Page 3 of The Second Sight (Wanderlust Emporium Presents, Season One)

Chapter

Two

KASI

We moved deeper into the shop, Brooklyn’s initial worries giving way to curiosity.

I drifted toward a wall lined with ornate perfume bottles of every shape and size.

They glinted in the low light, one cobalt blue, one emerald green, one of amber, and one of clear crystal with gold filigree.

Beneath them sat a worn wooden box filled with handmade candles, their wicks unburned.

My fingers hovered over the candles, not quite touching. Mom had made candles. It was her job, where she worked. The scents coming from this box, lavender, sandalwood, something citrusy brought her back so vividly I could almost feel her presence.

The place was large but filled with so many things crammed together. I had to clutch my shopping bags close to my body to ensure I didn’t accidentally knock anything over.

“Kasi, look at this,” Brooklyn called from a few feet away. She pointed to a delicate gold necklace that balanced precariously on the edge of a small table. The pendant was a large, bruised red stone cradled between two dragons.

“It’s pretty if you like dragons.”

“It looks like it’s about to fall on the floor. How long do you think it’s been sitting there like that?” Brooklyn asked.

I shrugged, still distracted by the candles. “No idea. Couldn’t be too long. This place has to be new.”

“This strange ass place,” Brooklyn muttered, moving deeper into the shop.

I followed, aware of Moira’s eyes tracking our movement from behind the counter.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to sell us anything.

She just observed with that same serene expression.

Watching us with her eyes wasn’t the same as following us around the store, but I was keenly aware of her presence.

Brooklyn ran her fingers over the curved back of a worn wooden chair.

The arms were carved into the shape of lion’s paws.

“This looks like it came from the motherland,” she said in a hushed voice.

She lifted a dusty box from the seat, revealing a tarnished gold goblet beneath it.

The cup was beautifully crafted, with intricate engravings along its stem and base.

“I should buy this and drink red wine out of it,” Brooklyn joked. “Imagine the look on a guy’s face when I pull this out on a first date at a restaurant.” She giggled. “He’s going to be like, hoe is you cool?”

Her laughter made me smile, breaking through the strange, dreamlike state that had fallen over me since we entered the Wanderlust Emporium.

“This place doesn’t feel real,” she murmured, setting the dusty box back down. “Like we stepped through a portal into some fantasy novel shop.”

I knew what she meant. The Emporium felt disconnected from the world outside. In here, time moved differently.

“These are pretty,” I said, pointing to a collection of antique hand mirrors arranged on a velvet cloth. Each one reflected our faces back at us, but somehow differently. In one, my eyes looked darker; in another, Brooklyn’s cheekbones seemed more pronounced.

“Don’t touch those,” Moira called from the counter, the first words she’d spoken since her welcome. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it held an unmistakable warning. “They’re very old.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brooklyn raised an eyebrow at me. “Told you. Cursed objects.”

I rolled my eyes but moved away from the mirrors.

As we explored further, I found myself drawn to a glass case containing what looked like jewelry.

There were brooches, rings, amulets, all with strange symbols etched into their surfaces.

One pendant in particular caught my eye.

It was a circular gold piece with what looked like a tree engraved on one side.

It reminded me of something, though I couldn’t place what.

The whole time we wandered, I could feel Moira’s gaze following us. Not in a suspicious way, watching for potential thieves. No, this was different. She seemed to be studying me specifically.

“Let’s go,” Brooklyn whispered eventually, leaning close to my ear. “This place is starting to creep me out. That woman hasn’t stopped staring at you since we walked in.”

I nodded, though part of me wasn’t ready to leave. There was something about this place, something familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. Like déjà vu, but stronger. As if I’d been here before or was always meant to be here.

We turned toward the exit, Brooklyn leading the way through the narrow path between shelves of knickknacks. I followed reluctantly, already planning to come back alone sometime in the future. There were too many things here I wanted to explore without being hurried along.

That’s when I saw them. Sitting on the third shelf near the door, illuminated by a stray beam of light from one of the high windows, a pair of gold-framed reading glasses.

Simple yet elegant, with cat-eye lenses and thin arms that curved.

They seemed to glow in the dim light, calling to me in a way I couldn’t ignore.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My eyes fixed on the glasses. Brooklyn continued a few steps before realizing I wasn’t behind her.

“Kasi?” she called, turning back.

But I barely heard her. All I could see were those glasses, sitting there as if they’d been waiting for me all along.

“Kasi?” Brooklyn called again, her voice edged with concern.

“What are you looking at?” But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those glasses.

They weren’t particularly flashy or ornate compared to other items in the shop.

Just simple, thin, gold-framed cat-eye reading glasses with little cutouts at the top corners.

I didn’t need glasses. My vision was perfect.

But something about them drew me closer until I stood directly in front of the shelf where they rested.

