“What tomato?” Nadya asks.
“I threw a tomato at her.” Aunt Mirela giggles. “I thought she was the dead come to haunt me.”
The tomato stain on my jeans looks like a faded blood spot.
“I can’t believe you did that, Ma. Seriously, you’re as crazy as a monkey on speed.”
Nadya launches into a thousand questions, often asking one before I finish answering. I don’t blame her…I had quite a few myself. I answer truthfully, for the most part. This feeling of confusion and uncertainty weighs on me.
We sit down to dinner and the harder questions start.
“Where’s your pa?” Aunt Mirela asks.
My heart feels like it sinks deeper into my chest. “We parted ways a few towns ago.”
“Why?” Nadya asks.
“Just time, I guess. We wanted to move to different places.” I lie.
“And someone happened to send you a card with Aunt Simza’s name on it?” Aunt Mirela’s eyes narrow. She bites off a piece of tough French bread.
I sip my water. “Yes, that one freaked me out, but since she had the name of Mother, my curiosity was busting to be satisfied. How long have you been in town?” I try to steer the conversation in a different direction. “It’s a cool place, but Cassadaga seems a bit bizarre.”
“It’s a perfect place for us. Mama has found more work, being closer to Cassadaga.” Nadya loves to talk.
“Work?” I ask.
“She’s gifted. It’s in our blood,” Nadya replies.
The table falls silent. Everyone looks at Nadya.
“What?” She purses her lips together. “We all want to know what her gift is, so we might as well ask. We are family, after all.”
“I do past life regressions for people.” Aunt Mirela continues, “It’s a way to make money in a town where people travel to see psychics. I rent an office in town on the weekends.”
“That’s interesting.” Everyone stares at me for a few moments too long. “I’m sure this is the place to do it.”
“Yeah, but hers are real.” Nadya says. “She allows the people to experience their lives before for themselves…as if they were there. Like they are trapped in a movie they can’t escape. It’s kinda creepy, to say the least.”
“How would you know?” Emilian asks. “Ma won’t let us do it.”
“None of you are ready to learn from your past.” Aunt Mirela gets up from the table and starts to clear the dishes.
“I am,” Nadya whines.
“And Aunt Simza talks to the dead?” I ask.
“Yes.” Fonso says. “She’s probably the most talented of us all.”
“She’s the most talented of us all.” Emilian mimics in a childish voice. “And you’re the most boring of us all.”
“Shut up, alien!” Nadya throws a piece of bread at him.
“No throwing of food in this house,” Aunt Mirela warns. “I’ll still take a switch to you. I don’t care how old you are.”
“He doesn’t have to be so mean, Ma.” Nadya sticks her tongue out at Emilian.
The sibling jealousy I felt earlier wanes. Perhaps it’s best I didn’t have any brothers or sisters growing up.
“Emilian, she’s right. Your condescending demeanor isn’t appropriate for your age. It’s time for you to act your age and respect each other. All of you. It’s not like you are young kids anymore.” Aunt Mirela takes my plate.
“Thank you,” I say. “What do you do, Fonso?”
“Nothing.” Emilian says. “The gift skipped him. He’s probably the mailman’s kid or something. With that jet-black hair, he doesn’t look Rom to me.”
“Emilian, out!” Aunt Mirela points toward the hallway.
Emilian scrapes his chair against the linoleum floor, turns, and stomps off toward his room.
Fonso, who’s sitting next to me, places his hands on the table and balls them into fists.
I grab his left hand and squeeze. “Don’t worry. The gift skipped me, too.”
His expression softens as he gazes into my eyes, studying me. His mouth turns into a half-smile. “I knew I’d like you.”
“Doesn’t anyone want to know my gift?” Nadya asks.
“Of course,” I reply.
She beams. “I can find anyone or anything just by thinking about it.”
“Yeah, she’s a real bore at hide and seek.” Fonso laughs.
“It comes in handy.” Nadya looks at Aunt Mirela.
