The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,124
came out briskly, sending me in after her. I wandered down the hall, curious, arriving in Fatima’s familiar mirrored room. She was already seated at her little round table, and she gestured for me to sit without looking up. The room was dark and stuffy, with the familiar heavy scent of cloves and sandalwood.
“The spirits have summoned you.”
“I thought they didn’t want to see me,” I said, slipping into the chair with my guard up, “Something about me being too powerful?”
She met my eyes with her lizard-like gaze, and I could see that I’d failed to upset her calm stony face in the slightest. Now I was nervous.
“Put your hands on the table, palms facing up,” she commanded, and I found myself automatically obeying despite my reservations.
She drew a deep breath, shuddered, and placed her cool, smooth hands on mine.
Her whole demeanor changed, just as it had the last time. A strange monotone voice announced, “Beware.”
I could have told myself that, I thought.
Fatima’s hands began to burn with heat as she drew another shaky breath, “Beware, your enemies are coming very close to you…”
She paused, listening like she was taking dictation, “There are two men, one dark, one light. One is there for good, one for evil. You are not certain which one you can trust.”
Brad and Yuri perhaps? I wondered.
She paused for a moment, breathing raggedly and continuing her warning, “There are two women, one dark, one light. One is there for good, one for evil. You are not certain which one you can trust.”
She stopped talking, and her breathing returned to normal. Her hands grew cold on mine and I looked down to see them begin to shake. The air around us cooled as well, smelling of eucalyptus, sand and briny water. Something started happening to Fatima’s face, and I watched in shock as her features blurred and shifted. I tried to pull my hands away, but they were pinned to the table with a force I was powerless against. I blinked my eyes, thinking I must be hallucinating, and watched in helpless awe.
As her features took on their final, shimmering shape she spoke, “Hey Dollface.”
“Stella,” I whispered.
She smiled warmly at me, her image flickering, “I’d listen to her if I were you, kiddo… This old dame is the real deal!” Her voice softened, “But I gotta shake a leg… You be careful… I’m sure gonna miss you… Goodbye Dollface…”
Fatima’s face reappeared, all the blurry edges coming into sharp focus. Her hands lifted from mine and her eyes flew open, darting around the room as if she’d just woken up in a strange place. I pulled my hands back as Fatima dropped her head into hers.
“Are you alright?” I asked in a shaky voice.
She looked up slowly, every last trace of color drained from her face. I sat quietly for a moment, dazed as well. Somehow, I knew that it was the last visit I’d ever get from Stella; it felt like a goodbye– the final one. I wanted Ethan.
“Thank you,” I said. I suddenly realized that this sort of thing took a huge toll on her, and I understood why she’d been so fearful of doing a reading for me before.
Her luminous black eyes met mine, and she inclined her head with great dignity, “Send in the boy.”
I rose and slowly made my way down the hall in a daze. Cruz looked up with an expectant grin, never having experienced a scary or negative reading.
“Well?” he asked.
“Your turn,” I replied, “I’m going to go wait outside.”
The air in the courtyard was cool and fresh, and I sat on a stone bench next to a mossy fountain. There was a nectar feeder hanging from the eaves of the little pink house, and I watched a hummingbird zip over to perch and drink from it. The tiny bird saw me and drew back from its meal, hovering in the air a few inches from my face as it chirped its annoyance at my intrusion.
It was disorienting, and for a moment it seemed as if all the world was water, and the bird was floating in the liquid sky. Evie walked out, breaking the spell.
“What did she tell you?” she asked with concerned eyes.
“I hope you’re paying her well.”
“Handsomely.”
“She warned me to look out for the bad guys.”
“Any details?”
Fatima’s words rang in my mind, “Fairly nebulous as usual… What did she say about Brad?”
She looked over her shoulder, “The relationship with the father is unclear,” she said, “But he does