by K Fisher
“You are home,” the three words were warped and had no gender, ending her dream immediately.
“Hello there?” she inquired, stirring from her memory. The authoritative voice which came from behind her lips wasn’t one she could stop, the uncomfortable and intense tone reacting strongly to her own torn intuition.
“Oh hello, sweets.”
The woman’s voice did not come from within the tent but to the left of it. An attractive older lady tore away from where she had been adjusting a sign with a crystal ball painted upon it. The woman moved slowly, each move calculated and controlled. Once she was right before her, Hazel became acutely aware of how much taller the lady was than herself, which was not something she encountered often, as she was not the shortest woman herself.
The woman’s long, thinning blonde hair was loose and straight, washing out her pale and wrinkled skin. But it was her eyes that held Hazel captured, making her feel like she was a small animal with her foot caught in a trap, awaiting her fate. The soft and comforting tone of her voice did nothing to calm it.
“Ah, for a reading. That is why you have come,” she said before Hazel had a chance to collect her words. Her accent was thick and clipped. Russian? Greek? She was never great with accents. Her light green eyes seemed to shine in child-like excitement as they watched Hazel. The dark eyeshadow made them look all the bigger and brighter, but there was a sinister edge to her that Hazel could not shake. They were the most electrifying set of eyes she had ever seen.
Hazel had tried to talk herself out of coming there all through the morning, convincing herself there was no magic. But after seeing and speaking to spirits during her life, well it made not believing someone else could communicate with the dead silly.
“A reading, yes please,” Hazel murmured, the words feeling distant to her; an automated and unsure agreement, and it appeared the psychic could sense it.
Suddenly and without warning, the woman’s hand extended and gripped onto Hazel’s forearm. Every warning in her body silenced with the contact, but that was not all that fell quiet. She was experiencing true silence for the first time in so long, the intensity of the spiritual presences and voices around her giving her peace. They had been excruciating following the attack at the orphanage, relentless. In that moment, Hazel could have cried out in relief. Only her own thoughts, feelings, and mind remained.
When Hazel had first laid eyes on the psychic, she had seemed to be in her late sixties, but so close to her, she could see the wrinkles along her mouth, the aged lines that made her look even older.
“Madame Lacko knows what you need, think no more on it.” The Madame released Hazel’s forearm and the spiritual pulsing and voices from before quickly returned to Hazel’s mind, an energy and whisper she had come to hate.
The Madame made her way into the tent, one delicate hand holding it open to Hazel. The pain suddenly became apparent, half-moon prints where the woman had gripped her forearm slowly filling with blood but not spilling over. She had not been aware of how tightly the hand had gripped onto her. Shaking off the sting, Hazel decided not to comment on it and bravely made her way into the woman’s tent, the flap falling back into place the moment she was fully in the room.
It seemed so much larger inside her lair, but the scent of incense was just as strong as it had been on the outside. She remembered being young and hiding her few and far between experimentations with weed using the long, scented rods. Hazel had coated everything she owned in ‘Dragon’s Blood’ scent in an attempt to keep suspicion from her father. Little did she know, this would simply attract her father’s suspicion even more, not to mention gain a reprimand from the Guardian. Hazel found herself taking a deep breath of air, wondering what Madame Lacko was hiding.
There were two velvet seats surrounding a small wooden table in the middle of the bright colors and statues of unfamiliar beings. A purple tablecloth had been draped over it, giving it the illusion the table was floating, an illusion of comfort and an inviting magic she could not stop herself from wanting. Why was Hazel so worried? Sure, her body had been giving her reason to double think this adventure, but the woman had worked with the locals there for weeks.
“Do take a seat, sweets. You’re so uneasy! This is all but fun. Let us see what the spirits hope to bring to your attention,” the Madame was suddenly at the table, shuffling cards in her powerful hands.
Hazel pulled out the seat across from her, lowering her body down until she was seated. She tried to meet Madame’s eyes, but they were not on her anymore. They were closed, her pale lips moving as they spoke words that Hazel could not hear. Her expert hands were shuffling those colorful cards in a way that would leave a Vegas dealer jealous, the tarot deck dancing along her knuckles and folding together neatly, the noise a soft and gentle ‘thhhh’. Hazel was vaguely aware of the yellow flash of a sunflower on one of the cards as she moved them around, stopping abruptly when she placed the pack face down and spread them out facing Hazel.
Her light green eyes flashed upward to capture Hazel’s once more, the smile slowly spreading across her lips as she pointed to the cards and the unusual reading.
“Choose one, do not look at it. Place it in the middle of the table.” Her tone was strong but curious. It was as if she wondered if Hazel would truly do it.
Hazel extended a hand and trailed it over the upright cards, not knowing what she was searching for. Choosing one towards the middle, she slid it to the center of the table and stared at the design around the card. It was an old tree, gnarled branches and trunk surrounding the pale cover of the tarot cards. It was a simple design, but one that kept her attention as she tried to rack her mind as to what the hell the Madame was going to do.