“Absolutely.” Aunt Mirela says. “I never lose my car keys anymore.”
“Yes, you do!” Fonso says, “Now, you just have your crazy daughter find them for you.”
We all laugh and the air around us feels lighter.
“Too bad you don’t have a gift.” Nadya twirls her hair around her finger. “I think our line is dwindling with gifts, huh Ma?”
“Maybe.” Aunt Mirela starts washing the dishes.
“What’s Emilian’s gift?” I ask.
“Oh, Emilian…he sees people for what they really are,” Nadya explains.
“Like what?” A nervousness grows in my stomach, wondering if he saw through my lies.
Nadya replies, “You know… vampires, witches, and stuff. There’s a pack of werewolves living down the street.”
Chapter 7
Learning about my family’s abilities is one thing, but hearing them talk about vampires, witches, and werewolves existing in society is another. This unexpected mini-reunion just took a turn for the worst.
“Thank you so much for lunch. It was fabulous.” I stand and take the rest of the dishes on the table into the kitchen. “I need to get into town and look for a job. Is there a bus stop near?”
“I’ll take you.” Fonso offers. “I was heading to the bookstore anyway.”
“Really? That would be great.”
“Can I come?” Nadya asks. “There’s nothing to do here and I can show you around.”
I reluctantly nod. “Okay.” My aching desire to be alone is suddenly squashed.
She claps her hands. “Give me a minute to get my purse.” She runs down the hallway.
“You aren’t going to go all introvert on us, are you?” Aunt Mirela asks.
“No, not at all. I just found out I have a family.” I smile, and think about the reason I’m here. I need to find out what happened to Dad. I would love their help, especially Nadya’s, but I don’t know if I can trust my new found family yet. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Good.” Aunt Mirela hugs me. “Come by real soon, please. We have so much to catch up on.”
“Okay.” I follow Fonso toward the door.
“We’re leaving Nadya!” Fonso yells.
“Coming!” Nadya’s voice echoes in the small home. She runs down the hall. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t stay out too late.” Aunt Mirela shakes a finger at them.
“Yeah, the bookstore stays open real late, Ma.” Fonso’s sarcastic sense of humor cracks me up. “Did it occur to you that we are all over the age of 18, with most of us being over the drinking age? Heck, Alice here is younger than me and all on her own.”
“Do you want me to switch you for back talking me?” Aunt Mirela asks.
“No Mam.” Fonso rushes out the door and we follow.
Nadya talks the entire 15 minutes during the car ride to town, telling me about her boring childhood, having to be homeschooled, and never getting out much. Luckily, the road the campground is on is the same road to town, so getting home won’t be difficult.
“I’m going to do what you did, Alice.” Nadya’s head bobs a few times.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Go my own way.” She waves her hand and arm. “Be independent and free.”
“You’d survive all of two seconds.” Fonso chuckles. “You need money to survive, Sis, and that means a job.”
“Well, poop.” Nadya crosses her arms and pouts.
“Meet me by the fountain in an hour or two?” Fonso asks Nadya.
&n
bsp; “Ya, make it two.”
“Thank you for the ride. I think I can make it home from here.” I pat the map to be sure it’s still in my pocket.
“Where are you staying?” Fonso asks.
“At the campground where Aunt Simza lives…in a cabin there.”
“I don’t mind giving you a ride back to your cabin.” Fonso offers.
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I may need some time to unwind and process this day.”
“Oh, I understand.” He parks the car next to a curb. Taking a pen and scratch paper out of the glove box, he hands me his number. “Call me if you need me.”
“Don’t you forget me, Fonso.” Nadya says. “I’ll be waiting at the fountain in two hours.”
“Who could possibly forget you?” He smirks and drives away.
“I wish I’d had a sister.” She sighs.
“Do you know of anywhere that’s hiring?” The town looks small and quaint, out of a Thomas Kindcade painting. Small shops line the town square, with a circular fountain in the middle surrounded by one large, brick roundabout. “It looks so calm here.”
