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A Novella
THE CRYSTAL CAVE NOVELLAS, BOOK 1
Susan Wittig Albert
Table of Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About Susan Wittig Albert
Books by Susan Wittig Albert
Copyright
The great advantage about telling the truth is that nobody ever believes it.
Dorothy L. Sayers
Nobody gets justice. People only get good luck or bad luck.
Orson Wells
Prologue
The dream came to Ruby Wilcox for the first time on Saturday night.
It had been a busy week at the Crystal Cave—Ruby’s wonderful little shop, still the only metaphysical shop in Pecan Springs, Texas. It was August, when she always did the late-summer inventory, getting ready to stock up for the coming fall and winter. On Wednesday and Thursday evenings, she had led workshops for the local Wiccan group on using divination tools—tarot, runestones, crystals, pendulums, and scrying. On Saturday, she had taken her daughter Amy and Amy’s beautiful toddler, Grace, out for lunch. And on Saturday evening, she had spent a couple of hours working out at her new gym, Body Matters. So she was tired enough to fall asleep right away, even with Pagan (the black cat who had shown up at her kitchen door a few months before) snuggled up tight against the warm curve of her body.
But she hadn’t slept well. Her muscles were already a little sore from her workout at the gym, and she spent several restless hours tossing through a series of uneasy dreams. But they were only previews for the horror-movie nightmare that jerked her awake with a stifled shriek an hour before dawn.
In her dream, she was standing concealed in a thicket under a live oak tree beside the hike-and-bike trail that ran along the river north of Pecan Park. But she wasn’t herself. She was . . . somebody else, a man, she couldn’t tell who. She was inside his mind, witnessing his dark, ugly thoughts as he watched a woman in a pink shirt and white shorts running along the trail. This wasn’t the first time he had watched this woman, or the first place. And as he watched, he was consumed by a fiercely brutal pleasure, lingering over each ugly detail, seeing, tasting, fantasizing.
And then Ruby woke. She was drenched in sweat, her mouth paper-dry, her pulse racing, her heart banging like a drum in her chest. She had been inside the mind of the man who was thinking—no, planning—something unthinkable. She had been trapped in his thoughts like a frantic animal in a cage, a cage that she couldn’t escape.
She pulled the covers over her head and huddled in her bed, while the images in his mind smashed into her like brutal blows.
And that was only the first night.
Chapter One
It is Wednesday morning. Ruby Wilcox closes her cash register and steps out from behind the counter at the Crystal Cave.
“I probably won’t be gone very long,” she says. “But in case I’m held up, don’t forget that the Friends of the Library have reserved the tea room for lunch. I don’t have any classes scheduled and I’m not expecting any special problems. But if you—”
“Ruby,” China says patiently, “you are driving across town, not trekking to India to visit your guru. Cass and Laurel and I can handle the shops and the tea room for a few hours.” She gestures at the shelves where Ruby displays her magical wares—healing crystals, I Ching coins and yarrow sticks, Ouija boards, rune stones, pendulums, magic wands, Tarot cards, incense, and scented candles.
“If a customer wants a crystal ball or a Tibetan prayer flag and we can’t locate what she’s looking for, we’ll just tell her to come back when the swami is here.” She frowns. “No, wait. ‘Swami’ is masculine. What do we call a female swami? A swama?”
Ruby wrinkles her freckled nose. “Please don’t be snarky, China. I really don’t want to talk to Sheila about this . . . this thing, you know. I’m mostly doing it because you think it’s a good idea.”
In spite of their occasional differences, Ruby and China Bayles are as close as sisters. They are partners in a multilayered enterprise that includes the Crystal Cave, China’s Thyme and Seasons herb shop, a tea room, and a gourmet food and catering service called Party Thyme that they share with their friend and gourmet chef, Cass Wilde. Like all women who manage their own small businesses, they have faced a great many challenges together, some of them pretty hair-raising. But that has only drawn them closer.
