Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She's Dead (Toad Witch Series, Book One) (5 page)

 I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to scream. I had to get a grip. I couldn’t afford to let these people think I was losing my mind. When I opened my eyes again, my reflection had returned to normal. I turned on the room lights and looked at the mirror again.

It was just an ordinary mirror, showing the reflection of a too-curvy, modern-day girl wearing ren-faire-ware and too much make-up.

I opened a bottle of water with shaky hands and took a swig. What the hell was going on? Was I losing my mind? Was this the curse my dad warned me about? Or was someone from the other side trying to reach me? Could it be a brain tumor? I’ve heard tumors on the temporal lobe could cause visual and aural hallucinations.

Yeah, in case I didn’t mention it earlier, that’s the other problem with being a witch. Since we deal so much with the unseen world, it’s entirely too easy to step over the line into fantasy and then madness. I’d seen other people go that route. Gus had lost his last lover that way. So I always tried to keep a tight rein on my imagination.

Something I seemed to be failing at lately.

Witches are born with a multitude of ancestors in our heads, so we learn to deal with the voices and visions from an early age. When the door between realms is opened for a normal human, their minds can snap, unable to deal with the sudden chaos in their heads.

However, even witches can cross the line from having a foot in both worlds, to becoming completely non-functional in the mundane reality of this world and consumed with the Unseen.

Unfortunately, the more you access the Otherworld to work your will, the more access it has to you, as well. Something I wish I had known before I crossed the line between living my own life and becoming nothing more than a conduit for an entity that shouldn’t exist in our world.

Welcome to the beginning of my journey into hell.

I drank a swig of water and tried to steady my hands. Whatever was going on with me, I didn’t have time to deal with it right now. I took a few deep breaths to calm down. I had a job to do. I turned off the room lights, let my eyes re-adjust to the softer candlelight, and threw open the door. The Reading Room was ready for business.

The girls trickled in, slowly at first, but as word of the fortune-telling witch got around, a line formed down the hall. All the girls were obsessed with their careers. Thirteen- and fourteen-year old girls. And these were careers in progress, mind you, not dream careers in the future. Welcome to Hollywood. Girl after girl:

“I’m ready for something sexier. Should I take that Miramax role?”

“My agent sucks. Will I be screwed if I fire him?”

“I think my accountant is ripping me off. Can you take a look?”

“My mom is seriously cramping my style. Bitch thinks she has final say over what jobs I take. Can I sue her? Become one of those kids without parents?”

Yeesh
. Too bad I nixed the tip jar. I could have paid my overdue electric bill with their spare change.

And then Kimmy, the party-girl, walked in, hiding behind a tough-girl faade. Her clothes were one size too small, her makeup was two shades too dark and her heels were three inches too tall. I looked at her and I could feel my stomach sink. She was going to be trouble.

Just like the others, there was only one thing on her mind and she wouldn’t be swayed from it. “Are you sure? You don’t want to know about boyfriends?”

Kimmy popped her gum. “Yeah, like, whatever. It’s my party, right? I want to see my career.”

“What about school? High school? College?”

“No, dope. Fuck college. My career. Now. Don’t you watch TV? Do I get nominated for an Emmy this year or what?” She shuffled the cards, barely able to get her hands around the full-sized deck.

I took them from her and indicated the bowl of quarters. She pulled a quarter from the bowl and tossed it in front of the crystal skull as I laid out the cards…

And then I put the cards back in the deck and had her try again.

And again.

But no matter how many times I had her re-pull the cards, I couldn’t get away from porn stardom and drug addiction. Trying to turn that into something I could tell the poor girl was completely nerve-wracking.

“Not this year, but you’re definitely going to be nominated for an acting award. And win.” And trust me, you don’t want to know which one it is. 

“Now we’re talking. You got any advice to, y’know, maximize my career potential?”

I looked down at the cards and tried to think of how to reach her. “Follow your heart, but don’t fall for the easy answers, the easy outs, the easy highs. They’ll destroy you.”

“That’s it?”

“Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up.”

“Yeah, thanks,
mom
. You suck.”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but from what the cards were showing me, she was going to have to learn to deal with disappointment. As she stood up, I got sudden flash.

“You’re going to have a surprise math quiz this week. Don’t cheat. You’ll be caught.”

“Cool. Now that I can use.”

After twenty-four readings, I was thrilled to close the door behind the last future Oscar-winner and call it a day. Damn, but my head hurt.

Readings always gave me a pounding headache, right in the middle of my forehead. My third eye. Or, as the more scientific types called it, my pineal gland. Like any muscle, over-exertion caused pain and twenty-four non-stop readings had to count as torture in anyone’s book.

Food. I needed to get something to eat. A thick slab of salty meat. Maybe some lamb chops. With some of that mint sauce that Gus gets from England. That would help ground me out. I wondered if Gus was busy, what he was doing for dinner, and if I could talk him into cooking.

As I pulled off my gown and dropped it in the box, the overhead lights flashed on, momentarily blinding me. I heard a softly accented male voice by the door. “
Scuza, signorina
. Forgive me for interrupting.”

I whirled around. Mr. Lyra was leaning against the door, grinning at me like a hungry wolf. A dangerously handsome, hungry wolf, the bulge in his pants clearly outlining his agenda. And here I was, pretty much naked. Without even a shadow to hide behind.

Shit.
This had the potential go really, drastically wrong.

