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CHAPTER FOUR

My first reading of the day was a woman named Charity Lane. She bustled in, flushed and two minutes late, and I immediately knew who I was dealing with. Or, I thought I did.

“I’m so sorry—first I couldn’t find parking and then I didn’t have my city parking pass for the meter, but I remembered I put it in the side pocket—” she paused for a brief second to take a breath, then continued. “Then I found it and managed to finally get the meter to work but as I started to cross the street, I almost missed spotting a bicyclist who?—”

If I didn’t stop her, she’d never finish.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re here. Why don’t we get started so you get your full reading.” I suspected she was going to be a problem. She was a gobbler—she’d eat up as much time and energy that I was willing to give her.

She froze. Apparently she wasn’t used to being interrupted. I took advantage of the silence.

“Let me take your coat while you make yourself comfortable. Would you like some coffee or tea? I also have sparkling water, if you’d prefer.” Even as I spoke, I took her coat from her as she set her purse on the table.

She settled in the chair and, looking a little confused, said, “Oh, coffee, please. Cream and one sugar, if you have it.”

Thinking that the last thing she needed was caffeine, I poured her a cup of coffee and added a splash of creamer and a pack of sugar. I set the china cup and saucer down on her side of the table, then took my place opposite of her.

“So, Charity, what can I help you with today?” I picked up the cards, holding them as I waited. I expected something typical—was her husband cheating on her, would she get the job she’d applied for, something run of the mill. But she surprised me.

“I’m not sure how to put this…” She paused, taking a sip of the coffee. “This is good.” After another sigh, she said, “My mother was recently diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. She has a few months before…I want to know if there’s anything I can do to help before… then ? I’m not talking medically—unless a miracle happens, I know I’m going to lose her.”

Her eyes misted over. “I want her to be happy. I want to make the next few months the best she’s ever had. I’ve asked her about it. I ask her what she wants, but she just tells me that everything’s fine. That she’s ready and prepared. “

I froze. No wonder she seemed so spacey. Feeling that I’d been uncharitable, I opened myself up. Her grief washed over me, a tangible wave. Charity was hurting, and at that moment, I knew that she was the one who needed a cushion, not her mother.

“Give me a moment,” I said, closing my eyes as I dove deeper into the mist that formed in my mind. My magic was emotion-based, and I connected easily with all the outer realms—the spirit realm, the astral and etheric, and realms even further out. “I’ll need you to sit still, and keep silent. This may take a few minutes, so please be patient.”

“May I drink my coffee, or will that interfere?” She settled back in her chair.

“You can drink your coffee,” I said.

First, I brought up my wards. Then, I opened myself to Charity’s aura.

The pinks and golds that rippled through it signified love and caring—this woman really did care about others. There was a hint of green…she was connected to earth energy, even though she didn’t know it. She was human, so I suspected she liked to garden, rather than working with any form of magic.

In an outer band, I sensed the presence of death. That had to be her mother, because her aura was strong and healthy. There was another band of energy that seemed oddly misplaced…it was gray—the gray of the past. But, as I sat with the feeling a little longer, I began to see figures. They silently watched us, reminding me of old photographs—the ones done when photography was new. Old and grainy, in shades of gray, black, and white.

Who are you? I asked.

One of the figures let out a long sigh, like wind rustling through a dry corn field.

We watch and we wait.

I wasn’t sure who was answering, but the figures were becoming clearer. As they came into focus, one of them stepped forward. She wore an old fashioned simple button down shirt, with a thin ribbon beneath the collar, tied in a bow. Her skirt was mid-shin length, and a straw hat sat atop an elaborate chignon. She must have been in her mid-thirties, and she reminded me of school teacher from the early 1900s.

Are you Charity’s guardian spirits?

We are her ancestors. We are here to help her and her mother, as her mother transitions.

They were waiting for Charity’s mother. They had come to help her through the Veil. Sometimes, when someone had a strong connection to their family lineage, the ancestors watched over them.

Do you know if there’s anything her mother needs from her, before you escort her through the Veil?

The spirit paused, then nodded. We do. There is an old rift between them, that they have chosen to ignore. It must be mended for Eva to return to us and not linger on this plane. We cannot tell you what it is—this is something they must remember, and attend to.

With that, the spirit backed away. She and the others began to vanish from my sight, and the mist withdrew. I opened my eyes.

“Your mother’s name is Eva, isn’t it?”

She blinked, watching me as she held her coffee. “Yes, it is. How did you know?” The energy of the shop seemed to have calmed her down.

