“Has to be. I can see where these creeps might guess at my AskZodia email address, but how else would they have my landline at home? Don … ” I hesitated. “It’s just hit me. That means they know my name and my home address.”
Don sighed heavily. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Julia. Why in the hell are there so many crazies in the world?”
I shivered, thinking of the dark thoughts behind the Biblical quotations. I doubted anyone would be able to stone me to death outside my apartment on a city street, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“I’ll see what we can do at our end. If we find out who accessed your info, they’re done for, believe me. Les’ll fire ’em on the spot, which is a lot less than I’ll do if I get my hands on them. One thing though, Julia. Don’t delete any of those emails. If this gets any crazier, they can be traced. The police have a department for that, and you can go to the District Attorney about it. And keep a log of these calls too. That could be important. Just the date and time they come in. The phone company won’t give you any info, but you can file a complaint if they find they’re coming from the same phone line, okay?”
“How depressing. Like I don’t have enough to do. I’m going to turn off the phone in a little while when my client arrives, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“Stay in touch, all right?”
Don and I hung up. The living room clock chimed once at the half hour. I’d have to get moving. Darlene, my new client, was due soon. I made a small pot of coffee and heated water for tea in case she wasn’t a coffee drinker. Then I lit a cone of incense and placed it in the small niche in the belly of my big bronze Buddha. He sits on the hallway table and guards my apartment. I made sure there was a fresh tape in the recorder in case my client preferred something portable instead of digital. I straightened up the desk, checked that a box of tissues was close by, and placed my big amethyst crystal in front of the monitor. Amethyst reminds me to be humble and helps me avoid the bad habit of wanting to be right.
Darlene was thirty-five and had recently gone through a breakup with a boyfriend. She was considering a geographical move. When I checked her chart for the location she had chosen, I wasn’t happy. She needed to focus on a new career path, not a new location, and I hoped she’d be open to my advice. I’m always a little nervous with a new client. Once into our session, I’d be better able to gauge her reaction and judge how carefully I needed to tread.
I brushed my hair and pulled it back with a clip, then slapped on a little makeup to look presentable. I live in jeans but always try to wear slacks or a skirt when meeting clients. I placed Darlene’s folder in the center of the desk and booted up the computer. All was in readiness. While I waited, I reviewed her chart one more time, and double-checked the timing on a couple of transits. I glanced at the clock. Another quarter of an hour had gone by. Either my new client was running late or she had cold feet and might be a no-show, which sometimes happens.
The phone rang. I hesitated for a second or so, fearful it might be another threatening call. It could also be my client. I grabbed it on the third ring.
“Julia?”
“Yes. Is this Darlene?”
“I drove by your apartment, but I was afraid to stop.”
“What? Why?”
“Have you looked out your window?”
“No! What’s wrong?” Carrying the phone, I ran the length of the apartment to the living room windows that overlook the sidewalk from the second floor. Thirty or so people, carrying signs, had formed a walking circle around the entrance to my building. From my perspective I couldn’t read the signs.
“Hold on,” I told Darlene. I opened one of the windows and leaned out. Cold air blew into the room, rustling the drapes.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.
Several heads looked up and a woman screamed, “There she is!” Others joined in. In unison, a chant began: “Witch! Witch! Burn the witch! ”
Stunned, I continued to hang out the window staring at the group that was marching, as if on a picket line, in front of my stairway. I was frozen in place. Then I remembered my client was still on the phone. I slammed the window shut.
“Darlene, I have no idea what’s going on.”
“I’m so disappointed. I really wanted to see you.”
“Where are you now?”
“Parked around the corner.”
“Do you know the Mystic Eye in North Beach?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve been there a few times. It’s on Broadway, right?”
“That’s the place.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Can you meet me there in twenty minutes? They have private reading rooms that I use sometimes. I’m really sorry. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“I’ll head down there now. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. When you get there, park in the alley behind the store where it says private parking. I’ll explain to them.” I clicked off the phone, muttering obscenities. It rang immediately and I jumped involuntarily. My nerves were on edge.
“Julia! What the hell is going on? I’ve called the cops.” It was Ann, my next-door neighbor, a young nurse in her twenties who worked the night shift.
“I don’t know,” I wailed, “but thanks for calling it in. These people have chased away my new client, so now I have to go meet her in North Beach. This is unbelievable.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll give ’em hell and talk to the cops when they get here.”
I thanked her and hung up. I ran up and down the hallway searching for Wizard and finally found him curled in a ball in the big armchair in the living room, fast asleep and totally unconcerned. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know who these people were, but I hated to think what they’d do to a black cat. I slid the metal kitty door in place and made sure it was securely fastened, then checked my front door. It was locked but I put the bolt on for good measure. I rummaged in the hallway closet and grabbed a coat with a hood. Hurrying into the office, I shoved Darlene’s folder into my case with the laptop and the tape recorder. I grabbed Evandra’s folder as well, and then, locking the kitchen door behind me, escaped by the back stairs.
