Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Once more behind the wheel, mostly because they’d both decided that Caleb’s Range Rover, while much bigger and sturdier than her little Hyundai Kona, might also be known to the demons who’d been set on his trail. It just seemed smarter to take a vehicle that was a lot less conspicuous.

However, Delia could tell he wasn’t entirely thrilled to be relegated to the passenger seat once more, because he fidgeted with his seatbelt and tapped his fingers against the knees of his jeans every time they had to stop at a red light.

Or maybe he was just worried that they’d be late for their appointment with the psychic.

At least their route kept them far away from downtown and the Strip. It was an area she generally tried to avoid, just because it was almost always choked with traffic no matter what the time of day, but now she had an extra incentive to give that part of the city a wide berth.

According to Caleb, the demons had particularly focused on his movements whenever he was coming or going from one of the casinos there.

His attention seemed to be held by the cars around them and the strip malls and housing developments they drove past, so she was a little startled when he said, “Why Delia?”

“Excuse me?” she responded, not sure what he’d meant by the question.

“Your name,” he explained. “It’s not very common.”

No, it wasn’t. She couldn’t say the same thing about his given name, not when she’d known several Calebs in high school and college.

“My parents met in line at the first Beetlejuice movie,” she said. “They were huge fans. So after they got married and I was coming along, they decided they were going to call me Lydia after the goth girl in the movie. Except when I appeared, I had bright red hair, so they thought Delia would be a better fit.”

Caleb nodded, so either he was familiar with the film and didn’t see the need to ask any other questions, or he’d decided she’d already given him more than enough information.

Apparently the former, because then he said, “Does your father have red hair?”

“No,” she replied. “Just regular brown. But there are redheads on both sides of the family, so my hair wasn’t as huge a surprise as it might otherwise have been.”

And she’d always liked her red hair, liked how it made her stand out in a crowd. True, she’d used Overtone on it to brighten the natural copper to something more approaching Woody Woodpecker red when she was singing with Final Girl, but she’d never wanted to dye it blue or purple or any of the other rainbow shades Pru had gone through over the years.

Definitely not black, either. She’d talked to her hairstylist about it once, and had been warned that putting black dye on her hair pretty much guaranteed that it would take years — and a lot of lost length — to get her tresses back to their natural color.

“I think that’s the place up on the right,” Caleb said, then grimaced. “I can’t believe we’re going to see someone who calls herself Marvelous Marva.”

“Hey, Pru said she was one of the best,” Delia returned, although she was forced to admit that she’d experienced much the same misgivings as Caleb when she’d first read her friend’s text.

He sent her a side-eyed look but didn’t say anything, probably because he was thinking the same thing she was.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers…especially when they were in a hurry.

At least the small, one-story house Marvelous Marva used for her office looked well kept, with the only indication of her profession a small sign out front that said “Readings.”

Delia guided her SUV around the corner and turned off the engine, thinking it would be rude to pull into the driveway since it wasn’t specifically marked as client parking. “Here we go,” she said. “You ready for this?”

“I guess I have to be,” Caleb replied as he unfastened his seatbelt.

She did the same, and soon enough, they were standing at the front door. He reached over to press the doorbell, and the sound of a soft flute echoed somewhere inside the house.

Well, she had to admit that was much nicer than those annoying Westminster chimes.

The door opened a moment later, revealing a woman Delia guessed was probably around her mother’s age…even if Linda Dunne would never have been caught dead dressed like that unless she was going to a Halloween party or something. Most of the woman’s salt-and-pepper hair was concealed with a colorful silk scarf in shades of red and purple and green, and she wore a flowing red silk kimono embroidered with fanciful dragons, with an equally flowing black silk skirt and blouse underneath.

“Come in, come in,” she said, stepping out of the way so they could enter the house. Almost at once, the scent of patchouli incense hit Delia’s nostrils, and she had to work hard not to cough.

Next to her, Caleb was wrinkling his nose as well, so it didn’t seem as if he was too happy with the olfactory assault, either.

“This way,” Marva told them, and led them through the living room — which had been set up as a library, with bookcases placed against all the walls, their shelves so stacked with books and crystals and figurines that you could barely see what kind of wood they were made of — and into the dining room.

Or really, the reading room, since there was a round table in the center of the space with a silk cloth covering it and several Chinese screens that could be positioned to offer more privacy.

Since it was only the three of them right now, Marva ignored the screens and pointed at the two antique chairs that faced the table.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” she said.

At least she sounded ordinary and friendly enough, and wasn’t trying to put on some kind of fake Eastern European accent or something to make herself sound more mystical. Delia took that as a plus — and did her best to ignore the dubious look Caleb sent her just before he sat down on one of the chairs.

Well, he could think what he wanted. They were here to get some information, and she really didn’t care how the conduit for that knowledge looked or dressed as long as they got the intel they needed.