I handed her the cards. “Focus on your mother and—silently—ask what you need to know about her for the time she has left. Then shuffle five times, and cut once,” I said. Each time I used the cards, they told me how many times to have the querant shuffle them.

Charity held the cards for a moment, then shuffled and cut them, then handed them back to me. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I’ve never had my cards read before,” she said. “I’m curious as to how they work.”

I began to lay out a circle of eight cards, with one in the center. As I scanned them, they mirrored what the spirit had told me. I wasn’t sure how much Charity was prepared to hear, but the cards showed a surprising amount of psychic ability in her. The Magician, the High Priestess … And center, the Death card, which signified a transition. It usually meant life transitions, but in this case, it referred to her mother.

After a few moments, I said, “The cards help direct my psychic abilities. Think of it like focusing—there’s all this energy, and I’ll get general impressions. The cards lead me in how to interpret what I see and feel.”

She pulled out a notebook and a pen. “I’d like to take notes, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course,” I said. I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “All right. What I see here tells me that you know there’s something that isn’t finished. That’s why you came here, correct? Something needs to happen before your mother leaves this plane.”

“Right. I knew it.”

As I examined the rest of the cards, I immediately saw that the problem surrounded a man. That much was obvious, and the cards told me they’d had an argument over him.

“Was there a man in your past—your mother’s past—who caused turmoil between you? Someone who brought about an argument, or a dispute?” I glanced at the Prince of Wands. “He might be a fire sign, or have a fiery personality. Someone who was arrogant, or overly self-assured?”

“Oh my gods, yes.” Charity straightened, her voice agitated. “There was. Trevor . My mother was dating a man when I was fourteen. He was an asshole, and I hated him. We fought about him constantly, until he finally left. My mother blamed me, said that I was the reason he left. But we let that go some time ago.”

A bell rang in my brain. Yep, this was the rift her ancestor had told me about. And they might think they’d left the argument in the past, but it was still there.

“You and your mother haven’t resolved the issue. This will cause problems for her when she crosses over. You need to talk to her about him, and be clear. In fact,” I said, narrowing in on an impression that solidified the more I focused on it, “you might accidentally keep her bound to this plane by your resentment over him. She doesn’t know how badly he hurt you—” I froze as I caught a glimpse of something I didn’t want to see.

A man, creeping into a young teen’s bedroom, late at night…

She met my gaze, and the pain in her eyes told me I was right.

“You never told her, did you?”

Charity sat very still, but her expression crumpled. “No, I didn’t,” she whispered. “I thought she wouldn’t believe me.”

“You need to talk to her. You need to tell her what he did to you. If you don’t, the anger and fear attached to his abuse will reach out and draw her back.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, not now—” Charity started to say.

“You’ll hurt her more by not telling her what happened. She needs to know, so you don’t silently bind her to this realm. And think of this: once she makes her transition, she’ll know what happened. She’ll be able to see it.” I tried to think of a way to explain how it worked. “If you don’t take care of this, that anger will fester deep inside, and you’ll attach it to her, instead of him. Blame the man who did it.”

“But she should have protected me,” Charity blurted out. She gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean that—she was so busy, trying to keep us alive after my father left.”

There—the rest of it came out. “You’re afraid she’ll think it was your fault.”

Charity leaned back in her chair. “I guess I am afraid that she’d blame me, even after all these years. I’m thirty-seven now. It’s been twenty-three years, but I still remember every detail of that night. You know, it was just a few days after that incident that my mother broke up with Trevor.”

Everything was falling into place. Eva had seen Trevor watching Charity, but the desperate hope that she was imagining things kept her from acting. And then, something had shifted and she knew her fears were founded. But instead of talking to Charity, Eva had kicked Trevor out and went on with life as though nothing had happened.

“This is what you need to do: you need to tell your mother what happened, but try to remember she was in a vulnerable state and that she never wanted to see you hurt.” I loved it when readings fell into place, the combination of magic and the tarot solidifying the situation.

“And that will set her free when she’s ready?” Charity asked.

I nodded.

“It’s not as easy as booking a trip, though, or taking her to her favorite national park.” Charity sighed. “I guess we do need to talk about it. I thought I’d left my anger behind, but I never really dealt with what he did to me. And I guess I do still blame her.”

“Sometimes the freaks of the world are really good at hiding their perversity. She might not have known when she met him.”

“Did she ever figure it out? Does she already know what he did to me?” The look in Charity’s eyes told me I was treading in dangerous waters. One wrong word and it could make things worse for both of them.

