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Bradley heard the thump from the pillar finally collapsing behind them and was grateful Devra apparently hadn’t noticed. Possibly because she was staring starry-eyed at him.
“I bet you don’t even notice those decorations anymore.”
“Oh, I still notice them.” She chuckled. “Don’t think you can get off that easily.” After a pause she added, “But I guess I can admit they’re a little less…jarring than they used to be.”
Bradley felt her softening against him, despite the fact the crowd hadn’t thinned, and the Christmas jingles were still merrily jingling. The high of making her feel safe was a thrill he hoped to experience a little more each day. And it scared him to no end to think what would happen if he let her down.
The pressure suddenly gripped him tighter than Devra’s clutch on his forearm had been.
They rounded another corner, and the crowd vanished, turning this dead-end section of the mall into a veritable ghost town. The music from the overhead speakers grew quieter and quieter, until they were standing before a velvet maroon curtain in complete silence.
The lights flickered, shuttering them in total darkness for a split second, before turning back on.
Devra flinched.
“It was just a power surge. Perfectly normal given the extreme weather warning.”
“I doubt it,” she said. “You may have noticed curses and electricity do not get along.” She did a visual sweep of their surroundings before returning her attention to the curtain. “How did you even know this place existed?”
“Ah, well, that happens to be the end of the story I was telling you earlier. I came here after I missed my sisters’ birthday party. I was wrecked out of my mind when I became lucid enough to register all their missed calls and angry text messages. So in my drunken wisdom, I rushed over to the mall thinking if I could just find the perfect birthday present, it would make everything all better. And while I was wandering around half cut, I found myself in this same corner and saw this sign.” He pointed to the sandwich board that read:
ADELE ARIADNE OF THE WHISPERING MOON
Tarot Readings—Discover Your Destiny!
Walk-ins Welcome
“Classy,” Devra said.
“To go back a bit, Sara and Lana went through a bit of an astrology- horoscope-psychic phase in their teens, which, of course, meant I went through a bit of an astrology-horoscope-psychic phase too. We used to pool our allowances so we could call that psychic hotline. Do you remember the one?” He spoke in a smoky Southern accent, “We see your life! Incredible details! Call now!”
“Can’t say I do. I was probably too busy nerding out with HTML and GeoCities at the time.”
“The whole thing was basically just cheap therapy. The psychic would lay down a few generic facts about your life to gain your trust, then offer you her sage advice. And it was usually pretty good advice. It was such a feel-good memory that when I quite literally stumbled upon this place during such a dark moment, I was drawn inside.” He jutted his chin toward the sign. “That’s why I remembered the coven’s name. I can’t believe it took me so long to make the connection—although, in my defence, I was pretty high. In one twenty- dollar session, she helped me realize I needed professional help, real therapy, not just the psychic variety. It took a couple weeks to find a therapist I liked and to commit to going cold turkey, and voila. In a way, she’s partially responsible for the person I am today.”
“Wow.” Devra nudged him with her hip. “Guess I owe her a pretty big thank you, then, since I happen to really like the person you are today.”
“That’s another reason why I think she could be the real deal. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after learning about you, about the curse, about impossible things being not so impossible…When I talked with her, it didn’t feel like she was trying to trick me. It felt like she wanted to help me. She did help me.” He squeezed her hand. “So maybe she can help you too.”
Devra took a loud breath.
Bradley parted the curtains.
Together, they stepped inside.
The room smelled of incense, an herbal scent, like sage. Shadows danced on the candlelit wall. The low echo of a gong being struck in the distance was just audible.
“Hello?” Bradley called out.
There was no answer. No reception desk. No plucky assistant to greet them. He tried to think back to the last time he was in this room, but in his memory it smelled of vodka, not sage, and the walls didn’t dance with shadows so much as they swirled around him in a nauseating pattern, his recollection murky at best.
Devra reclaimed her falcon grip on his arm. “Maybe we should leave?”
Just then, another set of curtains farther into the dimly lit room spread apart, beckoning them closer.
“Come on.” He placed his hand on hers and guided her toward the opening.
Bradley had to duck to enter the smaller room, where an elderly woman wearing a black silk gown and adorned with several earth-tone scarves sat behind a round table covered in blood-red felt. Her wild hair and dangly earrings made him think of Gladys.
