Lure (12 page)

A carved wooden Indian stood in front of Arrowheads, and inside turned out to be a tribute to the tribes that had been native to North Carolina, including the Cherokee. Glass cases held folk art, and dream catchers hung from the rafters.

A carving of golden wood, richly grained and polished to a mirror finish in the shape of a wolf's face drew Shells in.

"Oh, man. Would you look at this," she said. "It's amazing. I have to have it."

"How much is it?" Sam asked and she watched as Shells turned over the paper tag.

Twenty-five hundred dollars.

"Ouch," Shells said. "Well I guess I don't
have
to have it."

"I will give it to you if you will take it and go home immediately. Go back to wherever you came from."

"What the hell?" Shells said as she and Sam turned to find a man behind the counter staring at them; he looked to be of Native American descent, and he wore a heavy scowl.

"Are you carrying a concealed weapon?" the man asked Sam.

"No," Sam said.

"But you are in law enforcement, aren't you?"

Stunned, Sam wasn't certain what to say. "I was a cop," she said after a moment. "And now I'm not."

This took the man back a moment, and he looked at Sam differently, almost as if he did a double take.

"I have a gift for you," he said, his face expressionless, and he slid a small black stone across the counter.

This was a man that should play poker, Sam thought. "I don't have to get out of town if I accept this, do I?" she asked. The man just shook his head. Reaching out slowly, she grabbed the stone. Smooth and rounded yet with intricate texture, the black stone was cool to the touch and felt good in Sam's palm.

"It is an offering to the land," the man said. "Throw it into the lake along with your greatest intention."

"And then what?" Shells asked.

"I don't understand," the man said.

"After she throws the rock into the lake, then what happens?"

"It is an offering," the man said as if that answered the question, but the look on Shells' face made it clear that she didn't understand. "Hopefully, she will feel blessed afterward. The stone is a river stone from the valley beneath Lake Lure, which was once a flowing river. Offering this stone back to the valley is a way of honoring what was the land's natural form."

"Lake Lure is man made?" Sam asked, and Shells gave her a look that said, "Duh! The Internet, dude, use it!" The man just nodded his head. "Thank you. That's kind of you. Are you having some kind of trouble with the police?"

A tinkling bell rang as another customer entered the store. The man retreated into a room in the back.

"Aw, man. We should've asked him about the psychic," Shells said.

"Are you looking for a psychic?" the person next to Shells asked, and Sam turned to look at her. She was a slender woman in her middle years with a plain face and a pleasant smile. "I'm a little bit psychic myself, you know. Why I bet I was drawn down here today just to help you."

Shells did not look impressed and Sam chose not to say anything yet.

"I sense that you are looking for a professional psychic . . . the best even," the woman said, holding one hand to her forehead. "Am I right?"

"You're good," Shells said.

"Do you know of someone?"

"Yes, ma'am. You want to see the Woods Woman Psychic, that's who you need to see."

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Shells said. "Do you have a Woods Woman to English dictionary?" she asked no one in particular.

The woman ignored Shells. "She's the best there is; even has her own radio show and everything. Here, I have her number. I'll write it down for you."

"Is it this number?" Shells asked, holding out her smartphone.

"Why, yes," the woman said, looking a bit crestfallen. "How did you do that?"

"I got the Interweb," Shells said, and then she moonwalked to the carving of an eagle. "Aw, man. I have to have that," Sam heard her say.

"Thank you," Sam said.

"You're welcome dear," the woman said with a warm smile. "I hope whatever brought you here is for your own good."

"You can't tell?" Sam asked.

"I'm only a little psychic. Bye now."

"Wait. That's it? Didn't you come in here for something?"

"I did, dear," she said while walking out the door. "I came to see you. Now I'm going home."

It was as strange a thing as anyone had ever said to her, with the noted exception of what the man behind the counter had said. He had yet to reappear.

"C'mon," Shells said. "Let's go."

Sam followed her back outside and they wandered back toward the car.

"I've got this woods woman's phone number," Shells said. "You want me to call her?"

"Uh. Sure."

"Yeah. Is this the woods woman psychic lady? Yeah, my friend is a wreck, a real mess, and she needs to see a professional psychic. We were told you were the person to see. When can we come see you? Now? Sweet!" Shells gave Sam the thumbs up, though Sam had another bad feeling in her gut. What was with her gut these days anyway? She had better not be pregnant, she told herself. But then she quickly did the math and realized there was no way. She shrugged it off.

"Oh yeah, she's totally screwed up," Shells said. "She's, like, seeing ghosts, lost her job and her man. She's all messed up. OK. We're coming now; we'll be there in . . . " she looked down at her phone and poked around for a moment. "We'll be there in a half an hour."

"Thanks," Sam said when Shells hung up the phone.

"Oh, you're welcome dude," Shells said, never looking up from her phone. "OK, these roads might get a little dicey; let's go a little easier on the go pedal, ya dig?"

The Camaro had always been a car that was impossible to drive the speed limit. It seemed to always creep a little faster and a little faster. With Shells navigating, Sam kept it slow, much for the purpose of safety, but sometimes waiting for Shells' smartphone to quit saying "connection lost."

"I thought that thing was supposed to keep us from getting lost and it appears to have done the exact opposite," Sam said.

"Ha!" Shells said. "Just keep going straight for another mile and then we're gonna make a right. Then we're just about there."

