A Soul To Steal (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book One) (14 page)

“Of course,” Quinn replied.

“I shouldn’t have even told you.”

“I think it’s about time you told someone,” he said. “You’ve been bottling this up for too long.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m not going to leave. Whatever is going to happen, it finishes now, here. I’m through waiting for him to jump out of the shadows.”

“Look, I want you to stay, but…” Quinn said. “What if you are right? If this guy is back, this is the last place you should be. Particularly if he figures out who you are. Every bit of research on him shows he is one for the follow-through.”

“That’s why you have to help me, Quinn,” she said and gripped his hand. “You have to help me find him first.”

*****

The stranger watched the two figures talking near the bench. He couldn’t tell if they were arguing or not, but they were certainly animated.

He wished he could hear what they were saying. The stranger sighed. Still, he was glad he had followed them out, if only to know for sure there was something going on between the two. He wondered what it meant.

Quinn and Kate, sitting in a tree, not quite K-I-S-S-I-N-G, he thought. He idly wondered which one he should kill first.

Patience, his brain said. Not too soon. You have to take your time, hone your skills.

But it would be so easy, he thought. He could even take one right now.

Patience, that voice in his head said again. Not too quick or they’ll connect you. The police are dumb, but they aren’t that dumb. Don’t be sloppy. You’ve waited so long.

Kate seemed familiar to him, the stranger thought. She claimed to have never been here before, but there was this strange odor of familiarity to her. It seemed like something on the tip of his tongue—but he couldn’t think of it.

Had he known someone named Kate Tassel? He thought about it a moment. He did not think he did.

Breaking his line of sight with them, he moved back through the cemetery toward the grave where they had been standing. They had not been there long, but the stranger wanted to see. It might help him.

He found it and recognized the name immediately.

“Sarah Blakely,” he said out loud, just to hear it.

He clapped his hands to his mouth to keep a laugh from coming. No, he didn’t know a Kate. But he did know a Trina, didn’t he? Yes, yes he did.

Everything made sense now. Her familiarity – even as a child, she had been stunning to look at. And her outburst. He should have known it then. But the last name had thrown him.

It will take more than a last name to hide from me, the stranger thought.

She was little Trina—dear Trina—whose Mom thought about her even while she was being gutted. She called out her name so many times.

He moved back into the line of trees at the back and carefully worked his way to see the couple now standing near the bench.

I have old business with you, Trina, he thought.

He watched as the two walked out of the cemetery together. He noticed they were holding hands. Yes, he was very glad he had followed them.

And this so easily solved the question of whom he would kill first.

“See you soon, Trina,” he said out loud as they disappeared around the bend. “See you real soon.”

Chapter 10

Thursday, Oct. 12

About the only thing that made Madame Zora’s waiting room any different from a doctor’s was the faintest smell of lavender in the air, Kate thought.

It was painted off-white with magazines like People stacked neatly on tables next to moderately uncomfortable couches. And there was no sign of what Kate had expected—scented candles, beads or voodoo dolls—not even new age music.

Instead the place had more of a sterile quality.

She was surprised a little by the number of people there—she counted eight.  Apparently a lot of people need a psychic healer, or an “alternative medicine guru” as she styled herself now.

Maybe the crowd should not have been surprising. Madame Zora was one of Loudoun’s oldest business owners and if her establishment did not have much respect (jokes about it were common), it had at least endured long enough to command a loyal clientele.

Kate shook her head. It wasn’t that she disbelieved in something beyond the material world, but this? A semi-doctor’s office dedicated to the occult? She found it hard to accept.

But she dutifully scribbled something in her notebook. An article on Madame Zora—Loudoun’s most famous (and presumably only) psychic—was to be her contribution to the Halloween section. And though she hated the section, she would at least write a good article. It was a matter of professional pride.

“Kate Tassel?” a sprightly teenage girl with a ponytail asked as she came out of the door on the far wall. She too had the air of a nurse—or doctor’s assistant—clothed in a white coat.

Kate gathered her notebook and stood up.

“Madame Zora will see you now,” the girl said and gestured for Kate to follow.

Kate followed her in and they proceeded down a long hallway with several closed doors on either side.

“Have you ever been with us before?” the girl inquired.

Kate shook her head.

“Well, you are in for a treat,” the girl said and smiled broadly. “Madame Zora is the best in the business.”

Kate wryly wondered what “business” they were talking about.

She was escorted to a red door near what Kate assumed must be the back of the building. The girl knocked, smiled again, opened the door and walked quickly away.

Watching her go, Kate stepped through the doorway and was astounded at the change.

She took a deep breath. This is more like what she had expected.

