“I have to go,” he said in sharp, quick tones.
“Why? Can’t do it?” Rosalie offered a knowing smile.
Elijah didn’t answer her as he grabbed his wallet and checked to make sure he had everything. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and snatched one of the tarot card decks from the booth. Then he strode quickly down the broad aisle and toward the door. He paused briefly to speak to the shop keeper before he rushed out the door.
With a snort and a quiet laugh, she picked herself up and walked slowly into a section of the store that sold antiques. Angelique was there, browsing through some old pottery and necklaces. She turned as Rosalie was walking in, a big smile on her face. Around her neck was a thick rope full of massive turquoise and amber beads.
“So…what did he say?” Angelique wriggled her eyebrows.
“Nothing…he just got up and left. He said he had to go.”
“Rosie, what the hell did I tell you about trying to be nice for once in your life?” With a scoff, Angelique pretended to smack her friend upside the head. “Now I’m going to have to explain to him that my best friend is just socially awkward and belongs in an asylum. Thanks.”
Rosalie laughed, but there was no humor in it. “As if he didn’t think that already. I swear, all I did was to give him my palm so he could ‘read’ it. Then he freaked out and took off!”
“Oooh, maybe he saw something that scared him. We need to come back tomorrow and grill him on it. What do you say?” She paused for a few seconds, grinning. Then she nodded without giving her friend a chance to answer and pulled the necklace off. “This is going to be awesome. I wonder what he saw. Maybe you and he in love? That’d be enough to chase anyone off I think.”
“Shut up.”
Chapter Three
“So he just… took off?” Rosalie had her hands on her hips as she stared across the counter at Morgan. He was the shopkeeper at the metaphysical store, better known to the public as Morgan’s Magic Shop.
“That’s what I said.” Morgan shrugged. “Came in early this morning, packed all his stuff up and booked it.”
“Did he say why? Did he say anything at all?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t even look at me, barely said goodbye. Why do you care so much about it anyway?”
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because I… Angelique she…she said she’d seen Elijah do the same thing with someone else before. About a month ago she said. But he didn’t pack up and leave, he just ran from the store. She told me that it was something really serious. Something he had ‘seen’ in the lines of this person’s hand. And I want to know what he saw in mine. Ang suggested I come talk to you about it.”
Morgan leveled his hazel eyes on Rosalie. There was intensity to them, a seriousness that caused the normally confident woman to shift uncomfortably. After a few seconds she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and glanced toward the door.
“Man came in here, about a month ago like you said,” Morgan started. “He was a small guy, maybe 5’6” at the most. Chunky, had a limp. Didn’t look like much. You know the type. Anyway, he sat down in that chair across from Elijah’s desk and had Elijah read his palm. After about 5 seconds, Elijah let out this shout like he’d been slapped or punched, leapt from his chair, and took off out the door.
“Naturally I rounded on the little guy, but he said he didn’t do anything. After talking to Elijah about it afterward, I had to believe his story. Something in that guy’s palm scared Elijah enough to make him bolt the hell out of here. But your palm…” Morgan spread his hands a little. “Yours made him take nearly everything and leave.”
Rosalie struggled for words. With the death of her father weighing heavily on her mind, and the adjustments that had been forced on her because of it, she didn’t know if she could handle running after some guy she didn’t even know. But what if Elijah had seen something in regards to her father’s death? “Okay, thank you.” She shook her head, her tone distracted.
“For what?” Morgan gave her an odd look. “For telling you that your palm is apparently scarier than any god’s wrath?”
“Yes…no. I don’t know. I…” Gods, when was the last time she had stumbled over her words so badly? “Do you know where Elijah lives?” She surprised herself with the question, blinking a few times.
Even Morgan looked surprised at her question. Rather than speak, he pulled out a piece of paper and wrote Elijah’s address down on it. Then he slid it across the counter to her, but slowly. “If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. And if what he saw was bad enough to make him run, my guess is that he’s likely to skip town. Just be prepared that he may not be at home.”
Without another spoken word, she grabbed the paper and hurried out of the store. She had barely glanced at the paper, but she already knew where the apartment was: in the worst part of town. She was going to have to consider calling Angelique in to help her…if she even went.
* * * *
The apartment building was small, only 3 stories high. Its parking lot was overgrown with weeds and grass, and it stunk of marijuana. Several windows were taped up and the pathway to get to the front entrance was covered in dirt and debris. Nothing had been cleaned in a very long time. Maybe not in years.
“Thanks…” Rosalie said to the taxi driver after paying him. She then slid out of the pale green vehicle and onto the sidewalk. Looking down, she saw a myriad of cracks and fractures. When she looked down both ends of the street, it was all much the same. Even the road needed to be graded, the potholes bad enough to make ancient gravel roads look smooth. “I must be crazy,” she muttered to herself. As she played with a piece of gently curled hair, she slowly made her way to the front entrance. Any minute she expected some crazy drug addict to jump out and grab her. She should have just waited for Angelique to get home from her day spa.
