Authors: H. P. Mallory
“So he didn’t try to attack you?” Christa asked. Her mouth had been hanging open ever since I told her that Sinjin had shown up at my house and admitted that he was a vampire. Sitting on the stool behind the counter, she watched me as I paced back and forth.
“No, he didn’t attack me,” I said, feeling my heartbeat escalate as I dredged up the memory. “He said he would never hurt me and that he was my protector or some crap.”
Christa smiled dreamily. “That’s so romantic.”
I eyed her dubiously and shook my head. “You’re insane. A few days ago you wanted to stake him.”
“I’m over that,” she said dismissively before her eyes lit up again. “Really, Jolie, it’s not every day a girl gets an incredibly hot man, er vampire, who’s also her sworn protector.” She paused for a second or two, as if she was imagining what she would have done in my position, then faced me again. “Why did you tell him to leave?”
I frowned at her. “You’re seriously asking me that, Chris?”
Christa shrugged. “Vampire sex sounds like it could be super-hot.”
“Oh my God, that’s all you think about,” I said, striding from the front door back to the reading room door, only to turn around and repeat.
“Sounds to me like there was nothing to be worried about and you got rid of a perfectly good man.”
I stopped pacing and threw my hands onto my hips. “Vampire, Chris, he’s not a man. He’s a vampire.”
She waved away my concern with nails that were now polished lilac. “He said he was your protector—I mean, what more do you want? If you ask me, you shouldn’t have told him to leave. There’s obviously a reason he came into your life.”
I’d also reached the same conclusion last night after Sinjin left but I still wanted nothing to do with any supernatural creatures, no matter how appealing they might be. “Chris, who could he possibly protect me against? Who could be after me and for what? For not feeding my cat on time or for watching too many reruns of
Lost
? I mean, seriously, I have no life!”
Christa shrugged and raised her brows, offering me a wounded expression. “You don’t have to yell at me, Jules, jeez.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is just incredibly frustrating and I have no idea why it’s happening to me or what I’m supposed to do about it. I just want it all to end so my boring-ass life can return.” I took a deep breath and faced her with a smile. “FML, Chris,” I muttered. “Fuck my life.”
She laughed, no doubt pleased that I’d stolen her phrase. “Well I guess you put the kibosh on the whole thing by telling the hot vamp to take a hike, so end of story, right?”
I sighed and glanced over at her, nodding as I considered it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“No harm, no foul.”
I frowned. “I guess so.” Then why did I have the feeling that this wasn’t nearly over yet? And furthermore, why was I suddenly depressed by the idea that I might
never see Sinjin again? What in the hell was wrong with me? FML and then some.
“So can I have the flowers?” Christa asked, motioning to the colossal bouquet, which I’d relegated to the farthest corner of the room. Apparently it wasn’t far enough, because the store was still drenched with the scent of lilies. Not only that, but I found myself constantly gazing at them, which made no sense because I was firm in my conviction: I wanted Sinjin out of my life. I had made the right decision in telling him to beat it … hadn’t I?
“Sure,” I said, eyeing the arrangement forlornly before shaking the feelings of dejection right out of my ridiculous mind. “I have no need for them.”
“Awesome, thanks.” She trained her eyes on me for a few seconds, her mouth turning up in a smile.
“What?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “Maybe Sinjin was right. Maybe you are a witch.”
“Oh my God, Chris, seriously?”
She shrugged again. “Think about it—you can read tarot cards, see visions, and read people’s auras. You’ve always known things about people when you first meet them. You’ve been different for as long as you can remember. Why is it so far-fetched to think you might be a witch? I mean, vampires exist, right?”
I sighed, figuring I couldn’t argue with that. But I still wasn’t convinced—I hadn’t really ever done anything that seemed in any way witchy. “I’m a psychic, Chris, not a witch. And there are lots of people out there just like me.”
She glanced over at me and frowned as if to say she wasn’t buying it. Luckily, though, she didn’t get the chance to argue more because my ten o’clock appointment arrived.
