Drawing Blood (5 page)

Pointing to a large table, Margaret said, “Just this way. Come sit down and relax. Would you like something to drink?”

Holly wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to drink tea?”

She laughed and pulled out a chair for Holly. “No, I don’t read tea leaves. I was just trying to make you more comfortable. You’ve never done this before, have you?”

She took the seat offered. “That obvious, eh? I guess I’m a little nervous.”

“Do you have any particular questions you want to ask?” Margaret sat opposite her.

Holly’s mind went blank. She shrugged. “I can’t think of any at the moment.” How could she ask “Is a woman I’ve never met but have drawn, going to be murdered in the next couple of days?”

“Well, feel free to ask should any questions occur to you while I’m reading.” Margaret sounded encouraging. “Okay?”

Holly tried not to wince and nodded instead.

“I don’t read tea leaves. I don’t use cards either. Instead, I take something that belongs to you and I get impressions from it. Do you have anything like that with you? A ring or necklace?”

Holly sighed. She wore no jewelry except a circlet of garnets set in white gold on her left baby finger. As the only thing she had from her mother, it meant a great deal to her. Pulling the little ring off her finger, she handed it to Margaret.

“It’s pretty.”

Holly said, “I feel a little naked without it. It belonged to my mother. Oops.” She put her hand up to her mouth. “Was I supposed to tell you that?”

“You can tell me whatever you want. Or you can just stay completely silent.” She covered the hand holding the ring with her other hand and closed her eyes.

Holly waited silently, watching different expressions cross the psychic’s face.

After a few moments, Margaret’s eyes popped open, startling Holly. Her face was blank, her eyes appeared glassy. Holly shuddered at the strange look on the psychic’s face. In a much deeper voice than her own, she started to speak.

“Your mother is dead. Her life was short…happiness…and tragedy. She knew love…brief...but intense enough for many lifetimes.”

Margaret continued. “It is good you moved here. The city was not for you. I see love. You are fortunate to have such a friend. It gives you strength. Did you know that?” She didn’t wait for Holly to respond.

“I can see it. Right now you share your spirit with this friend. That will never change but there’s something out there. Something strange.” She blinked and frowned. Her eyes still held that glassy look and her breath came out in pants.

Still breathless and struggling she whispered, “Secrets. Old secrets. Misunderstandings, violence. You will be tested. He is not what he appears to be. So many in your life are not what they pretend to be. You have a choice to make.”

 
The color drained from her face and her voice rose as she forced the words out, “Blood, I see so much blood…it’s all over him! Hunger! Madness! Oh God! Betrayal, death…slaughter!” Her scream almost pierced Holly’s eardrum.

Unsure of what to do, Holly moved to shake Margaret out of her trance. The other woman stopped screaming when Holly touched her. At last she snapped out of it and looked up with fear in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“That’s all. I can’t tell you any more…I’m sick…leave please…”

Holly opened her mouth to object. She hadn’t paid Margaret for her time.

Trembling, as if it burned her fingers, Margaret dropped the ring in Holly’s hand. Unevenly she said, “Go…go…I don’t want your money. I’m sorry. I’m not feeling very well.” She looked away.

Before Holly could move, Margaret gripped her forearm tightly and in a voice that was not her own, she said, “Be careful who you trust. Don’t make your decisions lightly, so many repercussions…”

Dumbstruck, Holly didn’t know what to do. Margaret’s face changed and like a curtain falling, finally her own intelligent blue eyes peered back at Holly.

Apologetic but eager to be rid of her, Margaret said, “I’m sorry. This has never happened to me before. It’s so strong. There’s an unusual energy around you and I think it’s thrown me. I can’t do this right now, maybe another time. Can you find your own way out?”

Holly nodded and moved to the door. She folded up bills and set them on the hall table. Margaret didn’t want to be paid, but Holly had taken up her time and the poor woman suffered for whatever she’d experienced.

Sitting in her car, with her hands shaking and her pulse racing Holly leaned back and tried to calm her nerves. She hadn’t known what to expect, but what happened was far from anything she’d imagined. The psychic’s words echoed in her head and scared the hell out of her.

* * * *

Until now, Holly felt her life was pretty uneventful, boring even. Alan Seaton had always been overprotective of his youngest daughter. His concern had made Holly uncomfortable because she knew he thought of her as weak and incapable. Eventually she’d believed it herself. Father knows best. How many times had she told herself that? She’d made a habit of taking his advice, letting him handle her life. That is until Avery stepped in and offered up an entirely different world, one where she wasn’t the ‘special’ daughter of brilliant Alan Seaton and his equally brilliant son and daughter.

Still disappointed that she hadn’t taken his advice and stayed in
Toronto
, her father never visited her new home. But once a month her brother or sister came to check on her and report back to their father. It amused Holly to see how utterly out of place her siblings were in her new surroundings. But still like clock work, every month she’d get a visit from one of them. In a way, it was endearing. Matthew and Alison Seaton took their lead from their father and treated Holly like she was made of glass. They usually brought a carload of meals the cook had prepared on her father’s instructions.

