The woman pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling. “Ah, I have found her! No, William, she has not passed through the gates of Afterlife. Samantha’s heart still beats among the living.”
William slapped his hands on the table. “Please, you must tell me. Does she love another? Is she happy with him?”
The fortuneteller lifted her hand, running a long nail beneath her chin. “It is … unclear.”
“Unclear? What do you mean unclear?”
She arched a serpentine brow. “I mean, there is a fog. Unclear. Not. Clear. The barrier between the living and the dead is called a veil for a reason. It veils things. It’s not like I have a mirror bonded to the mortal world and can just look right through and see. There’s some interpretation involved.”
“Then what’re you good for!” He pounded the table, veins bulging on his neck. “Show her to me! I want to see her.”
“That costs extra, William. You know this. I have no mirror, remember?”
William yanked off his gold watch and tossed it on the table. “Then take this as payment and let me see my wife.”
Her tongue passed over her glistening lips. Bone Man continued listening, gliding around the room until her client’s back faced him and he could see the fortuneteller directly. One quick jab through the divider and his sword would skewer the fool getting played by this woman. He shivered in delight at the thought, but held his sword.
Her cheeks tugged her lips in the slightest of grins as she hooked a nail on the watch and pulled it to her. “Very well. But I must warn you of something first.”
“What?” William asked, his voice warbling, his chest pressing hard on the table’s edge.
“All souls come to Afterlife in their prime. We do not age, we do not decay. You have been here many years, and like all others, you bring only your name and a single, powerful memory you hold dear. Unlike most others, that memory also gifted you your wife’s name and gave you a way to keep an eye on her mortal life. You are a lucky man in this regard. Most of us will never know the families we had when we lived, because we simply do not remember.”
“Yes, yes, everyone knows this. They explained as much to me when they recorded my name for the census. So?”
“So, I am saying the young Samantha you remember will not be the Samantha who appears. The ravages of a hard world will have weighed upon her. It might be too much for your heart to bear. I would hate for your heart to break and the Deep to take you on account of a meager fortuneteller such as I.” She pushed the watch toward him but paused halfway across the table. “It would be so much easier for you to remember who she was and not who she is. If she loved you with all her heart, perhaps she will remember you when she comes to us.”
“And when she dies, she’ll be the Samantha I remember! She’ll come here just as young and vibrant as when we first met.” His eyes glazed over, and he smiled. “She’ll be just as she was meant to be. Perfect.”
“Then why not wait?”
His glassy eyes blinked, their bright look hardening. “Because I paid you a gold watch and it’s what I want to see. This is the Crystal District. I didn’t risk being seen in this sewage pit for a therapy session, and I’ve paid enough people enough money to know you aren’t a fraud. There aren’t any sealed lips in Afterlife gold won’t peel apart. I know you can reach into the mortal world. I know you trade in Deep artifacts. I know you’ve traveled with the dust devils. It’d be a shame if the archduke’s men discovered as much, wouldn’t it now?”
The woman leaned forward, her eyes so narrow they looked closed. “Yes, it would be. For the one who spoke the shame more than for the one who deals in it, I promise you that. You may think your money buys you everything you need, but there are secrets in Afterlife no amount of gold will ever purchase. There are songs sung to us who walked the Deep roads that could whisper nightmares that would drive you mad. Be careful with your threats, William, because there are those of us here who can bring the Deep to you if we so desire.”
Bone Man stiffened. He squeezed the grip on his cane. If this woman traveled with dust devils, she might know of the relic. After he dusted William, he would peel these secrets from her wicked little tongue and throw her ashes to the wind.
William cleared his throat and placed his palms on the tabletop. “I want to see Samantha. She’s the only thing I remember from my past, the only memory that’s come with me. It haunts me. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I need to see her, please.”
The fortuneteller shrugged, tugging the gold watch back to her. “Very well. It is so unfortunate we cross with nothing more than our names and our dearest memory. It can lead to such a tortured eternity.”
