Ancient Forces Collection

by Bill Myers

  That’s what excited and scared him the most.

  Especially with that death card hanging over his head. He looked over his shoulder and spotted Scott heading toward the car. They had stopped at the mini mart for a bag of chips and a couple of sodas.

  “Scott, what took you so long?” Philip reached for the keys in the ignition.

  Scott jumped into the front seat of Philip’s convertible. “Just this,” he said. He handed Philip a strip of paper about the size of a fortune cookie fortune.

  Philip started the car and then read the message.

  “If that isn’t the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen,” Scott said, snatching the paper back.

  Philip grunted. “What makes you say that?”

  “Didn’t you read it? It says, ‘You will rise to the challenge today.’ ”

  Philip appeared puzzled. “Yeah, so?” He drove away from the gas station.

  “Duh,” Scott said, making a face. “Rise to what challenge? Don’t you see? These stupid messages are so general they could mean a million things to a million people. I can’t believe people fall for this stuff.”

  Philip was silent for a moment. “Where did you get it?”

  “Actually, I was checking my weight,” Scott said, glancing out his window. “Didn’t you see that scale by the door? When I stepped on it, it gave me . . . my secret message for the day,” Scott said in a deep, affected voice. “What a joke. As if a dumb machine is going to predict the future.”

  Philip clenched his jaw. He didn’t like Scott’s attitude. Who was to say for sure that the cosmic forces — or whatever Madame Theo had called them — couldn’t communicate through that scale? If they could make contact through the cards, why not the scale too?

  “So,” Scott said, guzzling his Dr. Pepper, “where did you say we’re going?”

  Philip hesitated, unsure what Scott would say. He was starting to regret offering Scott a ride home. No way would Scott be cool about their next stop. Then again, what choice did Philip have? He just had to know more about the second card. He tried to sound as casual as possible.

  “Um, it’s just a place called . . . Madame Theo’s Palace.”

  5

  Here’s what I’m thinking,” Fred Stoner said. He folded his arms together and, in the candlelit semidarkness, leaned against the wall next to Madame Theo’s desk. “If we’re gonna boost the ratings in our new time slot, we need a fresh angle.”

  Madame Theo, sitting at her desk, appeared puzzled. Without warning, she felt the presence of the spirit world swirling around her. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to process this new sensation. Who — or what — was trying to reach her? she wondered.

  “Angle?” she asked, trying to remain focused.

  “Yeah, you know, something to spice things up,” he said.

  Feeling a draft, Madame Theo glanced around the room to see if someone had entered. Again, she felt the vaporlike spirit energy drift through the air around her head. She wondered if Fred felt it too. By the look of intensity on his face, she was pretty sure he was oblivious to the unfolding mysterious phenomenon. She tried to concentrate.

  “And what do you have in mind? A guest?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. Maybe.” He paused to think about that for a second. “Actually, nix the guest idea. Too risky. If they’re boring, we’ll lose the audience.”

  “I see,” she said, distracted by the compelling force that seemed to tug at her inner spirit. In a way she wasn’t surprised that the spirit world would bypass the cards and attempt to make direct contact with her. Still, this was unlike anything she had experienced so far, and it both thrilled and, to a lesser degree, frightened her.

  A moment later he snapped his fingers. “I got it. We get one of your clients to give a testimonial on camera. Yeah, that’s it. We put someone on whose life has been changed or whatever from a reading. We can pre-tape the whole thing. I love it.”

  Madame Theo studied him without saying a word. The other world was there in the room. No question. The cosmic forces were trying to break through and speak directly to her consciousness. But how? What did she need to do? She closed her eyes for a long second, took a deep breath, and thought, I’m listening. Speak.

  You have been chosen!

  Madame Theo’s eyes shot open. Her heart raced. The spirit guide had spoken to her. To her! Now what?

  “I’m telling you, this is brilliant. There’s nothing like putting a face on the benefits of the tarot,” Fred said, obviously pleased with the idea.

