Young Ladies of Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacy Juba

  Dawn regretted texting her mother that she was staying for extra help. No one knew who she was with, or where she was.

  "This is where Serina lives?" she blurted out.

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "It gave me bad vibes the first time I passed it."

  Candace shrugged. "I wouldn’t worry. You could have been picking up vibrations from the last people who lived here. It could’ve been from Serina, too. She’s had a tough life and sometimes bad memories linger. When you have abilities like ours, it’s easy to jump to conclusions. Serina can teach you to look deeper."

  Reluctantly, Dawn closed her car door. Veined yellow leaves stormed down from the birches, gliding across the grass. The wind, the ocean, the smell of salt water, everything seemed magnified.

  They trudged up the stone walkway and mounted the porch steps. Dawn examined the hand-painted sign she’d missed from the road: "Psychic Readings Here. Call 555-3990 for appointment."

  Candace pressed the doorbell. Shaking off her fears, Dawn pulled a lavender brochure out of a basket on a wicker end table. She skimmed the headings. Serina did tarot, palm readings, meditation sessions and past life regressions.

  The door swung open and Dawn blinked at the lanky girl in front of her. She reminded Dawn of a scarecrow, skinny arms and legs hanging out of her clothes.

  The girl adjusted her baggy sweater, the fabric slipping down her shoulder. Acne blotches reddened her chin and oily brown hair straggled from a rubber band at the top of her head. "Hi, I'm Jamie. Come on in."

  Dawn stepped into a narrow foyer, sniffing the sweet scent of burning incense. A strange sensation overcame her, as if a powerful presence inhabited this house. Dawn grasped the banister, reeling from the impact of whatever invisible force sheathed the air. She gauged how the sensation made her feel. Uncomfortable and a little sad.

  Shadows distorted her reflection in a mirror beside the staircase, hollowing her cheeks into skeletal thinness. Tongues of candlelight quivered from the branches of a silver candelabra. Venetian blinds caged the sliding glass door in the adjoining kitchen and shut out the ocean view.

  Jamie gestured into the next room with bitten-down fingernails. "We were about to have tea."

  Candace pushed aside sheer white curtains and led Dawn into a windowless room. Rainforest sounds backed by classical music played from a stereo.

  "This is where Serina meets with clients." Candace nodded at a round table and wicker chairs. Flickering pillar candles towered over astrological charts and a deck of tarot cards draped in black silk.

  Dawn checked out the rest of the room. Framed paintings of unicorns, gods and goddesses adorned the walls, their colors dark. Terra cotta ceramic pots, stone bowls and brass kettles lined a bookcase.

  "You must be Dawn." The quiet voice came out of nowhere.

  Dawn spun back to the curtain. Right away, she sensed that the woman before her perceived things that most people didn’t. Her green and gold flecked eyes knew no limits. White blonde hair cascaded down to her slim waist, straight until curling at the tips. An emerald pendant gleamed around her neck, setting off her burgundy dress. Topaz earrings sparkled in the shadowed light.

  She was in her early forties, perhaps. Not a wrinkle lined her smooth face and fragrant perfume engulfed her, smelling of roses.

  "Hello, Dawn. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Serina." She held out her hand. Her grip felt soft, but firm.

  "I don't know why I'm nervous," Dawn said.

  "Don't be. Would you like a cupcake and tea?" Serina waved toward a tray on a small bamboo coffee table. Beside the tray, a miniature fountain gurgled over a bed of smooth pebbles.

  Relieved she had a task to occupy her hands, Dawn poured steaming water into a mug, dropped in a mint teabag and added a spoonful of honey. She chose a chocolate frosted cupcake with sprinkles, homemade although Serina didn't seem the Betty Crocker type.

  "Why don't you sit down," Serina suggested.

  Dawn perched onto the oddest loveseat she had ever seen. Since it had no back, the seat rested against the cool blue wall. Jamie sat cross-legged beside her on a plush cushion. Candace sprawled across a geometric-patterned throw rug and flipped through a hardcover book about meditation.

  "Tell us how you first knew you had this gift," Serina said, still standing near the doorway.

