I’d gotten used to reading road signs, watching town names pass, staring at trees from the passenger seat when I wasn’t asleep. But this was different. The massive green highway signs loomed overhead. The buildings crowded together. I started to realize we weren’t just passing through.
Traffic thickened. The buildings closed in. I hadn’t said more than a few words to Erich since the accident, and I didn’t plan to change that as he weaved between cars, swearing under his breath every time someone cut him off. One sharp turn off the exit, and suddenly we were in it—city noise, movement, life—before he slammed the brakes, brought the car to a hard stop, and shut the engine off.
We were parked outside a rundown red-and-brown brick building with a tiny rectangular window covered in beaded curtains. It sat too high to see through, even on tiptoe. A single “Open” sign hung on the door, ready to flip to “Closed.” Beneath the window, an overflowing trash can spilled pamphlets—one advertising psychic consults and fortune telling.
And the name:Mystique Braun.
My heart dropped.
Why were we here? We could’ve gone anywhere—anywhere—to rest before getting back on the road. I wanted to kick him, demand answers. Better yet, I wanted to force him to start the car and get us out of there.
But before I could act, Erich was already out of the vehicle.
I threw the door open, stepping into smog-thick air that barely filtered between the buildings. Sirens wailed somewherein the distance. The stench of exhaust burned my nose. I held my breath. Erich was already at the door. I was being left behind.
I slammed the car door hard enough to make my ears ring and hurried after him. Without the safety of the Nova, I had nowhere to go but forward—into that woman’s home. Erich’s home. Somewhere I couldn’t meet the eyes of passing strangers or risk being shoved into a dark alley.
Before I could protest, Erich turned the knob.
The door flew open.
I knew immediately—the woman behind the door was Mystique Braun.
She exhaled in relief and pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping around his waist like she’d been waiting for him. I wasn’t acknowledged. Not even seen.
Maybe I’d died and come back as a ghost to haunt him.
Mystique was tall and lanky, with hazel eyes and a mischievous smile. Dimples rested permanently at the corners of her lips. She was breathtaking—dangerously so. The kind of beauty that could bring powerful men to their knees. A red scarf wrapped her coiled black hair, and she wore enough rings, bangles, and necklaces to stock a jewelry store. Her skin was smooth, glowing. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve guessed she was only a few years older than me.
I was instantly jealous.
Not just of her beauty—but of how effortlessly she held herself. I didn’t want to like her, not after everything I’d heard about Olivia. But I respected her. There was something steady, something bold about her presence.
There didn’t seem to be a mean bone in her body.
But I pitied anyone who found themselves on her bad side—if her paranormal intuitions were real.
Mystique’s wooden calendar on the front desk read October 15, 1993. It was only a few days after I watched a man bethrown out of his car seat and through the windshield. One week from Erich’s birthday, and he dragged us to visit his ex-girlfriend and her mother.
Once I was able to slip inside behind Erich, I gently shut the door behind us. I had already grown uneasy being the third wheel of this encounter before I was knocked back by my next source of discomfort. My nostrils were hit by a semi-truck carrying patchouli. Except the semi-truck was on fire and choking me as well.
It was incense, but the first thought I had was what kind of candle she was constantly burning that I’d feel so irritated by it. Why would anyone want to live in such a strong scent?
“You should’ve called, baby. I would’ve been more prepared for you and made sure Olivia was home to see you as well.” Mystique swiftly paced through the small room. She was ecstatic to see Erich and unable to contain it. I spent a lot of time trying to find a flaw in her actions, a nervous tic from having two people enter her home unannounced. I couldn’t pin one down. If it were my mother welcoming unexpected guests, her tic would’ve been sipping whatever drink she had closest to her.
The layout of the home was creative. The downstairs had Mystique’s shop area. We were currently in the room where she had her inventory on display for customers and clients. Many shelves full of tarot cards, books, candles, incense sticks, potions, and whatever other nonsense I never believed in. Beyond the beaded curtain was where she did her readings, a small closet-like room with a crystal ball on a wine-red silk-covered table and matching maroon velvet chairs. There was another room next to it, a worn wooden door with a hefty lock right above the doorknob. Something about that room gave me an overpowering feeling of doom in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t dare ask what she did in there.
There was also a set of stairs that led to a basement where she kept her back stock and other business items, such as boxes of paperwork and traveling paraphernalia for séances and the like. The upstairs was where Mystique and Olivia lived—a cozy apartment-style home with two bedrooms, a closet-sized spare room, a kitchen, a small living area, and a bathroom. Tiny, yet spacious for a small family.
While Erich was seemingly fond of me, the version of him in front of his ex’s mother was a stark contrast to who I’d known. There were no snarky comments or side-eyes. In fact, he respected her. He obviously trusted and loved her, too. On one hand he could count who he respected, and on the other he could count people he trusted and loved. I wouldn’t doubt Mystique was the only person on both hands.
“We were in town,” he mentioned. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before dropping by.”
“We were in town.” I could’ve scoffed and corrected him, but I bit my tongue. Mystique bought it, coming back for another long hug, rocking Erich back and forth, and burying her face in his shoulder. She was a bit shorter than he was, despite her towering appearance. Whenever she hugged him, she was on the tips of her toes so she could have her arms around his neck and bury her face in his shoulder.
I tried to read her face… love, affection, motherly. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears of glee. “Honey, you know you’re welcome back whenever. And you can stay as long as you feel necessary. We love you, and this is your home too.”
I was the extra baggage. I could pass for mute if I wasn’t coughing up a lung with my current incense affliction. I didn’t belong there. My eyes moved from the corners of the walls to the ceiling to convince myself the walls weren’t closing in and I wasn’t being trapped. My instincts wanted to find an escape.