This morning, Ruby has dressed to cheer herself up. Her orange tunic is off-the-shoulder and floaty, fun to wear over lime-colored leggings and open-toed sandals. Feeling the need for extra brightness, she has added an orange chiffon scarf and a half-dozen orange plastic bangle bracelets. It hasn’t helped a lot. She still feels apprehensive and draggy, as if she’s not getting enough sleep. Which is true. It’s those dreams, those awful dreams.
China, on the other hand, is dressed in her usual shop uniform: jeans, sneakers, and a green Thyme and Seasons T-shirt. In her former life, she was a criminal defense attorney, and she still views the world from that skeptical, uber-rational point of view. When she has questions, she wants answers. When she doesn’t get answers, she gets frustrated. She is frustrated now—not a surprise, given the weird dreams Ruby has told her about—and trying not to show it.
“I’m sorry,” China says contritely. “I know you’re uncomfortable about discussing your dreams with Sheila, but you’ll feel better after you’ve got this off your chest. Maybe you can even talk her into doing something. Like putting a couple of patrol officers on the hike-and-bike trail?”
Ruby understands that China doesn’t always believe her when she comes up with something out of left field, like the dreams she has just told her about. But she also knows that China always believes in her, which is much more important. She has never not given Ruby the benefit of the doubt.
Talking to Sheila Dawson, Pecan Springs’ chief of police, is China’s idea, and Ruby has reluctantly agreed. She can think of a dozen things she would rather do at the Cave this morning, like sweep the floor and dust the crystal display and restock the bookshelves. Sheila and Ruby are longtime friends, but Sheila is even more left-brained than China. She lives in a cop’s universe, where time is always linear, facts matter, and two and two can only make four: nothing more, nothing less, ever.
Still, Ruby has to admit that China, however skeptical, is right. If what she has seen in these dreams bears any relationship to the real world, it is definitely a police matter. A young woman is going to be kidnapped by a man who is stalking her. It’s not the first time she has dreamed something and the dream has come true. But it’s the first time in years that a dream has recurred over so many nights with such a frightening emphasis. If she doesn’t report this and then reads the story in the Enterprise or sees it on the KXAN-TV news, she will be swallowed by guilt.
But Ruby also knows that prediction is fluid, untrustworthy. Events can be influenced by hundreds of factors, and outcomes are never cast in stone. If Sheila can be persuaded to put an extra patrol on the hike-and-bike trail, what Ruby has seen in those dreams might not happen. If Sheila can be persuaded. That if is as big as the Titanic. And what might happen after that is totally unpredictable.
“Once you’ve got that off your mind,” Chin
a goes on, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Even better, the rest of the week.” She slides Ruby a concerned glance. “You’ve been working hard. You deserve a vacation.”
For privacy’s sake, Ruby usually hangs a Do Not Disturb sign on the door to her best friend’s thoughts. But she doesn’t need to be psychic to know that China is worried about her. Ruby had a mastectomy several years ago, and the threat of a recurrence of the cancer is always there, like a resentful has-been actress hanging out in the wings, hoping for one more chance at a starring role.
“I’m fine.” Ruby holds up three fingers. “Girl Scout’s honor. Cancer free.”
It’s true. She passed her recent checkup with flying colors and a congratulatory high five from her doctor. But this thing she’s dealing with, this frightening dream—while it isn’t cancer, it is terribly, maliciously malignant. Like the threat of cancer, it lurks on her inner horizon, an ugly, menacing cloud.
“And I really don’t need a vacation,” she adds defensively.
China gives an exaggerated eye-roll. “I didn’t say you needed it, silly. I said you deserved it. Anyway, now is a good time to give yourself a little break. The last week of August is hardly our busiest time of year. We don’t have any catering gigs, our workshops don’t start for a few weeks, and there’s nothing on the calendar that requires your urgent attention. Plus, I’m not sure that you’ve fully recovered from that bike crash a couple of weeks ago.”