  Gift? Was it really? Dawn licked her lips. Jamie nodded, encouraging her.

  Leave. Leave now. As the words thundered in her head, Dawn fought the overwhelming urge to run. She had promised herself she would give Serina a chance.

  "When I was around seven and a half," Dawn said. "I remember waking from a nightmare, sweaty and crying. I asked my mother why there was a fire in the sky and people were screaming. The next morning, we heard 150 people had died in a plane crash."

  Jamie's hazel eyes widened. "What did your mom say?"

  "To ignore it and never tell anybody. Later, when I started picking up people's thoughts, she told me I had to stop. But I couldn't. Sometimes, I think my mother’s afraid of me. Other times, she just seems embarrassed." Dawn wished she could take the words back. Why was she sharing personal things with strangers? This wasn’t like her.

  Serina lowered herself into a chair that resembled the loveseat, except half the size, and cradled a teacup between her fingertips. "She was right to teach you about being discreet. We live in a society that doesn't trust anything but scientific evidence. Those with psychic abilities are met with superstition, ridicule and cynicism. It’s best to save your advice for those who are open. But if your mother makes you feel ashamed of who you are, then that’s a different story. Is that how you feel?"

  You don’t have to answer that, Dawn’s inner voice said. Stop revealing so much to these people. She brushed a few crumbs off her lips, resisting the temptation to reach for a second cupcake. It was just canned frosting, but Dawn longed for more of its delicious sweetness. Her mom hardly ever baked, except for holidays.

  Dawn ignored her instincts again, craving Serina’s advice as much as she desired another cupcake. "Yeah, kind of."

  "Here’s my advice," Serina said. "Stop caring what your mother thinks. If your abilities make her uncomfortable, don’t discuss them with her. You don’t need her approval or her input. It only gets in the way and makes you unsure. You keep hearing her voice instead of your own."

  Dawn rested her teacup onto a saucer. "You really think so?"

  "I know because I've been there. I've had my perception since I was a child, too. My father would hit me and say the devil was speaking to me. He thought if he punished me enough, I'd stop getting visions and hearing voices. But as you know, it's not that easy."

  "He hit you? That's horrible. My mother would never do that."

  "But she’s hurting you in a different way," Serina said. "It's hard when your loved ones want you to be someone else. You must be talented for your abilities to have stuck with you. Everyone has the aptitude for some level of psychic skill, but intuition isn’t nurtured in most families. Children get bad vibes about a person, and their parents tell them to be quiet and stop acting rude. Eventually, most children tune out those thoughts. By the time they get to school, their abilities are gone. Like unused muscles, they weaken."

  Serina’s brow puckered. "You’ll hear absurd rumors about me, Dawn. That I put curses on people. That I worship Satan. Yet I have a steady clientele. Some of my customers don’t care what people think, but others do phone consultations as they don’t want to be seen here. It makes no sense to me why people interested in the sixth sense are scorned or feared. Why would you ignore a flashlight and stumble around in the dark? But unfortunately, the majority of the world is not open-minded."

  Candace rolled over on the floor to face Dawn. "I thought my parents would be proud of my abilities. They always knew I could sense things, but a few years ago, I started reading about it, and gave them a scientific explanation. We all have five physical senses and four psychic ones: hearing, visual, feeling and intuitive. I get a lot of
visions and intuitions."

  Dawn tingled all over with nervous excitement. She’d found people who understood, and even valued, what was happening to her. As strange as this house made her feel, in some weird way it was like coming home. "How did your parents react?"

  "My mother told me to stop talking weird, and walked out of the room. It wasn't something she could brag about to her country club friends, so she didn't want to hear it. I didn't expect much from her, but my dad's a doctor. I figured he'd have me tested, but he said he doesn't believe in the paranormal, that it was all coincidence."

  "Do your parents know you come here?"

  A spasm of irritation flitted across Candace’s face. "They don’t ask where I go. They’re too obsessed with my older sister. She can do no wrong."

  Serina smiled. "Your sister doesn't have what you do. Your gift will bring you such rewards, and has a value that your sister can't comprehend." She regarded Dawn. "When Candace first came to me, she felt much as you do, that something was wrong. But it's quite the opposite. You're meant to use this talent, and with the proper training, you'll feel much more confident."