“Unfortunate for souls like me. For people like you, it’s why you can even make a living.”
The woman cracked a smile and interlaced her fingers. “How very observant. Now, look into my crystal ball. Good. No, do not blink. Let your eyes dry. Fall into the reflection. If you shed tears, so be it, but do not blink your eyes….”
Bone Man edged closer to the divider, willing the shop’s door to drift closed and its lock to click in place. His sword passed through a space in the divider he hid behind. Steel glittered in the soft light, the weapon’s razor tip aimed between the man’s shoulders.
Bone Man’s arm tightened. He squeezed the grip hard and sneered at the man’s neck and how it glistened with sweat like a wet candle. The fortuneteller closed her eyes and placed her hands on William’s.
Bone Man pulled back. William pitched from his seat and knocked the chair to the floor. The fortuneteller’s lips moved. Bone Man readied his strike.
A siren blast shook the building. Bone Man recoiled, yanking the sword back through the divider. The fortuneteller’s eyes popped open, and William straightened, whirling around. “What’s going on? What is it?”
“The archduke,” she said. “Alarms from the Black Palace.”
“But—”
She stared him straight in the eyes. “This is not the time. Leave. Now. My shop is closed for the day. If you ever want to see your Samantha again, I suggest you run home as quickly as you can. This is not the part of town where men like you want to be when the blackjackets come knocking on my door. And they always knock on my door.”
William stuttered a protest, but she slammed her hands onto the table and pointed for the door. “Get. Out!”
Her spirit flooded the room with her command, the force of her mind barreling down on her customer. William buckled beneath it. He cleared his throat, then inched toward the door. “Fine, fine! But I will return to see her when the dust settles.”
“Let’s just hope you’re not counted among the grains when it does, my friend. Now go.”
The man offered a curt nod and dashed for the door. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you still have my watch, Madam Arshakuni.”
Her cheeks reddened as her gaze shot to the watch. She cleared her throat and offered him a much warmer smile. “Please, call me Marina. I look forward to your next visit. Prepaid, of course.”
More alarms blared, and with that William darted for the exit. He never noticed Bone Man in his shadow, each foot falling in perfect lockstep with the man. After a few frustrated curses, William unlocked the door and threw it open, spilling into a night torn apart by siren blasts.
Bone Man peeled away at the alley’s mouth. In a single, smooth leap he vaulted to the rooftops, his crows squawking in a loop high above. Dust parted around him like the waves around a boat as he took mighty strides toward the behemoth black structure near the horizon.
This Marina Arshakuni knew of the Deep, and she traveled with the dust devils. Once he took care of this emergency, he would return for her, and he would tear everything she knew of the Deep from her tongue while he watched her body blacken and crumble to dust.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tea Time
Ms. Flannery’s house loomed before Amber in all its peeling white glory. White panels, white window trimming, white window sills,
and even a white brick chimney gave the house a kind of tired church-like motif compared to the reds and browns of the neighboring homes.
Amber stepped onto the pale pavement strip dividing the neat grass of the front lawn. She made her way up the porch and lifted a fist to knock on the door. The inner door whipped open before her knuckles could land, and Ms. Flannery appeared with a broad smile behind the screen. “Oh, Amber, what a welcome surprise! Do come in, do come in!”
Eliza Flannery lived alone, her husband having passed away a few years ago. While he lived, they never much interacted with their neighbors. But once he died, Ms. Flannery slowly ventured out of their home with ever-increasing regularity until she became a fixture in most of the neighborhood organizations and clubs. She had keen eyes and kept them trained on others with frightening consistency. And while she claimed she never engaged in idle gossip, she did know many things about many people and loved to hint as much to anyone who would listen.
She adored a neatly-pressed, A-line skirt paired with a fitted blouse and wore them as often as Amber wore her school uniform. The quick washing up and down her eyes gave Amber betrayed the woman’s disapproval of her current attire, but something else also swirled within them that irked Amber even more. Worry. Pity.