Hazel was far from shy and truly did believe eye contact could allow one to read into someone’s soul. But with this woman, she found herself shrinking into the chair, not wanting to know what the Madame had to share with her. But she had been drawn there and with the recent events in her life, Hazel was willing to try anything for some clarity. Or control, whatever came first.
The Madame closed the card fan, palming the rest of the cards before dealing several out. Her card in the middle. Then she repeated the design under the cards, until a great many seemed to stare at Hazel. They teased her with unforeseen insight. But any psychic could find a connection to each message, right? They were just good at talking, at finding things that all people could connect to, finding a way to make their client believe it.
“What is your name?” Lacko asked, both her hands disappearing beneath the table, eyes no longer on Hazel, but instead focused on that card dead center on the table.
“Hazel.”
Her eyes snapped up and Hazel pressed back in her chair, frowning. Her once friendly smile had turned into a snarl. A second later it was gone. One hand lifted from under the table and she placed it on the first card to Hazel’s left as if nothing had happened.
“Tell us, spirits. What message must we relay to our dearest Hazel this day?” The room was silent, then she curled her fingers under the card and turned it over. It was blank, a dud. She should have looked through that new set of tarot and cleared out the ‘jokers’ before starting that game. Hazel could not stop the snort that escaped her. She had been so terrified before and it was for nothing. Hazel was going to beat herself up for this the moment she ensured those nails didn’t score her with some crazy juju.
The Madame’s eyes widened, and her mouth was aghast as she furiously flipped up the card next to the first. Blank. The next, blank. The energy in the room changed, feeling thick and angry. Hazel cleared her throat, attempting to play the game, but was unable to shake the sudden anger surrounding her.
“Perhaps another time, Lacko, was it? It seems the spirits don’t want to tell me anything.”
The Madame’s head began shaking furiously, her delicate hands clenched into fists. “No, sweets. It’s what your spirits refuse to let me see. Or spirit, I am guessing.” There was a twitching in he
r hand and Hazel could not help but feel it was in anger, not fear.
Lacko snatched up the cards and shuffled them together, placing them on a nearby stand before lifting a large crystal orb from beneath the silk fabric on the stand.
“If they do not wish to let me read, I will read them,” it was said in a sing song voice that sent Hazel’s hair on edge.
She placed that crystal ball in the middle of the table and Hazel felt pressure on her shoulders, as though two hands were behind her, pushing downward. It was a relaxing pressure that took away from the energy swarming around the tent. Still, it felt like a stern warning rather than a calming massage.
Lacko’s hands surrounded the orb as she closed her eyes, but the words she spoke this time, Hazel could hear loud and clear. “Show me what is in Hazel’s subconscious. Why does her spirit fight me, so? Share with us your power and perception.” At first there was nothing and Hazel had half a mind to stand and leave, she was all about humoring others, but this had gone too far.
Then the air around them cleared, smoke from the incense no longer thick. It was a fresh, clean wind around them. Hazel could feel the gust in her hair as she closed her eyes; the familiar caress of energy at her face, trailing down her arms and to her fingertips.
Her Guardian was there, was truly there, she remembered the feel of his energy.
It was the first time in half a decade that she had felt him. Had this been what her dream had been demanding of her? The crystal ball between them filled with billowing smoke, shapes and shadows appearing. She had just a moment to catch sight of her father’s large home before her side of the crystal became too smoky to make anything out. She could still see the shadows playing on the Madame’s side, however.
Hazel shifted to see, but the invisible hands were at her shoulder once more, keeping her in place as the Madame’s hovered over the ball. Lacko’s lips twitched at the edges, eyes gleaming as laughter bubbled out. Suddenly, she dropped her hands and the smoke diminished, the images dispersing along with it. Lacko stopped laughing, but the sound still danced in the air around Hazel.
“You have things following you. You have from a young age. That is a great power to have, certainly, but what a great burden it has caused you,” she tisked, a soft pout in Hazel’s direction. “I know a spell, sweets. I can remove this burden from you. A small trade that will benefit us both. Free yourself of the torture of these spirits. It is why the universe brought you to me today, it knew you were hurting, poor girl.”
She could take them away? She could make Hazel feel sane again? The idea of living a normal life for once was something she had played with often. But not something she truly thought would happen to her. Lately, she had begun to truly wonder if life was worth living. She couldn’t see herself without the burden of these entities. If things were only going to get worse, how long would it take before they finally ended her? Hazel was never one to play with the idea of suicide, it was not in her nature. But the idea popped into her mind, like someone had planted it there. Death was the only option; this female could save her from getting to that point. She had to trust her…
Warning alarms broke through her thoughts and Hazel jumped to her feet. The Madame frowned, standing as well, those light green eyes flickering towards the entrance to her tent like she meant to step in front of it. Hazel was too quick for that. Her words spilled from her lips as she shrugged her purse over her shoulder and headed straight for the tent opening as fast as she could.
