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I never suspected before I knew. “I notice times when your gait changes. But it’s only because I know.”
“The stump bothers me from time to time.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He rubs his thumb over my hand again. “I was thinking we might go for drinks later.”
“But not Duncan’s?”
“I’m afraid not. We’ll need to find a different drinking hole.”
I look at the street. He’s right. The rain didn’t last long. “Looks like it’s stopped.”
I’m almost disappointed. I like hiding in this little cubby with Sin, away from the rest of the world. “I do believe you’re right.”
We leave the refuge of our hiding place. We resume our former path along High Street toward Edinburgh Castle and come up on a line of sidewalk vendors. There is a wide variety of goods and services but one in particular catches my eye: a psychic medium.
People claiming to be able to communicate with the dead and see the future have always interested me, mostly because I like observing how they read people. I don’t believe in them for a second but I’d like to see how this one will take my words and reactions and use them to facilitate what she should say next. “I want the psychic to read me.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in fortunetellers.”
“Of course not. It’s for entertainment purposes only.” He looks none too excited, so I grab his hand and give it a yank. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
We go over to her table and the lady smiles. “Mornin’ to you. Would you like a reading?”
“Yes.” A real psychic would already know that. “How much?”
“Twenty pounds for one or thirty for the both of you.”
“Both, please.” I have faith Sin won’t be easily manipulated, so I want to see how she’ll pull this off.
“I agreed to come over with you, not participate.”
“Sorry. I’ve already paid for you.” I look at the psychic and smile. “He’s going first.”
“Take a seat.” She gestures toward the stool opposite her.
Sin stares daggers at me but does as she asks. “I’ll remember this later and so will you.”
“I’m Mary.”
“I’m …”
“No,” she quickly interrupts. “Don’t tell me anything.” Hmm … that’s unexpected. “Have you ever been to a medium or psychic before?”
“No,” we answer in unison.
She positions a notepad and prepares to write. “I communicate with those on the other side using a sixth sense. It isn’t always exact so a lot of times I must interpret the things I see, feel, and sense.” Of course it isn’t an exact science. If it were, it could be explained and therefore, she couldn’t milk money out of people. “Any questions before we begin?”
“No,” Sin replies. I shake my head.
She puts pen to paper and begins to write a series of numbers. “Do the numbers five, ten, and thirteen mean anything to you?”
He hesitates before answering. “Aye.”
“The young girl I see—she was five when she died ten years ago on the thirteenth. Do you understand this?”
Sin looks up at me, clearly spooked, and then back to Mary. “Aye.”
“Her name begins with a C. Something like … Clara.”
“Cara.”
“Oh, good.” She sketches a heart dangling from a chain. “And she wore this?”
“That’s her locket.”
“Perfect. And this young girl was your sister?”
Sin brings his hand to his chin and rubs it, something I’ve noticed him do when he’s uncomfortable. “Aye.” He looks up at me and then to Mary. “Who gave you this information?”
“Cara.”
“Cara’s dead.”
“Thus the reason I’m able to communicate with her.” Mary returns her pen to the paper. “It’s hard for me to catch my breath. This is my sign she died with something related to the lungs.” She stops drawing. “A terrible thing was done to that child but she wants you to know she did not suffer.”
“She was murdered—smothered. We’ve never found out who did it.” Sin appears to be growing more anxious. “I need to know who it was.”
“I see the shadow of a man in a dark room, her bedroom, I presume, but I can’t make out his face.”
“Can you tell me anything? Is he young? Old? Tattoos?” Oh my God. He’s actually feeding into this. This woman is damn good.
“Your sister’s moved on to a different image. That’s my sign telling me she doesn’t want you to dwell upon what happened to her.”
“What are you seeing now?”
“You—and you’re happy. She wants you to know you’ll find joy in a family of your own. You’ll have a wife and children, and soon, from the looks of what I’m seeing.”
What bullshit!
Mary turns the page of her book. “Are you ready, my dear?”
I nod but say nothing as Sin stands to switch places with me. “Your mother has passed?”
Sin knows this but I must be careful about what I admit to so nothing contradicts what I’ve told him. “Yes.”
“And a mother figure as well.”
Hmm … if this were real, I’d think she was referring to Julia, my adoptive mom. But because this is a fraud, I can pretend she must be referring to my faux aunt I just lost if need be.
“Yes.”
She writes a word and holds the pad for me to read. Bluebird. “Do you understand this?”
She spelled it wrong. It should be Bleubird, but how could she possibly know? “Yes.”
“It’s what your mother called you?” She couldn’t possibly know that—except she does.
“Yes.” I can see how easy it is to feed into this. I must be careful to give away nothing.
“This is your mother’s way of validating her presence and my ability to communicate with her. She says you’re cynical.”
I’ll give her that one. “That’s very true.”
She smiles, maybe as though she’s accepting the challenge, and returns to scribbling in her notebook. She holds the pad up when she’s finished. Chocolate chip cookies. “Do you understand this?”
“Yes.” My voice breaks and my eyes flood with tears. I feel the supportive touch of Sin’s hand on my shoulder.
I’m being reeled in because it’s nearly impossible for a random stranger to guess such specific things. I don’t want to believe in her, but I can’t stop myself. “My mom’s okay?”
“I couldn’t communicate with her if she weren’t.” Mary reaches across the folding table and takes my hands. “Listen carefully, because this is very important. This thing you’re planning to do isn’t going to make you happy. If you go through with it, it’ll eat at you and rob you of the joy you’re supposed to have with your husband and children.”
The fact that she just called me out on my plan to kill Thane briefly escapes me because I only hear two words. “Husband? Children?” I whisper.
“Nothing you do will change what happened.” She pats my hand and my body shudders from the chill. “Your mother doesn’t want you to put your future happiness in jeopardy by chasing an empty dream.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I search through my purse for a tip. I’m glad my head is down. I don’t want Sin to see me cry. “Thank you, Mary.”
We walk without talking for a while before Sin finally breaks the silence. “Could you stand that drink now instead of later?”
That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. “Quite honestly, I think I could stand a few.”
Chapter Twenty
Sinclair Breckenridge
I hold up my empty glass so the bartender may see our need for refills. Two isn’t going to cut it. Bleu nods in agreement and a couple of more Black Labels are sitting in front of us within minutes.
Neither of us has mentioned what happened with the medium, but I know we’re both spooked.