Rows of creepy dolls lined two bookshelves in the back, all positioned in different ways. A dark maroon drapery hung across one wall and a door in the back was semi-hidden by columns of beads. In the center of the room sat a small round table covered in a gold tablecloth with a single lit candle on it. Two empty chairs sat on either side of the table.

Kate smelled the air—the candle was definitely lavender-scented. She waited for close to a minute before she heard a small hissing sound. The room started to fill with smoke. Kate stood up and started to back away.

“Reporter!” a voice called from above her head. “Stay where you are!”

With some reluctance, Kate sat back down and quietly turned on her tape recorder.

“You are about to meet Madame Zora—the most powerful psychic in the world!” the voice said, and Kate noticed it had a vaguely British accent to it. “Be not afraid to look directly at her, for your heart will be filled with peace and you shall know contentment.”

With that, a plume of smoke shot up in the center of the room and when it cleared there was a woman standing there, dressed in a brightly colored robe. She faced away from Kate.

“Why have you come?” Zora asked.

Kate coughed, waved away smoke from her face and tried to speak...

“I shall tell you why you have come,” the woman continued before Kate could say anything.

“You have come to test the great Zora. You have come to see if she is a fraud.”

“Actually, I ...” Kate started.

“Silence!” Zora shouted. “I know your heart. I know your fears. I know all.”

With that, she started to slowly turn until she faced Kate, but Zora kept her eyes closed and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I will give you what you seek,” Zora intoned. “I will tell you, Kate Tassel, that....”

At that moment, Zora opened her eyes...and stopped.

“Well, Jesus,” Zora said and her body language changed dramatically. Her voice now had a slightly southern lilt to it.

“Hell, I’m sorry,” she said and Kate felt her jaw beginning to drop. “I got all dressed up because I thought it was some reporter... and... well, crap.”

She laughed and shrugged in a you-know-how-it-is way. Kate didn’t get it.

Zora turned and pushed a button underneath her table.

“Lou Ann,” Zora yelled at the table. “Lou Ann, get your butt in here!”

Zora gave Kate an apologetic look. Kate stayed silent, not sure what was going on.

A moment later, the teenage girl reappeared.

“Yes, Madame Zora,” she said when she poked her head through the door.

“Why the heck did you tell me it was the reporter coming?” Zora demanded. “I got all dressed up, used my best show smoke and all. That stuff isn’t cheap, Lou Ann. I’ve told you before you need to pay attention to who you are sending back to me.”

Lou Ann looked guiltily around and then turned to Kate.

“But I thought you said...” Lou Ann said and looked plaintively at Kate.

“I am the reporter,” Kate said, looking at Zora.

Zora looked stunned.

“But you’re...” she said and her voice faltered. “You’re the
Loudoun Chronicle
reporter?”

Kate nodded. Lou Ann looked briefly vindicated and shut the door.

Zora appeared flustered and sat down in her chair.

“I don’t understand,” she said, but Kate had the impression she was talking to herself.

“You were expecting me to come,” Kate said, feeling a little defensive as if she was the one at fault.

“Yes, yes,” Zora said and looked back at her. “It’s totally my fault. Hell, that was impressive, though, wasn’t it? My performance? I mean, I felt pretty ‘on.’ Did I feel ‘on’ to you?”

“It was...” Kate started. “Impressive?”

“Yeah, it felt pretty good. And now I blew it. And I think that was a really good one, too. Oh well.”

“If you want I can go back out and you can start over,” Kate said.

“No, no,” Zora said and waved her hand. “It’s done. No use crying over spilled honey.”

“Don’t you mean milk?”

“Well, aren’t you Little Miss Literal?” Zora said. Then she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m sorry to snap. It’s been a tough day and I had really been hoping to wow you. I don't get that many new customers anymore. It’s mostly the same people, with the same problems. You always want to jazz it up for the new people.”

“Why did you think I wasn’t the reporter?” Kate asked.

“Well...” Zora started. “I thought you were in the trade.”

“The trade?”

“I thought you were another, oh hell, what’s the latest term, ‘alternative healer.’ I just assumed really. It isn’t often...”

Kate waited.

“No sense me prattling on,” Zora said. “You can ask your questions. I’m not in the mood to give much in the way of answers, but we’ll see what we see, I guess.”

“Why would you assume I was in the ‘trade’?” Kate asked.

“Honey, you got vibes coming off you like a freight train,” she said.

The inner-editor in Kate noted that vibes do not come off freight trains, but she held her tongue.

“I still don’t follow...”

“Your aura?” Zora said. “You got a psychic vibe coming off you. I'm surprised I didn't notice it till I saw you.”

