No Rest for the Wicked

by Krystal Jane Ruin

  I suppress a groan. Did she even ask for me? It feels like Kalin is dumping her on me. I move over to the woman. She stares into the corner of the room like she sees something dancing in the empty space. I scan the wall, but unless there’s a ghost there that I can’t see, and I don’t believe in such things, surprisingly, then this woman is just nuts.

  My stomach tightens. Didn’t I hear once that people can see the spirits of loved ones floating around in the room before they die?

  I clear my throat. “Ma’am?”

  She jumps in her chair, startling me back a few steps.

  She looks up into my face, and her own crinkles deeply as she smiles. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” she says, her voice bright and soft. “I was lost in thought. Are you my fortune teller?”

  Fortune teller? “Sure.”

  I’m prepared to help her stand, but she gets up with a surprising amount of ease and follows me into my room.

  “What kind of reading do you want?” Apprehension climbs into my throat at the thought of looking into her head. I don’t want to see anyone else die.

  The old woman blinks happily at the wall behind me and points to the crystal ball with a heavily aged finger. “I’ve never seen anyone use one of those.”

  I pull the ball down from the shelf and set it on the center of the table. “I’ll be right back. We have someone who’s learning to use the ball. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  Gretchen is already poking her head into the waiting room when I step out.

  “I didn’t see you come in,” she says, her tone laced with excitement, “but Momma said you got here early and that I could come back if it was okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just coming to find you.” I wave her back.

  When we step into the room, there are four ten-dollar bills on the table, curling on the ends like they’ve been rolled up for a while.

  “It’s just ten dollars,” I say.

  The woman nods. “Ten each. Plus tip.”

  Gretchen looks at me, but I just shrug and take the money, twenty for her, and the rest I drop into my bag.

  Gretchen places the dark cloth over the ball and surveys the old woman sitting across from her. “Anything specific you want us to look for?” she asks with all the confidence of someone going swimming with hungry sharks for the first time.

  “Oh yes,” says the old woman. “As you can see, and probably see better than myself, I am not quite as young as you girls.”

  That really goes without saying.

  Gretchen nods, but a frown pulls at the corners of her lips.

  “I could go any day now,” the woman continues, which also goes without saying, “and I wanted to know if it was safe for me to go skydiving with my grandchildren this weekend. They’re about your age, dear.” She nods at Gretchen.

  I can’t help but smile. It’s probably cruel to put Gretchen through this, giving the high likelihood of seeing a metaphorical grim reaper in the ball, but she did say she wanted to do as many crystal-ball readings as she could.

  Gretchen lifts the cloth and squints into the ball.

  “You don’t have to stare at it so hard,” I say.

  She nods and softens her gaze a smidge.

  I really don’t want to, but I find myself reaching into the old woman’s mind before I can stop myself.

  At first, there’s nothing but the sky, bright blue from every angle. My eyes pan down, and below is the sparkling Atlantic and a white sandy beach. The parachute is open, along with a few others, and the old woman laughs and laughs as she floats back down to earth. Her feet safely hit the sand, and she embraces her grandchildren. Tears of joy run down the maze of wrinkles along her cheeks.

  I pull back.

  “I see…the ocean?” Gretchen has gone back to squinting. “And…I see joy. I get a sense of joy. A sense of elation?”

  The woman nods, happily and patiently, like she has all the time in the world, and in a sense, she really doesn’t. But there she is, planning a skydiving trip this weekend, living the rest of her life to the fullest extent. It’s admirable. Though it makes me feel a little sad for myself, having been sheltered most of my life and literally imprisoned for some of it. In a way, I still feel like I’m imprisoned now. By my mind.

  “I also see a beach,” Gretchen says. “And more positive kinds of feelings…”

  I know she feels like she’s doing it all wrong, so I lean over her shoulder and say, “You’re doing great. Really. That’s good.”

  “So, I’m clear to have fun this weekend?” the woman asks, that same bright smile etched on her face.

  I give Gretchen a nod.

  “Yes,” she says. “There is nothing in the ball to indicate that you’re going to die this weekend.” Her eyes widen at her words. “I mean! You’re fine. It’s good. You’re safe. I’m sorry.”

  The old woman laughs, a breathy sound that would be more alarming if I didn’t just see her skydiving.

  “Oh, my dear!” The old woman reaches across the table and squeezes Gretchen’s hand. “Such beautiful young girls, both of you. So sweet. Thank you, dear. You have nothing to apologize for. I know death is coming for these old bones. I only wanted to make sure I wouldn’t die on my grandchildren and traumatize them for life.” She gives me a nod and shuffles out of the room.

  Gretchen slumps back in the chair. “I’m so stupid.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, trying not to smile too hard. “She’s fine, and you did well.”

  Her back straightens up a little. “Yeah?”

  “Yes, really. Go see if anyone else wants a crystal-ball reading while you’re back here.”

  Gretchen slips out into the waiting room, and while she’s gone, I think more about the old woman. What’s the point in having a life if I’m not going to live it? That woman is afraid of nothing. I look up at the skylight, to the vast blue beyond the glass.

  I can’t live my entire life afraid of the past.

