“One-fifty.”
“Two hundred, and I don’t place a curse on your establishment.”
He blinked in surprise. There was a beat of silence before he audibly swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Deal.”
He counted the coins, then yanked my mother’s precious books from view. Another piece of her gone. The only consolation was, I’d made enough to pay my fines. Argus was a different story. A vision of me marching into the agency, slamming my money on Derrick’s desk, and smugly walking out flashed through my mind. The image morphed into his eyes, darkening in approval, a slow smile spreading across his lips. A hot flush scalded my neck, and I shook the picture away. Why, for the love of spell books, did I care about his approval or the way he smiled?
He had invaded my shop.
Made my money problems worse.
Messed with my head and my plans.
But he had smelled good.
I clenched my fists. He didn’t deserve a single thought, not when I needed to earn a substantial sum before gang members started breaking down my door.
“If you have any more of those books, I’ll gladly—” The man stopped mid-sentence, noticing my scowl. “Well, if you change your mind.”
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. I had one other option but it would mean admitting I’d gotten in over my head and ignored some helpful advice. If I remembered correctly, friends didn’t let friends borrow money from gangsters. Too bad I hadn’t listened.
Slinging my now empty bag over my shoulder, I left the shop.
I waited until the sun dipped low behind the buildings, casting a deep purple glow across the sky. The streets emptied as the market closed. People headed home for dinner or holed up in taverns to wash down the day with a pint of ale. I cut through a shadowy alley on the outskirts of town and came to the entrance of a small dwelling. Candlelight flickered in the windows of Second Chance Souls, doing its best to stave off the growing darkness.
As if on cue, the front door swung open, and a young woman charged down the flagstone steps into the street, her long satin skirt rustling where it swished around her ankles. She snapped her fingers at a waiting carriage. I might as well have been a lamppost for all the attention she paid me. As her carriage rumbled away, I retraced her steps and entered the shop.
Swaths of colorful fabric hung from the ceiling of a cozy parlor. Pedestal candles shed their light over the intricate woven patterns. A multitude of flames created dancing shadows that undulated on the walls, and in the corner, a bowl of incense burned. The acrid smell filled my nose and made my eyes water.
“Come in, child. The spirits welcome you,” a velvety voice crooned from an adjoining room.
A wall of hanging beads separated the two spaces, and I pushed through them, letting my fingertips glide over their polished surface. The beads clinked together before swaying back into place. Seated behind an oval table, an ancient woman bent over a glass sphere. Her long fingers were curled at the knuckles. Stick-straight gray hair hung past her shoulders, framing a face of pale, wrinkled skin.
She lifted her head and squinted through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. “Oh, it’s you.”
My lips flattened in disapproval. “Honestly, Viv, I can’t believe you’re still pulling this scam. Look at you. That outfit is ridiculous.”
Vivian James shrugged and cracked her knuckles. “It’s realistic though, isn’t it? The wig is a nice touch.” She curled her finger around a long gray lock. “Don’t stare at me like that. My last appointment had it coming. She was infuriating and refused to work with me, said I didn’t look the part. As if my abilities depend on my age.” She scoffed. “Apparently, Vivian the Crone sells better than Vivian the twenty-something medium. It’s why my grandmother does more business than me.”
“I’m sure Winifred would be thrilled to learn you’re using her likeness.”
Vivian resettled the spectacles on her nose with her index finger. “It’s temporary, and my grandmother is out of town on an extended trip. She’ll never know.”
“Oh, I bet she knows. She probably saw it in one of her visions. There isn’t much you can hide from an oracle.”
“Tell me about it. Try growing up with that woman knowing everything you’re planning to do before you do it.” Vivian pushed out of her chair and stretched her shoulders. “Do me a favor and close up? I’m done for the night.”
I headed back through the beads and turned the lock on the door. A sign hung in the window, and I flipped it over while Vivian droned on from the other room.
“You know, this disguise was worth seeing the look on Mrs. Saunders’ face when I revealed the location of her dead husband’s hidden funds.”
“The Saunders’ fortune? He must have had thousands stashed away.”
“Oh, he did, but it’s gone now. When he realized his wife cheated on him with his business partner, he spent it all. Tonight, I had the distinct pleasure of sending his widow on a wild goose chase, courtesy of her husband’s ghost. He finally found the peace he needed to cross over knowing all she’ll find is a buried box of receipts.”
“Savage,” I said, making my way back into the room. Vivian’s wig rested on a wooden stand while she leaned over a porcelain basin, water dripping down her neck. Gone were the wrinkles, revealing smooth, youthful skin. Glossy raven curls spilled down her shoulders as she scrubbed the age spots from her hands. After wiping her palms with a rag, she stowed her spectacles in a drawer.
The transformation was awe-inspiring. Vivian wasn’t afraid to play dirty, even impersonating an old woman to serve the lingering souls who roamed the kingdom. The dead were big business, and she had a near-constant stream of clients. I didn’t envy her gift though. I’d take magic over fulfilling a ghost’s final wishes any day of the week.
