by Leanne Leeds
“Oh, I only get serious messages when I come in here.” Alice Windrow waved away my aunt’s concern. “I always listen to what you girls have to say, you know that. Just because I don’t let it get me down or make me depressed? It doesn’t mean I don’t listen to any of you.”
“Did she just call you a girl?” I asked my aunt, my eyebrow raised. Alice looked to be about twenty-five years old, give or take, but she had an incredibly sunny demeanor that made her seem girlish.
“Did you just call me old?” my aunt murmured back.
Archie flew in from the backyard, his eyes wide. “I got a message that we got a job. Do we?” the owl asked. Jutting his wide-eyed face toward Alice, his big, expressive eyeballs swept her up and down. “Is she our job?”
“An owl!” Alice squealed, clapping her hands like a ten-year-old who had just seen elephants at the circus for the first time. “Did an owl just fly in here? Is the owl for me, too? How exciting!” She jumped up and down and clapped her hands—again—with joy.
Lowering my voice, I leaned toward Ami. “Is she for real?” I’d never met someone in their mid-twenties quite so squeally before. The childish exuberance would be adorable in someone much younger—and in a much different situation. It was jarring coming from a grown woman marked for death. “She on drugs or something?”
Ami glared at me. “Alice has been coming in here for readings since her parents died,” she informed me with a hand on her hip. “She very much believes in the world of the unseen and follows the path of the pixies.” Ami leaned forward. “Her demeanor is similar to those who follow the path of the pixies because—”
“I got it, I got it.” Pixies were tiny elf-like creatures fond of dancing, singing, and general frolicking—usually outdoors. In folklore, pixies are known to be benign, mischievous, short, and very childlike. They bring blessings to those fond of them and “lessons” to those who are not.
In reality, pixies can be a real pain in the keister.
Sure, they can be kind and generous to people they like, but they can really trip up people they don’t. If they like you, they may help you win the lottery and become wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. If they don’t, or if you disappoint them somehow? They can “accidentally on purpose” make a piano fall on your head.
Alice Windrow was a pixie follower and marked for death?
That made this situation…complicated.
I scanned the room to make sure no pixies were hiding in any corners and explained the situation to fate’s latest potential victim.
“Wow.” Alice stared at me, her eyes as wide as saucers after I got done briefly explaining the situation. “So, you mean the goddess Athena herself doesn’t want me to die? Like, the goddess Athena who lives on Mount Olympus? That goddess Athena?”
I nodded. “It appears that way.”
“And she’s so sure I might die that she sent that card to warn me?” Alice pointed.
“Yes.”
“But she doesn’t tell you who wants to kill me, or why, or what you need to protect me from?” Alice’s eyebrow raised. “You have to figure it all out yourself?”
“You’ve about summed it up.”
I know what you’re thinking. Did I believe that the goddess herself was doing all this now? After all, I just claimed that to Alice Windrow.
No, not yet.
What am I talking about, “not yet”?
No, I don’t.
But I was finding it far easier just to go with the flow, to accept the explanations given to me—even if I didn’t entirely believe them. Sometimes, you just have to go with the paranormal flow.
It’s easier that way.
“I can’t think of anyone that would want to kill me. I try to be nice to absolutely everyone! That’s the pixie path, after all,” Alice told me, nodding eagerly. “Well, that’s not the entire pixie path, but I haven’t punched anyone in a really long time.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, you punched someone as part of your religion?”
“Only when they deserved it. That’s part of the pixie path, too, you know. Reward with love when met with love, reward with a sock in the nose when met with hate.” I found the intensity of her brown eyes paired with her positive response both disconcerting and oddly amusing. “But like I said, I haven’t had to punch anyone in a really long time.”
I shook my head and turned toward Ami. “What were you giving Alice a reading on?”Ami opened her mouth to answer, but I added, “Can you think of where you were in the reading when the star card showed up?” Once more, my sister tried to respond. “Oh, and did it show up right at the beginning or in the middle?”
Ami stared at me, her arms crossed.
“I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” she asked with exaggerated patience. I nodded. “I was giving her a Celtic Cross reading, and it came down when we got to external influences,” Ami explained. She turned and walked over to her reading table. “Here, I can show you. The reading was about the marathon and how it was going to go. Alice wanted to know if there was anything she needed to be aware of that she wasn’t.”
“Someone wanting her dead certainly qualifies,” Aunt Gwennie said, joining us around the reading table.
I glanced at the spread. The cards seemed relatively innocuous at first glance. Lots of cups, lots of wands, relatively few cards that denoted any problems. “How does the star card show up?” I asked Ami. “Do you flip the card over when you lay out the original reading, or does it come up some other way?”
“No, actually. Well, last time when I was doing Marianna Black’s reading? It did. When I was laying out the cards for the reading, the star card flipped over already glowing.” Ami pointed to the table. “That card originally in that spot? I could’ve sworn that card was the devil.” The side door to the shop opened, and my mother walked in. “In fact, if I had to stake my life on it? I’d swear that was the card.”
“And then what happened?” I asked.
