Seductive Shadows (5 page)

You would make more money in a week than you do in a month.

That kind of money could give me freedom.

But what kind of employer interviewed their candidates at two in the morning? Was it a scam? Would I get hurt, or killed, maybe? And why had she chosen me?

What if it allowed you to do something that you love to do?

Something that comes naturally to you…

The only thing that came to mind was painting. My skills were still so unrefined, but I loved it and it had come naturally to me. Was that what she was referring to?

She never gave me a business card, or her name, even—or the name of the company she worked for. I never even saw the color of her eyes. For no reason I could explain, a feeling spread through my body that settled my chest and my trembling hands. I wanted my wetness to cover her fingers; I wanted whatever she had. And as I lay in my bed, mentally scanning my closet, I tried to pick out what I was going to wear to tomorrow’s interview.

I had nothing to lose.

My bag was stuffed full of clothes, makeup, and hair products. I slung it across my shoulder and rushed toward the employee bathroom, checking my watch as soon as I got through the door. I only had three minutes before the limo would pull away, so I didn’t bother to use a stall. In front of a mirror, I yanked my shirt over my head and wiggled out of my flats. I’d already touched up my eyes and cheeks at the desk, and sprayed the loose curls that had fallen around my face. With a minute left, I swiped gloss over my lips, and walked out the door that led to the alley. A black limo was waiting, just as the Recruiter had said.

The driver, a tall man with broad shoulders, opened the door to the back. He had an air of professionalism about him; he didn’t appear threatening, but everything about him shouted quiet confidence. And he had one hell of a smile. Even though his grin was a smooth gesture, there wasn’t an expression he could offer that would have given me the reassurance I needed. It wasn’t just a fear of the unknown that pumped through my body; there was anxiety about the ride as well. I hadn’t been in a car in years.

“Good evening, Ms. Williams. On the backseat you’ll find a box and a note with instructions. Please read it.” He flashed his white teeth again. “The drive will take about fifteen minutes; I’ll knock on the window when we arrive.”

“Why would you need to knock?”

He stuck his hand out. “Please, Ms. Williams, you need to get in now. We’re going to be late.”

I wasn’t naive; I knew this could be foolish, even dangerous. But I was willing to take the risk for the money…and the excitement. I climbed in.

Once the car began to move, I understood why the driver would need to knock: the windows on both sides of the limo and the partition between the front and backseat were completely blacked out. I couldn’t see where we were going, or distinguish between a stop and an arrival.

On the seat adjacent was a silver box, adorned with a sheer organza bow, with a note on top. My name was written on the envelope, in calligraphy. It reminded me of the presents Mrs. Hunt used to give and how they were wrapped so elegantly. I opened the envelope and unfolded the thick, glossy paper. More calligraphy filled the page, instructing me to remove the lid and change into
everything
that was inside. It stated that whatever I had on—clothes, shoes, undergarments and my purse—needed to stay in the limo and would be returned after the interview. I was ensured that I had complete privacy from the driver. There was no closing or signature, but the words flowed and spoke of a well-educated professional. That had been the theme of this entire encounter so far.

Folded inside the box was a simple, floor-length, white satin gown. The straps were spaghetti thin; lace outlined the V in the back, continuing around the breasts and down the sides, stopping at the waist. I imagined that in the light, the fabric would be see-through. Matching four-inch heels had been placed at the bottom. The last item, an eye mask, gave me pause. It was covered in white satin, outlined in more lace, with a thick backing, and there was ornate beading around the eye slits and down the bridge of the nose. My curiosity was an emotional thrill. I wanted to wear the dress, feel its coolness graze along the contours of my flesh. It was the most exquisite piece of fabric that my hands had ever touched.

But the excitement didn’t last long, and was soon replaced with fear. As the limo picked up speed, so did the tightening in my chest. I didn’t know where the driver was taking me, and this was the first time I’d been in a car since the accident. I didn’t own one; neither did Lilly. I didn’t have money for cabs, so I took the train wherever I needed to go. I emptied my hands, reached for the safety bar, and squeezed.

