A couple heads turned.
Lucy massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Do you have to be somewhere?”
“Not until this afternoon.”
“Can you come upstairs to my apartment so we can talk in private?”
“Sure.”
Lucy looked over at a young woman with long, black hair and a pentagram tattoo on the side of her neck. “Selene, I’m going to grab a cup of tea with my friend. Can you mind the store for a bit?”
“Gotcha covered,” Selene replied, smirking a little.
Emmy picked up the book and followed Lucy to a door at the back of the store. Lucy unlocked it, allowed Emmy to walk through, then locked it behind them. They went up a narrow flight of stairs to another door, which Lucy also unlocked and then locked again behind them.
“Your employee definitely thinks we’re about to have sex,” Emmy informed Lucy as she looked around the cozy space.
“Yes, probably,” Lucy replied. She slipped out of her shoes and left them by the door, so Emmy did the same.
The apartment was cute, clean, and homey. She had expected a lot of velvet cushions, crystals dangling from windows, beaded curtains, and maybe a cauldron on the stove. Instead, the decor ran to simple and homey. The colors were bright and inviting, the kitchen a little cluttered. There wasn’t a beaded curtain in sight, and the windows were covered by standard-issue slatted blinds.
“I save all the commercial trappings of professional psychics to the shop,” Lucy said in answer to Emmy’s thoughts. It was unclear if she’d read her mind or simply guessed what she’d been thinking based on her expression. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Pop?” She opened the fridge, scanned the contents. “Never mind. I don’t have pop.”
Emmy thought of Will teasing her over that word. Everything was going to remind her of him, wasn’t it? For how long? How long would hearing people talk about soft drinks make her heart hurt?
“Maybe some water,” she said quietly.
Lucy poured two glasses, brought them to a small, round table. “You’re hurting again. I’m sorry.” She placed the water on the table. “Let’s see what we can see.”
Emmy joined her and set the book down. She sipped water and tried to breathe through the worst of the pain in her chest. Lucy ran her fingers over the book, opened it, flipped through it, closed it again, laid her hand on it. Emmyfocused all of her attention on that, on the surprisingly smooth and soothing motions, like a dance of hands, fingers, and pages.
“I do feel something,” Lucy told her. “I felt something when I sold it to you, too. It was almost like it was alive. I started talking to it, didn’t I?”
“Yes. I made fun of you for it.”
“You sure did.” Lucy paused to take a drink of water. “It feels different now. Still alive, but… sleeping? Dormant?”
“What does that mean?”
Lucy smiled wryly. “You’re still waiting for my eyes to roll back in my head and for a thousand voices to sing from my open mouth, delivering answers to all your questions in terrifying harmony, aren’t you?”
Emmy shrugged petulantly. “It would be nice.”
“Sorry. It doesn’t work that way. I’m psychic, yes, but I’m not some kind of all-knowing, all-powerful time and space wizard.”
“So you can’t help me at all?”
“I didn’t say that,” Lucy replied patiently. This time, when she put her hand over Emmy’s, it was a gesture of comfort and nothing more. “I had to put up a lot of mental blocks before I could stand to be near you. You’re not just hurting. What you feel is anguish. My heart breaks for you. I want to help.”
Damn it. She was so sincere, so full of empathy and understanding, that Emmy wanted to weep. Again.
“Will you tell me about it?” Lucy asked. “I only got vague images when I read you earlier.” She paused, smiled as if listening to a voice only she could hear. “You already told May. That’s good. Would you mind going over it again?”
“It’s a long story,” Emmy warned her.
“I’ve got time.”
She went through it much as she had done with May, but Lucy interrupted more often to ask clarifying questions. At least she didn’t have any emotional fits over Emmy’s epiphany regarding Andrew. At some point, Lucy took out her phone and typed into it. When Emmy faltered, Lucy gestured for her to keep going.
