Spear Song
Page 16
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, doing my best to get an image of Bitsy from Mrs. Evanston's thoughts. A puffball of a white cat popped into my head, so I went with it.
“Her coat is just as stunning as it was in life – I see her walking proudly,” I said, keeping my eyes closed and praying that I had hit the mark.
“Ohhhh,” Mrs. Evanston breathed and I snuck a look to see her with a hand over her mouth, a sheen of tears making her eyes glint behind her glasses. Her hair, the perfectly blue-gray rinse favored by the elderly set on Tequila Key, bobbed as she nodded.
“She was really proud of her coat. Bitsy was a show cat, you know,” Mrs. Evanston said.
“I can see she carries herself as such. She is wonderfully happy and has told me that her only concern is for you to find peace with her passing,” I said gently, using my de rigueur explanation when clients insisted that I contact a loved one.
No matter what, it seemed that when people heard psychic, they thought I could do anything.
Magic even.
I'd leave that to my best friend and business partner, Luna Lavelle, the one who had so gracefully snorted from the other room of our Luna Rose Potions & Tarot Shop tucked on a sleepy street in Tequila Key, Florida.
“You know, Althea Rose, your mother may be the famous one, but I think you've inherited her gift,” Mrs. Evanston said, rising to shake my hand with a smile. I scanned her thoughts and all I got was pleasure, so as far as I was concerned, the reading had been a successful one.
I checked my moral compass and decided as white lies go, it was a minor one. People only come to psychics for two reasons – to find out if they will be okay and to find out if someone they love will be okay. I turned my palm over to look at the $1 tip she had pressed into my hands. I had to laugh. Though the rich in this town liked to flaunt it with country club passes and fancy houses, in all reality they were stingy to the core.
Pressing my hands to my eyes, I willed back a headache that threatened to dull my thoughts.
“Drink this,” Luna said, interrupting my brief debate over closing shop for the day or not.
I smiled at her as I took whatever potion she had mixed up for me and held it to my nose.
Luna slipped into the chair across from me and waved an impatient hand at the drink
“Althea, I know your tastes by now, you'll like it.”
Vanilla mint soothed my throat as I sipped the cool liquid and my head cleared instantaneously. I tilted the now empty glass at her in a salute.
“You should sell this.”
Luna sighed and tucked her stick-straight blonde hair behind her ear. My best friend and business partner was my antithesis in every way. Airy, elegant, with a sharp business mind and mile-long legs, Luna made her living breaking men's hearts and helping the down and out of Tequila Key.
That whole white witch thing didn't give her much room on the “bound to help” area of her life, I thought. Much like the Hippocratic Oath – when Luna saw suffering, she sought to fix it.
And didn't that just make her a better person than I?
Also by Tricia O'Malley
The Isle of Destiny Series
Stone Song
Sword Song
Spear Song
Sphere Song – Coming Soon!
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The Mystic Cove Series
Wild Irish Roots
Wild Irish Heart
Wild Irish Eyes
Wild Irish Soul
Wild Irish Rebel
Wild Irish Roots: Margaret & Sean
Wild Irish Witch
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The Althea Rose Series
One Tequila
Tequila for Two
Tequila Will Kill Ya
Three Tequilas
Tequila Shots & Valentine Knots
Tequila Four
The Stolen Dog
A non-fiction account of our dog being stolen and how we recovered him. A read that will renew your faith in humanity. All proceeds donated to animal rescues.
Author's Note
Thank you for taking part in my world, I hope that you enjoy it.
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Please consider leaving a review online. It helps other readers to take a chance on my stories.
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As always, you can reach me at omalley.tricia@gmail.com or feel free to visit my website at triciaomalley.com.
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