  Shadows claw at the edges of my mind, and my stomach curls into a knot.

  There are things existing in this world that not even I know about…and they are lurking in plain sight everywhere.

  My chest tightens. What did she mean by things?

  Goosebumps race down my skin, and I rub my hands up my arms to warm them away. I need to find Renali and cancel my appointment for this evening. I’ll do it next week. I’ll think about that old woman over the weekend, build up some nerve, and do it then. Though as soon as I think this, I know I’ll forget that woman by the end of the day.

  Gretchen comes back into the room with a girl who can’t be much older than she is. I keep forgetting that the kids have been out of school this week for the festival.

  I press my hand against my stomach as Gretchen takes my seat.

  “It’s ten dollars,” Gretchen says, with a tiny bit more confidence in her voice than last time.

  I take a deep breath, though it does nothing to calm my nerves. Do I really need to know what happened that night?

  But more than that, do I really need to see it happen all over again?

  Chapter Eight

  I come out of my stone tent around noon to find the waiting room empty, except for Gretchen who’s straightening up the stacks of magazines.

  She looks up when she hears me. “Hey! Kalin asked me to put up a sign saying you were both out to lunch. She’s out front. She wanted me to send you out when you were done.” She pauses for a moment and bites down on her lip. “Also, Renali is out there.”

  My heart skips a beat.

  “She says it won’t take long, but she wants to talk to you before you head out.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  I step out into the front, and Renali is by the back curtain, waiting for me.

  “Hi,” she says brightly. “You look good. Did you sleep last night?”

  “A little.”

  “Good. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that I have a free hour later this afternoon. I’ve already cleared
it with Tessandra for you to have off if you’re ready to talk.”

  No. I’m not. My throat closes up at the thought. Tessandra stands in the far right corner of the room, one eye on the customer in front of her, the other on me. I clear my throat. “Sure.”

  “Great.” Renali reaches out and squeezes my arm, her eyes trained on my face, trying to read me. “See you at two o’clock, then.” She strolls out of the store, looking slightly out of place in her immaculate dry-cleaned business wear and expensive heels.

  Kalin slides around the corner, smiling just as brightly as Renali. “Hey, I was thinking we could both use a break. You want to have lunch together?”

  “Um…I’d like to. I just have some things to do.” I dip back into the back room and grab my bag from my kind-of sort-of office. Kalin follows me.

  “Like what?”

  I shrug. “You know. Just some errands.”

  “You’re going to the black market,” she says. I can’t read the look on her face. I don’t know if she disapproves or if she’s curious or if she doesn’t even care.

  I stare back at her for a second and nod. “Yeah.”

  “You said you weren’t doing that anymore. When did you start going back?”

  “Mid-spring, I think.”

  She lets out a sound of frustration. “And you didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you think I would tell Tessandra?”

  “She already knows. She always knows.”

  Kalin laughs. “She knows everything.” She flicks at my bag. “Well, I’ll go with you. You said they have food, right? We can have lunch down there.”

  I hesitate. “You’re joking. You want to go to the underground? After everything Tessandra’s said about it?”

  “You’re still alive,” she says. “Besides…” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m kind of curious.”

  I raise my brows, but I don’t argue with her. “Do you have your ID?”

  “Don’t you usually walk?”

  “You’ve never been there before. You need your ID.”

  Apprehension flashes across her eyes, but she blinks it away. “Okay.”

  I wait in the waiting room for her to grab her wristlet, and we head out.

  “Milly and Cari invited us to go clubbing with them,” Kalin says when we’ve cleared the building.

  “Have fun.”

  “I told them you would come.”

  I turn to look at her. “Why?” My nine o’clock curfew flashes through my head. How would that even work? They’re probably not even leaving until then or later.

  Kalin sees my face, though I can’t imagine what it looks like, and smiles. “Tessandra said you didn’t have a curfew anymore, so we thought this would be a great way to break you into the nightlife.”

  “She said what?” Blood rushes to my ears.

  “She told you this morning, right? She said she talked to you about some things this morning?”

  I think about our conversation in the kitchen. My aunt wasn’t so specific about lifting my curfew, but I’m not about to bring it up to her in case she decides to change her mind.

  “Right,” I say. “She said she was going to lighten up some.”

  “That is so great. I love Milly and Cari and all, but they get on my nerves when we go out. I need someone sane to hang out with.”

  “Out of the four of us, I’m the least sane,” I say.

  “You’re not crazy,” Kalin says. “I never thought you were crazy.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she thinks better of it and smiles instead.

  As we cross into the cemetery, she starts gazing around at the headstones. “Okay, so you were serious about it being under the cemetery.”

  I take in her wide eyes and laugh.

  “Does anyone ever catch you?”

  “Wouldn’t matter if they did.” I lead her off the main path, across the grass to the back of the cemetery, to the vine-covered mausoleum.

  Kalin looks over both shoulders as I pull open the heavy stone door. “You don’t think this is creepy?”

  “It is creepy.”

  She scuttles in behind me, and I push the door shut, enclosing us in darkness. We both pull our phones out and shine a light into the tight space at the same time. She laughs, relaxing a little.