Old Mrs. Rose Pierson came religiously every week,
hoping she’d make contact with her dead lover, George, who had passed about two years ago. And every week, I told her the same thing: “Sorry, Mrs. Pierson, but I didn’t make a connection with George.” Still, it wasn’t like I hadn’t managed to contact anyone for her. One time, her mother had come through, then a little boy she used to babysit and also her husband. As you can imagine, that one hadn’t gone over too well. Hopefully, Old Mr. Pierson wouldn’t make a return visit today because my drama limit had been surpassed and was now approaching implosion levels.
I took the old woman’s arm and led her into the reading room while she chirped on about the dreams she’d been having about George. She felt sure he would make contact with us today, and for her sake I hoped she was right.
Christa shook her head in apparent sympathy as I opened the door to the reading room, closing it behind us. The only light in the room, a red bulb from the ceiling, cast an eerie sort of brightness, something I’d never really considered macabre until now.
“Please focus very intently now, Jolie,” Rose said in her rickety voice as I assisted her into the chair across from mine.
“I will, Rose,” I answered. “But I can’t promise you that George will make contact.”
“Oh, I am quite certain he will, dear.”
I just smiled, although I very much doubted it. Since he’d never shown up before, I was sure that George had found his place up in the sky, and that he liked it well enough not to want to return to this plane. Or maybe he’d never really been that into Rose Pierson from the beginning. I mean, wasn’t that how relationships usually ended anyway?
Bad-mood check on aisle five!
Jeez, I really needed to snap out of it.
I motioned for Rose’s hands, and she gratefully encapsulated them in mine. Then I closed my eyes and tried to summon up an image of George, based on the photo that Rose showed me nearly every time she came.
“Do you need to see his photograph again, dear?”
I shook my head. “No, I remember it.”
I focused on the image of the old man in the blue sweater who had a Homer Simpson hairline and a donkey’s smile. But of course, nothing came. I was about to say as much to Rose when a tingling at the nape of my neck suddenly grabbed my attention. I cinched my eyes closed and waited for something to appear. I could see the faintest outline of a person, but the image was blurry. I focused more resolutely, clenching my eyes shut even tighter.
“Are you getting something, dear?” Rose asked, her tone hopeful.
“I think so.” Whatever I was receiving, though, had started to fade. “Please don’t say anything, Rose, because I’m losing whatever it was.”
I tightened my grip on her hands and begged the vision to return, to delineate itself more clearly. I focused on the darkness of my eyelids. Suddenly a jolt ricocheted through my body. Stunned, I opened my eyes. When I did, I was traumatized to discover that Rose wasn’t sitting in front of me anymore. In fact, I wasn’t in my reading room or even in my store. Where the hell I was and what the hell had happened was anyone’s guess because I’d never experienced anything like this before.
I didn’t recognize my surroundings, but I couldn’t help noticing that everything seemed so three-dimensional, so real. I could reach out and touch the walls next to me. Generally my visions were cloudy, making it difficult to figure out just what was going on, but this one was something entirely different. I reached out for the marble pillar that stood in front of me and when I felt the cold penetrate my hand, I pulled it back in shocked surprise.
I was inside my vision!
The thought caused panic to start in my stomach.
Completely shaken and frightened, I turned to face my surroundings—a great expanse of white marble flooring, complete with Corinthian columns lining the walls and ornate tapestries. I was inside some sort of mansion.
I glanced to my left and noticed a floor-length mirror. The reflection I saw in it scared the hell out of me. I was looking at myself, only I was dressed in the costume of a fairy, which made no sense at all because I would never be caught dead in such a ridiculously short getup. I mean, the skirt ended about mid-thigh and my breasts were busting out of the top, not to mention the fact that I was wearing ridiculously high heels, as in teetering over five inches.
But my outfit really wasn’t what concerned me. Usually, when I received a vision, I either shared the perspective of the person involved—that is to say, I became them—or witnessed the events as if I were watching a movie. Or, most commonly, I was just able to converse with the deceased.
In this vision, though, I was myself, but I was no longer in my shop, and that had never happened before.