“It’s just some old glasses,” Brooklyn said, appearing at my side. She tugged at my arm. “Come on. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Plus, Miss Ma’am hasn’t stopped watching you since we walked into this dungeon.”

I nodded absently but didn’t move. “You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Brooklyn sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. “We’re supposed to be celebrating your birthday, not hanging out in the world’s dustiest antique shop.” When I still didn’t respond, she added, “Fine. Two minutes. Then we’re getting food. Now I’m hungry, and I need to use some hand sanitizer.”

I barely registered her stepping away, the click of her shoes on the wooden floor fading as she moved toward the door. All my attention was focused on the glasses. I reached out slowly, half-expecting them to disappear like a mirage when my fingers got close. But they were solid, real.

I lifted them carefully from their resting place. They were heavier than they looked. Maybe they were actual metal instead of gold-painted plastic.

I turned them over in my hands, studying the craftsmanship. The gold was old, not bright and yellow like new jewelry, but a deeper, richer shade that spoke of age and history.

“Those are special.” Moira’s voice startled me. She had moved silently from behind the counter and now stood a few feet away, her dark eyes fixed on the glasses in my hands. “Very old. Very rare.”

“What are they?” I asked.

A small smile curved on Moira’s full lips. “Reading glasses, of course.”

“I don’t need reading glasses.”

“No?” Her eyebrow arched. “Perhaps they’re not for reading books.”

The cryptic response should have annoyed me, but instead it only deepened my fascination. I looked back down at the glasses, turning them so the light caught the lenses again. “How much?”

“For you?” Moira’s gaze was penetrating, as if she could see through my skin to the bones beneath. “Twenty-one dollars seems appropriate. For your birthday.”

I stared at her, a chill spreading across my shoulders. I hadn’t told her it was my birthday. Had Brooklyn mentioned it while I was distracted? Did she overhear us talking? She seemed too far away to hear us.

“How did you—”

“The price is firm,” she interrupted smoothly. “Unless you’d prefer not to purchase them?”

“No, I want them.” The words rushed out before I could think. I didn’t understand why I needed these glasses, but the thought of leaving without them made my chest tighten with something close to panic.

“Then follow me.” Moira turned and glided back to the counter, her black dress flowing around her.

I turned back to see Brooklyn shooting me a questioning look from near the door. “Seriously? You’re buying something?”

I nodded, clutching the glasses carefully as I followed Moira. Brooklyn rolled her eyes but didn’t leave. She just leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

At the counter, I carefully set the glasses down and reached for my wallet.

The worn wooden surface was covered with various small items. I noticed a brass compass, several antique keys, and a silver letter opener shaped like a feather.

Moira swept these aside with one elegant hand, creating a space for the glasses.

“Twenty-one,” I said, counting out the bills. The coincidence of the price matching my age still bothered me, but I was too entranced by the glasses to question it further.

Moira took the money without counting it and tucked it into a pocket in her dress. Then she reached beneath the counter and produced a sheet of delicate tissue paper, so thin it was almost translucent. With practiced movements, she wrapped the glasses carefully.

“All items in the Wanderlust Emporium find their rightful owners eventually,” she said, her tone light. “These have been waiting for you.”

She held out the package, but when I reached for it, she didn’t immediately let go. Her fingertips brushed against mine. “Be careful what you look for,” she murmured. “Not all truths are comfortable ones.”

Then she released the package with ease. I clutched the wrapped glasses to my chest, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure Brooklyn could hear it across the room.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, though my mouth was dry.

I turned away quickly. Brooklyn pushed the door open as I approached.

“Finally,” she said as we stepped outside and onto the sidewalk. “I thought we’d never get out of there.”

I looked up at the little Black angel girls above the door and wondered why they were crying. Did they lose their mother, just like me?

The transition from the Emporium’s hushed atmosphere to the noise and movement of the Chicago Street was jarring. Cars honked, people brushed past us on the sidewalk, music drifted from a nearby café. It all seemed too bright, too loud, too normal after the otherworldly quiet of the shop.

Brooklyn took a deep breath, as if cleansing her lungs of the Emporium’s dusty air. “What did you buy?” She asked, eyeing the small package in my hands.

“The reading glasses,” I said, not wanting to share the strange pull they had on me. “They looked very cute.”

“Weird gift for your twenty-first born day, but okay.” Brooklyn linked her arm through mine, tugging me down the street. “Now, can we please go get tacos like regular people? I’ve been dying for some all day.”

I let her lead me away, but I couldn’t resist looking back over my shoulder. The Emporium stood exactly as we’d found it, the red door closed, the stained glass above it glowing in the afternoon sun.

I clutched the package tighter to my chest, the outline of the glasses pressing against my palm through the tissue paper. My heart pounded with a strange anticipation I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was just hope. Maybe turning twenty-one was a turning point in my life. I sure hoped so.