“That little accident?” Ruby says. She had ridden her bike into a tree and ended up with a mild concussion. The only trace of it was a healing scar just under her hairline. “That was nothing. Just a few headaches, that’s all.”
“Several massive headaches, some dizziness, and a blackout or two,” China corrects her. “A few days’ rest will do you good.”
Ruby thinks about this for a moment. The concussion has given her more problems than she likes to admit, and it is certainly true that she’s had a lot on her mind. In fact, the whole summer has been unsettled, what with one thing and another. She hasn’t been getting enough sleep. Her appetite is flagging. And on top of that, the dreams.
“Well, I suppose I could take a few days off,” she concedes reluctantly. “Maybe just until after Labor Day.” Today is Wednesday, so that means she’ll be back at work in less than a week.
“Terrific!” China says brightly, then remembers something and frowns. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Ramona called before you came in this morning. She wants to talk to you. She sounded . . . excited.”
“Uh-oh,” Ruby mutters. When her sister Ramona gets excited, things happen. Crazy things. Unpredictable things. “Did she say what she wanted to talk about?”
“You know Ramona.” China waves her hand dismissively. “She has another great idea—something only the two of you can do together.” Dryly, she adds, “She wouldn’t tell me, of course.”
“Of course,” Ruby murmurs. Ramona is jealous of China. In the past, she has tried every trick in the book to come between her sister and her sister’s best friend. This happens so often that China calls her Ruby’s “evil twin,” which sounds like a joke but isn’t.
“If she calls you again,” Ruby adds, “tell her to phone my cell and stop bothering you.”
“She likes to bother me. It gives meaning to her life.” China makes a shooing motion with her hands. “Now, go and talk to Sheila. You’ll feel better when you’ve got that thing off your mind.”
Ruby seriously doubts that talking to Sheila will get “that thing” off her mind. It seems to be an endless loop in her brain, programmed to turn itself on ten minutes after she falls asleep and keep on playing all night. But whatever.
“Okay, China, it’s all yours.” Ruby picks up her handbag and slings it over her shoulder. “Hold the fort until after Labor Day. If you or Cass need me for anything—”
“We won’t,” China says, adding reassuringly, “Don’t worry about the Cave or the tea room or anything else. Just open a bottle of wine, take off your clothes, and lie in the sun. Spend time at the gym. Go country dancing with your cowboy. Do whatever soothes your soul.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ruby says dutifully, although lying naked in the Texas sun on a hot August day doesn’t strike her as terribly smart. Also, it’s been over a month since she’s heard from her latest cowboy—Pete, who manages an olive ranch in the Hill Country west of Pecan Springs. She’d been on the brink of falling in love with him, but distance proved to be a powerful divider. Their attraction to one another wasn’t strong enough to bridge it, and Ruby still hasn’t gotten over the disappointment.
But she likes China’s suggestion of the gym, definitely. The Pecan Springs Fitness Club, where she has been a member for ten years, closed a few months ago—financial troubles, she’d heard. She has a new membership at another fitness club. But she’s been there only a couple of times since she joined, and she’s eager to get back to her regular workout program.
Actually, the more she thinks about taking time off, the better she likes it. A few days away from the shop may restore her energies, give her a better perspective. And maybe even unplug that dream.
She leans forward and brushes her lips across China’s cheek. “And please don’t worry about me, sweetie. I’m fine.”
“Really? Are you?” China holds her out at arms’ length, eyes searching her face intently.
“Yes,” Ruby says. “Really.” She manages a bright smile. “Of course I am. I’m fine.”
Chapter Two
I’m fine.
Of course she isn’t, and Ruby understands that saying it doesn’t make it so. All her life, she has had to cope with being . . . well, different, which isn’t fine at all. She inherited this aptitude (if that’s what you wanted to call it) from her grandmother, who inherited it from her mother, who brought it from Ireland along with the red curls and freckles that run in the family. Her sister Ramona got a strong dose of the family gift, too, although she missed out on the discipline required to manage it. The gift seems to be somehow coded into her family’s DNA.
