“Wait a minute. I can’t let it go. I have to know what she meant by ‘preordained.’” Arcona immediately broke away from Devon to engage Dame Bishop in a line of questioning that rivaled an FBI interrogation.
Whatever. Tuning the argument out, Devon strolled toward a wall lined with leather-bound books and left Arcona and Dame Bishop to settle their slightly antagonistic conversation.
For several minutes she studied the contents of the shelves. A few unusual titles grabbed her attention: The Global History of Dragons, Reptilian Masters Among Us, Lord O’Griofa’s Guide to Human Hybrids and Extraterrestrials, The Big Badass Book of Shape Shifters….
Dang, there was a lot of interesting stuff here. Right up her alley. All the books looked well-worn and more like personal possessions than items for sale in a shop. She tried to be diplomatic and not get between Arcona and Dame Bishop, who were clearly caught in a weird little power struggle of sorts, but the clock was ticking. There was a train to catch and a meal with Mom. Maybe it was time to speak up?
Anxious to get started, Devon approached Dame Bishop. “I can’t wait to hear my fortune. Do you read tarot cards?”
Dame Bishop lifted her square chin. “I certainly do not, but Witch Casey does. Your reading will be with her and quite unique. In the ways of divination, she is an expert without equal.”
A purple curtain rustled, and an attractive, middle-aged woman with red hair and catlike green eyes peered from behind. “Hello.” She stepped into the main room. “I’m Witch Casey. When the two of you entered the shop, I sensed a tremendous energy shift. Highly unusual.” Her attention focused on Devon. A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I want to talk to you first, dear. You have such an interesting aura.”
Devon gulped a deep breath. Please have some good news for me.
Witch Casey held up a small brocade bag and gave it a gentle shake. “We shall start with a wish stone. You’ll each choose a stone from the bag, and based on your choice, I’ll be able to divine your most likely fate. Now, who wants to know more about their future love life?”
“I do!” Devon cheered.
Witch Casey’s eyes twinkled as she offered Devon the bag. “I knew you’d go first. You’re the daring one, aren’t you?”
Arcona shot Devon a startled look that clearly conveyed, How does she know that?
The atmosphere of the funky little Wiccan store was charged with a strange excitement as Devon thrust her hand into the bag.
“Let your fingers do the work.” Witch Casey leaned closer to better see Devon’s actions. “Don’t think about it. Let your heart guide your choice.”
Devon stirred the clattering stones between her fingers. Each was smooth and cool to the touch, and some were far denser in weight than others. How the hell was she going to make a choice?
“Wow, you’re being so picky,” Arcona teased. “Just choose a stone, already.”
“Don’t rush me.” Devon laughed. “This is important. I want to choose the right one.”
“You’re going to choose just one?” Arcona whispered, “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Why are you picking on me?” Devon giggled. At Amherst, she was notorious for juggling several boyfriends at a time “There’s nothing wrong with being choosy and having a plan B and even a plan C… especially where love is concerned.”
Refocusing her attention on the wish bag, she dug her hand deeper. “I need help. My love life has done a vanishing act.”
A round stone with a slick surface stood out from the others, and she pulled it from the bag with a victorious flourish. “Here it is. I found it!”
Arcona bent over to gaze at the rock lying in Devon’s palm. “Looks like a pigeon egg.”
The oval stone had an opaque metallic sheen on one side and a translucent purple color on the other, like two very different minerals had melded together. The crystalline side reminded Devon of a bluish amethyst, while the other side was a mottled shade of bronze.
Arcona leaned closer. “Wow, that is an odd-looking stone.”
Holding the sparkling rock toward the light, Devon gazed at it in wonder. “It’s beautiful when things you’d never think would mix fuse. The world is full of unexpected things, isn’t it?” She glanced at Witch Casey to see if she had an opinion as to why she’d chosen such a stone.
“Interesting, but not surprising.” Witch Casey shook her head with her lips pinched together. “A dual stone is often attracted to an undecided person.” Her words were terse.
