Elijah felt shell-shocked as he sat there in front of Morgan’s desk. The chair was small and felt shaky under his weight, but that was the least of his worries. Rosalie sat beside him in a similar chair, her hands clasped so tightly on the top of the desk that her knuckles were white. Morgan sat across from them, a grim frown on his lips. There were tarot cards, already spread and read, on the desk.
“How is this possible?” Elijah’s voice echoed within the narrow confines of the room. The walls were in beautiful dark orange wood of a tree species he didn’t recognize. The floor had deep red carpeting and was without dust or debris. Outside the room, in the main shop, he could hear the muffled voices of customers and the staff member on duty. But what he was really focused on was the spread of cards in front of him.
They looked so innocent and harmless. After all, they were just paper and plastic. It was the meaning behind them, however, that had the color slowly draining away from his face. He had done readings for people before, hundreds of times, and only once had he ever seen a result like this. Several days after that reading, or so Elijah had learned, the woman had died of unknown causes.
“Do it again. I…I want you to do it again.” His throat felt tight, like there was a hand wrapping around it.
“This is the third time.” Morgan’s voice was crisp and slightly annoyed. “Same result. Not doing it again.”
Rosalie let out a slow breath, then reached one of her hands over and placed it over Elijah’s closest arm. She squeezed gently, trying to comfort him; but the look on her face said it all. She knew that this was her fault. All of it. If she had just let go of the notion that he had seen her father’s death, none of this would have happened. Elijah would have been gone, and Angelique would have still been alive. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, and she took in a shuddering breath. She needed to stay calm, if not for her own sake, then for Elijah’s.
“Elijah. Morgan’s right. The results aren’t going to change just because you want them to. The cards don’t lie.”
Morgan and Elijah both stared at Rosalie as though she had just sprouted wings. The older man furrowed his brow, and a low snort of disbelief issued past his flared nostrils. Elijah just continued to stare at her.
“Hey…Angelique was my best friend. I may not have been that interested, but it was impossible not to pick up a few things along the way. Besides, after…everything...” She waved her hands, releasing Elijah’s arm. “I sort of don’t have a choice in whether I believe in this stuff or not. I’ve seen way too much now to dispute it. So, given that…” A slight nod was offered, as though to herself. “I no longer think it’s all a bunch of crap.”
“Oh really?” Elijah had that ‘I have a backbone’ tone again. “So you practically broke into my apartment, chased me around the ferry terminal, and followed me home because you didn’t believe that I had seen something?”
Rosalie felt her cheeks flush with color, and she ducked her head, her eyes casting over the table instead of Elijah’s face. Her upper teeth chewed slowly on her lower lip, and she lifted one of her hands to tuck a strand of hair behind an ear. After several long seconds, she released her lip and forced herself to look at him. “I just wanted answers.” There was a soft sadness in her voice. “No one had any, and you were my last option. I was trying to trust in my friend. I still don’t have any answers.” She looked away from him with a soft sigh, and gazed across at Morgan. “What should we do?”
“Nothing.” Morgan shrugged. “Nothing can be done. No matter what Elijah does, what the universe has in store for him will happen. Running and hiding will only change the manner in which the message is given. But the meaning will always be the same.”
Elijah felt a pang in his chest. Both for how he had just spoken to Rosalie, and for what was apparently going to happen to him. “I’m just fucked, then?”
“Yes.”
Rosalie gave Morgan a hard glare for that answer, then scowled and got up out of her chair. “The cards just told Elijah that he is going to die, and that’s all you can offer him? What is wrong with you? We have been through hell, and all you can do is tell him, yes, he is fucked. We already knew that, thank you very fucking much. Tell us something we don’t already know. Isn’t that why you agreed to do a reading for him?”
“To give him some answers and some clarity? We came in here an hour ago, thinking you had killed Angelique and my father, and that you had sent some creepy crazy white garbed assassins after us, and this is all that you’ve got, Morgan? Really?! How the hell do you expect us to believe that you didn’t kill anyone when you’ve just told someone that YOU brought in off the streets x number of months ago that he’s going to fucking die? And now you—”
“Rosalie!” Morgan’s face was red with rare anger. “That’s enough! You have no right to accuse me of anything. If you’re going to be angry, be pissed at the cards.” He pointed at his chest, his teeth bared. “Not me.”
“Rosalie…” Elijah looked away when she turned a glare on him, then rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and allowed himself to lean fully back into his chair.
“The cards tell me the message. I can’t change it just because it isn’t what either of you want to hear.” Morgan began to calm himself, his fingers uncurling from the fists they had been growing into. “Something big is coming for Elijah. Something dangerous. Probably won’t be able to overcome it, either. Just the way that it is.”
“No. It’s not ‘just the way that it is’. You have no idea the way things are, asshole.” Before Morgan could inquire, or really say much of anything, Rosalie grabbed Elijah by the hand and pulled him toward the door. Elijah looked at her and ripped his hand away with a jerk. He did stand, though, offering Morgan an apologetic glance before following her out the door and into the main part of the store.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you doing?” Elijah hissed, grabbing Rosalie just in front of her elbows.