Amber followed Ms. Flannery into the house. It smelled of aging potpourri and faintly of cigars. If she remembered correctly, Mr. Flannery had been a fan of them before his passing.
Ms. Flannery swished to the breakfast nook nestled in the bay window of her kitchen. She hummed to herself as she set a kettle on to boil and pulled some clinking porcelain teacups from her china cabinet. “I’m so glad you could drop by. It’s terribly lonely here on the weekends. I’ve been looking at helping out at New Hope off Peverly Hill. The minister there is just an absolute mess organizationally and I am quite sure I could help significantly.” She sighed through her nose, her lips a tight line. “It’s just unbearable always being in this house by myself.”
“I know how you feel. My house is pretty empty right now too.”
Ms. Flannery muttered agreement as she slipped on her reading glasses and thumbed through a pantry. “Oh goodness, yes, I forget myself.” Her wrinkled lips snapped into a smile. “But isn’t it exciting how your mother is off doing some good for the world?”
“Not sure if taking pics of frogs is doing good for the world, but it does sound better than doing projects for school on the weekend.”
“School? That’s right, I saw your friend Jason drop you off in that adorable Mercedes. It looks like you two collected quite a few things in that backseat!”
“We checked out a bunch of garage sales for an art project,” Amber said, choosing to ignore the slightly-irritating fact that Ms. Flannery had been watching them.
“Indeed, indeed.” Eliza pulled out a few tea bags and plopped them in the cups. “You know I’ve heard some very interesting things about that boy. Very interesting.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard some interesting things about both of us.”
Ms. Flannery flashed a closed-lip smile and joined Amber at the table. “So tell me what you bought on your garage adventures. Mr. Flannery loved searching for knickknacks and the like. You know he lectured at SNHU, don’t you? Spent most of our first decade of marriage hunting goods stolen by the Nazis. Chased some wild geese, that one did, but every so often he would find a diamond in the rough.”
“I knew he taught at Southern New Hampshire, but I didn’t know what about. It sounds like you two lived an interesting life.”
Ms. Flannery snorted as she dropped a dollop of honey in her tea and stirred it around. “I stayed in more than my fair share of disreputable establishments.” She looked up from her stirring. “So spit it out, then, what did you get?”
“Mostly garbage. Really. It’s pretty much junk.”
“One woman’s trash is another’s treasure!” Eliza chirped. “Come now, there must be something interesting you collected.”
“Well….” Amber took a sip of her tea, savoring the crisp, aromatic flavor of the jasmine green. “There was this necklace I found at an estate sale.”
Eliza’s stirring halted, her eyes darting to Amber. “Oh? Do tell.”
Amber reached into her pocket, her fingers fumbling for the necklace. She pulled it out and plunked it on the table. “It’s probably nothing. This guy a few blocks down was selling his mother’s things. She came here after the Second World War, and he said it was hers. I don’t know if it’s anything, but whatever. It’s mine now.”
Ms. Flannery swiped it from the table and held it to the light. “It’s decent quality, that’s for sure, and real agate. Looks Armenian by the detailing.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Amber said.
“Or perhaps it’s something! I love a good mystery, don’t you? Mr. Flannery kept many books on Western Asia, perhaps one of them can enlighten us?”
“It’s really not necessary.”
Ms. Flannery’s chair croaked as she backed it from the table and slid to her feet. “Nonsense. I insist.”
Amber did her best to plaster over her frustration with a smile and followed her neighbor into the house’s expansive basement. Drapes covered most of the furniture while boxes stuffed with faded hardcovers littered every conceivable open space of floor, save a narrow, serpentine path running from one end of the room to another.
