by Ani Gonzalez
"That particular combination usually entails a life-changing experience," she mused. "That's why I gave it its own page. It means something is going to happen that will change the way you see the world. It could be an event that modifies your perspective or a person that opens up your horizons."
"Meeting an alien would do that."
Luanne threw up her hands "I guess, but that wasn't what I was picturing. I was just trying to tell my readers that they should be open to new encounters."
Sean laughed. "Of the third kind."
"Don't be like that." She tried not to giggle. "It's not funny."
Well, it was, a little. People were using her work to track aliens. She'd expected her new career to be a little strange, but this was ridiculous. Another giggle escaped her and she blamed it on the wine.
"So, can you figure it out?" Sean asked.
"Figure what out?"
"Where and when the eye-opening, life-changing encounter will take place. That's what the UFO guys are looking for. Can't you do a horoscope for that?"
Luanne stared at him. "You want me to do a horoscope for aliens?"
"Yes. Or one of those card watchamacallits."
"It's called a tarot spread." She glared at him. "And it doesn't work on extraterrestrials. It's a conduit for personal energy. If the subject is in outer space I can't read his or her," she paused, "or its energy."
"How about the stars? You can read those, can't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's a birth chart. I'm reading the positions of the stars on your date of birth on Earth. It all hinges on how the stars look from this planet. I can't do a chart for someone in Betelgeuse or wherever. The constellations would be different."
Actually, that was actually a fascinating question. What did the zodiac look like from Mars? Everything would be different. The math, however, should be the same. If she could figure out how the constellations looked from Martian soil...She shook the thought out of her head. Martian astrology wasn't her problem right now.
"And the UFO hunters?" Sean asked. "You can do their readings, right?"
She refilled her wineglass. This conversation definitely warranted more alcohol.
"If they sat for me," she replied, after taking a sip of wine. "Probably, but it would depend on how open they were with me. If I had their birth date and time? Absolutely. I can read anyone if I have their date and time."
She looked him in the eye. "But we don't have that information, do we?"
She leaned back in her chair, having delivered the final blow. There, that should take care of it.
Man, if she could do cold astrology readings without birth info, she'd never get anything else done. For one, she'd definitely do a horoscope for Sheriff Sean Stickley. She couldn't read him at all right now, which was frustrating. No matter how hard she tried, he was a closed book.
A horoscope would definitely change that.
She drank down her wine and watched as he digested her words. He looked a bit boyish with tousled hair and a thoughtful frown on his face, rather like a little kid trying to figure out a tricky puzzle.
She put her glass down so hard the last drops of wine sloshed over the top. What was she thinking? Sean Stickley wasn't a boy. He was a man, and a cop, one with an agenda, no less.
She had to be careful.
That's when Sean leaned forward, an intense look on his face.
"What about reading me?"
CHAPTER TEN
"EXCUSE ME?"
Luanne's brows had disappeared under her bangs. She was looking at him as if he'd just sprouted a second head.
"You can read me. I fully intend to be present when these loons congregate, so figuring out my location on the night of the full moon should tell you exactly where it's going to happen." He looked into her eyes. "Correct?"
"Well..." She licked her lips nervously. "Maybe. There's a Schrodinger's paradox in there somewhere, but..."
"You seemed pretty sure of yourself a minute ago. What changed?"
"Nothing." She aimed a thoughtful glance at her wineglass. "I have an idea. I don't know if it will work, but I think I'm drunk enough to give it a try." She got up, carrying her empty plate. "Don't worry, I'll read your fortune too. Get the cheesecake, we can get work done during dessert."
He followed her lead and helped her clear the table. "You can read fortunes while eating cheesecake?"
She grinned. "I can do anything while eating cheesecake."
He rinsed the dishes while she got the materials she needed for the reading. He'd expected candles and crystal balls and a tablecloth with arcane symbols. Instead, she grabbed a serviceable, albeit dirt cheap laptop, a writing pad, and a well-worn pack of tarot cards. Luanne sat down, turned on the computer, and did whatever it was she did to prep for these things.
"What's your birthday?" she asked in a crisp, businesslike tone.
"January eleventh. I'm a Capricorn."
The answer seemed to startle her. Weird. What was wrong with being a Capricorn? True, he didn't know much about his star sign other than the goat symbol. But goats were perfectly respectable animals, weren't they? He was a rat in the Chinese zodiac and that animal was downright unattractive. A goat was definitely a step up.
He finished the dishes and turned off the water. Luanne immediately looked up.
"Don't forget the cheesecake," she reminded him.
"Don't worry." He opened the box, cut out two generous slices and put them on the plates. Then he took them to the table and sat down.
Luanne was frowning at the screen. She clearly wasn't happy with what she was looking at. She started making notes. First, there were a bunch of numbers, then lines. Finally, equations began to take shape. Was that a cosine wave?
The notepad was soon covered with cyphers, shapes, and arcane symbols. He watched the process in a kind of befuddled awe. She seemed to be drawing pizzas. Dozens of pizzas, all cut into weird slices.
