But deep down, behind the all-business-all-the-time mantra she lived by, she was actually a kind-hearted and compassionate person. She was all about giving people chances to see what they could do, and believed that talent sometimes came in the most unconventional packaging. Like with me. I had not been groomed and primed to be Lillian’s next apprentice like the five candidates wishing to be chosen had, but for whatever reason, Lillian had a “hunch” (as she later told me), that I had untapped potential - an unexpressed talent that she wanted to explore. She asked my professors if she could see some of my designs and that very afternoon, she offered me an apprenticeship position within her firm. I was left dumbfounded and exhilarated, standing with my mouth agape, while she waited for me to accept. It was a similar reaction to the one I had a few weeks ago when she told me I was going to spearhead the MacMahon project. Lillian had pushed my chin up to close my gaping mouth and said, “Honey, you’ll either sink or swim. Those are the only options. I really like you, so here’s hoping you can swim.” And with that she had left me sitting in her office, feeling much like I did on the day I accepted her apprenticeship position two years prior.
Today, she had called me into her office to review what my team and I were doing for the MacMahon house - a sprawling mediterranean-inspired estate that was in much need of an overhaul. The couple wanted to modernize and freshen up the interior, which meant the entire kitchen, all five bathrooms, and all the flooring needed to be gutted. We were basically designing from scratch. As my team and I sat in Lillian’s office, I received a text from Emily:
“I found her! She’s both psychic and medium. She does it all. Made the appt. for this evening at 7. I’ll pick you up!”
Ugh. She actually found someone. I had been banking on Emily’s laid-back nature to delay the process, but apparently she was determined to put me through this. My palms began to sweat and that familiar nervousness in the pit of my stomach started spreading throughout my body. How was I going to explain what was happening to me? More importantly, what would this fortune teller say in return?
***
I sent Emily a message as I was leaving the office, letting her know I was going to head home, grab a bite to eat, and be ready to go when she got there. As I was doing precisely that, she rang the doorbell. I shoved the remaining bite of my sandwich into my mouth and headed for the door.
“Are you ready? I am super excited for this reading. This is going to be so fun,” she said as she walked through the door and threw her purse on my couch.
“Mmmhmm…” I said, still chewing.
“Aren’t you excited? I mean, I know you don’t really believe in any of this stuff, but you must be a tiny bit curious?” she asked.
I took a sip of water before answering, relishing in her growing anxiousness with each passing moment that I remained silent. I couldn’t help but smile, however.
“Yes, I’m curious about what the outcome of this reading will be. Thanks for setting up the appointment, Em. You know I never would have done it,” I admitted.
“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get going!” Emily’s excitement was contagious. Before I knew it, my nervousness had melted into anticipation of what a psychic reading would entail.
***
Emily pulled the car into a deserted parking lot and parked right in front of a tiny, unassuming building. It looked like a small gray house with a tiled-roof, except there weren’t any windows on the front - just a weathered-looking wooden door with a sign hanging from it that read “OPEN.”
“Let’s do this,” Emily said fervently as she stepped out of the car.
“Are you sure this is the place? It looks creepy. God, I hope we aren’t being lured to our deaths. This better not be like one of those crime show episodes where some serial killer sets up a fake business to lure people in, and then he chops them up into little pieces and hides them under the floorboards.”
“Well, on that note! Good lord, Madelyn… ” Emily grabbed my arm and tugged me along to the front door of the scary, windowless house. She boldly opened the door (whereas I would have knocked) and we stepped inside the dimly lit foyer. There was an old 18th century-style desk with a blue tufted armchair in the right corner, but no one was sitting at the desk. A leather-bound ledger lay open on top, with a peacock-feather pen and a little sign saying: “Please Sign In.”
I walked over to sign the ledger as Emily called out, “Hello?” But there was no answer. As we stood in what appeared to be the “waiting room,” I surveyed my surroundings. The small desk lamp was the only thing providing light in the stuffy little room, and with dusk fading into night outside, it was becoming increasingly difficult to see. A large painting hung opposite the desk, with what appeared to be a portrait of an Indian Sikh. His head was wrapped in an immense purple turban and his beard was so long it was not fully captured in the painting itself. All of a sudden, the beaded curtain that separated the waiting room from the rooms beyond, began swaying of its own accord. I looked up to see if there was an air conditioning vent that perhaps was causing the movement, but the ceiling was void of any vents. A crystal chandelier hung from its center, which suddenly burst into light. Emily and I both looked up at the now lit chandelier, and then looked questioningly at each other.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping that the owner of the shop had just flipped the switch on the chandelier, and that it wasn’t the result of some unseen spirit.
“Come in,” said a disembodied, mystical voice from beyond the beaded curtain.
I grabbed Emily’s arm. “Jesus Christ! This is so freaking creepy.”