Paper crinkled as she pulled it from her small purse. It was the same piece of paper that Morgan had written Elijah’s information on. Nervously chewing on her lower lip, she punched in his apartment number after reading it and waited. The insistent buzzing of the machine grated on her nerves to the point where she was just about ready to leave. And then:
“Hello?”
The voice made her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment she didn’t know what to say. After gathering herself - taking in a few deep breaths—she said, “It’s Rosalie, Ang’s friend. Could I—”
“Leave me alone.”
“No, wait. Elijah! Don’t hang up.”
Click.
“Damnit.” She ran one of her hands through her thick black hair and glanced upward toward the sky. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should just leave him alone so they could both get back to their own lives. Him with his…fortune telling. And her with her healing. Besides, she barely even knew the guy. As she stood there trying to justify why she should or shouldn’t pursue this—her father’s death aside—a young woman in her mid-teens came trotting down the steps to the front entrance. She flashed Rosalie a big smile as she pulled out a set of apartment keys.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know Elijah would you?” She wanted to smack herself for even asking.
“Only enough to know that he lives on my floor.” The teenager lost most of the smile. “Why?”
“I can’t get a hold of him and…” Think, Rosalie, think! “He said he would read my palm today and I couldn’t find him at the place he normally works.”
“Read your palm?” She let out a bemused snort. “And you can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“No, not really. Today is the best chance I have for the reading. I’m a really busy woman with a lot on my plate. You see, I—”
The teenager held up both of her hands. “I don’t wanna know, lady. Just don’t tell anyone who let you in.” She opened the door and looked at Rosalie. “I mean it. I ain’t playing.”
Rosalie shrugged with a smile. “I don’t know a thing.”
She exhaled with relief as the teenager headed quickly down
the hall, then looked down. The carpet, or what was left of it, had been trampled to the point where it was barely there at all. It had a musty smell to it, and the walls were chipped and broken. She even spotted a few holes and cracks in the ceiling. With a small shudder, Rosalie walked further inside. After spending several minutes of searching for an elevator, and failing, she opted to just use the stairwell.
The stairwell was even worse than the hallway and smelled not only like mold, but like urine and feces. She placed a hand over her mouth and nose and hurried up the three flights of stairs. How could anyone live here? How had this place not been condemned?
Poor guy, she thought with a frown. Shuddering once again, Rosalie opened the door that led into the third floor hallway. It wasn’t as horrible up here as it was down on the first floor, but it was still nothing to celebrate.
“Apartment 304…” she murmured under her breath, recalling the note. Rosalie took a few steps to get to the first door on her left. It was 309. With a small nod, she followed the hall until she came to the door that she wanted: 304. After some hesitation, she lifted her right hand and rapped her knuckles on the door. She noticed the absence of a ‘peep hole’. Elijah wouldn’t know who she was until he either heard her voice or opened the door.
“What do you want?” was all that she heard after she knocked. Elijah’s voice was faint, like he was in another room.
“Shit…” As her lips parted, her phone started to ring. “Hello?” she answered. There was no response. “Hello? Is anyone there?” There was nothing but silence. And then, after several seconds, an automated voice came on asking her if she wanted to buy some sort of security system. With a roll of her eyes, Rosalie hung up and looked at the door again. “Elijah, it’s Rosalie. I want to ask you a few questions.”
“No, go away.”
“Come on… just open the door before I call Angelique and tell her what an asshole you’re being.”
Only silence greeted her. As she clenched and unclenched her fingers in frustration, her mind reeled. No, she didn’t believe in this stuff. But after the death of her father, she wanted…needed…answers. As farfetched as it seemed to her, that same part of Rosalie that had wondered if Elijah had seen her father’s death returned. That nagging question was the only thing that was stopping her from leaving the building and never coming back. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she chewed on her lower lip. One of her hands lifted to rest against the door, her brown eyes made brighter by the tears that threatened.
“Did you try the door?”
Startled, Rosalie half turned around. There was the teenager, her arms folded across her chest. She had a slight smirk on her lips, and her blue eyes sparkled with amusement. Her scraggly dark blonde hair framed a face that had the potential to be pretty…if some of that dirt was washed off.
“I…no.” Rosalie stared at the girl for a few seconds, then looked at the doorknob. She had no idea why she should feel embarrassed, but she did. Holding her breath, she gave the doorknob a try, turning it. To add to her shock, it turned in her hand and the door shifted open.
