Page 13 of Possessed By Shadows
“You know us?” I asked.
“Of course,” she grinned. “Do you know how many women look at you boys together and sigh dreamily? Boy love is a thing. At least with the woke crowd. And pretty boys like you?”
I glanced at Micah who didn’t appear surprised. “Well, I get that he’s pretty,” pointing to Micah, “but I’m certainly nothing special,” I said.
She met Micah’s gaze. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“Not a clue,” Micah agreed happily. He let go of my hand to examine a candleholder that appeared to be hand-carved. “Sorry we’ve not been in before. I’ve actually never seen this shop open.”
“We have private classes during the day, and are only open to a very specific clientele at night.” She came around the counter and held out a hand. “I’m Dion.”
“Micah,” Micah said, taking her hand. “And this is Alex. But it sounds like you know that.”
“I recommend your tours. Filled with history and not just the things written to make white men sound good.” She gave me a radiant smile as I shook her hand too. “Sky is one of ours. Still in training. Resistant in a lot of ways to really tap into her powers, but she will be very powerful.”
“Is this part of a coven?” Micah asked, looking around. The shop had a lot of wicca stuff, and religious stuff really. Pretty much any religion I could think of. Though there was a locked cupboard of old books and the jewelry case. Other than being more focused on religion, they weren’t all that unlike Simply Crafty.
“Several actually,” Dion agreed. “We supply the basics: herbs, candles, and a handful of other unusual items. Plenty of fair for tourists as well.” She pointed to a section of the candleholders Micah had liked. “My brother makes those. He’s talented, yes?”
“Yes,” Micah agreed. They weren’t elaborate shapes or anything that screamed magic, supernatural or paranormal. More smooth and well-crafted woodwork than paraphernalia. Some of the wood was almost purple looking, others obvious pine or even the red gold of cedar. There were bowls and plates as well.
“I’ve told him for years his obsession with wood would bring him good things,” her comment sounded a bit like a tease. Was she saying her brother was gay?
I worried it was rude to ask, so instead I wondered, “What sort of classes? Does your brother teach how to make those?” I suspected craftmanship like that took a lot more than a few hours of carving.
“We leave the crafts to you,” Dion said. She returned to the counter and dug out a printed booklet. “Our classes are more of self-learning, higher spirituality, and meditation.” She handed over the booklet.
I flipped through it while Micah rifled through the bowls and candleholders. I suspected we’d be taking several home with us. Had he thought to bring a wallet?
The booklet was very new age. Lots of meditation, yoga, and some classes that caught my eye likeBasic Metaphysical Shielding.
“Does this stuff work?” I asked, and probably sounded stupid. People took it because they thought it worked, right? But people in general were gullible. And the American way was to sell whatever could make a profit, valid or not. “Like if I wanted to shield myself from the supernatural, can anyone do that?”
I felt a little crazy in that moment. Even looked the part, standing there in my pajamas and garden slippers, wrapped in a sweater made by my boyfriend, hair probably turning into a wild blond afro, and asking about keeping the ghosts away. Not only from me, but from Micah. Could we fix this? Live normal lives? Build a craft empire without the weird things that stalked us? It left me breathless with hope. If I never had to end up in a psych ward again, I’d call that a win.
Micah appeared back at my side, wrapping me up in his embrace. I didn’t realize I was crying until Dion handed me a tissue. I wiped at my eyes feeling stupid as the hope faded away. “Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s been a rough week.” Even if I couldn’t remember most of it.
“Don’t be sorry, boy. Yes, the classes can work. But they aren’t for everyone. Why don’t you come sit down and let me read your cards? Perhaps we can find a direction to help your focus.”
“Micah is my focus,” I corrected her, not wanting her to think I was floundering, even though I was. Lukas’s fault. I’d been fine for months, living a normal—mostly normal—happy life working with my boyfriend, and finding a sense of calm. Lukas had fucked that up. It made me angry at him again. “I shouldn’t have my cards read. Everyone says it’s bad.”
“Not bad in general,” Micah said. “Just a bad idea to put that on Sky.”
Dion’s expression changed and she nodded, looking thoughtful. “That girl is powerful and too connected sometimes. Sees too much and not enough all at the same time. We’re working on it.” She waved her hand toward a curtained room, then walked that way to hold the curtain back. “I’ve got a bit more experience than she does. Perhaps we can keep the questions simple, too?”
The room behind the curtain was typical show stuff. A tiny table with a mix of expected paraphernalia, including a couple of sets of cards. I entered the room feeling a bit of wild self-destruction. Like if there was going to be bad news, I needed to know, no matter how much it hurt. It didn’t matter what I believed, or if I believed at all, I needed to have someone answer questions for once.
I made my way to the table, sitting down in a chair on the far side after moving another away from the wall so Micah could join me. He didn’t protest, for which I was grateful. He did squeeze my hand as Dion followed us in, letting the curtain fall, and took her place opposite us.
She did hover her hand over several decks of what appeared to be tarot cards of different kinds before settling on one and bringing it to the table. “Let’s keep the reading to set questions, shall we?”
I bobbed my head like that made sense, though I was way out of my league here. She shuffled the deck a few times then spread it out in a fan in front of us.
“Think of your question and pick a card,” she instructed.
I’d watched Sky do cards, and she usually laid them out in designs to read through several things like the past, present, and future. This was different. Interesting. Willing to try, I did as she asked, and thought my question before picking a card at random. There was no focus or push on my end to reallychoose the right card.But wasn’t that part of this? A random draw of statistically general card meaning?
I handed her the card, which she flipped and studied for a moment, looking thoughtful. “The answer is no,” she said. “Not what you want to hear, I’m sure. But the answer is still no.”