“But,” she adds. “I’m not sensing prayer or innocence through these verses.”
“I knew it,” I mutter, my mind returning to Atlas on his knees in the chapel, crying.
“I can’t see who wrote this, and I can’t see exactly what it means, just to be candid with you. But what Icansay is that what I can feel from these verses is love.”
My heart stutters in my chest, making my eyes sting.
“Love?” I parrot.
“Yes. Nothing is truer or purer than genuine love. And if there are stipulations that must be met, that means actions need to be taken for this balance to be restored. I cannot tell youwhatactions; I cannot see that. But I can tell you this, Julian: the man who made the bargain that led to this curse did so out ofdesperation, out oflove. Don’t you think that, in the end, love would also be the cure?” As Madam Lu’s monologue comes to an end, I am left speechless.
On the one hand, I feel as if the picture has come into focus. And on the other hand, I feel even more confused than I was when I walked in.
“So, what? Someone needs to love him? He already has plenty of people who do.” I take the paper as Madam Lu passes it my way.
She shrugs. “I can only tell you what I believe, what I feel. That is all I know. I’m sorry, Julian. I wish I could be of more help.”
“It’s alright,” I say, sighing. “I really appreciate you taking a look. Here.” I hold out a hundred-dollar bill, one I pulled from an ATM on my way here.
“No.” She holds up a hand. “I refuse to take that from you. But promise me something instead.”
“Okay,” I reply hesitantly, laying the bill on the table. I don’t plan on taking it with me either way.
“Do not try to fight that demon. If it comes down to it, when face-to-face, itwillwin.”
“Yeah,” I huff, giving her a small, sarcastic laugh. “I already learned that the hard way.”
Madam Lu winces, her eyes tracing the gash on my face once more.
With a few more departing words of wisdom, such as to carry Black Tourmaline in my pocket, I leave the house and get back in my dad’s truck.
I feel defeated. Sure, I got new information, whatever that information evenmeans. But now I’m even more confused, and I feel mentally exhausted.
I need a coffee, and I need to turn my brain off for a moment.
With that in mind, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Cassie, asking if she and Cameron want to meet at the coffee shop we went to two days ago.
I wait a good five minutes, but she doesn’t respond.
Maybe the interaction at Chastain Castle really turned them off. I sensed some kind of tension between them and Atticus while I was there—maybe Cameron took Cassie from him? He did seem upset when I mentioned her before on Christmas.
I have no capacity to be stressed abouttheirissues and mine, though, so I bottle that up for a later time.
My mind is still reeling, and I need some kind of company, so as I drive around aimlessly with Madam Lu’s words still stuck on repeat, I give Susie a call.
“Julieee,” she sings, answering on the third ring. “How are you, sweet cheeks?”
I almost outwardly sigh at the comfort her voice brings me.
“Not great, Susie. Not great,” I tell her honestly.
“What? Why?!”
“I got let go.”
“Huh?! But you loved it there! What happened?” I can hear her moving around on the other end of the line, then just her steady breathing, as if she’s getting comfortable for this gossip session.
“Just… conflicts of interest, I guess. You know how Atlas has that condition? Well, I want to help him, and they feel it’s safer if I leave.”