  I move over to the stone sarcophagus and pull the trap door.

  Kalin shines her light into the abyss. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I climb into the coffin and reach my foot down into the hole. “You don’t have to come. I won’t judge you, really. There are things down here you really don’t want to see.”

  “Oh please.” She climbs into the coffin with me. “How bad can it be?”

  “Famous last words.”

  “Stop it.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “You’re not funny.”

  We climb to the bottom, and she follows close behind me along the narrow hallway, her breath loud and shaky.

  “It’s cold down here,” she says when I glance at her over my shoulder.

  “Not really.”

  She pushes at my back. “Tessandra said they sell drugs down here.”

  “Some people do.”

  We enter the room with the escalators, and I stash my phone back inside my bag.

  “This is fancy,” Kalin says. “I didn’t think it would be so…clean.”

  We reach the top, and Nera looks up from her computer to greet us.

  “Miss Torabi. Nice to see you.” She fixes two sharp dark eyes on Kalin. “A friend?”

  “She is. We work together,” I say. “She’s a psychic.”

  “A real one?” Skepticism lines Nera’s face.

  I know what she means by that, so I shake my head while Kalin is busy rooting through her wristlet for her ID. “She reads palms mostly. A little bit of crystal ball.”

  Nera nods. “Parlor tricks.”

  Kalin looks up, ID in hand. “What?”

  Nera holds her palm out, her smile frozen on her face.

  Kalin hands over her ID and looks to me, eyes wider than ever.

  I give her a big smile. “So, I’m going to head down while she checks you in, if that’s okay?”

  “Checks me in?”

  Nera types rapidly on a futuristic-looking silver keyboard, the flat, clear, and backlit design giving it the appearance of a hologram. “I need to run a background check, go over the rules, give you a rundown of the layout, and then you have to sign a confidentiality agreement and a waiver, and you can go in. It won’t take long.” She pauses long enough in typing to give a polite smile to Kalin.

  “Sign a waiver?” Kalin looks to me again, and I nod.

  “Standard procedure for first timers,” Nera says, still typing at breakneck speed. “The waiver states that we are not responsible for any illness or harm that may or may not come to you while you are on the premises. You agree that you are here of your own free will, and you understand that none of the vendors are to be trusted. We are not responsible for any poisons, toxins, or illegal substances that they may be selling, and anything you eat, drink, inhale, smoke, snort, inject, or rub into your skin may cause irreparable harm to your person, debilitating illness, loss of senses, loss of mobility, and/or death. That’s the gist of it, but I’ll go over each line of the waiver and make sure you’re comfortable with everything before you sign.”

  In the half a minute that Nera rapid-fired the basic agreement, Kalin has gone pale. “Death,” she repeats, her voice low.

  “It’s very rare, but it can happen,” Nera says evenly.

  “Can happen?” Kalin turns to me. “Has it happened?”

  “You’re in good hands with Nera.” I back away. “If you decide to stay out, I’ll meet you up here in half an hour or so, okay?”

  Kalin’s mouth falls open, but no words tumble out.

  I almost hate to leave her alone with Nera, but I don’t want to be too late getting back to the shop. I don’t want to gi
ve Tessandra any reason to keep the guardianship in place for another four years. Four long-ass years.

  Nera pushes a button to open the doors to the main room and gives me a friendly wave as I step through.

  Kalin stares after me, worry shining bright in her eyes. Nera, a woman of unknown abilities, though they must be something seriously frightening if she’s the gatekeeper, knew in an instant that I belonged down here. After a minute of polite chit-chat, Nera took down my basic information and had me sign a one-sided sheet of paper that said I understood I could die down here. I was on my way and halfway down the escalator in under three minutes. I have a feeling Kalin will be up there for a while, if she decides to come down at all.

  I reach the bottom, and my first client finds me within seconds. I go through the normal transactions, half talking to people, half in my head, thinking about my upcoming hypnotherapy session more than anything else.

  Did Renali think I would cancel if we waited until the end of the day?

  I pause in delivering and taking orders and look up to the balcony. Not that I would be able to make out anyone’s features from down here, but I don’t see anyone who looks like Kalin. I drop my eyes to my bag to see what I have left—just Mona’s coma draught. Her poor husband. Knowing what I know about Mona, he probably did little to bring a mini-coma down on himself. Not that it’s my problem.

  A chill envelops me, followed by a rancid, sour odor. I straighten my back and turn around. Shepard Ross is so close behind me that with one more step he would have been halfway onto my back. My heart jump-starts, and my lips part in a silent, startled gasp.

  “God, what are you doing?” I ask, backing away from him.

  He lifts his nose to the air and sniffs, like a bloodhound searching for a scent. He smiles. “You smell like sandalwood. It’s lovely.”

  I take another step back. “Great.”

  He locks his hands patiently behind his back and rocks on the heels of his shiny shoes. “I was hoping I could steal you away from the crowd for a minute. To talk.”

  “There’s my dark angel,” Mona trills from behind me. Relief ripples across my shoulders.

  She scowls at Shepard and leads me away. “I know I don’t know him, but I just don’t like him.” She watches over her shoulder until he’s absorbed back into the shadows.