My duplex is protected from the street by a locked door. There’s no way, or at least no easy way, to gain entrance to the side or back of the building. In the garage downstairs, I climbed into my car and pulled my hood up. I wasn’t afraid of these people as much as I was afraid they’d do something to my cat or my Geo. In fact, I have a bad temper and I didn’t trust myself not to physically attack a few of them. I was boiling mad, but right now my client was my first priority.
I hit the button to lock the car doors, and then the garage door opener, and I gunned the engine. As soon as I thought I could clear the door, I backed out quickly, sending several marchers skittering away. I envisioned running over a few but the prospect of jail time stopped me.
Several in the group, who, I might add, looked like perfectly normal people, stared at me as my Geo moved past them. One woman, her face twisted in a grimace, called out, “There she is! That’s her. There’s the witch.” Several people moved closer, surrounding my car. One man started pounding on the passenger window and tried to pull the door open. I leaned on the horn and revved the engine. Once I was sure the garage door had locked, I put my car in gear, gunned the motor, and took off for North Beach.
FIVE
I EMERGED FROM THE Broadway tunnel, the Mystic Eye on the opposite side of the street. Cheryl was on the sidewalk waving her arms and talking to two patrolmen. I couldn’t make a U-turn. The street was jammed with traffic. I’d either get killed or get a zillion-dollar moving violation if I got caught. I turned right at Columbus and drove around the block, struggling through traffic and the pedestrians milling around the outdoor Chinese markets. When I reached Broadway, I crossed over, cut down the alleyway, and pulled up next to Cheryl’s VW. Parked next to it was a small dark sedan. Likely Darlene’s. I grabbed my case and purse, locked the car, and hur
ried down the alleyway to the front of the store. Cheryl waved as I approached. Her face was flushed. “Julia, some woman just went in asking for you.”
“Sorry to barge in like this. Can I use one of the private rooms? I’ll explain later.”
“Sure. Go right ahead.” Cheryl turned back to the two patrolmen, one of whom was taking notes. I was curious, but I couldn’t take the time to ask what was going on. I had a more than sneaking suspicion that the Mystic Eye had shared my fate and become a target of the same crazies. I pushed through the door.
Inside, the Eye was an oasis in a storm. Deep red draperies framed the glass front windows and thick carpeting masked street sounds. Cubbyholes formed by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves carved out the larger spaces, creating reading nooks with stools. A fragrant incense evoking cinnamon and sandalwood filled the air. Water tinkled through small fountains next to well-lit display cases that held jewelry and delicate glassware. Plaster gargoyles looked down from high on the walls, and center tables displayed the newest acquisitions.
I spotted a woman with bright carrot-red hair and a prominent nose. This was my client—her coloring and features shouted Aries rising. She wore a long skirt and boots with a dark tweed blazer. She was leafing through a book on one of the front tables.
“Darlene?”
Her face lit up when she heard her name. “Julia?” She replaced the book on the table. “I’m so glad you’re here. What was that stuff all about?”
“I honestly have no idea, but I’d be willing to bet those same people were here too. The manager here is outside now, talking to the police. She’s my friend so I know I’ll find out more later. But enough of that. You’ve gone through too much trouble already. Let’s grab a private room and have our session.”
Darlene meekly followed me toward the back of the store and through a doorway that opened into the short hallway. I pushed back the curtain at the first door on the left, turned on the lamp, and hung my coat over the chair. The tiny reading room was almost completely filled by a small round table and two chairs, but it would do just fine for our appointment.
“Please, have a seat,” I said.
Darlene nodded and took off her jacket. I set up my laptop and tape recorder. I took a deep breath and did my best to push all the recent upsets out of my head.
Darlene fidgeted, turning a ring round and round on her finger. “I have to tell you. I’m a little nervous today.”
“Don’t worry.” I smiled. “Lots of people feel that way the first time. Let’s demystify the process, okay?”
Darlene nodded.
I turned the laptop so she could visualize the placements as I pointed them out. “First, let’s start with the breakup.”
Darlene groaned. “It’s been awful.”
I nodded sympathetically. “They generally are, no matter the circumstances. Here’s the thing. Saturn, by transit, reached your seventh house cusp, the house of partnerships. Your seventh house has the sign of Libra on the cusp, the sign associated with relationship. Saturn is a constricting but stabilizing force. Wherever Saturn touches, we’re forced into a deeper level of maturity. We’re compelled to take a hard look at the reality and not the fantasy.”
“I blame myself. I think I made too many demands.”
I watched her face carefully. I could read the sadness, and the fact that she’d tortured herself with guilt. “I really doubt that, Darlene. Your chart has a heavy western influence. That means most of your planets are on the right-hand side of the chart. You’re an extremely compassionate person who’s easily able to put herself in another’s shoes. I think it’s highly unlikely you were selfish or demanding. In fact, you probably bent over backward. Your former boyfriend was a great guy, eccentric, fun-loving; I can see that from his chart. But, he’s not terribly ambitious. He couldn’t adjust to your level, at least right now, or maybe ever. You’re ready for something solid in your life, and the Saturn transit made it blindingly obvious this relationship would not serve you in the future.”
