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"Look at me, behaving," he purrs, practically devouring me with his gaze.
I bite back a whimper, my nipples tightening under my bra. In that moment, my mother emerges from the back of the store. I don't know if I'm relieved to see her or mortified. Both, I decide. "Hi, Ma," I manage. "I'm here."
Her wide-eyed gaze goes from my flushed face over to Kassam. Her gaze drops to his bulge and her lips part.
"Hello, Carly's mother," he says, voice soft and sexy as he looks my mom up and down.
Oh no. Oh no, no no. This is bad. My mom is a cute older woman—she’s round-faced like me, has an awesome smile, and her thick brown hair is only showing traces of gray. She dresses like a hippie, sure, but she says it’s part of the gig. Even so, this is not a person I want Kassam looking over with those “wanna fuck” eyes. I race over to my mom's side and shove the box of crystals into her arms. She blinks at me, repeatedly, as if the fog is clearing from her head, and rips her gaze away from Kassam. My mother's face turns a fiery red. "Oh. Oh boy. This is…I'm sorry. I think I'm distracted."
"It's him, Ma," I soothe. "It's Kassam. He causes everyone to lose their shit."
"Hedonism," he agrees, and rubs one thumb down his shirt-covered pectoral, as if he finds himself irresistible as well.
"Long story," I correct, because my mom's not going to know what he means. "I need your help, if you can ignore him for a while."
In a daze, my mother turns back to me. She clutches the box of crystals to her chest and studies my face. "I'm glad you're here, but this is troubling, Carly."
"He's harmless. Mostly." I mean, unless you look like a pussy…or a donut…or a cookie.
My mother shakes her head. "That's not it. Your aura. It's covered in spiderwebs." Her expression grows bleak. "I've seen this before, on that missing girl."
Oh no, not this again. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My mother “found” an ability to read auras about ten years ago after an ayahuasca experiment. I'm convinced she's just hamming it up for the clients. "Ma—"
"No, listen to me," Ma says firmly, juggling the box of crystals in her arms. "I'm telling you, I've seen this before. The spiderwebs. Except this time, they're attaching you to…" She trails off, ducking her head and nodding at Kassam without looking at him.
"There's no webs—"
"Webs?" Kassam straightens, no longer leaning on the counter. He looks interested. "The gods of fate in my world utilize spiderwebs in their tasks. They must have a hand in this." He gives my mom an appraising look. "Fascinating. Are you a spinner, wench?"
I make a protesting sound. "My mom is not a wench!"
Ma refuses to look over at Kassam, her eyes wide as she stares at my T-shirt. "Carly, honey, he's got massive energy. Massive. I've never seen anything like it."
Well, she's not wrong about that? Wrinkling my nose, I wonder if there really is something to this aura business. I can't believe Kassam's starting to make me believe in all this woo-woo nonsense. Next thing you know, I'm going to be pitching rose petals at the full moon or something. "If I tell you something crazy, Ma, promise you'll listen to me?"
"Of course, Carly. I'm your mother. You can tell me anything and everything."
I glance over at Kassam. "He says he's a god from another world and I think I believe him." I skip the part about fucking him like a wild woman, because this is my mother, after all. "That he's been brought here and he's cursed."
My mother nods thoughtfully. "That lines up with what's going on in his aura. He could be the one I saw in your cards."
My cards. Oh god. It's been such a long two days that I forgot all about the cards. "What were they again?"
She scowls at me and pinches my arm, as if outraged that I'd let something like that slip my mind. "The Fool, and Death." Her gaze slides over to Kassam. "And the lovers."
Right right. "You told me before that the death card isn't bad, right? That it means new beginnings?"
"That's correct, but my concern is that I got a very similar reading for the other girl, and look what happened to her." She purses her lips. "You have the Fool card, though. That means inexperience and improvisation. Being in over your head." Mom grabs my hand. "You want to talk about it, sweetie?" She leans in, giving me a meaningful look and whispers, "Do we need to call the police on him?"
Aw, that's nice of Mom. She's five foot two soaking wet and can't defend me from a flea, much less a god, but that's thoughtful. I squeeze her hand. "No, but I need advice. We have to get him back home and right now the only way for me to be free of him is for me to die."