“Oh where’s your sense of adventure. This is going to be fun! The spookiness adds to the experience, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think,” I replied, giving Emily my best scowl. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” As I placed my hand onto the strands of beads to part them, the sudden aroma of earthy spices mingled with the scent of sandalwood flooded my nostrils. I took a sharp intake of breath as I saw myself in a different place, in a different time, dressed in a lavishly decorated cobalt-blue sari. I could feel the weight of the fabric on my body, the tickle of silk grazing my bare feet. My hair was long and braided down my back; the heaviness of my plaited hair told me it was well past my waist.
Emily shook my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. “Maddie, come on.” Apparently she was still waiting for me to walk through the curtain. As we passed through the beads, a tall, ethereally beautiful woman was standing in the middle of the room. Her hands extended in greeting. Her skin was a warm, dark caramel and her hair was long and loose; the wavy black strands framing her stunning face. Her features were exquisite, yet somehow, in an otherworldly way, appeared frightening. Her smile was welcoming, however. She wore a long beaded skirt in a startling shade of pink, with a matching beaded top. Her arms and every finger on both hands bore golden rings, and as I looked up to meet her eyes and return a smile, I noticed her eyes were an alarming shade of amber so light they could almost be considered gold. Her eyes never left mine. Never once did she look toward Emily to greet her. She continued her uncomfortable, penetrating gaze as she spoke:
“Please, have a seat so we may begin your reading. My name is Madame Yelena. You must be Madelyn.” Her voice had changed to become silvery and pleasant. I noticed a slight accent that I couldn’t place. English was probably not her first language.
For the first time since entering the room, she addressed Emily. “And you must be Emily.”
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you. I’m the one who called to make the appointment,” Emily explained as she stepped forward extending her hand toward the Madame.
I took the moments during their exchange to survey the room. There were in fact windows at the rear of this scary little house, but they were draped with a deep purple fabric, woven with an intricate golden design. The entire room boasted sumptuous shades of crimson, plums, and golds. Glass bottles filled with herbs, candles dripping copious amounts of wax, and hangin
g crystals littered all the available space. Everything was alight with a warm, otherworldly glow. There appeared to be a serpent of some kind in a glass tank in the far left corner of the room. I shivered as I considered what purpose it served.
“I am so anxious to do a reading for you, Miss Greene.” Madame Yelena admitted as she took a seat at the round glass table in the center of the room. Her eyes were once again locked on mine.
“Did Emily explain the reason for this visit when she called?” I asked, trying to suppress a shudder.
“No, I only said I wanted to make an appointment for my friend. Nothing more,” Emily clarified. The Madame nodded, affirming Emily’s statement.
I finally sat down and waited for Madame Yelena to begin the reading. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything at all, or wait for her to initiate the conversation. After all, she was the psychic. I wanted to give her the opportunity to divine the reasons for this visit.
“I am sensing that you are very troubled, dear,” she said, reaching her hands out toward me. “Come, tell me about these visions and dreams you are having.”
I was stunned into utter silence. How did she know I was having visions? I looked over at Emily, questioning her with my eyes. Perhaps Emily let that little tidbit slip over the phone? Emily’s eyes were wide as she shook her head ‘No’ at me. Okay, one point for Madame Yelena.
Before I could find my voice to speak, Yelena gave me a knowing look and said,
“Yes, I know you are having visions. I sensed it when you walked in, child.”
“Um… okay. Yes, I am having strange dreams. And recently, a few experiences that could be considered ‘visions,’” I admitted, making quotation marks with my fingers at the word. “The reason I am here is…”
“Is because you want to know the meaning behind all these strange occurrences, obviously,” Madame Yelena said, cutting me off.
“Look, I’m the skeptical type, although you’ve definitely captured my attention. So, what is the protocol here? Should I tell you some background info first?” I asked.
“There is no need,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I know why you have come. Give me your hands. Come now, hands on the table, please,” she demanded after I hesitated placing my hands upon the lace-covered glass.
Madame Yelena closed her eyes and wrapped her cold, jewel-clad hands tightly around my own. She remained motionless for what seemed like forever. I stared at the gold-threaded pattern on the purple window coverings as I waited for her to do her thing, when a sudden deja-vu came over me. Where had I seen that pattern before? I was starting to get anxious, and I could feel my palms beginning to sweat. Abruptly, her eyes burst open and she stared at me with this frightening, twisted smile on her face. Now I was thoroughly freaked out.
“You share a connection with someone you have never met.” The words burst from her mouth as though she could no longer contain them. Her smile widened, revealing a set of perfectly white, slightly pointed teeth. I tried again to suppress a shudder, but she must have sensed something because her expression turned instantly serious.
“I have waited a long time to see this again. It has been years since I’ve seen a case like yours, with a soul so attuned to finding its mate. You had a past life, Madelyn. A past life filled with the most pure and passionate love.”
“That is so cool!” Emily chimed in. I had almost forgotten she was here.
“What? Are you telling me these are memories of my past life? I asked, completely bewildered.
“Do you not believe it possible?” she asked, a true note of curiosity in her voice.