Memories began to trickle, then flood: the vibrating tires, screeching brakes, a loss of control…and the screams. Those were the most painful. They pounded my eardrums, overflowed me with dissonant whispers. Snapshots flickered before my eyes. Things I dared not seek came uninvited…

***

I followed Emma up the sidewalk to the house, scanning the porch, the tinted windows of the second story, and the huge hawk that had found a home on top of the chimney. The shingles had been painted a light purple, and the shutters were eggplant, which stood out in a neighborhood full of white siding and brick. The mosaic tiles on the walkway were painted with runes, weird symbols from some child’s dead fantasy.

“Emma, this is all a bit eccentric, don’t you think?”

“Trust me, Charlie, she’s legit. You know I’ve been here a bunch of times before.”

I’d never gone with Emma when she’d visited the psychic. I wasn’t sure I believed in them, or tarot cards, or any of that supernatural shit. But that wasn’t the only reason she had gone without me: I didn’t have the money and usually had to work after school. Emma knew I wouldn’t let her pay for my reading; she paid for enough…which was why she didn’t tell me about the visit until we were already in the car. She knew I had the night off, and that I would never say no to her.

Just as Emma’s knuckles reached the front door, it opened. My neck moved backward; the crease between my brows deepened. I wasn’t surprised by the psychic’s long dress of purple velvet—a bit wintery for May—or the cluster of crystals that hung from her neck. That she was a woman in her late seventies, at least, gripping the top knot of a cane was the unexpected part. The way Emma had spoken of her, I had pictured someone much younger. Someone with finesse.

Her eyes met mine through the screen door. They were the color of peacock feathers. “It’s nice to see you again, Emma.” She blinked, but her pupils didn’t move.

“Same here, Moonlight. I brought my friend—”

“You must be Charlie,” Moonlight said, interrupting Emma. Her accent was southern, and her tone was slightly high pitched.

I nodded.

“Come,” she said, gliding to one side of the door.

When I stepped inside, years of dust and incense assaulted my senses. Light-headed, I began to sneeze and itch.

“Does it always smell like this?” I whispered to Emma.

The door immediately closed behind me, startling me forward several feet as all light was eliminated. Windows were covered; lamps had been switched off.

“Follow me,” Moonlight sang.

“Emma?” I said a little louder.

Emma latched onto my hand and pulled. I followed, pressing into her back, taking breaths when I felt her body inhale. After a few paces, I heard a click and a row of sconces lit up the hallway. Stone sculptures had been placed sporadically throughout the narrow space, so we had to weave and move closer to the wall. Canvases of Italian Renaissance paintings hung throughout the hallway. The swishing of Moonlight’s dress filled the silence. But inside my head, things weren’t quiet at all.

A small room appeared at the end of the hallway; candles lit the inside, and a table and two chairs filled the middle. Purple curtains hung on the walls. In a corner, on top of a pillar, sat a crystal the size of Emma’s Maltese. Moonlight moved around the room, collecting items and setting them on the table: a steaming cup, a deck of cards, a stone bowl that was filled with some kind of black powder.

Emma stayed close to the doorway with her eyes fixed on Moonlight. Her shoulders were straight, her expression determined. Emma hadn’t told me what questions she was going to ask her, but they must have been important. The only time I’d seen her so still was when she slept.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” I asked Emma.

She didn’t acknowledge my question. Her stare, now on the crystal, became even more intense.

“Em
—
”

Something warm surrounded my hand, pulling my attention away from Emma. Moonlight stood only a foot away, her face close to mine, her hands pressed around my fingers. 

“You’re first,” she sang.

The legs of the chair wobbled as I took a seat. I reached for the lip of the table and one of my hands landed in Moonlight’s palm. My body felt as if it were being moved like a planchette, my limbs dragging behind, Moonlight’s invisible fingers guiding me. I looked over my shoulder; Emma’s eyes hadn’t left the crystal. My stomach turned queasy. Something wasn’t right.