Where was the hand-waving and chanting? Where were the mystical meditations and mysterious looks? This looked more like a math lecture than a fortune telling session.
Finally, Luanne's scribblings stopped. She sat there, frowning and tapping her pencil on the notepad.
"Here's your cheesecake," he said, pushing a plate toward her. "Eat up. I almost brought you a bunch of apple pie packets, but I changed my mind. I figured if I'm going to make you work, I should at least feed you well."
She looked up and blinked. "Oh, you're in the Winchester room then."
"Yes, I am. How did you know that?" He gestured toward her notepad. "Is it written in the stars?"
She shook her head. "No, that's not how it works. Apple pie is Dean Winchester's favorite food. I remember when they were planning the decor for the motel suites." She paused. "Wait, don't you watch Supernatural?"
"No. Is it a television show?"
She rolled her eyes again. At this rate, she was going to dislocate her eyeballs "It's the television show. We're trying to get the town featured in it. There's a huge fan campaign to have the Winchesters visit Banshee Creek."
"I'll have to watch it then." He glanced at the computer. "What's the verdict? Will I go on a journey and meet a tall, dark stranger?"
A scornful glance was her only answer.
She handed him the pack of cards. "Shuffle them."
He obeyed. The cards were smooth and sleek with colorful designs that looked like ancient engravings on the back.
"Pick four cards. Put them on a line, face down."
He did as she asked.
"Now two more. Make a cross."
He made an odd-looking shape, that could, if you squinted, pass for a cross. Luanne reached over and moved the cards slightly. Then she took a deep breath.
"Turn them over."
He did. The illustrations were beautifully drawn, but difficult to decipher. There was a woman surrounded by stars, a boy in a river with a bunch of cups, a lady holding a bundle of arrows, a man hanging from one leg, and a prince holding five swo
rds.
None of it made sense. It was pretty, though.
"Where did you get these?" he asked. "They look old."
"I like old things. That's why I do so much on paper," she said, sounding almost apologetic. "Most people just use the programs now." She looked down at the weird-looking pizza pies on her notepad. "But I also like doing it the old-fashioned way."
He had a feeling that this was exactly what she'd done after her probation. She'd sat there with a bunch of cards and books and focused on what she knew.
Numbers.
And she'd rebuilt her life, which, he knew, was quite an achievement. True, she'd rebuilt it on funny-looking cards and star charts, but still, it was impressive.
And, who knew, maybe the star charts worked.
But if they did, then why was she looking so concerned?
"What's the deal? What does this mean?" he pointed at the guy hanging by his foot, "Do I have to visit a podiatrist?"
The joke made her smile. "No. It means sacrifice and martyrdom when it's upright."
He blinked. "What?" He looked at the card more closely. The hanging man didn't look martyred. He looked perfectly content. "But it actually stands for something else, right? Like giving up old assumptions or changing one's perspective."
That would make the card extraordinarily accurate. He'd certainly had to change his perspective in the past few months. A lot.
Her smile faded. "Under certain circumstances, yes. When it's reversed, as it is here, it means old entanglements are holding you back."
She pointed to the lady surrounded by stars. "This one is also upside-down. That means a test of faith is coming your way." Her fingers drifted over to the prince next to the river and the overturned chalices. "The upright five of cups means loss, and this one..."
The last card was a woman holding a bundle of arrows.
"This one means a burden, a crushing responsibility, probably related to work."
Her eyes were dark and serious and her mouth was set in a tight line.
He dragged a hand through his hair as he stared at the card. "Wow, this is positively grim. Are your readings always this dark? How do you keep a business going like this?"
But, he had to admit, she wasn't entirely wrong. The language was mystical and abstract, but he knew exactly what she was talking about.
Maybe there was something to this fortunetelling stuff, after all.
Or maybe she was just making some good guesses. He was a cop and he'd left a high stress job in Manhattan. That explained the loss, and the burden, and the old entanglements.
"But where's the fortune part?" he asked. "This is all the past and maybe some of the present. I don't see any forecasting here."
Her eyes narrowed.
"True." She drawled the word out slowly. "We'll get to that. But first, we need to clear up a few things."
Ah, this was the con artist part. She'd ask him some questions, observe his body language, and put things together. Then she'd do the fortunetelling.
Smart.
But not smart enough. He was beginning to figure out how this worked.
"Sounds good." He settled back in the chair and smiled. "What's the question? Did I have problems with my dad growing up? Am I a mamma's boy?"
"No." She stared at the cards, her face completely devoid of expression.
"Luanne?"
She blinked, as if her mind had wandered far way, then turned her head and looked him straight in the eye.
"Why would someone try to kill you?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEAN STARED at her, mouth agape.
This was why she was never forthcoming with her gift. Stuff about self-knowledge and actualization got a much better reception. People didn't want to know what was going to happen. Usually they had fairly accurate suspicions about their future. What they wanted was to know how they would handle what they knew was coming. That's why her readings were usually about inner strength and trusting the universe, and other generalities.
