Matching Wits with Venus

by Therese Gilardi

  “All of the historians would say you’re right, Amelia.”

  “I hope you’ve got the secret to entry into the underworld buried in one of those tomes,” Justin said.

  “Oh my, no.”

  Justin let out an exasperated cry.

  “Then you mean you can’t help us?”

  “I didn’t say that. I can get you to the underworld. But,” Esmeralda said with a slight sneer as she turned to Amelia, “It’s going to cost you.”

  Amelia spread her hands wide.

  “We’re practically bankrupt, and I’ve already committed all of my savings to pay my father’s legal fees. I’m not even sure I’ve got enough money to cover a full trial if it comes to that. And thanks to the housing market collapse I have virtually no equity in my home. I’m afraid I’ve got nothing to offer you. Nothing at all.”

  “I don’t want your money, Amelia. I want your respect. And a promise that once your business gets going again, which I’m sure it will,” Esmeralda said as she glanced at Justin, “you’ll refer your clients down here. Not all of them, I’m not a greedy woman, and I have no desire to work with people who don’t appreciate me. But I want the actors, the writers, maybe the hair and make-up people. I think they could all be persuaded to take an interest in what I have to offer.”

  “I can do that,” Amelia said.

  “Good. Then we have an agreement?”

  “Yes. And Esmeralda, I am truly sorry. You know it was nothing personal.” The psychic shrugged her wide shoulders.

  “We intuitives have endured many prejudices through the years.”

  “What happens now?” asked Jennie. “Do you have to concoct a special potion? Call up some unseen spirits? Cast a spell?”

  Esmeralda’s jaw dropped open.

  “Certainly not,” she replied primly. “Come, follow me.”

  She turned to Amelia.

  “Is that what you’re going to wear?”

  Amelia hugged herself.

  “Why? Don’t I look all right? I’m not dressed for the weather down there?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Esmeralda replied, as she pushed a large tiger’s eye ring over her knuckle. “You look fine to me. I just wanted to know if you’re ready to go.”

  Amelia took a gulp of air. “I’m ready.”

  “Then follow me.”

  Esmeralda led Amelia Jennie and Justin past Esmeralda’s Celtic Emporium and through her psychic reading room. True to its name the back parlor where she did readings was a mass of neon colors and acid washes. Crystals glowed eerily against a black wall, tie-dyed fabrics covered the entrance to what Amelia suspected was a tiny kitchenette. Candles that had been melted into odd shapes and irregular sizes sat atop a green marble shelf, their cores pierced by a selection of wrought iron candle holders Amelia recognized from the Gothic gift shop around the corner.

  “Trick of the trade?” Jennie asked, pointing at a Ouija board with a cracked glass eye that sat atop a three-legged table in the corner.

  “No, no. It’s my favorite childhood toy. My niece and nephew are coming tomorrow from Cork. I wanted to show them what their grandfather gave me when I was born.”

  “Creepy baby gift,” Jennie whispered. “Bet you hope you don’t get one of those.”

  Amelia grabbed Jennie’s arm and stopped walking.

  “Petal!”

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine with me. She can keep staying in the guest room. You know, I’ve always considered her my canine godchild.”

  Amelia nodded.

  “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen or we wouldn’t let you go, right Esmeralda?” Jennie asked.

  Esmeralda pivoted on her square heel.

  “I can’t promise that. I can show you how to get to the underworld. But that’s it. After you arrive, Amelia, your fate is in the hands of the gods.”

  “Promise me you’ll take care of her,” she said to Jennie.

  “As if she were my own dog,” Jennie replied as she squeezed Amelia’s hand.

  They continued walking higher into the Hollywood Hills, the slanting white sun bearing down on their necks. Amelia had been concentrating so intently on putting one foot in front of the other that she hadn’t noticed anything but the elaborate peony pattern stitched across the back of Esmeralda’s cobalt cotton tunic and the bougainvillea hanging from the stucco walls that lined the streets. Esmeralda stopped.

  Amelia looked up, shocked to find she was standing outside the stone staircase that led to Venus’s villa.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Mom’s not here!”

  Cupid frowned as he spoke.

  Concordia lowered her head.

  “I’m sorry, Cupid. I was sure she was out in the garden.”

  She pointed at the fields of lavender that rolled across the gentle landscape of Venus’s farm in Provence like a Monet still life. The lavender, along with large patches of sunflowers and bedded herbs, stood behind the simple stone farmhouse Venus used as a retreat when she wanted to disappear. No one, besides her children and Renaldo and Enrique, even knew of its existence.

  “I’m getting worried. It’s unlike her to simply vanish without her usual melodramatic clues.”

  Concordia readjusted the straw hat that had fallen from her head, as she’d run through the fields in search of her mother.

