“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, not bothering to look up from the laptop she’s typing on.
“No, sorry,” I tell her, approaching the desk. “I’m looking for Madam Lu? I have some questions for her if she’s not busy.”
I didn’t think of an appointment, but I guess these kinds of places require them. Worst case, I can make one for tomorrow or next weekend and come back then.
The woman finally looks up, her dark eyes taking me in with a blank expression before settling on the straps of my backpack hanging over my shoulders.
“What’s in the bag?” she questions.
I slip it off and open the zipper, pulling out theBlack Book. “I wanted to ask her about this.”
Her eyes widen significantly, and then dart to the front door. Before I can say anything else, she stands, rushing to the front door to flip theopensign toclosed, then locking the handle.
“Uh,” I start, and she waves me off.
“Follow me, child.”
I reluctantly follow the woman down a dim, narrow hall—only because I know I could take her in a fight if need be.
At the end of the hall are a few doors, but the only one that is open has a singular low table covered in a brown tablecloth, with a crystal ball and a deck of decorative cards in the center. All around the walls are shelves with crystals and little dolls situated on top, and a plush red carpet in the center of the floor.
Somewhere unknown to me, another incent is burning.
“Sit,” she instructs, pointing to the pillow opposite her as she takes a seat furthest away from me.
I do as instructed, resting the book in my lap and my bag off to my side.
“So,” she continues. “You have been to Chastain Castle?”
My eyes widen, my hands beginning to tremble around the binding of theBlack Book.
“Yes! I’m searching for the psychic who helped that family a few years back. Are you Madam Lu? Did you help them?”
The woman shakes her head, her hands fidgeting with the deck of cards on the table.
“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, IamMadam Lu, but there was a woman in our community who lived here up until a year ago, and she said she helped that family, and that they had theNigrum Librum.”
“TheBlack Book,” I murmur.
“Yes. It’s a book of dark magic, a very famous one.” She leans forward, her eyes bright. “Why are you seeking help, child? Why bring that book to me?”
Her gaze falls to the book, and I can feel her desire to touch it, but it’s mingled with fear. As if she believes in the power it holds.
I debate telling her the entire truth, but I’m uncertain if that would be crossing boundaries with Atlas, so I settle on a half-story.
“One of the Chastains is suffering from an illness, and I believe it has something to do with this book. I was hoping you could take a look at it and see if you can see anything.” I let the words hang in the air, let her digest them, and hope they’re enough. That she won’t ask questions.
“An illness,” she repeats. I can see in her eyes that she knows it’s more. Eventually, she sighs. “Alright, I’ll take a look. Is there a specific page?”
“No,” I rush out.
If I show her the page, she might knowtoomuch.
Madam Lu holds out her hands, and I carefully place theBlack Bookinto her palms.
“Archangel Michael, protect me now,” she mutters as soon as the book touches her skin, and she rotates it a few times, eyeing the leather binding.
With her right hand, she balances the book, her left resting over the cover lightly. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.
