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Sierra

"That will be twenty-five dollars please," I said as I looked over the woman that stood in front of my counter, taking in her designer outfit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Really?" She scoffed, nostrils flaring like I'd just suggested she kiss a toad. "That's insane, I can't believe you charge that for a horrible reading." The woman's large diamond ring glinted off the sunlight shining through the window, practically blinding me with its ostentatiousness.

I despised women like this. The elite that came through thinking they could get away with anything simply because their bank accounts had more zeros than most people's phone numbers. The entitlement rolled off her in waves that made my skin crawl.

"That's a very reasonable and standard price for the area." I made sure to keep the smile plastered on my face, when all I wanted to do was punch the woman in the face and hex her with a week of embarrassing bodily functions in public places. The muscles in my cheeks ached from the effort.

Her lip curled like she'd smelled something foul and she slammed the money on the counter. Exact change. No tip, notthat I expected one, but did she have to be such a bitch about it? The crisp bills lay there mockingly.

"Thank you so much for your business, I hope you have a pleasant day. Make sure to get that rash checked out before your husband finds out."

The door slammed behind her, the bells that hung from the frame chiming and trying to soothe my mood with their delicate tinkling. Too little, too late.

The mask brightening my features melted away and I let out a heavy sigh as I looked around my small shop. In the heart of Sedona, Arizona, I opened it five years ago, pouring every cent I had into this space of weathered wooden floors and crystal-lined shelves.

I always pictured myself having a massive compound where I would be able to teach the psychic arts like tarot, aura reading and crystal blessing. A sanctuary for learning, not this tourist trap I'd become. I'd always been able to see spirits, even when I was a kid. I thought that my imaginary friends protected and watched over me, whispering secrets and warnings in my ear. Before she died, Mama would tap my nose and smile at my strange antics, playing along. She hadn't realized they were real and not just a figment of my overactive imagination.

I hadn't found out more about myself and that they were real until I went to live with my Gran. She was my mother's mother, and descended from a line of powerful witches. But I was even more powerful – a fact that sometimes scared me as much as it empowered me.

I was a rare Omega blessed with magical powers. Omegas like me were only born once in a lifetime, cosmic anomalies that defied explanation. The last one in my line had been my great-great grandmother almost 200 years earlier, whose grimoire I still kept hidden beneath my floorboards.

Gran had taught me very well. She knew what my limitations would be and tried to prepare me for the future, her gnarled hands guiding mine through ancient rituals, her voice steady even as her body failed her.

But nothing could prepare me for Rowen.

He was the one that truly broke me, the one that stood by my side that comforted me when I was in distress. He held me the day Gran died when I was seventeen, his arms the only solid thing in my world as it crumbled. He promised me that everything would be okay. I was still whole as an Omega even without a family or a pack.

But it was all a lie, words designed to ensnare me like a beautiful web. Now I was here in Sedona trying my best to make do and just barely keeping the spirits at bay, their persistent whispers a constant hum in my consciousness.

When I was a child, they were there like my best friends always within reach. The people that I could always talk to, comforting presences in the darkness.

Or so I thought.

Rowen changed that notion. I trusted him, I gave him everything I had even when I was a teenager. It was all his. I laid it on the line for him and all he did was take my power and run away, leaving me hollow and shaking.

He was my savior.

And my doom.

He taught me to use my powers to their full potential after Gran died. But he also taught me the feeling of betrayal, the sharp knife of it twisting in my gut whenever I remembered his face.

How was I ever going to trust another person? The wall I'd built around myself was impenetrable, reinforced by years of solitude.

How would I ever trust the spirits again? They had led me to him, after all.

The answer was I couldn't.

He made it impossible.

So, I did my best here in Sedona, opening a shop very similar to the one my Gran had before she died. I fooled the tourists into thinking that they had real psychic abilities. Or that I had real psychic abilities and that I could tell them what was beyond the other side. Mostly I just did tarot readings and past life regressions in addition to selling various books, gemstones, and jewelry. A parody of what I could truly offer if I dared.

Spirits swirled around me begging me to listen to them. To hear them. To fulfill their ultimate destiny and the reason that they've stuck behind. Translucent faces pressed close, mouths moving frantically, fingers reaching.

They were my ultimate curse. The reason why I had migraines on a daily basis. Especially here in Sedona. The energy here was so powerful it amplified my abilities. But it also masked my presence, hiding me in plain sight beneath the vortex energies that drew tourists like flies.