  “I know,” he replied quietly. “She’s not….”

  Concordia raised her head, nostrils flared. She sniffed the air then tilted her head from side to side. Slowly she walked around the old kitchen, her feet tapping on the terracotta tile floor.

  “She was just here. I smell her.”

  Cupid grinned.

  “You and that nose. When I think of all the times Inuus and I were so sure we’d hidden from you only to find you standing behind us.”

  “I’ve got the talent of a bloodhound right here big brother,” Concordia said, pointed at her nose. “She hasn’t been gone long.”

  “So where do you think she is? Did we cross her underground and not even know it?”

  “No, Enrique would have said something. I hate to say it, but I think she must be in the underworld.”

  Cupid grimaced.

  “I think you’re right. For once, she’s set aside her fear of running into Dad and the embarrassment she’s going feel if anyone mentions this whole disastrous spring mating pattern.”

  Cupid ran his fingers along his sculpted jaw.

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Concordia looked away.

  ****

  “Are you all right?”

  Jennie reached to steady Amelia as she swayed slightly at the foot of Venus’s stone staircase.

  “I, it smells like jasmine,” Amelia whispered. “I’m just surprised.”

  “I don’t know why that is,” Esmeralda said tartly as she reached her hand into her oversized, russet, knit bag.

  “Are you looking for a wand or something?” Jennie asked.

  “Are you mad?” The psychic replied.

  Jennie opened her mouth then closed it quickly as Esmeralda withdrew a cell phone from her purse.

  “What’s that for?”

  “So Amelia can get in. How else will he know to come down here and open this gate? There’s no buzzer or bell.”

  “It’s true,” Amelia chimed in faintly. “I remember that.”

  “You mean you’re just calling the underworld?” Justin asked.

  “Shush!” Esmeralda held up her hand. “Si, si….”

  She continued her hurried conversation in Italian.

  “He’ll be right down to let Amelia in,” she said as she snapped the phone shut.

  “Cupid?” Amelia asked, her muscles taut.

  “No. Renaldo. He’s Venus’s manservant, and he owes me a huge favor.”

  Esmeralda grinned at the shocked look on all of their faces. “You all thought I was nothing more than a souvenir stop for desperate tourists. You didn’t believe I could be consulted by members of the un
derworld.”

  “So you counsel gods?” Justin asked.

  “Well not exactly. Look, this guy Renaldo came to see me several months ago. He wanted me to tell him if he would continue to have a job. Apparently he was about to get into what he believed was going to be a serious relationship with some co-worker he’d been hung up on for forever - Phyllis? Flo? No, her name was Fleur. Odd. She must be French. Anyway, he said he had to be sure he’d still be employed. His boss had been screwing up and you know how that is. He was worried that if she lost her position, he’d be sure to follow. Apparently he didn’t want to start anything with this woman if he wasn’t going to see her at work anymore.”

  “So what makes you think he works here?”

  “I hypnotized him. Got him to tell me where he worked and who his boss was.”

  “Wow,” Jennie said.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she admonished. “It’s not something I do regularly. But if something strikes me as off about a client, I have to protect myself. There are a lot of crazies out there. And believe me this guy seemed like he could be one of them. He had this formal stilted way of speaking, not like a person from another country but more like….”

  “Someone from another century,” Amelia said, and Esmeralda nodded.

  “And he was dressed like a Venetian Renaissance man, only not like Victor and the other guys on Hollywood Boulevard. Anyway, when I brought him back out of the trance and told him what I knew, he was so scared he ran to Sammy’s for a cell phone and made me promise to call him whenever I needed a favor in exchange for not blowing his cover. So here we are.”

  Justin whistled.

  “Impressive Esmeralda, I’ll give you that.”

  “Thank you.”

  They heard a hissing noise that appeared to come from the left side of the stucco wall that surrounded Venus’s property. Amelia, Jennie, Justin and Esmeralda turned in its direction. An olive skinned man with high cheekbones, dressed in an outfit that made him look like he’d escaped from a Renaissance fair, appeared. As he approached the group, he looked furtively over his shoulder at the mansion in the distance.

  “So where is Signorina Amelia?” he asked as he drew nearer.

  Amelia stepped forward and stuck her hand through the decorative wrought iron gate. Renaldo pressed her warm fingers and smiled as he bowed. She smiled in return.

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said in heavily accented English.

  She’d grown into a lovely woman, Renaldo thought as he studied her approvingly. She was thinner than he’d expected, given her solid childhood build, but then again she was no doubt a fitness fanatic like so many of the Californians.

  “Are you certain you want to enter the underworld?” Renaldo asked. “It can be quite dangerous. Especially for a mortal.”

