True Loves (A Collection of Firsts) (59 page)

“Rick?” Taylor calls as she makes her way over. “That was amazing. How could you stand touching that thing?”

Her presence totally changes the vibe between Rick and me. He directs all of his attention to her and explains how snakes are merely misunderstood creatures. Whatever. They are just as bad as people think—possibly even worse: snakes and evil go hand and hand, especially when Rick refers to them as Lucifer, God’s archenemy.

“Well I think you’re really brave.” Taylor swoons.

Gag.

Taking Stew away from me isn’t enough? She has to go after Rick now, too? 

All that waving crap earlier wasn’t for my benefit. I see that now. Taylor is so fake. 

"It was nothing, really, just looking out for my girl here.” He wraps his arm around me and gives me a little squeeze.

Her smile widens. “Oh, Nat. You have such an awesome boyfriend.”

“He’s 
not
 my boyfriend.” I answer a little too quickly and instantly regret it.

Rick’s smile fades as Taylor raises an eyebrow. “No? Oh. I thought—” 

Quickly, I try to recover. I didn’t mean to hurt Rick’s feeling. “I mean, not like officially, or anything.”

Taylor shrugs. “Okay. Whatever. So anyway, I’m having a party Saturday night—you two should come.”

Before I have chance to reply, Rick answers,“Sounds good.”

“Great.” Taylor smiles. “See you there. Natalie, you know where my sorority is, right?”  

I nod, and she turns on her heel and heads back to where she came from.

Taylor takes her throne next to Stew, no doubt to fill everyone in about Rick’s triumphant bravery. Stew seems unimpressed as he picks at the fray on the bottom of his t-shirt. He hasn’t made any attempts to speak to me since we agreed to meet at the party. Probably for the best. I can’t imagine what I’d even say to him. There would most definitely be a lot of cussing involved. 

“Can I walk you to your next class? I want to tell you about some of the possibilities I found on the internet about saving your soul.” Rick breaks me out of my delusion of all the evil things I’d call Stew, given the opportunity.

His arm is still draped around my shoulders. It’s nice he’s trying to help me, but he hasn’t figured out the internet doesn’t have any real legit information about demons yet. I smile at him and pretend to be interested in all the possible angles he's found just to appease him. “Sure.”

D
r. Fletcher enters the room
, and her mouth draws into a lopsided grin. “Natalie, you look beautiful.”

I knew she’d notice.

“Thanks.” There’s no way I’ll tell her why I made the change. I don’t want to go into detail about my social life with her, yet.

The little doctor smiles. “Does this new look mean you’re working on your outlook on life and death?”

I shrug. “A little, I guess.”

She’s pleased with herself. I know when I leave she’ll pat herself on the back and tell her office staff about how much she’s helping me.

Dr. Fletcher pulls my chart out of her desk drawer and sits in front of me. “So, what would you like to discuss today, Natalie?”

“Well…I, um.” I stumble over my words, not sure where to begin because I really hate being here. The good doctor puts her hand on my arm. 

A vibration rips through my bones. 

Oh God. He’s here. Either Dr. Fletcher or me is about to die. My pulse quickens, and tears pool in my eyes. I’m not ready for this. I mean, I don’t want it to be me. The doctor isn’t exactly my friend, but she’s got a family. I focus my energy on the photo in front of me. Bile rises in my throat. The guy in the picture is familiar, 
very
 familiar. 

It’s Rick. Lilim is too young to be his mother, but still she’s obviously very close to him. 

My leg bounces uncontrollably as I try not to puke. I have to save her. Warn her somehow. He’s my friend. I have to break my personal rule about not interfering because I can’t allow that little monster to take away someone Rick loves. 

The vibration intensifies, much thicker than I’ve ever felt before. My brain rattles in my skull, but I push through it and yell as loud as I can. “Lilim, you have to run!”

“So, it’s true.” She gasps and jerks her hand away from me and the noise stops instantly. 

What the hell?

My breaths are rapid, and I tremble all over like I’m sprinting a mile. I choke out, “He’s coming for you.”

Dr. Fletcher sits back in her chair and has regained her composure. “Who’s coming for me, Natalie?”

My palm rubs my forehead. Of course she’s calm. She didn’t hear anything, but she did say ‘it’s true’, which makes me think she believes me. “I’ve never stopped him from killing someone before, but I can’t let him take you.” I tip my head in the direction of her family photo. “Rick’s my friend.”

Her eyebrows lift. Instead of being fearful for her life, she looks at me with pity. “No one is out to get me, Natalie. Trust me. I’m not going anywhere.” She flips through my chart and then pulls out a prescription pad from the pocket of her white lab coat. “How do you feel about medications?”

My scalp itches, and I dig at the crown of my head. At this point I’m desperate for any help I can get when it comes to the demon, but medications aren’t going to fix me. “I’m not really into taking medications.”

She gives me a smile that’s full of sympathy. “I think medications will work wonders for you. They can help combat all that fear you have inside your brain.”