But even though Ruby prefers not to think of herself as “psychic,” she has to admit that she has remarkably strong intuition. Early in her life, she knew which team was going to win the softball game on the other side of town, or who was on the other end of the phone when it rang, or what her best friend would be wearing that day. She could even hear people’s thoughts and feel their feelings. But no child wants to be different, so she was always struggling to pretend that this spooky stuff wasn’t happening. She longed to be just like everybody else.
Ruby’s friend Sophia D’Angelo (who teaches classes on intuition at the Cave and is very wise about such things) says that the same thing happens to a great many psychics when they are children. “People don’t understand us,” Sophia says. “We don’t fit in. We’re different. Which means that we try very hard to suppress who we are and what we can do, just so we can be like everybody else. And that’s a shame, don’t you think?”
As a teacher and coach, Sophia urges Ruby to learn to use her psychic abilities, rather than disavow them. “You won’t be a whole person until you integrate all the parts of yourself,” she often says. “You’re a strong woman now, Ruby—imagine who you could be if you deliberately channeled your intuitive power.”
But Ruby is still reluctant. She learned long ago the importance of avoiding situations where she might be tempted to use her abilities. Trespassing in another person’s mind feels like an unpardonable invasion of privacy. When she’s inadvertently drawn in, she gets out as fast as she can. She’s uncomfortable when it comes to making predictions. What if she tells so-and-so that this-and-that may come about, and the person counts on it, and it doesn’t happen? What gives her the right to tinker with other people’s futures?
What’s more, there are dark places in the human mind—in some minds, anyway—where she doesn’t want to go. Hate is there, and fury and lust and revenge. Terrifying fantasies, primitive instincts, irresistible urges, obse
ssions. Once she’s swimming inside somebody’s head, she runs the risk of drowning in whatever’s in there, no matter how ugly and hateful it is.
So she stays on shore. The Crystal Cave is safe for her. It’s a sheltering haven where she can flirt with the fun of being psychic without being swallowed up by it. She’s okay (she’s fine) with little parlor tricks, like the readings she does for friends with her Ouija board or the I Ching or the tarot. But even those can be risky when something serious shows up and she feels duty-bound to plunge into it. So she sets limits. She’s careful not to get sucked into somebody’s stuff, unless it’s so compelling she can’t help herself.
When that happens—and it does, sometimes—it’s a huge drain on her emotional and physical energies. It’s like being suddenly charged by an enormous power surge or jolted by a mini-lightning bolt. She’s plugged in, turned on, energized, manic, even. When the power goes off, the energy ebbs swiftly and she’s drained, exhausted, limp. It takes a while to become herself again.
She’s afraid, sometimes, that she won’t.
• • •
Pecan Springs is halfway between Austin and San Antonio, on the eastern rim of the ruggedly beautiful Texas Hill Country. Ruby was raised here (unlike China, who is a refugee from Houston), and she’s watched the town grow and change—for the better, some say; others, for the worse.
About growth, Ruby is ambivalent. She loves having lots of customer traffic in her shop; she doesn’t love getting stuck in traffic when she goes shopping. Tourists are terrific when they’re browsing the shelves in the Cave. They’re terrible when she’s standing in a long line of them in the mall.
But most residents agree with the Chamber of Commerce, which brags that Pecan Springs is a small town with big dreams and an even bigger heart. The big dreams are on brazen display along the east side of I-35, where the chain retailers and the hotels and the outlet shops keep popping up like so many toadstools after a warm spring rain. The big-hearted part of Pecan Springs is tucked away in the cedar-covered hills to the west of the interstate, where the original German settlers built the old town around a courthouse square, just a stone’s throw from the spring-fed Pecan River.
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