“What did you see?” Kate asked.

“You’re psychic,” Zora said.

“I’m not psychic,” she replied.

“Well, I don’t really care if you think you are or not. You are.”

“Wouldn’t I know?”

“Not necessarily, honey,” Zora said and tapped her brightly-painted fingernails on the table. “Your aura—well, you got a lot of juice. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Kate said and scribbled in her notebook.

“Believe me or not, sweetheart,” Zora said. “It’s your call.”

“Well, let’s get started with the interview then,” Kate said.

“You already turned on the tape recorder,” Zora said. “I thought we had started.”

Kate felt a little taken aback.

“I didn’t think you noticed that,” she said.

“I know all,” Zora said and smiled. Her far left visible tooth was gold-capped. “Well, I suppose this would go better if I was in character, wouldn’t it?”

“In character?”

“Okay,” Zora said. “You see all this bulldiddly around me, right? The beads, the kewpie dolls, the scented candles? That’s all a joke to you, right?”

“Well...” Kate said.

“It’s okay,” she replied and spread her hands. “It’s a joke to me too. Even the smoke machine, though I really do think it’s impressive. Had to order it special and everything.”

“Then why...”

“Why do it?” Zora laughed. “Because that is what people expect. Believe me, when I started out in this business, I didn’t want to be anywhere near this stuff. I thought I could remake how people saw psychics. But I was young and stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn't get any customers,” she replied. “I went under my real name—Carol Cuthberson—and put out a helpful sign. This was the 1970s. I thought my power alone would keep me going.”

“It didn’t?”

“Heck, no,” she replied. “You wouldn’t believe it now, but in those days I was a looker. And all they saw was a pretty girl who told them some things they wanted to hear, but mostly stuff they didn’t. I was right, and I knew it, but they didn’t. They felt ripped off without the theatrics of the psychic scene. They had seen so many movies, even by then, that it didn’t feel real to them without all the fake crap surrounding it.”

“So you played along?”

“Eventually,” Zora said. “I worked as a secretary right out of high school. I did the whole 9 to 5 work thing. And it wasn’t for me. For starters, I got tired of knowing things I shouldn’t, like who was real sick and probably going to get cancer and whose wife was cheating on them.”

“You saw that psychically?”

“Saw is probably the wrong word,” Zora replied. “But, yeah, I knew it. It was like a gut feeling. I have had it since I was a kid. Sometimes I just knew stuff. I found that the more I listened to that voice, the more I knew. Sometimes all it took was talking to the person, other times I would shake their hand. I used to amuse my girlfriends at Lincoln High by telling them all sorts of gossip. Nobody knew how I got it—and sometimes even I wondered if I was making it up. But this one time, I knew this girl called Colleen had slept with my best friend Jeanne’s boyfriend. I told Jeanne and she cried a fit, denied it, and said I was a liar.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I proved her wrong,” Zora said. “I told her to wait by the girl’s locker room on Thursday night and see for herself. And sure enough, she saw that little hussy getting it on with her ‘loving boyfriend.’ If I had a nickel for every time I knew about some adultery, I would be a rich woman.”

“So you decided to take up being a psychic as a job?” Kate asked.

“I hated being a secretary,” she replied. “Just hated it. I wanted to be my own boss. But I hadn’t gone to college and this was the only talent I had.”

“You opened your own shop,” Kate said.

“I did, right on the outskirts of my hometown,” she replied. “And I stayed away from the theater at first. I really did. But while being psychic is a talent, I figured out pretty soon it isn’t enough. People want the theater. They need it. It’s the same type of person that keeps going to Catholic mass when they don’t believe a word of it. People like being mystified. They aren’t going to take psychic advice from Carol from Keystone, West Virginia. But they will take the advice of Madame Zora—Psychic of the East.”

With that, both Zora’s countenance and voice changed. Instead of seeming tired and resigned, she now appeared regal and in command of the room.

“Let me tell you your future, Kate,” she said, and Kate was blown away by the change. She seemed like a wholly different person. “Let me gaze through the sands of time and tell you what the goddess Fortuna has in store.”

And as quickly as before, Zora slumped back into her chair and returned to her regular voice.

“Be honest—who would you believe? Me or Madame Zora?”

Kate smiled.

“Exactly,” she said. “So I left Keystone, moved to Leesburg, and opened up this office here. The worst part about it is that so many people think you’re a fake. They see all this bulldiddly and think, ‘No way.’ I get that. But you know what? Most of those people wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’ve convinced plenty of people I was for real, but I’m not sure if it is the talent or the theatrics that does it.”