“Fear?” I echo her words. 

The pen in her hand taps the prescription pad. “You want to be normal, don’t you? Let me give you a prescription to help with that. Maybe, that demon will be out of your life once and for all.”

I finally nod, and my stomach rolls. God knows how much I wish that little beast would just disappear. I take the prescription from her just to let her feel helpful, but I don’t intend on using it. 

Another thought flits through my mind as she writes out the medication order. “You won’t tell Rick about this will you? I don’t like for people to know what happens when the demon comes.”

She smiles. “Of course not. I won’t tell my
…nephew
, anything about this. Everything in my office remains confidential, including that you even see me to begin with. I never tell him about any of my patients. Especially one he has a special bond with. He talks about you often, you know.”

That’s a relief. At least Rick won’t know who my shrink is. That would be all kinds of embarrassing. 

I say my goodbye’s to Dr. Fletcher and make an appointment with her secretary on the way out. 

As I reach into my purse to put my appointment card away, I find Madame Zoë’s business card. I’d forgotten about her with everything that has been going on in my life. Maybe she’ll give me some answers about my current demon situation. She may know a way to save my soul if she’s a real psychic and not one of those con-artist fakes. I’ve tried every other form of research about killing demons, might as well try a new method. 

The girl at the mall said no appointment is needed, and it’s on my way home. I crank my Focus alive and pull onto the main drag of Grove City. Four blocks down from Dr. Fletcher’s office, I pull onto Columbus Street, and start counting house numbers—looking for 996. 

After passing it a couple of times, I pull up to the address. The numbers are kind of old and have lost a couple of nails, so they read 666. Creepy. The little blue house doesn’t show any sign that a fortuneteller lives here or that anything weird goes on inside. The house is kind of cute, actually, with its white picket fence and neatly trimmed lawn. 

When I open my door, I hesitate. Maybe I’m in the wrong spot. But what the hell, I’m already here, might as well go check it out. The gate attached to the fence groans under my hands as I undo the latch. Chills spread through my body and goose bumps erupt all over my arms. My footsteps thud, even though I try to be quiet, as I step up on the tiny concrete landing in front of the door. That’s when I see it, a handwritten note that reads: 
Madame Zoe’s, always open
. 

She must live here, too. 

I swallow, reach for the lion head knocker adorning the entrance, and knock with three quick raps. For some reason, I kind of expect the door to open on its own after I finish the last knock, like they do in scary movies. I roll my eyes. I’m thinking crazy. 

It takes a couple seconds before I hear a little frail voice call to me from the other side of the door. “Comin’.”

She must be pretty old, because it takes her a good minute to make it to the door. The dead bolt clicks, and then she opens it. The door remains chained, so it doesn’t open very wide. I gasp a little when she pokes her face between the cracks. Her eyes are milky white. The color they once may have had is lost in a cloudy haze. The odd contrast of such white eyes set in deep brown skin causes my skin to crawl. It’s probably a medical condition or something, but the effect is freaky. 

At first, I almost turn around and run off her stoop, but she’s just a little old blind lady with some kind of exotic looking bird on her shoulder. It’s not like she can hurt me or anything. 

“Come child. Don’t be scared. I know what you seek.” Her deep Southern drawl startles me. She’s definitely not from here in Ohio. 

Curious as to how she knows what I want, I start to ask that very question, but I’m too late. She shuts the door in my face. 

Okay. I guess, no reading today. As I turn, the door opens. She emerges and beckons me inside. 

I follow her in and let my obvious question slip. “I’m sorry, Madame Zoë? But how’d you know what I wanted?”

My vision takes a second to adjust to the dark room. The large green bird on her shoulder—I’ve seen its kind before. I think it’s a parrot or something, but I’m not really sure. It seems too big for her frail shoulder. The living room is crowded with seven birdcages. All of them house a different bird, except for one empty cage, which I assume belongs to her shoulder accessory. They squawk simultaneously as I stand in the middle of the room. A mixture of rotten food and dirty bird smell makes my stomach churn in disgust. I pinch my nose shut. It’s hard to imagine such an upscale lady, like the one who gave me Madam Zoë’s card, in this filth-infested room. 

I wrap my arms around myself to avoid touching anything. This was a mistake. There has to be a polite way to get out of this room. 

The rest of the house is blocked from view by the thick drapes hung in the living room. There are rows of tiny little cloth dolls, all in the shape of people with button eyes, hanging from the ceiling. Large pins protrude from the sack-like figures, many of them stuck in the heart. Dried blood stains the dolls, like it oozed from the hole the needle made. What kind of evil voodoo goes on here?   

Motionless—and soundless—I stand, waiting. I want to run, but I can’t force myself to be rude to this old lady. 

She cackles as she sits and motions for me to join her at the makeshift fortunetelling table located in the center of all the cages. A crystal ball in the middle of the table would complete the setup, but it’s merely covered with a modest burgundy cloth. Madam Zoë places a large clay bowl on the table. I take a seat in the rickety folding chair across from her and fold my hands in my lap.