Delia sat down as well — the chair was just as hard as it looked, a carved piece with a flat cushion that felt as though it needed some serious reupholstering — and did her best to arrange a pleasant expression on her face while Marva took the seat on the other side of the table.

“Do I have your permission to take your hands for a moment?” she asked. “It always helps me to have that contact with my querents, although I understand some people may be uncomfortable with the practice.”

“It’s fine,” Delia replied, even as she glanced over at Caleb. He still didn’t look entirely thrilled, but he went ahead and laid a hand on the tabletop.

“Do what you need to,” he said.

Marva nodded, then reached over to wrap her fingers around both their hands. Although she wore gold dangly earrings and a gold necklace set with what looked like a big cabochon of either carnelian or some kind of agate, her fingers and wrists were completely bare of jewelry.

Did the metal and precious stones interfere with her psychic connection with her clients?

Not being in the habit of visiting psychics, Delia couldn’t begin to guess. Marva’s fingers were cool but not cold, and she held their hands lightly for a moment before letting go again.

“Something has been weighing on both of you,” she said, and then she sent them both a smile that was almost wicked, her dark eyes dancing. “But I suppose you would tell me that much is obvious, or else you wouldn’t have come to see a psychic.”

Delia couldn’t quite prevent her own mouth from quirking. “Yes, we’ve had an…eventful…couple of days.”

Marva looked over at Caleb. “There’s something about you, though…something I can’t quite place.”

Expression completely neutral, he said, “That a fact?”

The psychic didn’t even blink. “Yes, it is a fact, I think. As to what it means, I suppose I’ll let the cards help me figure it out.”

She reached for a black velvet bag that had been lying on the tabletop, then pulled out a set of Tarot cards. Although Delia had played around with Tarot a bit in high school, all she’d had was your garden-variety Rider-Waite deck, and not the gorgeously illustrated cards that Marva began to shuffle, her long fingers displaying the sort of dexterity usually not seen outside a dealer in a casino or a magician who specialized in up-close tricks.

“We’ll try the downward pyramid,” Marva told them as she kept shuffling. “It’s a good spread for getting a quick and easy answer to your problem. If it’s not conclusive, or if you feel as if it doesn’t apply to your current situation, then we’ll move on to a Celtic cross.”

“Um…sure,” Delia replied after a quick sideways glance at Caleb, who didn’t seem to have an opinion one way or another. Back when she was in high school and playing around with the cards, she’d only done simple three-card spreads, so she didn’t know much about any of the other kinds.

If Marva had noticed the dubious tone in her voice, she didn’t show any sign of it. Then again, she’d probably encountered plenty of skeptics over the years.

“The first three cards describe the current situation,” she explained. “The two beneath that represent what surrounds the current problem or any problems that may surface because of it. The single card at the bottom signifies the outcome.”

That seemed simple enough. Next to Delia, Caleb nodded, signaling that he also understood what they would be looking at.

One final shuffle, and then the psychic laid down the first card.

“The Moon,” she intoned. “Secrets…illusions…that which is hidden.”

Well, a whole lot felt as if it had been hidden from them, so that particular card seemed pretty on the nose.

Marva set the second card next to the first. This one depicted a handsome older man with a raven perched above him, although it was in the reversed position, which Delia vaguely remembered meant something negative.

“The King of Swords, reversed,” the psychic said. “A person of intelligence and cunning, someone who is at cross purposes to you.”

Lately, the whole world felt as if it had been at cross purposes with her — and with Caleb — so Delia wasn’t sure how much illumination that particular card provided.

The third card was placed next to the stern-looking king with his raven companion. It showed a woman sitting in the lotus position with a group of wands placed around her, but it, too, was reversed.

“The Seven of Wands reversed,” Marva said. “This could signify some sort of attack — and of course, it doesn’t need to be a physical attack. Mental and spiritual assaults leave their own wounds.”

While that made sense, Delia didn’t think she and Caleb needed to dig into the deeper meaning of the card, not when he’d quite literally been attacked by demons just the night before.

As she finished speaking, Marva pulled another card from the deck and set it below and slightly offset from the Moon card. On it, a dark-haired woman was being attacked by a pair of crows or ravens.

“The Two of Swords,” she said. “Stalemate…or a difficult choice needs to be made.”

Delia hoped the psychic was wrong about that. Stalemate meant they’d have to find a way to live with the current situation…and that was something she knew Caleb didn’t want. He didn’t move, his dark eyes intent on the cards that lay on the table before them, and she really wished right then that she was the kind of psychic who could read someone’s mind.

Or maybe not. She didn’t know for sure whether she wanted to go tromping around in a part-demon’s brain.

But although her memories of the Tarot’s meanings were hazy at best, even she recognized the card Marva set down next.

The Tower.

“It’s not always a negative card,” Marva said quietly. “In this case, where I’m working to get a sense of the energy surrounding your current circumstances, it could mean more a change of some sort, a shift. Something is about to break loose.”