Chapter Five

Well, there was nothing I could do about it now.

“I’m sorry, I thought I locked the door,” I said. I quickly rummaged through the box for my street clothes and pulled on a pair of jeans.

“It does not always catch. I must call a locksmith for repairs.”

He was still watching me. His eyes slowly traveling over every inch of me. It was unnerving.

“It’s refreshing to see a woman who is so easy about her body. So unconcerned about her weight.”

I blinked. What an ass. I would never be heroin-chic, but it’s not like I was Dumbo. I enjoyed food and I had curves. It’s what a woman was supposed to look like.

“That’s me. Built for comfort, not for speed.”

“But why ruin such a beautiful body with all those markings?”

I could feel the muscles in my face tightening as I looking for my bra. “Tattoos? I happen to like them.”

I found my bra and, turning away from him, I quickly shoved the girls in. But my fingers seemed impossibly big and clumsy as I tried to fasten the hooks.

Mr. Lyra came up behind me and brushed my hands away. “No need to worry. I never object to a beautiful woman in my house. Especially one who wears her skin so defiantly.”

As he hooked my bra together, I could feel his breath warm on my skin. His fingers lightly brushed the curve of my neck, my shoulder…

I was appalled to find my body tingling to his touch. It had been way too long a dry spell. I quickly stepped away from him and pulled on my shirt, trying to keep the box between us.

He smiled, showing off perfectly enameled teeth.

Caught in the surreal moment, I wondered how much the cosmetic dentistry had cost him and what — if anything — his hygienist had worn under her smock.

He laughed. “Such unusual eyes you have.”

I bet. Whenever I got angry or embarrassed, they turned an icy cold blue. Although I had to give him props for looking above my neck.

He held up my check, his eyes dark. “You do a little extra service for me? I give you bonus.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Sorry. Not part of the deal,” I squeaked. I coughed and pretended to clear my throat.

As I reached to take the check from him, he gave me a cold smile and grabbed my wrist.

“Perhaps it should be. I am not used to paying a woman so much for so little,” he said, squeezing just hard enough to hurt before he let go.

I resisted the temptation to check for bruises and shoved the check in my pocket. “You’re married, you have a house full of children and a door that doesn’t lock. Trust me, anything else would be a bad idea.”

Although I was beginning to understand Kimmy’s reading a bit better.

“Besides, this fortune-telling gig isn’t as easy as you might think,” I said, as I walked around the room, blowing out the remaining tea lights.

“You make up stories, entertain the women and children. Will I marry Justin Timberlake, Miss Lady Witch? Maybe not, but you will find someone just as handsome or as rich. See? I can be
strega
too.” He sat at the reading table and lowered his voice. “We are not so different you and I. We both gamble on the future, tell people what they want to hear.”

“Actually, most of the time, I wind up doing exactly the opposite.” I tossed out the used tea lights and started boxing up my dragon statues.

He laughed. “So you are not only bad whore, you are also bad businesswoman.”

I resisted the urge to clock him with a dragon statue. Instead, I dug through my bag to see if I had any Advils left. This exchange wasn’t helping my headache any.

I found a travel packet wedged into cosmetics bag and downed the pills with the warm remains of a soda.

“Experiencing other people’s pain, seeing their lives play out in front of you, it’s not as much fun as you may think,” I said.

“
Bah
. I know who you are, better than you do.” Mr. Lyra stood up and brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. His erection gone, he seemed bored with the game. “You live in a world of make-believe and you act as if you do the world a favor. You cry about this gift, but it’s
pazza
, crazy. You are here because my daughter, she is in love with Buffy and all the
stregoni
on the television. You are human party favor, no more.”

As I gathered up the moody, haunting Templar cards I used for decoration, Mr. Lyra continued, his voice sharp. “You do not deal with life or death, nothing is at stake for you. Is all just a game.”

“You sound like a man who needs a reading and doesn’t know how to ask.”

“So you charge me for another hour? No.
Grazie
.”

“On the house. Short reading, one question. If you have the
coglionis
for it,” I said, throwing some Italian back at him.

He looked at the cards. I could tell he was tempted.

“Tell me, Mr. Lyra, are you better off walking into the future as a leap of faith, every day an unknown adventure? Or, for a smart man like you, is it better to move forward having all the information?”

As I flipped through the Templar deck, I noticed Lyra’s face blanching at some of the images: Horned Gods holding skulls; winged angelic figures challenging humans; lusty women cavorting with skeletons.

“It’s a question that’s always plagued me. Is forewarned really the same as forearmed? Can this,” I tapped the deck, “give you the power to turn the Hand of Fate to your favor? Or is it just another way to ruin a perfectly good week?”

“No blow job?” he asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“No blow job.”

“Okay. Show me the future,
strega
. When am I going to die?”

Of course. Why would I expect anything different? “Are you sure?”

“Is it too much question for you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“That is the answer I want.”

I shuffled the cards. “Take a quarter out of the bowl and offer it to the skull. Silver must change hands, so this reading belongs to you. Unless you want to know when I’m going to die.”

Which really was a question I had been majorly on the fence about, ever since I pulled the cards on my birthday. Although, I was so invested in the answer, I didn’t think the cards would tell me, even if I wanted them to. Once you get too invested in the outcome, the cards have a tendency to shut down. That’s why they say people can’t read for themselves. It’s utter crap. You totally can read for yourself. Up until the point where your fears take over and render your sight impotent.