  Amelia looked at him.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then I can get you there. Though I can make no guarantees as to who or what you’ll find upon arrival.”

  Amelia shuddered. “I understand.”

  “How will she get back?” Justin asked.

  Renaldo looked puzzled.

  “Back?”

  “How will she find her way here again?”

  “Why the same way I take her, of course. Forgive me, I thought you understood I’m offering to help the signorina make a round trip.”

  “How will you do that?” Justin persisted.

  Renaldo glanced back at the house again and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge any details. Just know that this transportation system we use is state of the art. Much better than anything found in this world. Well, I suppose if you count your space shuttles pushing you into another world then you could say the mortals might have something roughly comparable.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Lia!” Jennie cried.

  Amelia ran her hand across her stomach.

  “I don’t have a choice. Remember what you promised. And,” Amelia said as she reached for the tiny bag swinging from her shoulder, “take this. It’s got my cell phone. I can’t use it where I’m going can I?”

  Renaldo shook his head.

  “If the hospital calls, get in touch with my mother immediately. She assured me she’d look after Dad while I’m gone.”

  “We must go. I can not stand out here any longer,” Renaldo said, his voice cracking.

  As Amelia reached over to shake Esmeralda’s hand, the psychic gave her a hug. She smelled of incense and the kind of pomade Stella used to wear after a day hanging around the studio back lot, hoping to be noticed by a casting director. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Amelia smiled at the thought of Esmeralda spending hours touching up the frosted ends of her hair; no doubt that was why she always looked as though she’d just stuck her finger in an electric socket.

  “Just keep your wits about you and you’ll be fine,” Esmeralda whispered.

  “Thanks. And don’t worry, I’ll carry through on our deal as soon as I’m back.”

  “Good luck. I want a full report on what you find down there,” Esmeralda replied with a wink.

  Amelia stepped to her left and stood in front of Justin.

  “My friend. How can I thank you?”

  As Amelia reached out and hugged Justin, she whispered, “Promise me you’ll look after Jennie. Give her time.”

  “Good luck,” he responded.

  “Jennie.”

  Amelia wrapped her arms around her best friend and pulled her close. Tears ran down Jennie’s face as she buried her head in Amelia’s crocheted, white lace, matchmaking sweater. Amelia bit her tongue in order to keep her own eyes dry.

  “Don’t worry! I’m going to be all right. I always am.”

  Renaldo must have pressed a hidden button, for the massive wrought iron gates were now open. He bowed and extended his arm as Amelia, again gripped by the unnerving sensation she was sleepwalking, entered. The gates sounded like prison bars as they slammed back into place. She followed Renaldo, heel toe, heel toe, heel toe, up the long driveway.

  The last thing Amelia saw before Renaldo led her toward the inaccessible canyon side of Venus’s villa was Jennie clutching Justin’s black and red jacket.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Please pardon the mess,” Renaldo said as Amelia narrowly missed tripping over a long trowel that had been flung across the flagstone walkway behind the villa.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she replied.

  However, Amelia realized she’d better be more aware of her surroundings or she might end up impaled on one of the yard tools strewn about the long, green grass. It was puzzling; she’d always imagined that the gardens surrounding the villa would be immaculate. Then again there was a reason most people believed the house had been abandoned for decades.

  “Please excuse us,” Renaldo said. “The mistress has had a lot on her mind lately and many of our niceties have fallen by the wayside. This private yard is usually well maintained.”

  “Oh, we all have times like that,” Amelia responded.

  Amelia looked around at the lawn and gasped. Propped against the stone façade, next to a large wrought iron chaise lounge full of plump pale pillows, stood Cupid’s quiver. She’d recognized that leather sack anywhere. It even bore the small smear of her blood that he’d gotten on his hand when he’d reached for his bag in order to tend to her injured finger that day in Malibu.

  She felt her chest tighten as she stared at the gold tipped arrows. Until that moment, a part of her had been holding out hope that somehow some horrible mistake had been made, that Colin Cumin and Cupid were not one and the same. But here it was, irrefutable proof that the man she had been with, the man she’d thought was a financial advisor, was in fact the god of love. And she was now carrying his child.

  Renaldo realized he was walking alone. He stopped and turned around. Amelia was staring at Cupid’s bow and arrows, her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed.

  “Are you all right?”

&nbs
p; She didn’t reply.

  “Signorina Amelia! Are you all right?”

  Amelia started at the mention of her name. She turned to Renaldo. Her hazel eyes swept over him, though she wasn’t taking in much of what she saw.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I was just distracted by how lovely your view is.”

  “That bow and arrow belongs to the mistress’s son. Although he’s rarely here. I haven’t seen him in, oh at least ten, maybe fifteen days.”