  "What kind of training?" Dawn asked.

  "Getting centered, so you control when these feelings come over you," Serina said. "We play games to build our abilities. I often equate it to music. Everyone can strike keys on the piano, and with lessons, they’ll learn to play a tune. Of course, only a small portion will have the talent to become concert pianists. It’s the same with psychic abilities. You will progress, and in time we’ll find out how much."

  "It's like practicing for a sport," Candace said.

  Serina nodded agreement. "Exactly. I've asked Candace and Jamie to bring in something personal tomorrow. It can be a ring, a photograph, anything. They were instructed to bring it concealed in a bag and to give it to me privately. I'll hide the objects in a box, then they'll guess what each other’s items are. You're welcome to join us."

  "I don’t think…" Dawn faltered for an excuse. It wouldn’t hurt to come back and get a better idea of what the group did. But maybe she didn’t belong, even here. "I am curious. But I’m afraid you’re all a lot better at this than me. I must be doing it wrong. I mean, a lot of times when I have a feeling, I can’t do anything about it."

  "Give me an example," Serina said.

  "I knew that boy at school, Scott, was going to get run over. And there was also Mrs. Frazier, this nice lady who lived in my apartment building." Dawn flinched as the image of cracked horn-rimmed glasses and a lifeless body flashed into her mind. "With Mrs. Frazier, I had this strong urge to call 911. I dragged my mother next door. We had a key and found Mrs. Frazier unconscious. She’d had a heart attack."

  "Oh, my gosh," Jamie breathed. "Did she die?"

  "She died a couple nights later. She was so kind to me, like a grandmother. I never knew my grandparents." Well, except for her maternal grandmother, but Dawn had only seen her once. Her mother and grandmother fought all night, and the next day, Grandma was gone.

  Mrs. Frazier used to bake breads and play Scrabble with Dawn. She swallowed the lump that had settled in her throat.

  "Your job is not to save people," Serina said. "Just because you have a vision doesn’t mean you have the power or responsibility to intervene. Beginners often pick up negative images because they’re the loudest and most emotionally charged. But you’re so talented that I sense there’s more going on here than you realize. Did Mrs. Frazier have relatives who were able to stay with her at the hospital?"

  "Well, yeah. My mother called them right away and her kids rushed down to the hospital."

  "Don’t you see, there was a purpose to your vision," Serina said. "If the paramedics hadn’t arrived when they did, Mrs. Frazier would have died right there. Instead, you gave her family the gift of saying goodbye. Maybe she even died with one of her children at her side."

  "Her daughter was with her, holding her hand. I never thought of my premonition as a good thing before. I blamed myself for not having it days earlier, when I could have pushed Mrs. Frazier to see a doctor."

  "Have you ever heard of synchronicity, Dawn? That means there are no coincidences. You couldn’t save Mrs. Frazier as it was her time to depart this life, but she lived long enough to give her family closure. You couldn’t save Scott because the universe said this was his time, but Candace heard about your premonition and invited you here. Synchronicities are not random. You’ve been on the right path all along. You just need guidance to answer your questions and take your skills to a higher level."

  Serina stood, majestic in her grace. "I’ll leave you to think about that. We’d be happy to have you tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, I need to find a book that Candace wants to read."

  Candace pushed herself to her feet. "I’ll help you look."

  They left the room, their footsteps treading upstairs. Dawn and Jamie shot uneasy glances at each other. Dawn wanted to ask a million questions, but Jamie spoke first.

  "Does that happen to you a lot? Knowing about things like plane crashes and heart attacks?"

  "Usually it's not that big a deal," Dawn said. "Other times, I keep waiting for something big to happen, but nothing ever does."

  "Like what?"

  Uh oh. Maybe Jamie’s predictions had 100 percent accuracy. But it was too late to back off now.

  "Once, a couple years ago, I felt my mother shouldn’t walk to work," Dawn began. "It was just a vague feeling. We lived in the city and I was convinced she would get hit by a car or something. She didn’t listen and wound up slipping on the ice and dropping her purse. Her ankle was sore, but it was nothing like the scary stuff I was imagining. How about you? You didn’t talk much about your abilities."