Ms. Flannery danced through the path and clicked the light on, then made her way to a bookshelf where she began pulling yellowed volumes from the shelves. While Ms. Flannery lost herself in books, Amber took a minute to look around. Odd antiques littered the space, from bronzed figurines to cracked pots to masks adorned with broken feathers. It was the stuff that would make little kids squeal with excitement and fuel their imaginations for weeks.
Amber noticed a frameless mirror propped in the corner. Dark splotches marred its surface, and a crack ran from the top to the bottom, nearly shearing the old glass in two. Amber made her way through the maze of books and boxes until she was so close to her reflection she could see the pores in her nose and every freckle on her face.
Her fingers passed over the glass, feeling the imperfections in the surface. Amber smiled, and the reflection smiled back. Something about staring in her own eyes, seeing her own slick teeth, watching her own lips bend in a crescent—it all unsettled her.
She turned from the antique and found Ms. Flannery thumbing through a book beneath the basement’s light. “That mirror’s one of his oldest pieces. Apparently the Nazis used it in experiments to try and trap spirits. The Nazis were always doing the most atrocious experiments, you know. It’s a piece of junk if you ask me, but my husband was obsessed with it.”
“Why’s that?” Amber asked.
“I couldn’t tell you why Mr. Flannery did half the things he did, dear,” she sighed and closed the book. “It was one of his first finds, though. The Nazi experiments never bore fruit of course and no one claimed the mirror. I assume it had some sentimental value for him, so he kept it around. Can’t stand the thing. It’s creepy.”
Ms. Flannery’s voice trailed as she stared into the mirror, her gaze somewhere in a fading past. She smirked, and her dress swirled around her as she headed for the stairs. “Coming?”
Amber struggled through the junk back to the path and bounded up the creaky steps behind her neighbor, who for someone with bad ankles managed the flight with practiced ease. Back on the ground floor, Ms. Flannery dropped the necklace in Amber’s hand and closed her fingers over it. “You have a pretty necklace, dear, but I can’t seem to find much on it.”
Amber’s heart dropped a little then, but not much. “See? Junk.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. It’s real stone and good work, but there’s just not much about the style. All I could find were some references to speaking with spirits and all that mumbo-jumbo.”
Amber’s heart bounced back to its former height. “Really? What did the book say about it?”
Ms. Flannery laug
hed. She passed her microwave clock and slowed, frowning. “Oh my, where did the time go? I promised Lisa I’d help her pass out flyers for the next neighborhood watch meeting. We need a few more volunteers to cover all seven days of the week. You wouldn’t be interested would you, Amber?”
“What? No, no thank you. I’ve got school work to finish, otherwise I totally would.”
“That’s too bad.” Ms. Flannery led Amber through the living toward the front door. “It was such a pleasure to have tea with you today. Why don’t you drop by more often so we can chat?”
“But what about the necklace? What did your book say about it?”
Ms. Flannery pulled the door wide and laughed, swatting at the air “It was so silly.”
Eliza prodded Amber from her home, practically pushing her onto the porch. Amber swung around and shoved her foot in the screen door before Ms. Flannery could close it. “Even if it was silly, I’d like to know. I like to know the history of things, just like your husband did.”
“Amber,” Ms. Flannery sighed, smiling sadly, “You remind me so much of him sometimes. Always curious. Always stubborn.”
“Then for him, tell me.”
She started turning inside, but stopped, her demeanor shedding some of its warmth. “It was just some silly nonsense about speaking with spirits of loved ones departed. Nothing you need to dabble in and certainly nothing you need to get any fancy ideas about.”
“You mean about trying to speak with Toby?”
“Yes, dear. You need to let him go. Trying to commune with spirits, well, it’s just not healthy. We all have to move on. Trust me when I say I know how you feel. You’re not the only one who’s suffered loss. You’re not the only one who feels alone sometimes. The thing is, we have a choice. Do we stay alone and dwell on our loss, or do we pick ourselves up by our bootstraps and do our best to fill the hole that loss left behind? It’s time you move on.”
Afterlife (Second Eden #1) Page 7