I couldn’t help but notice the sounds of music and laughter as I moved along. The room flared into a giant receiving area that showcased a wide set of stairs. Swallowing hard, I started up the steps. At the top of the stairs, I found myself facing a ballroom. A satiny white baby grand piano played itself, and Louis XIV armchairs and love seats lined the expansive room. But the people in the room were what arrested my attention—mostly because they were floating in the air, dancing as if they were on clouds. I shook my head, trying to clear the ridiculous vision, but it refused to budge, stubbornly persuading my mind to believe what I knew to be a lie.
Whose mansion it was I had no clue, and why I was
here was an even bigger mystery. In the back of my mind, though, I hoped George was well-to-do and threw lots of Halloween parties.
“Hello, poppet.”
Sinjin.
I turned to face him, in complete shock. He was dressed in the costume of a vampire … How fitting.
“I did not intend to frighten you,” he said in his cultured English accent.
“You didn’t,” I heard myself respond. It was as if my voice spoke of its own accord. The words didn’t enter my head at all—they came out of my mouth like someone else had spoken them. Wondering how much control I had over the vision-me, I glanced down at my hand, willing myself to raise it. Nothing happened. So I couldn’t control my voice, or my body. Guess I was just along for the ride as a passive spectator. Great.
Sinjin reached for my hand, smiling as he took it in his, and brought it to his lips. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss—?”
“Wilkins.”
He swept his black cloak forward and bowed theatrically. “Ah, Miss Wilkins, you are ravishing, if I may say so.”
“You can call me Jolie,” I felt myself answer as I tried to understand what this vision meant. In it, I was obviously meeting Sinjin for the very first time, and yet this wasn’t at all the way I’d met him in reality. He’d come into my store, needing to use the phone due to his flat tire, right? What, then, was the meaning of this?
“Ah, the witch Jolie, now I am even more pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Witch? What was with the witch business again? I felt my mouth open as I asked, “And who might you be?”
He bowed again. “You may call me the Count.”
The vision-me laughed. “Nice costume. You look the part.”
“Do not be frightened, I mean you no harm,” Sinjin said.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, the vision faded away. I was about to release Rose Pierson’s hands when another jolt flashed through me, identical to the first. As soon as I could open my eyes, I found myself in a moving car. I glanced down, realizing I was in my own body again, and when I looked to my right I saw Sinjin behind the wheel. The last that I’d checked, the driver’s seat was on the left side in the United States, which could only mean one thing … We weren’t in the United States.
“Are you still angry with me, love?” the vampire asked as he looked at me.
As in the last vision, I felt myself respond automatically. “It’s difficult to stay angry with you.”
He smiled eagerly. “Good, I do not like it when we quarrel.”
I turned my head back to the window as I studied the passing lights. I had no idea where this vision was taking place, but I didn’t recognize any of the scenery. ’Course, it didn’t help that it was dark. But since the wheel was on the opposite side of the car, maybe we were somewhere in the UK? That thought caused a flurry of disquiet in my stomach because, again, it made no sense. I’d never traveled abroad and had no immediate plans to. My thoughts were interrupted because I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of emptiness. Something deep inside me was worried, anxious—terrified, in fact. And I had no idea why. My stomach suddenly cramped violently and I thought I might be sick. The vision-me grabbed the car’s armrest, leaning forward and hyperventilating. I tried to resist the feelings, realizing that it wasn’t really me who was experiencing them, but it was no use.
“Jolie?”
“I … I can’t breathe,” the vision-me blurted.
I felt the car pull over and come to an abrupt stop. Sinjin lurched from the driver’s side and threw open my door, fumbling with my seat belt before he managed to undo it and haul me out of the car and into his arms.
“Breathe, love. You are having a panic attack.”
I tried to make sense of what was happening—why I was with Sinjin in the first place, where we were going, why I couldn’t breathe—but of course nothing was explained. I was just witnessing a moment in time, a moment that had yet to come.
“Jolie, look at me,” Sinjin said, holding me at a distance. “Focus on the black of my eyes.”
“I … I …”
He shook me. “Focus on the black of my eyes!”
I felt myself concentrating on him as he held me.
“Just breathe. You and I are going to get through this, do you understand?”