Chapter Four
Elijah Grey was panicking. He found no shame in it, only the intense desire to get the hell out of this city. If he could, he would get himself right off of Vancouver Island and maybe head east to the mainland. There were some pretty good metaphysical shops in Vancouver and the surrounding areas, but Alberta seemed like the better option. He had been born in Slave Lake, once upon a time, and it would be good to go back. Even though he had always hated the big cities, it was a lot better than being in the same vicinity as Rosalie Masters.
What he had seen hadn’t been in the lines of her palm. It had been in his head instead. What did that even mean? Was he going crazy? Was he so stressed that he was starting to break mentally? He had heard stories of people who saw visions, both of the past, the present, and even the future. Once in a while Morgan would toss him an interesting story or two; but he had never expected he would ever see them.
As he ran a hand back through his dark hair, he zipped up a large suitcase. He was in a hurry, so he wasn’t going to bother taking everything. It wasn’t like there was much to take anyway: a handful of clothes, some books, several tarot card decks, and a mixture of other ‘fortune’ telling items. Those were, of course, the first things he had packed away. Being a guide for lost souls was something that gave him meaning in life. Without it, he was just like all the other poor suckers who had nothing to live for.
Rosalie didn’t make any of that easier. Not even a little bit. The fact that she had personally come to his apartment to find him was more than a little disturbing. As he started tossing some clothing and toiletries into a smaller bag, his phone started ringing. He hesitated, then dared to look at the caller ID. Angelique. Of course. With a soft huff, Elijah ignored the ringing and continued throwing items into the bag.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
The female voice made him yelp and jump back from his bag. He ended up half crouched with his back to the wall. Wide blue eyes stared across at Rosalie as she stood leaning against the doorframe.
At first, all that came from him was sputtering. By the time he finally found his voice, she was stepping into the bedroom. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here!”
“I want to know why you left the store. Why are you packing, where are you going? What did you see that scared you so badly at the magic shop?”
Dumbfounded, he just stared at her. His expressions were mixed, but fear dominated above everything else. “It’s none of your business. I told you to leave me alone, that’s what you should have done!”
“Stop yelling at me.”
“You’re trespassing into my apartment, I have every right to yell at you!” His jaw slack, Elijah started packing again. He was muttering under his breath, in total disbelief that she would do this. “I thought you didn’t believe,” he mumbled a little louder, a snort making his nostrils flare.
“So I take it you aren’t going to tell me?”
He ignored her question, not even offering her a nod or a shake of his head. Once he had everything in the bag, he zipped it up. Grabbing them both—the large suitcase and the small backpack–like bag—he shouldered his way past Rosalie and headed out into the hall. The living room was just beyond, and he dropped both bags on the old black and gray couch that was sitting across from a small fireplace. When he turned around to go back to his room, a gasp parted his lips. She was right there. One of her fingers was pointing directly at his nose. Another millimeter and she would have been touching him. “Why did you run?” she asked, a bite to her tone.
“Because you obviously belong in an asylum. One of the ones with padded walls and people who feed and dress you.”
“Why?”
Elijah could feel the hairs along the back of his neck stirring in agitation. His teeth ground slowly together. It took a lot to make him angry, and even more to not bolt at the slightest hint of a confrontation. Rosalie was getting on his last nerve. First she had walked into his home without permission, and now she was making demands of him.
“I’m not obligated to tell you anything, now get out of my way and leave my apartment.”
“No.” She arched one of her eyebrows.
He stood very still for several seconds, his mind processing. Then he turned, pivoting on the ball of his right foot, and walked over to a phone that was attached to the living room wall. He pressed ‘1’ on the dial pad, then waited, glancing occasionally at Rosalie. Finally someone answered. “Hi,” Elijah said. “I have a trespasser in my apartment. I asked her to leave, but she’s not going. Could you send someone over here to get her?”
He glanced at her again, meeting her eyes even as he opened his mouth to give the police his address. Before he could, Rosalie was striding over to him and knocking the phone from his hands. With a startled cry, Elijah jumped back from the phone like she had just burned him.
“What is your problem, are you so
me sort of stalker?”
Rosalie pursed her lips, then quickly hung up the phone. With both hands on her hips, she started moving toward him. Elijah, in turn, started backing away. When he felt his back hit the living room wall, he scooted along it and then half scrambled into the kitchen. Once he was in the hall again, he made a mad dash for what he deemed the safest place: the bathroom. He locked the door before rubbing his hands over his thighs, backing away from the door. To him, Rosalie was like that giant spider in the bathtub when all you want is a shower…and he didn’t want a damn thing to do with her.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Rosalie whispered. She let out a low growl, then grabbed the cell phone from her purse and called Angelique. “Hey, Ang? Yeah, it’s me. You need to come to Elijah’s apartment, he locked himself in the bathroom when I asked him why he ran from Morgan’s store.”
Palm of Destiny Page 2