“What are you doing? He said you were going to die, isn’t that proof enough of what he has planned for us? I told you, he’s the one who sent those assassins after us. He’s the one who killed Ang and my father. And he’s going to take us out, too, if we don’t stop him.”
He let her go and threw his hands into the air. “Listen to yourself. He didn’t even know your father. He barely knows you and has no idea where you even live. The way you’re talking, Rosalie, it’s…it’s crazy!”
“You can’t know that. Ang knew where I lived, and she knew my father. Plus Morgan runs a magic shop.”
“What does that have to do with anything??”
“What if he’s some black arts, cultist, and occult, dark magic user guy? It really would explain a lot, Elijah.”
Elijah blinked a few times, then shook his head and grabbed her by the forearm. He headed toward the door, pointing with his other hand. “We’re leaving, come on. This is just getting ridiculous.”
“Wait, we should look for the pendant.” Rosalie was whispering so low that he could barely hear her. “He said he had it, remember?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and shook his head. “No… we’re going.”
“No, he was lying.”
“Get off it, Rosalie, seriously. He didn’t kill her, and he didn’t send those guys after us. That’s not…it’s…Morgan’s not like that, okay?”
There was a stubborn set to her jaw right before she turned on her heel. Rather than head toward the exit, she stormed off toward the antique section instead. Letting out a quiet groan, Elijah reluctantly followed her. By the time he arrived in the antique section, she was already turning toward him. Her right hand was hovering in front of her face. From the fingers of that hand hung a thin gold chain. It had a soft appearance to it, like it could be crushed with too much pressure between her fingers. The pendant attached to that chain was the color of pale amber, and it was lined with small golden leaves.
“This—”
“No.” Elijah interru
pted her, letting out a whoosh of air in relief. “That isn’t the pendant. The one in my vision was darker than that. And the gold was actually real instead of… whatever that is. That’s just a plastic bead the color of amber, it’s not…” He drifted off, words failing him as he spotted a tiny glow growing in the middle of the pendant. At first he thought that it was light coming through from the window behind Rosalie, but the angle was all wrong. Besides, it was growing brighter and brighter by the moment. Elijah suddenly knew with a surge of dread that it wasn’t just any pendant; but it wasn’t the one from his vision, either. Was it possible that Morgan had planted a pendant, knowing that they were going to look? If that was the case, then Rosalie was right…about everything.
“Drop it.” His voice was harsh. Painfully so. “Rosalie, drop it!”
“I can’t!” Fear was mounting in her voice, expressed in the wideness of her eyes.
The explosion of light blinded them both. It encompassed the entire room, growing brighter and brighter until it gave off a heated flash. It ebbed away after that flash, but the room glowed a smooth, unnatural orange. The hard thud of running boots sounded from the other side of the store, getting closer. Morgan burst inside the antique area several seconds later, his visage carrying more of a perplexed expression than a worried one. What he saw turned that perplexity into slow, knowing smile:
The room was empty.
* * * *
“Already told you. I came into the back room here, where the antiques are, and they were gone.” Morgan had his arms folded across his chest, and a frown was hanging on his mouth. The rest of his expression was pinched, like he was trying to hold back anger. He was standing in the antique section of his shop, and although it was Monday afternoon, he had been told by the local authorities to keep it closed.
It was now a crime scene, at least temporarily. And he, apparently, was a suspect. The sudden death of Angelique and the disappearance of Elijah and Rosalie in the same few days were enough to convince local authorities that he must have something to do with it all. Apparently knowing two out of the three people who were either murdered or missing was a bad thing.
“I understand that, sir, but what you’re describing doesn’t make any sense.” The officer tilted her head at him, and one eyebrow lifted. Then she looked down at her notes. “I quote, word for word, from your lips: ‘I walked into the antique section of my store, and they were gone.’ That’s it.”
“That’s all there was, officer. I’m telling you the truth. You guys have been through this place, and my house, twice now and haven’t found anything.”
“Officer Zan, I have a phone call up here for you,” came a voice from the front of the store.
“Excuse me.” She gave Morgan an odd smile, then turned and went to take her call. Morgan, now alone, casually left the room and followed the female officer just far enough that he would be able to eavesdrop on her conversation. It would be one-sided of course, but any information was better than none.
“This is Officer Zan,” she said, leaning on Morgan’s desk. “Really? He’s talking? Well, all right then. I’m just going to finish up with Mr. Glassus, and then I will be right down. Thank you very much.”
Turning away, Morgan stepped toward a shelf against the wall. It held various scents of incense, as well as a wide variety of brands. There were also some oil burners and a rack filled with dozens of different oils. There was a clink as he picked up one of the oils, turning it over so that he could see the scent: Vanilla. It was a scent that he didn’t particularly care for, but before he could replace it, the officer was moving directly toward him.
