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“Oh, no. No way.”
“She’s expecting you,” Danika insists.
My stomach is a hurricane all on its own at the sight of the purple neon sign in the window—a palm with an eye at its center—and the black plaque with gold paint swinging over the cobblestone. “Fates.”
“As soon as we saw it, we knew we had to book you a reading.”
“You all orchestrated this?” Now the insistence to return to the Quarter makes sense.
“You need this. You’ve been dissecting that riddle from your eighteenth birthday far too long. It’s time to get some clarity.”
I take a breath, unable to tell if my stomach is rebelling against the alcohol or the possibility of what's waiting for me.
A tinkling of bells announces our arrival. The front room is dimly lit. It’s cloaked in purple velvet and black satin. A chandelier sways without a breeze above us—like the sign outside the door on this still day. The fragrance is sweet and earthy. Burning incense flows out of a dark blue ceramic spire that twists and turns, carrying the smoke around its ridges.
“Meet us at the bar when you’re done.”
When I spin around, Danika has vanished through the door with a tinkling of the bells.
“Come in, my dear.” A melodic voice calls to me from behind swagged purple curtains embossed with glittering gold stars and moons.
Swallowing audibly, I convince my feet to carry me over the threshold. A woman with dark, flawless skin and silver-black curls twisted upon the crown of her head sits before me. Her grey eyes twinkle as she smiles. She is just as ageless as the maiden in the cloak.
“I’m glad you’re here, sweet child. We have much to say to you.”
I sit on an ornate tufted chair with curled arms positioned before her small, circular table, covered in the same stars and moons as the heavy violet drapes.
I hold out my hands. She smiles brightly. “That is not necessary.”
I look around the circular room. Aside from the table and chairs, the room holds a statue of a goddess on a shelf, with blue, silver, and white candles burning around her. A crystal bowl filled with water sits on one side, and an owl carved from white stone rests on the other. Behind her are dark stones streaked with swirls of color and wands of pure white. The goddess has a crown of stars on her head and a cloak with the same emblems.
“Goddess Asteria,” the prophet says when she notices me studying the altar. “The goddess of prophecy and night stars. She assists me with the reading.”
As if beckoned, the stars etched in the domed metal ceiling emit a warm golden glow. It doesn’t seem possible.
“Let us begin.” She pulls out a satin satchel from somewhere I cannot see. And tosses stones of various colors with symbols I cannot decipher onto the table. She is quiet for a long moment. I am barely breathing.
“You come from a lineage of strength and fortitude. Love and kindness. But your ancestors are also cursed with blindness and naïveté. You hold all of these within you. You’ve been gifted with your mother’s keen insight. Your grandmother’s kind disposition. And your father’s purpose of service. It is time to claim your gift. Are you open to receive it?”
I nod. My voice lost to me.
“You have experienced a great love. One that many do not find in multiple lifetimes. It can burn so hot that it is hard to hold onto.” She pauses to consider the stones again. “You have the scars of truth upon you. A burning truth that forced you to let him go. But the flame still lives on. It may have dwindled, but it has yet to extinguish.”
Her eyes flash up to meet mine. They glow silver as if lit from within.
“Fires that burn that bright can terrify. It takes courage to continue forward into the flames. Courage is already yours. But you cannot know its strength until you stand alone. And he must discover what he has yet to see in himself. Only then can he return to you. It is a hard journey, but your gift is belief. You can see love in the most scarred of hearts. Do not listen to the words. The truth whispers within. Your heart is wherever he is. It will find its way back to you. With or without him. Give him time to prove himself. His victory or failure rests upon the scales of honor and justice.”
The room dims. She closes her eyes. I cannot move.
“We wish you well, sweet girl. Call upon us whenever you wish to connect with this message. Remember your strength.”
“Thank you.” I stand on shaky legs and find myself outside on the cobblestone sidewalk without remembering walking through the door. I sit on the stone stoop in a daze. Along with something I haven’t felt in a while.
Hope.
Rachel invited me for dinner. She wanted me to experience her famous skinless fried chicken. And I have to admit, it was pretty damn good. I stuck around because I wanted a chance to talk to Emma. To let her know where my head was at before I made any major move.
I didn’t anticipate overhearing a conversation I was never meant to hear.