“I see,” Moonlight said. Her hair was long and black, but her bangs and sides were white. Her locks dangled on my fingertips when her face leaned toward my palm. A grunt escaped her lips.

I glanced over my shoulder again. “Emma, will you please come here?” My words still didn’t catch her attention. “Emma!”

“Very interesting, indeed,” Moonlight said, and my eyes moved back to her.

Her breath hit my skin as she traced the lines on my hand. She glanced up, briefly, a suggestive smile lighting her face. “I feel your color. It’s extremely red, and quite loud. You’re a desirous one, Charlie, and incredibly sexual.”

I felt my face blush. How could she have known that?

“This is new,” she said, her index finger rubbing the tiny tattoo on the back of my pinky.

How could she have known my tattoo was new?

“I feel an emptiness coming on.” She paused. “It’s from your heart. Your heart is going to be empty, Charlie.”

If she was talking about the heart-shaped tattoo, then she was right—and it was going to stay empty, too. Emma and I had decided to keep them hollow. We thought they looked better that way.

Why hadn’t Emma answered me yet? I could feel her behind me, but my neck felt stiff when I tried to turn.

“Not just this heart,” she said, shaking my hand. “Your other heart, too. And when it empties, you’re going to feel pain and regret. Dark thoughts. Yes, lots of those…and dark times.” Her eyes closed; her head bobbed to a silent beat. Then it shook from side to side. A noise gargled in her throat; her fingers tightened around my hand. “Hold on!” Her eyes opened and widened. “When you feel that flutter—the one you’ve got right now in your chest—I want you to grab something strong. Something sturdy that can bear you.” I felt my skin start to bruise. “There’s trouble up ahead; the flutter will be a warning sign. I don’t want you to let go, Charlie, and I don’t want you to worry. The black that will fill your vision will only be temporary. You’ll come back from this.”

My legs began to bounce and hit the bottom of the table, causing a sound like chattering teeth. I pushed the chair back and stood. I didn’t know if she was done, but I was.

“Don’t let go,” Moonlight repeated.

I shook her off my hand and quickly moved to the back wall, hoping some deep breaths would calm my heart. Emma slid past me, ignoring my attempt to stop her, and the words I shouted at her. Her expression was unreadable.

Moonlight spread the deck of cards over the table like a fan, but halfway through the motion she paused. “What’s this I see…?” She flicked her wrist and the cards flew, swaying back and forth in the air until they hit the ground. She reached for Emma’s hand, looking into her eyes and then back at her palm. “It can’t be.” She gripped the handle of the steaming cup and dumped it over her skin.

“Ouch!” Emma yelled. “That’s hot, Moonlight…it burns.”

That was the first time Emma had spoken since we’d stepped inside the room. I tried to move to her side, to comfort her. My legs were frozen.

“Quiet!” Moonlight swiped away the liquid that had accumulated in Emma’s palm and turned her hand in different directions. Though her voice sounded angry and her movements were sharp, her face was filled with concern and compassion. “You’re the heart? It can’t be…” She dipped her finger into the stone bowl that she had placed on the table, scooped out some of the black powder from inside and drew an X over Emma’s palm. She let out a long, screeching wail, and then she stood up abruptly. Her chair flew backward, crashing into the wall. “Charlie, when you feel that flutter, I want you to grab Emma’s hand and join those hearts together as one.”

I didn’t feel my feet move, but I was suddenly at Emma’s side. When she didn’t respond to my squeezing, I lifted her arm until she was on her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I didn’t hear anything else Moonlight said. I focused all my attention on Emma, yanking her down the hall, and straight out the door. Sunlight slapped my face as I stepped onto the porch. I used my fingers to shield my eyes as I clung to her arm and led her toward the car.

“That woman is fucking crazy.” I stopped, and took a deep breath. We had reached the Benz, and I placed one of my hands on its roof. Emma still hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t sure I believed that Moonlight was truly crazy; some of her words felt a little convincing. But I didn’t want her to freak out Emma, so I didn’t mention what she’d said. I just shook her slightly. “Are you OK? You ignored me the whole time we were in there.”