Well, that could be good or bad, depending on who was doing the breaking. Caleb rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful; he hadn’t shaved that morning, and a faint haze of dark scruff covered his jaw.

If possible, it made him even more good-looking.

Not what you should be thinking about right now, she scolded herself.

“And the outcome,” Marva continued as she pulled the final card from the deck.

Not much doubt about that one, either.

A dark crimson hood with a night forest scene contained within. Written at the bottom was Death ∞ Rebirth.

Caleb let out a rusty chuckle. “So…we’re going to die?”

“The Death card usually shouldn’t be taken so literally,” Marva replied, looking unruffled. “In general, it usually means the end of a cycle and a new beginning. Often, it can be a hopeful card.”

Judging by the way one corner of Caleb’s mouth turned down, Delia got the feeling that he thought the psychic was blowing a bunch of sunshine up their collective asses.

“So, the outcome is a change of some sort,” she said, doing her best to be politic.

“Yes,” Marva replied. She closed her eyes and placed her hands on the tabletop, outstretched fingers covering most of the spread she’d just laid there.

Delia looked over at Caleb, and his shoulders hitched slightly. It seemed he didn’t have any more idea of what the psychic was doing than she did.

Before the moment could get too uncomfortable, though, Marva opened her eyes and gave them both a thoughtful look, even as she lifted her hands from the spread and folded them in her lap.

“There is a difficult energy here,” she said. “It comes from dark places and works in darkness. Whatever it is that you’re currently dealing with, you need to be cautious…and you need to rely upon one another.”

Since Delia thought she and Caleb were already doing that, she wasn’t sure whether the psychic’s advice had contributed much to the conversation.

Then again, they were certainly working together, but were they really relying on one another…trusting each other?

Delia had a feeling that Caleb had much more faith in her than vice versa. So far, it didn’t seem as if he’d done anything terribly underhanded, but could she allow herself to implicitly trust someone who was part demon?

She didn’t think she could answer that question. Not yet, anyway.

Caleb didn’t seem to have the same reservations, though. “We are working together,” he said. “She’s already saved my ass several times. But do you have any words of advice for defeating this ‘difficult energy’?”

The psychic’s mouth curved into a smile. She wore deep red lipstick almost the same color as her silk kimono, and although her expression was amused, something in her dark eyes told Delia that Marva understood this was serious business.

Instead of replying right away, she selected a card from the center of the deck and laid it down on the table, covering the Death card.

The Lovers.

Almost at once, heat rose to Delia’s cheeks, and she prayed the other two were too involved with looking down at the cards on the table to notice the way she’d blushed.

“Again, it’s not always the literal meaning that’s the true one,” Marva said. “This card can also signal friendship or a partnership of some kind. But I feel that once you get past this chaotic energy” — she waved a hand over the inverse pyramid of cards that had constituted the main part of the reading — “then something good will come of it.” She paused there, dark eyes keen as she took in her two clients and the expressions they wore. “Does that help to clarify the situation for you, or would you like me to do another reading?”

“Not a whole reading,” Caleb responded before Delia could say anything. “But maybe a little more detail about the King of Swords there?”

Frankly, after seeing the Lovers card, she was ready to quit while she was ahead, but clearly her companion didn’t have the same view of the situation.

Looking unruffled, Marva pulled another card out of the deck and laid it down on the table, a little separate from the others.

The Ten of Swords. Not exactly the most cheerful card, although in this deck, the image was still beautiful, showing a woman with her back to the viewer, standing in the middle of a bleak landscape while ten crows flew overhead.

“Painful endings,” the psychic said, and Caleb lifted an eyebrow.

“For the King of Swords, or for us?”

Marva didn’t blink. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that particular energy is connected to this person, whoever they are.”

Typical. Although the cards the psychic had laid out did seem as though they had some relevance to her and Caleb’s situation, Delia still couldn’t help thinking it all felt like a bunch of double- speak. No absolutes, just a bunch of statements that were entirely up for interpretation.

This was one of the best psychics Las Vegas had to offer?

But then, even though Delia had only played around with Tarot and had never gotten serious about interpreting the cards, even she knew that it wasn’t the sort of thing that would come right out and state an absolute fact. It was all about knowing the meaning of the cards and doing your best to see how they applied to your situation. Maybe Marva actually had told them everything they needed to know, but they were just too dense to figure it out.

“Well, thanks,” Caleb said, and although he didn’t add, I guess, Delia could tell he’d wanted to.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you something more concrete,” Marva replied. “But I know in my heart that this is an accurate reading. It’s up to you to see how it fits your current situation.”

Somehow, Delia managed to slap on one of her cheery real estate agent smiles, saying, “Oh, it’s been very helpful. I think Caleb and I have a lot we need to discuss.”

At least that much was true. She could tell he was fairly bursting to sit down and talk over what Marva had told them.

The psychic seemed to realize they were done, because she shuffled the cards from the spread back into her deck and returned it to its velvet pouch.

“Yes,” she said, “I think you do.”