“Mr. Glassus?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her card. “If you think of anything…anything at all…give me a call. In the meantime, I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll call you if I find it in my heart to tell one hell of a lie, Officer Zan.” The smile that he gave her was slightly less than tolerant. It left quickly when she gave him a glare, then turned and headed for the exit. “Finally,” he whispered, his shoulders dropping down from their tense hunch. With a shake of his head, he waited until the rest of the officers had filed out, then moved to the store sign and turned it to ‘Open’.
Chapter Fourteen
“Where are we?” Rosalie winced as she slowly sat up. One of her hands moved to the side of her face, which was burning hotly. It stung when she made contact with it with her fingers, and she quickly pulled them away. She pushed midnight-colored hair out of her brown eyes, lips parting in a gasp when she saw where she was.
“Rosalie…shit…don’t move!”
That was Elijah’s voice, calling to her from across a short distance. She wiped at her eyes, unknowingly smearing soot and ash across her lid and cheekbone. In looking around, she could tell that she was in some sort of open space. It had been gutted from the fire, and the floor was in pieces. There were gaping holes in the floor, some of which went all the way down to street level… thirty feet below. The walls were more like ragged edges than barriers, and they had a gray tinge to them from smoke and fire.
They were in Elijah’s burnt apartment… and it looked ready to collapse at any moment.
“What do I do, Elijah?” She couldn’t stop the fear from entering her voice. “What do I do? The floor feels like it’s going to collapse!”
“It won’t! Um…okay…” Elijah pressed the heel of his right hand against his forehead, his eyes clenching shut. “Give me a second to think.” He knew that she probably had less than seconds. Less than the time it would take for him to figure something out. But it wasn’t like he dealt with this sort of thing all the time. He wasn’t a hero!
“Elijah!”
“I know, hold on!” Opening his eyes, he focused on steadying his breaths. “Lie down on your stomach. Slowly… okay? Just go slow. It will spread the weight of your body over the area instead of putting too much pressure on one spot.”
Rosalie stared at him like he had officially lost his mind. Then she gulped and whispered softly under her breath. A prayer, perhaps, or words to steady her nerves. Nodding once, she started to lie down on her stomach. Elijah could see the tremble in her arms, and he was struggling to keep still himself. He wanted to go to her and help, but knew that he could ruin both of their chances of surviving this if he did.
“That’s good,” he called over to her. “Just like that…”
Breathing inward deeply, her trembling only seemed to increase as soon as she was on her stomach. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m there. Now what?”
“Crawl to me…but slowly…don’t try to rush anything.”
Elijah was in a more stable part of the apartment. The fire hadn’t ravaged this side as much as it had on Rosalie’s. For one thing, the floor didn’t wiggle when he moved. And for another, there were very few holes in his immediate area. If Rosalie could make it to him, they would at least have a chance of getting out of there together.
“Okay…here I come…” Shifting only a little bit to her knees, just so that she could move easier, she started to make her way toward where Elijah was crouching. He seemed so far away. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and she found it hard to breathe. Tears were running unchecked down her cheeks as the fear in her started to turn into terror.
Each time she moved, she felt the floor shift. She was scared that the next time it shifted, it would fall…and her with it. When she put too much pressure on one of her knees, the floor buckled. Letting out a scream, all sense left her and she scrambled forward without thinking. With eyes wide and glassy with terror, she suddenly launched and reached.
There was a moment where she felt nothing underneath her. In looking down, she could see the floor falling away, tumbling straight down and out of her control. She felt herself being sucked into the same void, and her heart beat loudly against her chest. Her scream was more of a shriek, and horror was written across the entire visage of her face.
And then, she stopped falling. Dangling now, her body at the mercy o
f gravity, she chanced a look upward. She saw Elijah there, hanging onto her one lucky hand with both of his own.
“Grab the edge,” he said between clenched teeth. “I can’t…grab the edge!”
With wide eyes, she awkwardly swung her other arm toward the edge of the floor that seemed solid. When her fingers latched onto to it, a sharp breath of relief shot out of her. Dizziness threatened to overcome her, the shock of near falling to her death, but Elijah’s hands were trying to pull her up. She helped him to the best of her ability, shaking and barely able to properly control her muscles.
By the time she was finally safe and onto something solid, she broke down in harsh sobs and buried her face into Elijah’s chest, grabbing onto his body with all of her might. Her whole body shook, and her fingers clutched at him. She felt instant relief when his arms wrapped around her.
“I got you,” he whispered, holding her tighter. “I won’t let you go.”
Somewhere in the time between her falling and him catching her, there was emotion. Passionate and unhindered by thought, it was nothing less than love. The way that his heart had jumped straight into his throat when she had fallen, and the loss that he had felt…there was no denying what it was. He swallowed hard, one hand moving to gently cup around the back of her head as his eyes closed. Yes, he loved her. He didn’t know how it had happened, or why, but none of that really seemed to matter at that point. She was safe in his arms where he could do his best to protect her.
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