“Undecided?” Devon stiffened and crossed her arms in a defensive manner. “What do you mean by undecided?”
Arcona shot her a desperate glance that screamed, Don’t let this woman lead you on.
With a dramatic gesture, Witch Casey arced her hands through the air. “Your heart is always in two places at once and refuses to choose a lasting home. Am I right?”
In exasperation, Arcona shook her head and looked away.
Devon paused. That statement did apply to her. For years, she’d rushed toward one goal while not so secretly desiring another. She longed for a stable relationship, even a family, but then another rogue part of her would take the reins and dream of ditching all responsibilities, picking up a camera, and fleeing to the exotic wilds of Africa to fulfill her creative dreams. The same went for men, and she could never make up her mind. She might as well tattoo variety is the spice of life on her wrist.
“There might be some truth in what you’re saying,” she answered Witch Casey.
Witch Casey’s eyes flew wide. “Might?”
Arcona leaned close to Devon’s ear. “I remember our Amherst days. You were always dating at least two guys at once and trying to keep it a secret. It never stayed secret.”
“It wasn’t like I was cheating. I always told my dates I was seeing others. They just didn’t want to share.”
Arcona smirked. “Few men do. It’s sort of a male quirk.”
“Why can’t a woman have more than one man and not be judged for it?” Devon rolled the stone in her palm. “I’ll make my wish right now. Have my male harem bathed and brought to my tent, ASAP.” She handed the brocade bag to Arcona. “Your turn. Let’s see what you choose.”
Arcona took hold of the bag and thrust her hand inside. Without further fuss, she pulled out an oval piece of amber the size of a nickel. It glistened like congealed honey in her palm. When she held the amber to the light, it glowed like flame-warmed cognac.
Witch Casey leaned closer to Arcona to examine her choice. “Blood amber, the blood of trees. Technically, it’s not a stone but a mineralized fossil that carries an electric charge and an enhanced memory of its past.” She wagged a finger. “Powerful stuff and not to be taken lightly.”
Arcona visibly tensed, as if she’d been handed a writhing snake that she longed to fling from her hand.
“One rule about the wish stones.” Witch Casey took hold of Devon’s wrist. “Handle them with care, make a wish, and then return the stones to nature where they can be recharged. Will you both agree to do that?”
Arcona nodded.
Devon wasn’t so sure she wanted to part with something so beautiful.
With a beckoning motion, Witch Casey led Devon toward a curtained room. “I’m looking forward to telling your fortune. I think you’re in for a double surprise.”
Dame Bishop made a slight move as if ready to claim Arcona’s hand. “Shall we?”
“Wait,” Arcona called to Devon. “I’m feeling a little ill. I think I’d better go back to the hotel.”
It was over. Fun time was gone. Devon turned. “I’ll go with you.” Her feet remained planted; she did not want to go.
Arcona shook her head. “No. Stay and have your fortune told.”
Devon was suddenly nervous to hear what Witch Casey had to say. “Are you sure? It really cuts into our last hour together.”
“Get your cards read, I know you’ll love it.” Arcona rubbed her temple. “It’s just a headache. Walking a few bloc
ks in fresh air will do me good.”
Of course Arcona was running away. She should have guessed. Their entire day together had been strange. Devon glanced in Witch Casey’s direction.
Taking quick steps, Arcona closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around Devon, and hugged her like a loving sister. “I want you to do it. And I expect to hear all about it later,” she said softly. “Don’t hold anything back.”
Once again they were saying goodbye and going their separate ways, and it stung.
“We need to get together more often,” Arcona whispered.
“We will.” Devon returned the embrace. In her mind, she was already planning a trip to Los Angeles. “Call me after you get home, okay?”
Witch Casey stood too close, her coral lips pulled tight, and she appeared impatient.
“I’d better let you go.” With a light kiss on the cheek, Arcona released her hold on Devon.
“Bye.” Devon tried to smile, but felt selfish for wanting to hear her fortune.
“Go on.” Arcona playfully shooed Devon away. “We would’ve had to say goodbye in a few minutes anyway.”