  Her head rotated slowly, from side to side, like an oscillating fan. She waited for something more, but nothing came. The presence in the room started to fade. “Wait!” she shouted as the spirit faded.

  Fred almost jumped. “Excuse me?”

  Madame Theo realized she had spoken out loud. “Um, sorry, it’s just that . . . I’m not so sure, Fred. My clients value their privacy.”

  He laughed. “Have you watched TV lately? People will do just about anything for a few minutes of fame. They’ll eat worms. They’ll travel halfway around the world to live on an island where cameras videotape their every move. They’ll even marry a complete stranger.”

  “Fred,” Madame Theo said, her voice now quiet. Whatever had contacted her was gone, of that she was fairly sure. “I appreciate your enthusiasm. But this isn’t a game show. This is very serious business.”

  He held up a finger. “Say no more. I agree. We’ll take the high road. Don’t worry. I’m not looking for cheap thrills. Just something to . . . to maximize the power of your gift.”

  She tapped a finger against the surface of her desk. Now, more than ever, she knew this was a gift. The spirit even said she had been chosen. “Okay, let’s say I can find someone willing to go on camera. Then what? What happens if we get too much business? Have you thought of that?”

  “Not to worry.”

  “I’m serious,” she said. “I’ll have you know, my schedule is already almost full with the clients I have right now.”

  He flashed a grin. “I know. I’ve got this all worked out.”

  She raised both eyebrows.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie, this is way bigger than you can imagine. Once we syndicate, thousands — maybe millions — of people will want what you have to offer.”

  “And, pray tell, how do you propose I handle that?”

  “You don’t.” Fred rubbed his hands together. “As of tonight, we start pushing a toll-free number for personal consultations. I’ve made arrangements with a phone bank in Salt Lake City who will field the calls.”

  Madame Theo squinted. “I . . . I don’t know. Readings by phone?” Would the collective spirit world be offended by such a thing? she wondered.

  “Exactly.” Fred started to pace. “The first minute of the consultation is $5.95 and then $1 a minute after that. If the average call is ten minutes, we’re talking almost $15 per call. Do the math. A thousand ten-minute calls is $15,000. At that rate, we’re talking $90,000 per hour.”

  She whistled, warming to the idea. Surely there was nothing wrong with introducing people to the supernatural, right? If she made a lot of money along the way, the spirits would have to guide her on how to use it for the greater good.

  “That’s just the start,” he said. “People who want a personal reading from you will have to pay more.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.” Fred suppressed a cough. “But, as you might guess, I do need the green light to syndicate into Los Angeles for the deal to work.”

  Madame Theo fell silent. In the other room, the bell above the front door jingled, indicating someone was entering. Besides, she needed time to process what had just happened. Never before had she been spoken to by the other side so directly.

  “Fred, I have a client. I . . . I better go.”

  He circled around and faced her. “What’s the problem? I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “I am, it’s just — ”
<
br />   “Los Angeles,” he said, finishing her sentence. “I don’t get it. What is your objection to doing TV in L.A.?”

  She pushed herself back from the desk and then stood. “I wish I could tell you, Fred. But I can’t. Maybe later.”

  “Like, when? I’ve got a show to run.”

  “Soon.”

  Scott tagged behind Philip as they headed into Madame Theo’s Palace. Once inside, a heaviness of heart, like a dark cloud, settled over Scott. He couldn’t shake the distinct impression that they shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t able to pinpoint the source of his uneasiness. He didn’t know the first thing about Madame Theo, her store, or tarot cards. But the restlessness in his spirit was as distinct as the cinnamon incense that filled the air.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Scott said just above a whisper.

  Philip, standing inside the door, turned around and shot him a look. “Like I said, you can wait outside if you’re going to make a bunch of comments.”