“Thank you for your time.” She half expected the woman to reach out for her arm once more and crossed them at her chest as she walked. The Madame didn’t run after her. Her words were soft on the breeze, gentle and not hostile as Hazel had predicted.
“You know where to find me, sweets. Should you change your mind I will be here and ready to help you. Hear that? They’re pleased they can stay with you.” As if she had turned on a switch, the dark whispers around her started to grow louder and louder in Hazel’s mind.
Shadows danced in front of her, darting into the parks. Never had she felt so many spirits and energies roaming free. It was as if some doorway to their world had been opened for her sight, the two realms smashing into each other. The headache came fast and hard as she made her way down the street, looking away from others, not allowing her eyes to trail over the neighborhood, just the space in front of her.
The moment Hazel got to the safety of her home, she had collapsed and given in to the panic attack. She locked her door and tucked herself across the living room with Charlie in her arms. Her eyes were on the shadows that danced under her front door as her memory of the moment she met Danira slowly faded.
When Hazel left her establishment, the smile disappeared from Danira Lacko’s face. She moved swiftly over to the entrance, hands extended as she focused on the tent only. The energy that filled her was not her own, but it did the trick. The spell escaped her lips and she protected the entrance. From the outside, it would seem as though her tent was no longer there, the area empty.
A familiar shadow appeared at her side suddenly; dark brown eyes meeting hers, appearing within the ghostly outline of his head. “You summoned me, Maven?” The deep, rumbling voice filled the tent.
Danira extended a hand and caressed it along the cheek of the shadowed male before her, finding the darkness solid beneath her touch. He was beautiful, when he wasn’t in this form. A perfect specimen at her disposal in all ways, a being she could use however she wished.
“Nico, my pet,” Danira purred, the cold skin under her touch excited her magic.
She needed Nico strong, there was no room to pull from his power and use it for herself. Besides, she had done quite a bit that day and finally they were on the right track. No matter how much fight Hazel’s spirits seemed to put up, in the end, Danira always won. It was not the first time she had been in the presence of Hazel’s magic, simply the first time the female had been privy to it. Magic was something the inclined could all study and learn, but their born Affinity? That was something that could not be replicated, which was why Danira had taken her own skills and dedicated them to the stealing and harvesting of others.
If they didn’t volunteer to be rid of that power themselves.
Sometimes the burden of being ‘special’ was not something these poor souls were fit for. Sometimes it took a more powerful, apt person to help them with what they were incapable of controlling themselves.
“Follow her. We will waste no more time on this,” Danira hissed.
Nico’s darkness filled the tent, billowing out from under any openings it could find, searching and reaching for the victim of his master’s choosing.
Chapter Six
Nineteen years earlier
Hazel held her adoptive father’s hand tightly as she led him down the hall toward the reading room. She had debated telling him about the man she saw for quite some time, but when her father had come to tuck her in and say goodnight the previous night, she had made him promise to go with her and let her show him something. She had not said what it was, no matter how inconvenienced he had seemed towards the end of their conversation. She knew the moment she told him she believed the house was haunted, he would tell her it was all in her mind and retreat back to his work. He would insist she say nothing else of it. Hazel even feared he would worry she needed to speak with someone or that it was a bigger issue.
Her adoptive mother had been so intelligent and logical when she was alive, she remembered her being soft and kind. There had been no signs of mental illness in her adoptive mother’s actions or words, not in the slightest. But one day, the woman had fallen into her visions, becoming a danger to herself and those around her. It became worse and worse until finally her body gave out on her, the lack of sleep, food, sunlight, and sanity leading to her demise. No matter how much the doctors attempted to help her, Hazel had watched the woman disintegrate into nothing right before her very eyes, screaming into the darkness of her room until she was nothing more than a shell of wh
at she had once been.
The last thing the little girl wanted was for her father to believe she was suffering something similar or playing a terrible joke on him. Despite Hazel not sharing any genes with her adoptive parents, she oftentimes believed her father did not acknowledge such things. It was something that had kept Hazel happy no matter how long he was away working. Something that kept her feeling as though the house was her home and he was her true family, or at least felt she was a part of his.
He was silent behind her, allowing her to pull him along down the hallway. The silence spoke volumes about how skeptical he was already, but Hazel was praying he would hear the music or catch sight of the man from before so she could prove it to him. She needed her father to know, needed to not be the only person seeing things in their home. It was one thing to hear the music and see the soft blue glow, but it was another thing to see a man standing there, to hear his words and see that he was truly real.
Hazel stopped in front of the door to the reading room, her soft brown eyes turning to look up at her father. His own eyes peered down at her through the curling white hair of his moustache. His eyes were like little rays of blue sky on a cloudy day. He extended a hand and opened the door, entering the room before her.
“Okay, what is it you want to show me here, Hazel? I really do have to be getting back soon…” She was losing him, her father was going to leave her there and retreat into his work once more, she was certain of it. Racing over toward the window, she pressed her ear against the wall. She knew the sound didn’t come right away, but still hoped she could start the process.