“It was years ago,” Lyra goes on, closing her eyes as she thinks. “And the only reason I remember is because the man had terrible energy around him.”
“What man?”
“One moment,” Lyra says, and disappears into the back. Gemma, holding some sort of shiny black stone, comes over to wait with me.
“What are you going to tell her?” Gemma whispers.
“It’s for work,” I whisper back. Lyra knows I’m a detective and that I handle the more obscure cases Philly sees. She’s hinted that she knows I’m a witch too, and that she can sense the powers inside me.
Which is one of the biggest reasons I know she’s not a fraud.
I’ll admit I came in here with a chip on my shoulder. For years, every case that seemed supernatural was the exact opposite. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to have powers.
Hah. Look at me now.
“I believe this is the card.” Lyra comes out of the back room holding a business card. “I try to expel any and all negative energy, but my tarot spread that night told me to get this card out of the trash and hold onto it as a reminder.”
“Reminder?” Gemma questions.
“Never to give this man anything.”
“Hang on.” I hold up my hand. “Start from the beginning, please.”
Lyra sets the business card on the counter and flicks her eyes to Gemma, making sure it’s okay for her to speak freely. Yep, she thinks I’m questioning her about a murder investigation or something. Perfect.
I give her an encouraging nod and uncap my pen again, ready to jot down any notes if I have to.
“It was several years ago,” Lyra starts. “And it was close to closing. I was here alone like usual, and a broom fell in the back.” She stops, giving us a telling look. Brooms falling are a bad omen, not one I’m sure I believe in yet. “I went to see what knocked it over, and when I came back, a man in a blue suit was standing at the counter.”
She pulls her arms in close to her body, still unnerved from the memory. “He was very attractive in that conventional way rich white men in suits are, but right away I could tell something was just off.”
“Off?” I ask.
“The air seemed colder. The energy was just…wrong. Chaotic.” Lyra looks past us, remembering the guy standing in her store. “He told me he procures occult items and had a list. He asked me to contact him if I became aware of any of the items. He offered to pay a lot just for the information.”
I pick up the card. It’s just a name and a phone number in black ink, printed on white cardstock paper. There’s no symbol.
“Do you still have the list?” I ask.
“No. I thought I kept it, but it must have gotten lost in the shuffle over the years. I do keep a folder with bad vendor cards in it to remember not to order from them in the future, and I slipped his card in it just in case that name showed up again.”
“The symbol,” I start. “You said you’ve seen it before.”
She nods. “The man had a pin on his suit. It was small and a little tarnished. It looked old.”
“Do you remember any of the things on the list?” I ask, trying hard not to show how anxious I am right now.
Lyra closes her eyes in a long blink. “A chalice from a supposed Satanic ritual, a set of runes I think, and books from Alister Crowley’s personal collection. It wasn’t anything I would carry here. Those things would be found at auctions and would go for a lot of money.”
I let out a breath. I don’t own anything of the sort, but that was years ago. Collectors of anything are always on the lookout for new items.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Along with having negative energy around him, he was rather rude.”
I set the card down and take a picture of the info. “Thanks so much, Lyra.”
“Of course.” She smiles and nods and takes the card back, slipping it into a drawer under the counter.