  “Hey, it’s your show,” Scott said, scanning the room. As his vision adjusted to the meager light, he noticed the table situated in the center of the room, the candles, the thick blood red-colored drapes, and the incense pot. What really caught his eye was the array of crystals displayed on the end table in the far corner. Not good, he thought.

  Scott and his sister, Becka, had been engaged in enough spiritual warfare to know the warning signs early on. Anybody who turned to crystals for guidance was asking for trouble, and he knew it. Scott looked at Philip and was about to caution him when a woman appeared through the beaded doorway.

  “Welcome,” she said, offering a polite smile.

  “Uh, hi,” Philip said, inching forward. “Remember me? From yesterday?”

  She nodded. “I do. Please have a seat, Philip. And who is this with you?”

  Scott cleared his throat. He remained standing close to the door, unwilling to venture too close. The alarms in his head seemed to grow with each passing minute. “I’m Scott. Scott Williams.”

  Madame Theo drifted like a phantom to her chair. She floated into place and rested her hands on the table. “I take it, Scott, you’re not here for a reading?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m here with my friend.”

  She closed her eyes. When she opened them several seconds later, she appeared agitated. “I’m sorry, Scott. I need to ask you to wait outside.”

  “Me?” he said, raising a hand to his chest. “What did I do?”

  “Please,” she said firmly. “We won’t be long.”

  “I don’t get it,” Scott said, his face flushed. “Why can’t I stay right here?”

  Philip’s head spun around. “Don’t make a scene, Scott. Just do what she says.”

  Scott felt his pulse race. It wasn’t that he wanted to stay, but he didn’t like being asked to leave for no apparent reason. Besides, what right did she have to judge him? Scott fumed, “Let me guess, I’ve got bad karma? Is that it?”

  Madame Theo tilted her head to the side. “In a word, yes. Your karma is competing with the cosmic realities necessary to offer a proper reading of the cards.”

  “Whatever,” Scott said, shaking his head. With a turn, he opened the door and stepped outside. He yanked the door shut with a sharp thwack. Almost instantly, he regretted leaving Philip alone with that woman. Philip wasn’t a believer, and Scott knew full well that he would be putty in the hands of the great deceiver. Now what? Should he go back inside? What would he say?

  Scott sat in the front seat of the car, troubled by what had just happened. He knew he probably ticked Philip off inside of Madame Theo’s. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help himself. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single reason why Madame Theo asked him to leave.

  In fact, for the last fifteen minutes, he’d replayed the brief sequence of events. The only thing he remembered saying was his name — and that Philip was a friend. That’s it. After Madame Theo had closed her eyes, she told him to leave.

  Talk about weird, Scott thought. But on second thought, Scott felt convicted for acting so selfishly. He had been obsessed with staying on Philip’s good side. Instead, Scott realized he should be more concerned that Philip felt the need to go to such a creepy place.

  At that moment, he watched Philip storm toward the car and braced himself for the worst.

  “You wanna know something?” Philip shouted as he reached the side of the vehicle. He jumped in and then slammed the car door shut with enough force to rattle the rearview mirror.

  “What’s that?”

  “Sometimes you can be such a complete jerk.” That said, Philip jammed in the key and stomped on the gas pedal.

  “That’s good,” Scott said with a smirk. “For a second I thought you were going to announce that I was always a jerk.”

  “Back off, Scott,” Philip said. He gripped the steering wheel and looked straight ahead.

  Scott let out a low whistle. “Hey, I’m just playing with you. Now who’s got the bad karma?”

  Rather than say another word, Philip cranked the volume on the radio until it was almost deafening.

  “Hey, you want to turn that down?” Scott shouted.

  “No.”

  “Come on, man. Let’s talk.”

  Philip turned the music up a notch.

  Scott reached over and snapped it off.

  Philip’s eyes narrowed into a glare, but he didn’t say a word.

  “Listen, Philip, I’m sorry that — ”

  He cut Scott off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay . . . okay. Chill out, man.”