“Well, I’m not sure. I guess anything is possible.” I paused momentarily before continuing, “I guess I could be open to the idea.”
“I’m not sure how familiar you are with this subject, but our souls do not die when the human body dies. You see, the soul or energy leaves a person and sometimes passes into another body, a new life. Often times, children will retain memories of a past life, a life that was once their own. But usually as the child grows, the memories fade. Most of us never remember our past lives into adulthood. In extremely rare circumstances, a person whose past life achieved enlightenment, or was touched by some extraordinary means, will have memories or small glimpses of their past,” Madame Yelena explained.
“Yes, but I don’t have any memories of another life.” I thought briefly of the strange image of myself dressed in the blue sari that happened when I touched the beaded curtain, and wondered if they were indicative of a past life. “The dreams I have been experiencing are about someone who is present today. Not someone from the past,” I told her.
“I am picking up a very powerful love that must have existed in the past. Your soul is reaching out, trying to find the one they belonged to and loved so deeply. Now, tell me about these dreams you are having.”
I recounted the dreams I’d had over the last few months, and also told her about the vision that happened at the restaurant the other night. The entire time, Madame Yelena merely nodded serenely, only speaking to ask for more details here and there. When I finished reliving all my dreams about Damien Pierce, she sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples.
While her eyes were closed, I glanced her over; noticing how strangely beautiful she was. For the first time since the reading began, I noticed the necklace hanging around her throat. It was extraordinary and unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The gold braided chain was long, and at it’s end hung a peculiar symbol- a triangle made up of three crossing arrows. In the center of the triangle hung a sphere with a serpent coiling around it. The longer I admired the necklace, the more these strange feelings of familiarity washed over me. Nothing in this room, and nothing about this situation was familiar, so I didn’t understand where these feelings were stemming from. I looked down at my hands which were resting on the table, and for a split second they appeared to be covered in tattoos. I gasped in surprise, but when I did, my hands returned to normal.
“Is something the matter?” Madame Yelena asked, an uneasy expression on her face.
“No, no… everything's fine,” I responded.
“Did you see something, Madelyn?” Emily asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. Her gaze was not filled with concern but with awe.
“It is very important to let me know if you are having any visions at this moment, or in the future,” Madame Yelena explained. “Is there something you want to share?”
“As I said, I’m fine. It was just a chill that passed through me.” Madame Yelena looked unconvinced, but closed her eyes once more and continued rubbing her temples. Part of me (the more rational part), was thinking that this was complete nonsense. But another part of me felt deep down that there was a possibility Madame Yelena was right. There had been a nagging feeling within me these last few days telling me there must be something connecting me to Damien Pierce. Perhaps it wasn’t Damien that I was feeling the connection to. Perhaps the connection I felt was to Damien’s soul? As if Madame Yelena was reading my mind, she abruptly opened her eyes and spoke.
“You have come to the realization that your soul and Mr. Pierce’s soul are connected, I presume?”
“Is that - is that what you think, too?” I asked, my voice faintly more than a whisper.
“Whoa,” Emily remarked, as she leaned forward in her chair.
“Oh yes. It is most certain. You have a connection to him, and I wouldn’t doubt that he is feeling the connection as well. He may very well be experiencing similar dreams or visions about a woman he has never met. This connection is quite rare and so beautiful; I have never seen it’s equal. I am curious to know what you will do. Will you seek him out? If you do, will you come back and see me? I am so curious…” she said, trailing off. She sat back, tapping her long fingers against each other as she gave me another one of her eery smiles.
“I’m not sure what to do. Right now I feel like my head is going to explode,” I admitted.
“Do not worry yourself over it.
Your soul will surely guide you. Please keep in touch, though. I would love to know what happens now that you know how entwined your soul is with Mr. Pierce’s,” she said with a knowing look in her eye.
My practical mind gave in as my heart told me I didn’t need to ask any more questions. I almost felt as though a puzzle piece had fallen into place and now I needed to figure out where to go from here. I decided to push all the rational thoughts out of my head for the moment and let my soul guide me, as Madame Yelena suggested.
CHAPTER 6
DAMIEN
“I am happy to report that you are officially discharged, Mr. Pierce,” Dr. Campbell said as he entered the room.
“Awesome news. Thank you doctor… for everything,” I replied, rising slowing off the bed to shake his hand.
“Don’t mention it. Just drive a little more carefully from now on, will you?” he said with a chuckle and walked out of the room.
Finally, after two days in the hospital, I was being released. And not a moment too soon; I was restless after my last dream and frustrated when the mystery girl didn’t show up the following night. I should have welcomed the break, but I had to admit to myself that I didn’t want the dreams to come to an end. The scary thing was that the more I longed to see her, the more I felt I was slipping away from reality. The accident had been proof of that. I had had a vision of her. Not a dream, but a vision. In broad daylight. While driving. Now, if that isn’t some sign of madness, I don’t know what is. Just then, my assistant Bentley walked in.
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