However, this was different. Reading Sean's fortune had been unwise on multiple levels, not to mention completely unnecessary. She'd been able to figure out the landing spot without reading him.
But she hadn't been able to resist the temptation of giving him a reading, and now she was paying the consequences. Her odd feeling last night? The one about illusions and greed and death? That had nothing to do with Black River Falls.
It was about Sean. Sean's past work, the UFO enthusiasts, and the alien landing site. She didn't know how, but it was all connected.
And it was deadly.
Sean looked down at the tarot spread. "But there's no death card. That's a good sign, right?"
At least he wasn't denying it.
"Actually, the death card means rebirth, change, and transformation. Death would be a good card in this spread." Because it would mean he would still be alive. "Shouldn't you be in witness protection or something like that?" she asked. "For your own safety."
"Cops don't go into protection programs. We get transferred to the boonies and end up writing up parking tickets for double-parked ghost hunting vans."
"Don't joke," she scolded, completely failing to see the humor. "Someone wants you dead."
He shrugged. "I should be safe enough. It was an undercover assignment, and they shouldn't even know my real identity."
She snorted. "The key word there is 'should,' isn't it?"
He shrugged. "They're bad people. If they want me badly enough, they'll get me. No use worrying about it."
Luanne's hands clenched into fists as she fought the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.
"This isn't news to me," he explained. "It's also not what I came here for. It's very cute and mysterious, but I need to know where the UFO guys are going to wait for their mothership." He waved his hand over the cards. "The star lady and crazy foot man don't help with that."
She sighed, checked her notes, wrote out some numbers on a sticky note and handed it to him. "There."
He read it and frowned. "What is this? It makes no sense."
"Coordinates. Longitude and latitude. That's the landing site."
He stared at the piece of paper. "How did you get this?"
It wasn't difficult. After all, she hadn't had to find a real alien landing site. She'd just had to figure out where the UFO group thought the landing site would be. That was an entirely different inquiry, and one that was rather easy.
The UFO group had, she suspected, used one of the many free—and extremely crappy—astrology programs available online to reverse engineer her prediction. Then they'd taken the numbers, and used them to calculate the landing site. It had taken her three tries, but she was confident she'd replicated their calculations. She was, it appeared, pretty good at alien arrival forecasting.
She wasn't about to admit that, though.
"It's technical and too hard to explain," she said. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
A skeptical look crossed his face. She sat back and crossed her arms. No way was she going to explain how she got those numbers.
In any case, the UFO coordinates hadn't been the scary part of her divination.
"The coordinates work," she said. "You'll be able to intercept the spaceship fanatics. But be careful. I know you have a bulletproof vest stashed somewhere. Wear it."
Sean got up, folded the neon-colored square of paper and put it carefully in his pocket. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she muttered, still seated. "Thanks for the steak."
His lips curved into a half-smile. "Aren't you going to walk me out?"
She shook her head. "You know the way. Watch out for the poltergeist. She'll try to brain you with a lampshade as you walk by the stairs."
He chuckled. Then he reached down and she felt his fingers curl around the nape of her neck. She tensed as a piercing bolt of electricity ran through her. Before she knew it, he'd bent toward her and captured her lips in a scorching kiss.
; Time stopped. An owl hooted outside, but she barely heard it. All thought was wiped out as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. There was something wild and dark in the kiss, a heart-wrenching sense of desperation. He held her tightly, arms wrapped around her like steel.
A loud crash interrupted them. Sean jumped, breaking the kiss abruptly.
"What was that?"
Luanne giggled nervously. "Honoria. She threw the lampshade."
"Ah, yes. You warned me about the lamp." He looked thoughtful. "I guess you were expecting it."
She didn't say anything. She was still reeling from the kiss. He raised a finger and traced the lower curve of her lip slowly. The light caress made her shiver.
He noticed her reaction and his mouth curved into a self-satisfied smile. "I guess you didn't see that coming."
She blushed. He was talking about the kiss, and he was one hundred percent right. The kiss had definitely been a surprise.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked, straightening.
She tensed, fighting a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and not let him go.
"Cancer and Virgo," she replied instead.
He looked confused.
"I have horoscopes to write," she clarified. "And I have to finish my presentation."
She also wanted to track down Mary the Xenoarcheologist and figure out what the UFO guys were planning to do. The upcoming mothership meet-up was more dangerous than she'd thought, and she wanted to know why.
But she didn't want Sheriff Stickley to know.
He smiled. "Dinner? I saw a video for homemade burgers, and it looked simple enough. We could try them tomorrow."
She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. Given what she now knew, staying away from Sean should be her priority. If she were smart, she would refuse another dinner with him.
Let's face it. She wasn't that smart.
"Sure," she heard herself say. "But we should split the grocery bill—"
He gestured her into silence. "Hey, you're my guinea pig. That's your contribution to the meal. Or you can bring the antacids. That would also be good."
She laughed in spite of herself. "Sounds like a plan."