  They rode several minutes in the silence. Scott had never seen Philip so on edge. Yesterday in the lunch room had come close. But this was different. Philip’s whole temperament was changing. He had a wild, faraway look in his eyes.

  A new thought came to mind. Maybe Philip had heard something inside that frightened him. Maybe. But what? What could possibly be so disturbing that it would cause Philip to be so on edge? If only he knew more about tarot cards, then perhaps he’d know what Philip was getting mixed up in.

  One thing was sure. Scott would ask Z when he got home. Although Scott didn’t know much about Z, it seemed that Z had tons of advice about these kinds of things, especially if it had to do with the spirit realm.

  “You know,” Scott said, trying to start a conversation, “I actually think it would be kind of cool to know the future . . . and all of that stuff.”

  Philip clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead.

  “I’m serious,” Scott added, trying to sound sincere. “You know, that would make it easier to figure out what to do before you had to do it, right?”

  Philip looked the other way.

  “But if you ask me — ” Scott started to say.

  Philip’s head snapped around. His eyes were as dark as his hair. “I didn’t ask you.”

  “Still,” Scott said, ignoring him, “there’s something not right with that lady. Her whole deal is so . . . weird, you know? I mean, the candles, the crystals, the turban thing around her head — what’s with that, anyway?”

  Philip slammed on his brakes. The car skidded to a stop. “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Now.”

  “Here? Why?”

  Philip barked, “You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

  6

  Becka hummed a tuneless melody as she, gliding through the kitchen, stacked the spaghetti-soiled dinner plates in the sink. Nothing could dampen the feeling of euphoria. Not the pile of homework awaiting her in her bedroom, not the fact that she had to study for two tests, not even Scott’s sour mood.

  Today was an exceptional day. Her mom, who needed to rush out after dinner for a meeting at church, had asked her to do the dishes. Becka didn’t mind. All she cared about was what happened that afternoon at Sonic.

  With Ryan.

  As she remembered every little detail, she was amazed that her heart didn’t
go into cardiac arrest when Ryan had said he too was thinking about their future together. True, they had always taken their relationship slowly. Still, he had feelings for her. What more could she want? Knowing that was enough to put the spin in her world.

  Her spirit soared somewhere above the clouds at the memory.

  From some faraway place, she thought she heard a voice calling her name . . . Becka.

  Gazing at the sunset, its golden glow perfectly framed through the window over the sink, she lowered a dish into the warm water. As her hands slipped into the soap bubbles, her mind drifted miles away to the ocean. She imagined herself on the beach walking along the seaside with her toes leaving little tracks in the sand.

  With Ryan.

  “Becka . . .”

  This time, the voice was much clearer. She blinked and found herself in front of the sink. She sighed as reality set back in. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her mother by the front door, purse and keys in hand. “Oh, hey, Mom.”

  “Didn’t you hear me calling your name, sweetheart?”

  “I . . . I guess I was lost in my thoughts,” Becka said, blushing.

  “I’ve got the cell phone in case you guys need anything, okay?”

  “We’ll be fine, Mom,” Becka said, noticing her hands were dripping onto the floor. She quickly placed them over the sink.

  “I’ll be back in about two hours,” Mrs. Williams said.“Thanks for doing the dishes, Becka. And, Scott?”

  He grunted, “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Don’t forget tonight is trash night — ”

  “I know, I’ll handle it.”

  Mrs. Williams hesitated with one hand on the doorknob. “Well, better run. How do I look?”

  Becka tilted her head. “Great, Mom. I really like your new dress.”

  That brought a smile. “Thanks, sweetie. I love you both,” she said and then left.

  Becka’s attention drifted from the front door to the lump of humanity hunched over his plate at the kitchen table. From experience, she knew something was seriously wrong if Scott refused to eat. Especially if he was ignoring something as awesome as Mom’s homemade spaghetti and meatballs.