Page 110 of Hearts Storm

She told me I should go back and speak to Madame Solis—the eccentric psychic that Noia made Lizzy, Sasha and I go see for ‘book research’—and that it will help put me on the path to peace. Come to terms with her death.

The sun is shining, crisp morning air flushing my cheeks as I make my way down the sidewalk, thinking about what went down that day.

A couple of weeks ago…

“Where the hell are we going?” Lizzy huffs.

Sasha, Lizzy and I are following Noia down a sidewalk on Willow Lane. Located only a couple of blocks from downtown Lakeside, the street certainly lives up to its name. Lined with towering willow trees, the neighborhood is small-town picturesque.

“I had an idea.” Her eyes twinkle as she glances at us over her shoulder. “It’s mainly for book research, but I thought it would be fun to include all of us.”

She comes to a stop, and I look up to see a cute little cottage covered in creeping ivy.

It has a wrap-around porch with a roof that angles over walls painted a faded lavender. Crystal wind chimes clink softly in the breeze, and a wooden sign shaped like a crescent moon, painted with peeling silver stars, hangs above the steps.

“What in the hell are you up to now?” Sasha deadpans, crossing her arms.

“We have an appointment,” Noia beams, practically vibrating with excitement. “With Madame Solis.”

“Is that an actual person or…?”

“She’s a psychic, Lizzy! I need to know what it’s like to get my aura read for my next heroine. I was nervous about doing this alone, so I booked a group session.”

My eyes go wide and I let out a nervous laugh. “Seriously? A real psychic?”

“Define real,” Lizzy mutters, crossing her arms. “Because if she tells me I’m cursed, I’m outta here.”

“Same,” Sasha and I chime together.

Noia snorts. “Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure, you guys?”

Less than a minute after she knocks, the door swings open to reveal a stunningly beautiful woman who looks to be in her early forties. Thick, gorgeous salt-and-pepper hair falls in waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing a chic emerald-green velvet duster over a fitted black jumpsuit.

“Welcome, ladies.” Her voice is a smooth, melodic purr and if I wasn’t so nervous it might actually sooth. Not today. “I am Madame Solis.”

As she moves aside, waving us in, Lizzy exchanges a skeptical look with Sasha, who just shrugs and steps inside.

Smelling faintly of dried lavender, sweet orange, and cinnamon, the interior is cozy. Bookshelves crammed with worn books line the walls, and a massive collection of hanging Pothos plants frame both front bay windows.

Madame Solis glides toward the center of the room, guiding us toward a large, round wooden table. “Please sit and be at peace.”

I sink into the carved velvet chair, nervously gripping the armrests. My heart is doing this weird stutter-step thing in my chest as the blood rushes in my ears.

Yup. Definitely freaking out.

I believe in psychics. Like, really believe in them. My grandmother had what she called “the sight.” She’d wake up in the middle of the night and just… know things. Like who was sick before they had symptoms, when someone was going to die, or when a baby was coming. She never got it wrong. Not once.

And of course, Becca and I had our twin bond. You know, that connection people talk about but don’t really understand unless they’ve lived it? When she cried, I would feel it as if it were happening to me, even if we weren’t together. We even used to finish each other’s sentences.

My stomach twists into a tight little knot.

What if Madame Solis sees? What if she sees the reservoir? How I let my sister slip away?

How I let her die.

My friends don’t know I had a twin sister. They have no idea about the guilt that sits like a stone in my gut. They don’t know about the dreams.

A younger woman appears at the table, startling me out of my internal freak-out as she sets a steaming cup down in front of me, gives a polite nod, and silently disappears back to where she came from.