Devon gave Arcona another hug. “I’m coming to see you soon.”
“Do,” Arcona whispered.
She held her friend a little longer. Arcona seemed anxious to go, so she broke away and allowed her to walk toward the door.
Dame Bishop called after Arcona, “Are you sure you don’t want to know your fortune?”
Arcona turned and shook her head. “Another time.”
A content grin did little to add warmth to Dame Bishop’s severe face. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll be back.”
Arcona pushed the door open to a gust of cold wind. “Thank you. Do I owe you anything for the wish stone?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it!” Devon called to her as the door shut. She watched Arcona wander out the door, clutching the piece of amber she’d pulled from the wish bag and looking a bit distracted. A part of her worried for Arcona, and she wondered if she’d been unwise to allow her friend to walk away alone.
“Let’s go, dear.” Witch Casey guided Devon toward a purple curtain, pulling it aside.
2
Devon followed Witch Casey into a tiny room decorated like a Bedouin tent, filled with exotic things. The resinous scent of frankincense hung in the air. In the corner, woven baskets were stacked high. A brass carafe inlaid with colorful bits of lapis lazuli and red jasper sat in the center of a small table. A colorful Moroccan lantern glowed overhead, casting soft streaks of crimson and blue against the cloth walls.
Witch Casey picked up the brass carafe and poured steaming liquid into two cobalt- blue cups, barely larger than shot glasses. She offered one to Devon. “Try it.”
Devon accepted the cup with a curious sniff. The pale lavender liquid smelled like mint tea with a hint of lilac. “What is this?”
“Something special, healthful and energizing. It’s brewed from Draca flowers.”
The taste was as sweet as honeysuckle. “Draca flowers? I’ve never heard of them.”
“Few have. They’re very rare. Draca leaves make an excellent tea as well, but that’s another story entirely.” Witch Casey rolled her eyes. “Steeped Draca leaves produce a potent concoction that delivers a wild ride. The flowers are much milder, more of a homeopathic dose.” She puttered around the room, lifting things and setting them down as if she was searching for a lost object.
Dose? A dose of what? She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.
Witch Casey removed a scarf from a trunk and opened the lid. “Ah.” She reached inside and pulled out a flat wooden box. “There it is, my card cask. I keep my tools of divination stored safely inside blessed cedar.”
Eager to know, she asked, “What tarot card deck do you use—Rider or Thoth?”
Looking annoyed with Devon’s question, Witch Casey waved her hands in the air like she was swatting at invisible flies. “Too early to say. Please don’t ask. These things take time. Right now I’m in the process of calibrating myself to your energy. Your aura is quite chaotic and difficult to hone in on. It’s pulling me in two directions at once. Obviously, you have a lot going on in your life.”
Okay. This woman is a little wacko, but I like her. Devon sipped the tea, which was fragrant and subtle with rich cinnamon undertones.
“Have a seat.” Witch Casey pulled out a folding canvas chair that looked like something Dr. Livingstone might have brought on safari.
She took a seat in the fragile chair, held the cup to her nose, and took another sip. “I like the tea.”
“Help yourself to more, dear.” Witch Casey turned her back to Devon and rummaged through a pile of cushions.
She poured another splash of tea into her cup. “What are you looking for?”
“My glasses.” The agitated lady tossed a few silk cushions aside, then came to an abrupt halt. “Never mind. I forgot. I don’t wear glasses.” She laughed. “Holy Hecuba, it’s not easy getting old.”
The woman didn’t appear elderly enough to be having senior moments. If anything, she looked to be vibrant middle age. The sort of woman one would expect to see in a television commercial riding a bicycle in a sunny park while touting the benefits of a balanced multivitamin with CoQ10.
Witch Casey turned and pointed her finger into Devon’s face. “You’re the one who drew the dual stone from the bag, am I correct? Or did I confuse you with the other girl?”