“Perhaps, but not on a conscious level. I think she may have suspected, but she probably thought you would tell her if anything did happen. Miscommunication, at worst, Charity. But this will free her, because of that part of her that has always wondered. Sometimes, knowing the truth releases a burden. And knowing the truth now will allow her to move on.”

I sat back, staring at the cards. “Your mother is stronger than you think. She’s resilient. She wants to wrap up all the loose ends she can before she leaves, and this is one of the last.” I paused, then added, “Your ancestors are waiting for her, Charity. They’ll take care of her when she passes. It’s not the end, you know. She’ll still live on, just in a different form.”

Charity sat very still for a moment, then tears welled in her eyes. She swallowed hard. “I’m so afraid.”

“You don’t want to lose her. Of course, you’re afraid. But she’ll watch over you. And your ancestors are watching over you.” I described the woman I’d seen. “Do you recognize her?”

Charity worried her lip, then nodded. “We had an old photograph hanging on the wall when I was young. I think I have it in storage. It sounds like my great-great-great grandmother, Ronita. She looked a lot like the woman you described, and she was a librarian before she got married.”

Again, the bells rang in my head. “Yes, that’s who she is. So take comfort in knowing that she’s always there, standing watch. And she’ll help your mother when it’s time.”

“I guess I have my work to do, then. I’m just…”

“Don’t wait too long,” I added. “Your mother may not have as much time as you think.”

Charity finished her coffee. “All right, I’ll talk to her tonight. Thank you. This has been hard, but it helps, though I may not be thrilled over the answer. It would be so much easier if she wanted to see some landmark or something on her bucket list.”

“Bucket lists might be what we want , but they aren’t always what we need .” I leaned across the table and rested my hand on Charity’s. “You’ll be okay, Charity. Everything will be okay.”

She thanked me again, and then handed me her credit card. I ran it and then handed it back to her. “Feel free to call if you need my services again. And…good luck to you, and I hope your mother…I hope she passes gently.”

After Charity left, much calmer than when she entered, I sprayed the shop with sage water to clear the energy and then shuffled the cards to set them for my next client. All the while, I had the feeling I would be seeing Charity again, though I wasn’t sure why.

By the time my next client arrived, I had started researching star witches. I needed to know more about them. I had begun to enter info into the database, but soon realized that finding the right match for Brenda was going to be difficult. For one thing, they were the rarest form of witch—or rather, they had one of the rarest magical connections with the elemental forces.

There were a few in the database, but my gut told me that they wouldn’t pan out. I decided to check them out anyway, but I needed more to go on.

At my old job, we had a long list of candidates waiting to be matched up. But my old boss had not encouraged success.

“We want them to keep coming back,” he said. “You don’t make money off of success. At least, not too much success. Give them enough hope. Like gambling. Let the player win a few times, but not big—not the jackpot. They’ll lay their money down every time after that.”

But I almost always made successful matches. My boss had specifically told the others to keep quiet about my success rate, because he knew I hated deliberately mismatching couples.

Eventually, though, some of my colleagues grew irritated and finally my boss let me go. He didn’t exactly say why during my exit interview. He used the excuse that they were overstaffed and that he had to lay off someone. And, regardless of the fact that I was a senior member of the staff, I was the one escorted to the door.

Now, I stared at the database. “Well, I suppose I can try her out with a couple of these guys,” I said to myself. “But I know that none of them are it. So, where am I supposed to find the right star witch? I should have thought of this before I opened my doors.”

I didn’t have any big database for myself, nor had I accumulated listings to start with. But regardless of the difficulty, I knew he was out there and I was determined to find him.

I glanced at the clock. My next reading was due in half an hour. But before she arrived, a light bulb went off. Midnight Point had several social clubs. And one of them happened be sponsored by the Dark Moon Society. At least, it had been in existence when I lived here as a teenager.

I put in a call to Crystal. “Hey, Crystal? Do you remember the name of that social club when we attended when we were kids? Well, teenagers? The one we went to when we turned eighteen and thought we were so sophisticated?”

She thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean the Midnight Hour Social Club ?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I was wondering, is it still up and running?”

“I think so. I haven’t gone in ages, but it was still active a few years ago. Why?”

“Oh, I plan to—” I paused as the door opened. “I have to go. My next client is here. I’ll talk to you later, but if you could get any information about where and when they meet, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” she said. “Have fun.”

“I hope so,” I said. “My last reading wasn’t exactly a bowl of cherries.” As I hung up and turned to greet my client, I wondered how much the Midnight Hour Social Club had changed. Hopefully, it would still be the soirée that I remembered.