her. "I don't think you should—”
Riley motioned for Liz to be quiet.
The palm reader's nostrils flared.
"Be still, Elizabeth." Any trace of her accent was gone.
She flicked Liz an impatient glance before dropping Riley's hand and focusing on the crystal ball.
"Let me try here."
The sound of the wind fighting against the tent merged with the ball's hiss, a soft hiss, like a drop of water meeting fire. The crystal turned from smoky, to red, then a pulsing emerald green.
"Ah, you miss someone."
Riley fought for a stoic face. "Easy. Most people do."
"Yes, yes, we do. But your someone . . ." She lifted her eyes to Riley's. "Your father is in danger."
Riley's heart stuttered, caught in a shuffle-step loop, a squeeze and release that stole her balance. She gripped the silk-covered table, closing her eyes briefly before meeting the woman's gaze.
"What danger?" Her voice sounded shaky to her own ears, a dead giveaway the woman could exploit. Riley mentally kicked herself for it. And for wanting the woman to have answers.
"I don't know." She passed a hand across the ball and it cleared. A sudden howling sounded, and the ball fell from its stand and rolled across the table toward Riley.
She stopped it with one finger, watching mesmerized as the ball turned black. Dad. No, the image came sharply, a dark face with black holes for eyes.
“Let go!” The gypsy snatched the ball from Riley’s reach.
Riley’s pulse filled her head. She felt for her necklace.
"Don't. They'll know." The gypsy quickly reached for a bundle of herbs and set it on fire. It smoked, filling up the room with a pleasant incense. “What did you see? Them?”
Riley's hand stilled over her chest, the charms touching under her shirt. "Who?"
Liz huddled close. "The spirits?"
"No, much worse. Eyes looking for magic. You felt them. I can see you have. The eyes of the many." The woman ground the herbs into a large shell behind her, then draped a cloth over the crystal ball and stood. She grabbed a flimsy cloak from her chair, whirled it around her shoulders, and pulled the hood up. "Come back tomorrow."
Riley's body betrayed her as she stood, and she clung to the back of the chair, shaking her weak legs into submission. "What will it cost?" Her voice was steadier than the rest of her.
The woman paused, her gaze locked on Riley's. "More than you know. But come without money. Bring something of his and keep it hidden. Your trinkets too."
She made a swift sign in the air, lifted the tent flap, and disappeared.
"Let's go." Liz didn't wait for Riley to respond. She was gone, hurrying toward the exit.
Riley massaged her temple, feeling like she'd just run a marathon. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked around the room. She needed to see it, really see what was there. See what was real. What was true.
She touched the skull draped in beads in the corner. Plastic. Riley ran her fingers over its surface and then dipped into the bowl of talisman rabbit feet labeled $1. More plastic, no bones there either. She glanced up at the golden hand hanging over the back entrance. She stared at the sparkling blue eye in its center, and then trailed her gaze along the intricate designs on the palm and fingers.
"I'm not coming back in there for you."Liz’s voice caused Riley to jump. Liz lifted the front flap higher and a gust of wind rushed in, scattering the scarves and sending the amulet spinning. It twisted on its chain, gaining momentum until the designs around the eye appeared to crawl like angry snakes.
"Not kidding." Liz glanced at the hand. "I'm leaving with or without you."
"I'm coming." Riley paused at the threshold and looked back. The amulet hung perfectly still. She shivered, suddenly very cold and very alert. The amulet swung forward, slow, steady, soundless, and then back, swaying pendulum-like above the doorway, glinting in the flickers of candle light.
If she didn't know better, she would have sworn it blinked.
3
“Mom, are you here?”
Riley let the door shut quietly behind her. If her mom’s shift just ended, she’d likely be curled up on the couch with a blanket and untouched food growing cold on the coffee table while she slept. Riley hated to wake her, even to eat. Her mom barely rested as it was. The dark circles under h
er eyes had arrived the same time her dad had left them. And they’d only gotten darker.
The floor creaked under her careful steps, and Riley glanced at the couch only to find it empty. Her mom’s boss had probably asked her to stay. And her mom was always pushing herself to provide for them. Riley hated asking for anything, even her art supplies. That’s why she hadn’t painted in weeks except in class. Why her mom refused to let her get a job like anyone else, she didn’t know. But every time she brought it up, her mom wouldn’t listen.
Not that she wanted a job flipping burgers or stocking shelves, but having her own money would be nice. And a car, something saved up for college, assuming she went through with that next year. She’d sent in the applications dutifully but without any actual desire to go. It had never been her dream to sit in a classroom and memorize more useless information. She wanted to travel, and she knew part of that was to find her father.
In her heart of hearts, she had always thought she could find him somehow. And now the gypsy had renewed that hope. It gripped her now in a fierce determination to help him. The gypsy couldn’t have known the things she’d known. Riley hated herself for it, but she wanted the woman to bring her answers tomorrow. Finally let her know something, anything. The desperation gnawed at her gut.
She hesitated to pull her charms from under her shirt. The woman had said many eyes were watching. The thought had Riley’s neck hair alert again. She double locked the front door and lay down on the couch with her mom’s favorite throw. The house was cold, but she dare not turn up the heat. She wanted to be able to hear everything, and the heating and air made enough noise to wake the dead.
Settled in, she gave her phone a last glance and pulled the cover over her shoulders. Now she just needed to wait up for her mom.
But waking to the sound of her mom making breakfast meant she’d been less than vigilant. Her neck hurt from sleeping on the couch and the questions she’d meant to ask still sat heavy on her chest. She checked her phone which had blown up with messages from Liz. It was already nine-thirty. The fairgrounds opened at ten. She was already almost late, and she hadn’t even asked her mom for a ride.
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