The Woods Woman Psychic's office was at her modest home in the hills outside of Lake Lure. Nothing on the outside gave any indication of anything but normalcy. When Shells knocked on the door, it made a dull wrapping sound that Sam didn't think anyone would hear; but the sound of a small dog barking and the click of claws across a hard floor, announced their presence just as well.

The woman who answered the door had a kind smile, short hair, and looked completely normal. which came as a disappointment to Shells, who looked crestfallen.

"Y'all the ones with an emergency?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said. "I suppose you could call it that. My Aunt made me promise to see a professional psychic."

"Good for your aunt! And come on in. Don't mind the dog; he won't bite."

The little white and brown dog continued to bark and growl at them as they came in, and when Sam met its eyes, it backed up and barked in short yips. Sam wondered what made such a little creature think itself ready to take her on. It was a silly, immature thought, but Sam was used to that. Growing up was a disease she had managed to never catch, and responsibilities were not currently on her list of things she needed.

"My name is Serena," she said as she led them down a short and narrow hall and into her office. Shells seemed to appreciate the Native American and other art that adorned the walls. "Whew! Can you feel the energy in here today?" she asked. "You'll have to forgive me if I start flying around the room. Don't be alarmed."

Sam looked at Shells, whose eyes had gone wide, but neither said anything.

"You have a choice to make. Choose well," the woman suddenly said, and Sam looked up to find Serena staring at her, or through her perhaps, since the woman's eyes didn't seem to exactly meet hers or show any recognition that Sam was looking back. "OK. So let's get started," she said a moment later. "Tell me about what brought you here."

"What about the choice?" Sam asked. "You said I have a choice to make. What do you mean by that?"

"I didn't say anything about a choice. Did I?" Serena asked. "I'm sorry dear, sometimes I do that. I must have been out of my body. I'll try to stay more grounded around you. Ok?"

"Yeah. OK," Sam said. "So, uh, I keep, like, seeing people right after they die."

"Ah, so you are a medium."

"No," Sam said.

"Ah, so you are a reluctant medium."

"No. It's not like that," Sam argued.

"It never is, dear," Serena said. "You must accept the fact that the world is changing and so are you. You feel it and yet you deny it. Perhaps you do have a choice to make. Will you accept your gift or will you reject it? Neither road is easy, I'm afraid; it's not something we get to choose. I say it is a gift, others would tell you that it's a curse; it's what
you
make of it."

Sam could find no words to respond. She couldn't really be psychic; that was her aunt's role in the family. Sam had seen what that had gotten her: more than her fair share of sideways glances.

"I'm seeing water around you and a big trip."

"Well those things are kind of obvious, aren't they?" Shells said. Serena ignored her.

"I see danger and I see solace. You must be very careful."

"That's kind of vague. Can you be more specific?" Shells asked. Sam gave her a dirty look, which had absolutely no effect.

"Beware the darkness and embrace the light."

"Words to live by," Shells said. "So what about me? Do I need to beware the darkness? What does my future hold?"

Serena stared at Shells for a moment as if seeing her for the first time.

"Nothing," Serena said.

Shells gaped, speechless.

"Just kidding," Serena said. "You should probably beware the darkness too."

And that was it. With a nod, the session was ended, and Serena seemed to come back to her body. "Are you heading back to Lake Lure?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"Here. Let me write you down directions on how to get out of here. Even if you have GPS, the mountains sometimes block it."

"Ha. See?" Shells said. "It wasn't my smartphone's fault." She looked very satisfied with herself.

"Here you go. Just make sure you can read my handwriting. I find when I come back to my body, I have the hardest time getting my hands to do things."

Looking over the directions, Sam noticed that if she looked at it the right way, she could clearly see the number 313, large and diagonally through the text. It seemed impossible, but it was so perfect that she now had trouble reading the directions because all she could see was the number 313.

"Shells, look at this piece of paper and tell me what you see. Don't just read it, look at it." Sam handed the paper to Shells, and Serena watched with what seemed amused interest. Shells looked at it, read the words, turned it this way and that, and turned to hand it back to Sam; just as she did, though, she stopped, her jaw hanging open. "Holy crap. How did you do that? That's incredible!"

"What is it?" Serena asked.

"You really don't know?" Shells asked. "Oh, man. That's freaking me out." She said, handing the paper to Serena.

"I don't see it," she said after looking at it for a few moments. Shells reached over and turned the paper so that the number was straight across, and Serena gasped. "I didn't write that. I mean. I didn't mean to write that, at least not consciously, I guess. Wow. Three Thirteen. I wonder what that means?"

"
You
wonder?" Shells said. "How do you think
we
feel? That's freaky, man. Either you're really good and you're messing with us, or that is just plain freaky."

Chapter 8

Behind a desk stood a man with a shiny bald head and a goatee with more gray than black in it, but there was a warmth in his eyes that drew Sam to him. "Welcome to the Lake Lure Inn, my name is Michael. How can I help you today?"

"Hi, Mike," Shells said. "We're with SJPS. We're here to see about your ghosts."

Michael didn't look particularly pleased with being called Mike, but he did brighten when he heard who they were.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said. "We were starting to worry about you."

"We were slightly delayed," Shells said.

"I believe lost is the correct word," Sam added.

"It happens to the best of us," Michael said, and he handed each of them a key; not some electronic key card, but an actual key. "We're going to put you up on the third floor. That should keep you isolated from the other guests. We don't want them to disturb you, and we don't want you to disturb them." Shells gave Sam a glance at that point, which Sam thought took some nerve. "Many of the claims here take place in the spa area, but the maids don't like to go up on the third floor, and we've had a number of people check out early."