“Go ahead, child. Tell me what you seek,” she rasps.

There’s no way this lady is truly psychic, so I decide to not spill my demon problems and just ask about my man dilemma. That seems harmless.  

I hadn’t really thought of how to pose my questions, so I stumble around. “Um…Well…I want to know—who’s the right guy for me?”

She smirks. “Child, you have bigger things to worry about than matters of the heart. I see what you’ve done.”

What I’ve done? “No offense, but how can you possibly say something like that? You know nothing about me.”

Her lips draw into a tight line. “I don’t need eyes to see. Your aura’s marked. Tainted. Which means it’s no longer your own.”

This lady’s crazy. There’s no way she knows my soul is bound to the demon child. I have to get out of here before this lady fills my head with ideas and causes a panic attack. “Look, I think this was a mistake. I’ll just go.” I rise from my seat.

“Sit down,” she orders firmly. Her frail voice turns authoritative.

With a huff, I slam back down. This was a shitty idea. She’s out to scam my money and scare the crap out of me.

“Like I was sayin’—I know what’s comin’ for you. Give me your hand,” she says in her gravelly voice. 

I hold out my hand. The calluses on her fingertips scratch at my skin. Is it possible this old lady knows about the demon? No way. This is probably her line to get her clients roped in, but I’ll play along so I can get out of here. 

She takes my hand in both of hers and gently strokes the life lines in the palm of my hands. “Let me study you.”

Ice crystals form in the wake of her fingertips against my skin. My breath goes still as I watch in amazement at Madam Zoë’s power. This woman is for real. Fear would have been the response in a normal person, but I’m desperate for answers even though I’m scared out of my mind. 

I’m lost in a trance. Lost in the possibility I’ve finally found someone to help me. The ice numbs my palm, but my fingers feel surprisingly warm. I’m so mesmerized by my own hand I don’t see her grab the silver knife until it’s too late. 

She slices my finger with the razor sharp tip of the blade.  

“Ouch! What the hell, lady?” I snarl as wrench my hand back.

She grabs my hand and continues to massage my finger. “Shhhhhh. This is necessary to see.” Her voice is calm and soothing—like she’s trying to soothe a frightened animal. 

“To see what?” I ask as a perfect round blood droplet forms on my right index finger. Madam Zoë milks my finger into the clay bowl on the table. Thick, red liquid slides down the side of the bowl and finally settles in the center.

She smiles. “Your future, of course.”

After she’s satisfied with the amount of blood she’s squeezed from me, she releases my hand. Instinctively, I shove my finger in my mouth to stop the bleeding. With insane quickness, she yanks four feathers from the green bird on her shoulder and tosses them in the little scarlet pool. I’m awestruck when she throws in three black rocks and sprinkles a fine powder over the bowl’s contents. 

The powder clings to the air and floats around my face. Madame Zoë chants some sort of voodoo words that I don’t understand as she strikes a match. 

The feathers engulf in flames. Smoke whirls around the bowl. The stench of the burning feathers assaults my nose. I close it with my hand. She sticks her face in the middle of the smoke. As it swirls around, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose like it’s a breathing treatment. Without warning, her eyes pop open. The white eyes that I saw when I first came in are now the color of tropical waters thrashing in a hurricane. Blue light streams from her eyes and spotlights the fire in the clay bowl.  

“Holy shit!” My breath whooshes from my lungs as I scramble out of my seat. The chair lands with a hard thud. I should run. I know I should. But she might be my only hope at saving my soul. 

“Sit, Natalie!” she commands. Her stern voice takes me by surprise. 

“How the hell do you know my name?” My voice quivers. I turn the chair upright and grasp it for support.

“It’s clear that your soul is damned. It happened so long ago when you were just a little girl. Your time is almost up. The countdown has begun. Look at your hands, child. When your life lines disappear, so shall your soul. Be careful, the one who seeks it—the one you fear—is closer than you think.” Her eyes roll back in her head as she takes a deep breath of smoke. “Soon…dark things will appear as a sign the very end of your human life is near. It’s only a matter of time until you're one of Satan’s minions.”

Satan’s minion? Me? A soul collector?

Cold unfolds through my whole body, and I shake.  Dying I can handle. I don’t look forward to it, but from what I’ve seen, it’s over pretty quickly when a demon takes your soul. Being like the demon child, taking people’s lives, well that’s a new twist I wasn’t expecting. One I don’t want to be true.

My knees buckle and I drop to the floor. Fear grips every pore in my body as tears stream down my face, and flashes of the five-year-old soul stealer sear my vision. I’ll be just like him. 

A killer. 

On my knees in a bird-poop infested floor, I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to rock back and forth while sticking my fingers in my ears and block out the possessed Madam Zoë. She keeps chanting, “Time is near” over and over.