  A faint tracing of red outlined Jamie’s cheeks as she answered, "I don’t have any psychic abilities. Yet. I'm not like you or Candace, but Serina says I’ll get better with practice. I think I will, too. I don’t give up easily."

  "How did you get involved with Serina?"

  "I used to walk past her house, but didn’t have the guts to knock. I knew she was a fortuneteller and wanted to find out my future."

  "You finally knocked on the door?" Dawn asked.

  "Nope, I kept chickening out. Then, about six weeks ago, Candace came after me. I couldn't believe it when she invited me to meet Serina. I was nervous, but I finally went in. Serina read my palm for free, and I thought I'd faint."

  "What did she say?"

  "That I'd marry a wonderful guy in my twenties and have two girls," Jamie said with a grin. "Serina told me that I'd live in a huge house in the mountains. I hope she’s right. I’m pretty sure she is. She’s been right about everything else."

  Dawn found herself hoping along with her. "It sounds like Serina knows a lot. Maybe she can teach me to control my abilities."

  "She's done a lot for me. She told me that I was good at reading moods, which I guess is true, but I never thought of it as a psychic thing before. That’s the feeling sense Candace was talking about. Serina says you can do a lot with that sense once you know what you’re doing."

  "Do you think I should come tomorrow?" NO. The word echoed in Dawn’s mind, like someone calling down Jamie’s mountain.

  Dawn pinched her lower lip with her finger. Candace wanted her to come. Serina wanted her to come. Part of Dawn wanted to come, too. If she took precautions, she could keep the training a secret from her mother. So why was she uneasy?

  "I hope you do," Jamie said. "It’d be fun getting to know you better. I mean, I'm sure you won’t want to be seen with me at school."

  "Don't be silly. Besides, I'm the one everyone's calling a witch."

  "That's nothing. They call me Pan Fry." After a few seconds, Jamie giggled.

  Dawn giggled, too, casting her worries aside. She didn’t have to decide anything right this minute. She could sleep on it. "Pan Fry? What does that mean?"

  "Beats me. I still haven't figured it out."

  "Those kids are so stupid. I promise that I'll never
be ashamed to be seen with you if you won't be embarrassed to be seen with me."

  Jamie beamed. "That's a deal."

  Dawn smiled, but her thoughts were racing. Serina sounded as if she spent a lot of time with Candace and Jamie. Palm readers couldn't make much of a living.

  How could she afford to help these girls for free?

  Chapter Six

  When Dawn got home, she found Ken sitting on the cement steps that led to their weather-beaten cape. Dawn froze with her hand on the railing. He was waiting for her. She knew it. "What’s wrong?"

  "It’s all over school," Ken said. "Renee’s telling everyone you predicted Scott’s death. She’s calling you a witch. Do you have any idea how many times I defended you?"

  "Thanks, but Renee’s being stupid." Dawn squatted beside Ken, her heart skidding into panic mode. All day, she’d had a feeling she should discuss the school rumors with her stepbrother, but she’d gotten caught up with Candace and pushed it to the bottom of her priority list. Big mistake.

  "Is she? Why didn’t you tell me you warned Scott before his accident?" Ken locked his penetrating gaze on her. He had pulled himself together from that morning, his bloodshot eyes the only sign of his grief.

  Dawn detected an undercurrent of fear rippling through his words. She pressed the bridge of her nose where tension had gathered in a knot. "I got a bad feeling about Scott and blurted it out to him. I humiliated myself and wanted you to think Renee was making up stuff. I couldn’t believe my premonition, or whatever it was, came true. That’s never happened to me before."

  "I’m not so sure about that. I was there, remember? I could have sworn you jumped out of the car, yelling, before Scott started across the street. That means you had another premonition. You did, didn't you?"

  "I ... I don’t know what you mean," Dawn stammered.

  "There have been other things, too. Like when you said that Gram and Gramps would be calling and a few seconds later, they did. Dad asked your mom about it. She looked nervous and said they always call around that time."