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She giggled, looking more… human than she had since I’d first met her last night. “I’ll let you tell them.”
Of course we had to walk. My feet were still sore from yesterday and the place we were going was three miles away, but without bus fare or my car, it was the only thing to do. Hannah didn’t seem bothered by it, though she was increasingly bothered by the stares we were earning. She tried to duck her head to hide the turban, and I elbowed her.
“Funny hat day, remember? These pleebs don’t know what they’re missing.”
She smiled at me gratefully and stood up a little straighter. Even though we were walking, we almost missed the street we were looking for. It wasn’t even a street, really. More of a glorified alleyway between two tall, imposing buildings. A rickety-looking purple house sat just beyond the backs of the buildings, surrounded by a purple picket fence. Hannah and I shared a dubious glance.
“Occult services and psychic readings,” I murmured, reading the worn sign aloud. I looked up at the house and frowned. “Since when do psychics have neon signs in their windows?”
“Maybe she’s trying to modernize?” Hannah shuffled a little closer to me.
I didn’t like seeing her scared. Fuck it. I shoved the gate open and strode toward the door. She stuck close to my heels as the porch stairs creaked under my boots. The place seemed to be abandoned. Or haunted. Maybe both. But the OPEN sign burned neon red in the window, so I shoved gently on the heavy door.
“Welcome,” a thick, smoky voice said. “You’ve come to learn your fate.” She had a vague accent, but I couldn’t place it—and part of me wondered if she could place it. Maybe it was fake.
“Woah. She’s good,” Hannah whispered with a hint of sarcasm.
The woman in question was about five feet tall. She had long chocolate brown hair streaked with gray, which fell in clusters of curls over her shoulders. It seemed to be swallowing the purple sash she wore around her head. A shapeless purple dress covered her from neck to heels and fluttered around like a dying butterfly. Her makeup was as heavy as her jewelry, which clanked and clattered as she moved.
“Come in, come in,” she said, gesturing to a purple couch.
“Lots of purple,” I muttered.
“Purple is a spiritual color,” the woman said. “It links us to the other side.”
Hannah shot me a pleading look before I could call bullshit on that, shaking her head slightly. I knew she really wanted this to work, so even though my faith in this woman’s qualifications was rapidly deteriorating, I let it go and sat down.
“I am Madam Ophelia, and you are very lost.” She reached out a weathered hand to pat mine. “And you have come to the right place. You are troubled by a darkness that follows you no matter where you go. I can relieve you of your troubles.”
Hannah’s eyes were shining. “So… you’ve seen this before?” Her voice trembled as she reached up toward her head.
“Of course, dear. I see everything. Now, take my hands and—Good lord, what is that?!” Her accent disappeared as Hannah took off her turban.
Hannah froze. “I thought… I mean, you said… oh, no.”
“Prosthetics? You come into my place of business to scare me with a little makeup? And mock me with that turban!”
Hannah looked like she was going to cry, and I launched to my feet to get between them.
“Now hold on a second, Ophelia—”
“Madam Ophelia!”
“Hold on a second. Your website said you could remove demons from people.”
She blinked at me, wide-eyed. “I—I—” Then her head began to shake vigorously back and forth, as if her stubborn denial could somehow banish me from existence. “You’re not real. You can’t be real. Demons don’t actually exist.”
Fury bubbled in my chest. Goddammit. This woman was a total rip-off artist. She didn’t even believe in the occult; her whole business was based on taking advantage of those who did. Without thinking, I tossed the bowler hat aside.
“You think you can just call yourself a psychic”—I wiped the makeup off of one cheek with my sleeve—“and say you remove demons and demonic possession”—then the other cheek—“and expect people not to come to you for help when this happens?”
She was hyperventilating and mouthing something, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“What’s that?” I asked, leaning closer. Unabl
e to resist fucking with her a little bit, I bared my teeth in a snarl. I didn’t have fangs or anything, but it hardly seemed to matter. Her eyes bugged out of her head in terror.
“Demons!” she screeched. “Demons! Demons! The power of Christ! I call upon Hecate! Blessed soul, demons! Police! Help!”