“Nothing compared to Baton Rouge, I suppose.” Nadya nudges me. “Let’s walk around and see if there isn’t something for you.”
“What about you?” I inquire. “No job?”
“Working isn’t for me. Not much use for someone to locate things.”
“What about becoming a detective? Surely you’d find all the clues to the case.” We pass a coffee shop and the dark, coffee bean aroma drifts out the open door. I’m tempted to order a cup, but maybe I’ll do that later when I’m alone and can sit and think for a while.
“Doesn’t interest me much, although I could be great at missing persons cases. I’ve heard some psychics help out on cases from time-to-time and I bet they make good money at it. Don’t ya think?”
“Makes sense to me, since they offer rewards.” We continue past a women’s clothing store with one elderly clerk. She glances up from the magazine at us. By the frown on her face, I don’t think they would hire me there. “How about finding me a job, if you’re so good at finding things?”
“That’d be a first for me. I’ve never tried finding something like that.” She stops and closes her eyes.
“I was only kidding.” I giggle.
“Shhh, give me a second.” She clasps her hands together and squeezes them tight. “Go right at the next intersection and walk straight for a few blocks.”
“Okay.” She opens her eyes, grabs my hand, and we rush down the sidewalk toward the intersection.
“A little bit of faith, dear cousin, goes a long way.”
We head down the street. I survey it as best I can. There is a real estate office, a small hardware store, and a Chinese food restaurant that appears to cater mostly to take-out. It’s refreshing not being surrounded by large corporate discount stores.
We pass an alleyway that runs behind the shops. I bump into Nadya when she stops short. “There.” She points to a diner on the opposite corner across the street with a red and white ‘Help Wanted’ sign on the window.
“Okay, that’s amazing. How the heck…” I’m dumbfounded.
“Another service I’m good for.” She beams. “Let’s go in and ask about it.”
“Do you know anyone that works there?”
“Nope. We don’t eat in town much.” She starts across the empty two-way street.
A few cars line the small parking lot on the side of the diner. An old-fashioned bell tied to the top of the door dings as Nadya enters.
“Where are my keys?” a big burly man hollers through the kitchen.
An elderly woman stands behind a cash register. “May I help you?”
“I’m inquiring about the ‘Help Wanted’ sign.” I point toward the window. “What are you hiring for?”
Nadya moves to the side looking at the brochure stand.
“Are you from around here?” the old woman asks.
“I just moved into town, staying near Cassadaga.” I fake a half-smile.
“I asked where my keys are.” The heavy-set man draped in a white apron smeared with food grease comes around the corner.
“Well, I don’t know where you left them,” the cranky cashier says. “It’s not my job.”
“What have we here?” He scratches the stubble on his chin and grins at me. He’s missing one of his top teeth. “Are you here for the job?”
“She’s not from around here.” She crosses her arms.
“If I find your keys, will you hire my cousin?” Nadya says.
The man looks at her and at me. “Have you ever waited tables?”
I look around the small diner and see it only seats maybe 50 people. I’ve worked at busier establishments. “Always.”
He turns to Nadya. “Okay, find my keys and she has a job.”
“But—” the old lady says.
“But, nothing, you old hag.” He pushes his back against her. “So, where are my keys.”
Nadya skips past the counter, opens a draw opposite the cash register, and pulls out a string of keys.
“I’ll be damned.” He scratches his head. “How’d you do that?”
“It’s kooky, if you ask me,” the old lady says.
“Lucky, I guess.” Nadya prances away.
“Huh. Well, I’m Roger and this old bag is Abby.” He points his thumb in the air toward her. “Oh, and there’s Kyle in the back. Kyle!” He hollers toward the kitchen.
A topaz-eyed, tousled wheat-haired impressive looking man pops his head out the window.
“Yeah?” Kyle looks at Roger.
“That’s Kyle.” Roger points to him. “He cooks from time to time…when he’s not out surfing and goofing around.”