Girl? Really? She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. Did Witch Casey really not remember who’d drawn the dual stone, or was that part of the act? If it was part of the act, it wasn’t a very wise decision. A good fortune-teller needed to take charge and instill confidence in their patrons, not undermine themselves. Maybe the poor woman was genuinely confused, crazy, or high? There was definitely an odd vibe about her.
Witch Casey’s large green eyes flashed, indignant. “Before you criticize me, consider your own confusion.”
“What?” Devon started. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you thought it. You think I’m confused and incapable of instilling confidence. I assure you that is not the case. Good goddess, give me a chance. We haven’t even started yet.”
“I’m so s-sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I do want my fortune told.”
With detached thoroughness, Witch Casey studied Devon’s face. “Our thoughts are obvious to others, far more than we know. I don’t enjoy reading people’s minds, but I can’t help myself. It just happens.” A twisted grin crossed the lady’s face. “I will say this much, what you really want is clarity and for someone else to lay your future out in full detail. No guessing. No gray areas. You’re finished with uncertainty. You need to know what it feels like to make a decision and stick to it, even unto death. You want to fall so deeply in love with someone that you could clasp hands and leap bravely into the unknown together. You need to be treasured and know your lovers are 100 percent invested in you. Am I right?”
“Yes. You’re right.” Her voice cracked. “Lovers? Plural?”
“It’s challenging enough to juggle the emotions and needs of one exceptional man, but you’re going to get two, and your vows of commitment will bond you to them in blood.”
Blood? This woman was so dramatic. “Whoa!” Devon fanned her face.
“Whoa indeed.” Witch Casey opened the cedar box and picked up a deck of colorfully illustrated cards. “Shall we begin? By the way when I said dual stone, I should have been more specific and called it what it is: a dragon egg.”
Dragon egg? A bit Game of Thrones, but cute. Did Witch Casey say two men and a commitment bound in blood? “Hell yeah! Let’s begin.” Her love life was a disaster of indecision. She’d never met a man who fulfilled all her needs. Okay, maybe one man Jace, the gorgeous producer at her office, was a thrilling date for a possible friends-with-benefits type of evening, but nothing solid ever quite gelled. Deep down, she knew why.
Witc
h Casey shuffled the cards with long, elegant hands.
Devon watched, mesmerized. Aside from being her boss, she and Jace were two of a kind. Jace seemed almost as undecided and commitment-shy as she was—or perhaps he was just addicted to flirting. He would pant after her with lustful looks, coax and almost beg her to visit his apartment under some tempting pretense. Come look at my art collection or I have that new coffee table book, the limited-edition photography retrospective you’re dying to see….
Twice she had given in. He’d sit in a big comfy chair and pull her onto his lap and kiss her for what felt like an eternity until they were both pathetically turned on. Then something inconvenient would happen. A fire alarm would go off in the building, or an urgent work call would interrupt. What was up with that shit?
The cards flew back and forth between Witch Casey’s hands with the skill of a Vegas dealer. Her gaze never left Devon.
Jace really turned her on. He was tall, dark, and stunning with a domineering air. His teasing style of flirting was worse than a steamy make-out session back in high school, but things never got beyond the back seat. Successful, cultured, and handsome as sin, Jace was the whole package. Her hopes would rise that maybe he was the one, and then nothing would happen between them for weeks at a time. No pursuit, no invitations back to his apartment. It was as if Jace would deny himself her company until he couldn’t stand it a moment longer; then he would call and invite her out on some stunning date to a concert she was dying to go to, or dinner at some fabulous restaurant. Followed by lots of scorching-hot kissing… and then nothing. Irresistible and maddening all at once.
She suspected he enjoyed other lovers, which hurt because she’d not even been officially invited into that exclusive club. Once, on his kitchen countertop, she’d seen two half-drunk cups of coffee. One pale with milk or cream, and one black. Two plates set in the sink, one with scrambled eggs and the other with yokes so runny they could have been raw. There were two bathrobes hanging behind the bathroom door, and two toothbrushes set above the sink. Jace didn’t have a roommate that she knew of, but obviously someone else had been there before her.
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