“Alice and I started talking about the reading. A few minutes later, I looked down. The star card was there, and it was glowing.” Ami looked perplexed. “I have no idea how it got there. I didn’t see it happen. It was just suddenly…there.”
“That’s how I remember it, too,” Alice nodded. “When I saw the devil card flipped over, I thought…well, I thought…” Her face turned bright red, and she looked away shyly. “I mean, we all know what that card sometimes means, right? So I thought maybe…” We stared at her with knowing looks. “Look, it’s been a while, okay?”
For those who are unaware, the devil card can mean physical pleasures.
Let’s just leave it at that.
“I get it, but that’s not all it means,” Ami told her. “You’re pretty wealthy, and it can be about an overabundance of luxury or problems with business matters. I mean, it can mean a lot of things. Point to a lot of things. It doesn’t have to mean a make-out session with some hot marathon runner.”
Alice looked slightly disappointed.
“Was it reversed?” I asked Ami, hoping the card was in its more favorable position. My sister shook her head no. “Okay, since it wasn’t reversed, we can assume the card was in its warning position with more negative connotations, and it was in the position of outside influences, so…ugh, okay. Archie,” I called. “Are we still on the same timetable as last time?”
The owl, perched on the back of a chair watching us, flapped his wings slightly. “Seventy-two hours,” he responded. “You got seventy-two hours to stop what’s going to happen. It’s not exact, though. It could be a little more, it could be a little less.”
Despite Alice Windrow’s typical (slightly infantile) giddiness, I could see she took the discussions and the situation seriously. She watched us while nervously chewing her lower lip. Finally, she asked quietly, “What do I do?”
“Well, the last time this happened, the person ran out screaming and got themselves kidnapped. So I would suggest you not take that route.” I turned to Ami. “The
last time this happened, we didn’t have the cooperation of the person who was at risk, so this is a bit new.”
A brief silence fell as we all contemplated what our next steps should be.
It was far more convenient to have Alice Windrow aware of the situation and seemingly willing to work with us than to be running along behind her trying to figure things out. But the lack of information any of us had, including Alice, still made it frustrating to formulate a plan of attack.
“I’m really sorry, Alice,” Ami, deeply apologetic, told her customer. “I mean, I’m glad that you came in for a reading, and we found out that something is going on, but…I don’t know, I’m just really sorry.”
Mom walked over and put her arm around Ami. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know. I just feel bad.”
“You girls have been chosen for a great task by the goddess, and because Alice is a follower of the pixies, I’m sure they will be very grateful to you, too.” Mom looked as if the pride would just burst out of her. “And you too, Alice. Not many people are chosen by the goddess Athena as worthy of being saved.” My mother smiled benevolently. “We always knew you were a special person, but now you have confirmation.”
I did my best not to roll my eyes.
“I’m going to call Emma Sullivan at the Forkbridge Police Department, with your permission, of course.” Alice nodded vigorously. “I want to make her aware of the fact that a crime might be committed within the next three or four days.”
“And then what?” Aunt Gwennie asked.
“And then Alice is going to answer some questions for us instead of the other way around,” I told her. “Comfortable with that, Alice?”
“Whatever you guys need,” she told me. Turning to Aunt Gwennie, she asked for the small bottle of lucky oil back. “I think I want the extra-large bottle instead, please.”
I talked to Emma, giving her the rundown on the situation, then stepped out onto the back porch to wait. She assured me she’d be over within fifteen minutes—and I assured her we wouldn’t start without her.
After a minute, Archie joined me.
“So, tell me truthfully—if this had something to do with the pixies marking her for death because she offended them, would you be aware of it?” I asked him.
I didn’t want to insult Alice’s religion in front of her, but I dealt with the pixies on numerous occasions. I’d had the unfortunate experience of chasing one that was a fugitive. Individual pixies were frustrating, but if you made an entire group of them mad?
Look out.
Archie clicked his beak, then said, “The pixies wouldn’t mark someone for death.”
I glared at him.
He stared back. “Fine. The pixies usually wouldn’t mark a human for death.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, when the Witches’ Council was in charge, and the government would execute or imprison people for letting the humans know about the paranormal world, the pixies wouldn’t break those rules. Most of the time,” Archie said with a mocking bow. “Now that the paranormal government is all species-rights minded? I don’t know. When people start setting up new rules, there are always groups that want to push the line. Are the pixies those people?” Archie shrugged his wings. “I don’t know.”
“So she could have done something to upset the pixies.”
“Well, they’re pixies. They are tactful, diplomatic, cordial, and affable—right up until the moment that they aren’t.” Archie waved his wing in the air. “You know we’re going to have to talk to them if we want to rule them out.”
“You’re the goddess’s own owl,” I told him with faux respect. He rolled his eyes. “You’d probably get a lot farther than I would in getting an audience with them because of Athena. Can’t you go talk to them? Come back and let me know what they said?”
He made a sour face. “I’m supposed to help you do this job. Not do this job for you.”
I made a face back.
He clicked his beak at me.
I leaned against one of the porch supports and looked out over the backyard. I spotted a rabbit in the corner of the field, and felt Archie’s sudden tense alertness. “Leave it alone. We’ve got bigger things to worry about. And if Ami comes out here and sees you, you’ll be sleeping at Parrot Paradise.”