For the first time in her life, Holly was actually living her own life. It amazed her just how competent she could be. She still hadn’t mastered the cooking thing, but was incredibly good at heating things up, and when she got sick of prepared foods, there was always Avery. Avery was a master at making even the most uninspiring fare taste good. Holly and Stephen often joked that all food tasted better if Avery prepared it…including crackers and cheese. Holly chose to believe it was because she added love to everything she did. Stephen and the kids agreed.

Sure, since moving to Muskoka, Holly had discovered her independence, but Margaret Wickham’s words had unsettled her. Instead of going straight home, she pulled up in front of Avery and Stephen’s house. Just the sight of it made her feel better. She wasn’t alone.

At
8:30
the kids were either in bed or finding excuses not to go to bed. She didn’t bother to ring the doorbell. The dogs’ barking had heralded her arrival. The Williams family believed in going big. They owned a great deal of property and their dogs were loyal and protective, perfect examples of their impressive breeds. Austin, a Great Pyrenees and Micah, a
Newfoundland
greeted Holly happily. As an adopted member of the family, she was under their protection and always welcome.

The house was silent when Holly entered. After the strange day she’d had, it felt blessedly warm and familiar. She mounted the stairs and heard Avery’s animated voice, reading. Just in time. The kids looked up and smiled when she walked in. As soon as she sat down, Connor found his way onto her lap. She hugged him close and flashed a special smile at Aaron and Jessica. They had no idea how much she appreciated their uncomplicated company especially after what she’d just been through. Together they listened to an animated and expressive Avery tell the story of King Arthur and Excalibur.

Once the kids were in bed, Avery and Holly sat in the living room. Stephen, understanding that they needed to talk, made himself scarce.

Avery spoke first. “Irene O’Neill is definitely the woman in your drawing.”

Holly breathed a sigh of relief, looking towards the heavens. “Thank you, Beth.”

“She didn’t scoff when I told her that a friend of mine thought she was in danger. It seems she believes in listening to instincts, her own and other people’s.”

“So she’s getting the hell out of Dodge?”

Avery nodded. “She was planning a visit to her sister’s anyway. We just moved up the date of her departure by a week.”

“How soon is she leaving?” Holly wanted the woman gone immediately. She wasn’t sure how far into the future the events depicted in her drawing would occur.

“She said she’d go tomorrow if she could get all her errands taken care of first.”

“Good. The sooner the better.” Holly leaned back with a sigh. “I guess we’ve done all we can for now.”

“What happened at the psychic’s? You looked pretty shaken when you walked in here. I appreciate you suppressing it in front of the kids, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to scare them.” Holly rubbed a hand across her forehead and leaned forward on the couch. She told her friend about what Margaret had said.

Avery’s reaction wasn’t a surprise. “Oh my God! That sounds terrifying. Maybe you should leave town too?”

Shaking her head, Holly said, “Wouldn’t that make my father happy? He’d pack me in bubble wrap and hide me away forever like
Rochester
’s first wife in
Jane Eyre
. I’d only see the light of day when I felt the urge to set the house on fire.”

“Just a suggestion. You don’t have to go to your father’s. You could take a trip to
New York
or something.” Avery smiled at her. “I’d go with you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know you would and thanks, but I can’t avoid this. I imagine if I left, it would just follow me or wait until I got home. I won’t be that pathetic weakling my father expects me to be. I’m not going to run away.”

“Well, it’s your decision. Just remember you’re not alone. Stephen and I will help you any way we can.”

“Thanks.” Holly smiled. “Plus, I’m expecting Alison tomorrow. She left a message on my voice mail.”

“I wonder what she’ll wear this time.” Avery laughed. Alison and Avery had never been friends. They hailed from worlds and ideals at polar opposites and kept a silent, but tense armistice.

Holly shook her head and joined her friend’s laughter. “God only knows what hot little number she’ll sport, but you can be sure it will be expensive and uncomfortable.”

* * * *

Holly was right on the money. The next day, Alison Seaton showed up wearing a business suit tailored to fit like a glove. Her heels were at least four inches high, forcing her to walk on the balls of her feet. She sank into the ground in Holly’s yard and the moist earth coated the spike heels. Visibly annoyed, she cleaned them off carefully as soon as she walked in the house. Holly wondered why she bothered. They’d just get dirty again when she left.

“Sorry about the mud,” she said. Surprisingly, she meant it.

“You really are in the middle of nowhere.” Alison moved farther into the house. She’d tied her bone straight hair in a tight pony tail that fell down the middle of her upper back between her shoulder blades. Holly was reminded of a palomino horse. The thought wasn’t meant as an insult. Holly happened to love palominos. Shaking her head, she decided her observation was best left unspoken. Her sister wouldn’t take kindly to being compared to a horse. Who would?

“What are you grinning about?” Alison asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Oh nothing, I’m just admiring your hair.”

Alison returned Holly’s smile. “It’s okay when the style of the day is straight hair. It still refuses to hold a curl like yours does.”

Holly pushed her sister’s words aside. “You’re just being generous because I gave you a compliment.”

  
Alison looked sad for a second and touched Holly’s dark wavy hair. “That’s not true. I meant it. Just accept the compliment with grace and say, thank you.”