Kyle’s glittering eyes meet mine. He smiles. I see a depth in his eyes…it’s screaming to be exposed and understood. In that moment, the noise around us fades into low static.
“Earth to, what is her name?” Roger breaks my concentration.
“Alice. Her name’s Alice,” Nadya replies.
A flush creeps up my face. “Yes, sorry, it’s Alice Murphy.”
“Every single time.” Roger rolls his eyes and stares at Abby. “He always gets that same damn reaction.”
Nadya twinkles her fingers at Kyle. He grins and backs up, hitting his head on the metal rolling rack that holds the orders.
“Can you start tonight?” Roger asks.
“Yes. What time?”
“Be here by five for the evening shift.” Roger pats Abby on the back. “Abby can show you the ropes.
“Gladly.” Abby’s mouth sets in a hard line.
“Great. Thank you.” I hold my hand out and Roger grabs it firmly. “See you later.”
Nadya holds the door open for me. I glance over my shoulder toward the kitchen and see Kyle watching me.
“This is like one of the best days ever,” Nadya says. “I mean, you come to town and we have a real cousin, you find a job right away, and we now know where the sexiest man in town works. I’ll be stalking him all the time.” She looks through the diner window. “I need to turn my radar to find more hot guys.”
“Thank you.” I nudge her forward down the sidewalk.
“I should be thanking you.” She stops at the corner of the diner where no one inside can see us. “But, he was eyeing you the entire time. I don’t even think he realized I was in the room.”
“That’s not true. He was just being nice since they hired me.” Part of me wants Nadya’s statement to be true, but I’m sure a guy like that has a string of girlfriends in line. Heck, he’s probably got a waiting list.
“Either you’re blind or in denial. He even smacked his head.” She grabs her head to demonstrate. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Well, it’s too bad we’ll be working together, because you can’t date people you work with.”
“Says who?” One of her eyebrows arch. “If you don’t want him I call dibs.”
“You don’t h
ave a boyfriend? You’re beautiful! I’m sure some guy will grab you up soon.”
“Yeah, right. Have you met my family? They’re a bunch of loons. Besides, Ma wouldn’t go for it. She says it would dilute our genes to date anyone who wasn’t Roma.” She frowns.
“Are you serious?”
She nods.
“Are there Roma families around other than yours—I mean ours?”
“Not that I know of. We haven’t traveled with our kind for a long time now. Ma said it was too dangerous, but never really said much more. I think she was spurned by love. Pa drank a lot and Ma had enough, so she left him with his family and we never looked back.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I walk down the street and step in front of the alleyway.
A huge, lifted truck barrels through the alley…the alley I just stepped in front of.
Chapter 8
Hands grab my shoulders and pull me back. I fall into a heavy pair of arms and look up into my topaz-eyed savior: Kyle. My heart races a mile per minute. Screeching, the truck stops a few feet from me. He pushes me upward on my feet. Nadya’s hands cover her mouth as she backs against the brick wall of the building.
“Are you crazy?” Kyle yells at the truck driver.
The tinted windows on the driver’s door, and the door behind it, lower.
“Why the hell were you speeding down the damn alleyway? You could have killed someone and almost did.” Kyle points at me.
The driver turns his head slowly, as if it’s an inconvenience to notice to us. He sweeps his tawny-brown shoulder-length hair from his face, revealing his rugged short facial hair. He glares at Kyle and eyes me.
A stocky guy, in the backseat, forms an odd-twisted grin, his eyes moving back and forth from Kyle to the driver. A girl in the front seat next to the driver glares at me while chomping on gum as if I’m the rude party in this bizarre encounter.
“It’s all right,” Nadya comforts Kyle with her hands, while slowly edging him further away from the truck. She jerks her head to the side, motioning me to move back. “No harm done.”
“Bullshit!” Kyle brushes her away. “He’s a fucking selfish asshole. He’s not even apologizing.”
Lightning Struck (The Roaming Curse Book 1) Page 4