He made a sound that sounded like a hiss.
“Seriously, though—the devil card, in that position?” I shifted nervously as I thought about that card. Yes, sure, no tarot cards were really “evil.” The death card didn’t mean death, and the lovers card didn’t mean you were going to immediately find a partner. The cards meant different things in different positions. Experienced readers like Ami could interpret them to fashion a story the customer needed to hear. But that card in that position in this situation? “That’s not good.”
“Somebody is trying to exploit little Miss Moneybucks,” Archie said with a sigh. “That’s what you’re thinking, aren’t you?”
“Well, if we have seventy-two hours, it could have something to do with the marathon, too.” I turned and faced the bird. “The marathon is three days away, so the timing lines up. I don’t think it has anything to do with the pixies, but I feel like we have to check.” I frowned. “Also, I mean, she’s a pixie follower—why aren’t they protecting her?”
“Why do the pixies do anything?” Archie asked. “They’re like children. Crazy, rambunctious, mischievous, drunk children. With a god complex.”
“Right, like you’re one to talk about anyone else having a god complex,” I snorted.
Just then, the back door opened, and Alice Windrow came out. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Ami explained that you and the owl can talk to each other, so I figure you’re discussing the situation. My situation.” The girlish lilt to her voice was gone, replaced by a guileless and trusting tone. “I just wanted to thank you. I mean, I know you haven’t done anything yet, but I’d rather go down fighting. I don’t want someone to kill me and then have to try and work out what happened once I’m dead.”
“If you stick around as a ghost, you’d probably have an easier time figuring out what happened. If you were already dead, I mean,” I told her. Her face was drained of color. “No, no! Not that I’m encouraging you to choose that option. Just that we don’t have a lot to work with since you’re not sure what direction the threat is coming from.”
“I’ve been thinking about this while sitting in there, and I really don’t.” Alice walked over to the patio table and sat down, staring out into the trees. “I mean, since my parents died? People have tried to take advantage of me. It’s just the kind of thing that happens when you have money. I’ve had to be a little less trusting than I’d want to be.” She looked up at me quickly and smiled. “I think that’s why I like the pixie path.”
“I can understand that.”
“I didn’t even know the uncle that left me all this,” she said with a shrug. “Well, he left my parents this—my dad, to be specific—and then it came to me because they’d already passed away. My dad said he and his brother never got along, and he was as surprised as anybody when the lawyer showed up.”
Archie and I looked at each other, surprise on our faces. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.” I turned toward Alice. “How did your dad know the lawyer showed up if he had already passed away when you inherited?”
“It all happened really fast. It was just…It was fast.” She looked down, her eyes tearing up. “He didn’t even get a chance to enjoy it. He and mom were killed just a few weeks later.”
That certainly didn’t seem like an accident.
Chapter Five
“I was wondering when we were going to get another one of those star cards,” Emma mused out loud while examining a giant, thick spiderweb hanging in the corner of the back porch. “It’s almost like your goddess decided to give us a few weeks off to close all those cases. Right?”
“No. I doubt it works like that,” I responded. I’d never known any powerful beings
or pseudo-deities or potent paranormals with domineering tendencies to cut anyone else a break for compassion’s sake.
Emma squinted at the large spider in the spiderweb. It stared quietly back at her. “You still don’t really know how it works, Astra. So how would you know?” she pointed out without bothering to look me in the eye (which robbed me of the ability to make a face at her).
Emma Sullivan was sassy and salty and tough—which was, to be honest, a good part of the reason I liked her. It was also the only reason I let her comment pass without a stinging retort. No, I didn’t know the intricacies and exactitudes of the star card, but I was sure it didn’t build in vacation time.
“Anyway, Alice Windrow was not the person at the top of my list.”
“You have a list of people in Forkbridge you think might be murdered?” Ami asked her.
“Yes. Well, no.” Emma turned around swiftly, accidentally flinging her glass of ice water toward my sister. Ami winced and wiped droplets from her cheek. “I have a list of people I think might be murdered that some deity potentially could feel moved to save for various redeeming reasons.” The detective took a sip of water. “I started thinking about it when Astra told me all about her sparkle cards.”
“They’re actually my sparkle cards,” Ami replied, holding up her tarot deck. “Not Astra’s.”
I half-smiled at my younger sister’s growing self-assurance.
“Fine. Your cards. Her sparkle. The owl’s drama. The goddess’s decree. Whatever.” Emma waved her hand. “I don’t care what any of it is, only that it’s right. Anyway, they’re not entirely horrible people—”
“Who?” I asked.
“—despite their repeated actions indicating that potential, and the risk of someone wanting them dead being naturally high, that’s all.” The detective raised her eyebrow. “It’s a short list, really. I’ll whip it out if anyone comes up.”
“How are we going to handle this?” I asked Emma. “There’s no crime, so I’m not sure how we get the police department officially involved in this. The captain seems pretty supportive of the whole ‘psychic detective’ thing, but there’s no complaint. Not officially.”