Darlene’s eyes had filled with tears. She pulled a tissue out of her purse. “You’re right on the money there. We tried to patch it up a couple of times, but it was just so frustrating for both of us. It just wasn’t working.”
I nodded. “And now, Saturn is exactly opposite your seventh house Moon.”
“What does that mean?”
“Loneliness. You feel terribly isolated right now. But this will pass. The Moon represents our emotions, our deepest needs. With Saturn in opposition to your natal Moon, none of your needs are being met. I always think of a Saturn-Moon transit as a reality sandwich. It’s forcing you to take a hard look at your desires, your needs, and make more realistic choices.”
“I really want to move. I can’t tell you how badly I want to get away from the city, from everything that reminds me of him. I’m always afraid I’ll run into him somewhere and I just … ” She wiped her eyes with the tissue. “I just can’t stand being alone anymore.”
I shook my head. “Here’s what I think, Darlene. Not right now.”
She frowned. “You’re kidding. You can’t mean that!”
“I have to be honest. I just don’t think it would be a good thing to do, at least not right now. Not with this transit to your Moon. The Moon describes our sense of belonging, our home—both our physical home, represented by the fourth house of your chart, and our emotional home, the place where we feel safe and nurtured. I have to tell you that relocations or house moves made under adverse transits to the Moon generally turn out to be unsatisfying. If you packed up and went to Boise right now, you’d be taking the Saturn-Moon transit with you. You’d probably rent an apartment that you would find extremely ‘Saturnian.’”
“In English, please.” She smiled for the first time.
“You’d find yourself in a space that would be limited, cramped, too small, dark, dirty, depressing. It’s amazing but true, I’ve seen it many times, not just with Saturn, but with other transits as well. I had a client once who moved under a Uranus square to her natal Moon. As she passed her first check across the landlord’s desk, he told her he intended to tear the building down in six months. She grabbed her check back and ran. She then rented another place, moved in, and found out that half the wiring was faulty and the landlord refused to fix it. Uranus, by the way, rules electricity. She had to pay for the repairs herself and then fight with the landlord over reimbursement. It’s uncanny, but I’ve seen things like that often.”
I realized as I spoke that I hadn’t checked my own transits lately. Was this a case of the shoemaker’s children or what? I’d been so busy with other people’s charts, I hadn’t even taken a good look at my own. Uranus was in the sign opposite my Moon. When I wasn’t paying attention, had it snuck up on me? I needed to have a look.
Darlene’s words brought me back to the present. “It’s just so hard right now. I feel I have to revise my life and I don’t know how to get started. I’ve put so much into this relationship over the past few years, and I just feel like I’ve wasted my time. I’m so depressed right now, I can’t think straight.”
“It is a depressing time. I won’t deny that, but you’re not crazy. You’re not neurotic. I can only stress that this won’t last much longer. Look at it as necessary down time. When you come out of it, you’ll be better able to revamp your life and get realistic about your needs. The kind of work you want, the partnership you want. Let’s talk about career direction. What kind of work are you doing now?”
“Sales. I work for a radio station. That was another conflict my boyfriend and I had. He thought I should be happy with my job. I make good money. But I just see it as a dead end.”
“This will sound complicated, but it’s really fairly straightforward. The ruler of your sixth house—this is the house of the work you do on a daily basis—is placed in your ninth house of publicity. Your ninth house ruler, the Sun, is in your natal tenth house, close to your Midheaven. The tenth house is all about career and public standing. This
is a very big issue for you. Frankly, I don’t think you’d be happy staying in sales, no matter how much money you made. What was your degree in?”
Darlene laughed. “Communications … broadcasting.”
“Well, there you have it. That’s perfect for the ninth house, not to mention travel and publicity. That’s what you should be doing. You’re young, you’re very attractive, well-spoken—why shouldn’t you be doing the evening news? Or if you’d rather work behind the scenes, perhaps you could do research for special broadcasts or documentaries or something along those lines?”
“Julia, that’s so weird. When I was little, that’s what I used to play at. Being one of those women on TV who delivers the news. It seems silly now, but I remember thinking how confident they looked.”
“Here’s my advice: don’t leave the city. It’s smaller than, say, New York or Los Angeles, so it might be easier to get a start here. Forget the boyfriend. You didn’t do anything wrong. Find a headhunter and start figuring out how those women got to do the news.”
Darlene took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a lot of think about. And I do feel better than when I walked in. Thanks.”
“You’re more than welcome. It’s been delightful for me too. I’m just sorry you had a scare this morning.”
“Who were those people?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. Obviously some kind of religious cult, but who’s behind it, I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out. Next time you see me, my home will be a place of peace and serenity.” I really had to check that Uranus transit as soon as possible. Here I was, doling out advice about the sense of home while mine was being turned upside down. How dire could this get?
SIX
I WALKED DARLENE TO the door at the back of the shop and waved to her as she climbed into her car. Inside the store, not a customer was in sight. The police were gone and Cheryl was at the counter ripping open boxes of books. I pulled up a stool and started working on the next box.
The Madness of Mercury Page 4
