True Loves (A Collection of Firsts)

by Michelle A. Valentine

  Curious as to how she knows what I want, I start to ask that very question, but I’m too late. She shuts the door in my face.

  Okay. I guess, no reading today. As I turn, the door opens. She emerges and beckons me inside.

  I follow her in and let my obvious question slip. “I’m sorry, Madame Zoë? But how’d you know what I wanted?”

  My vision takes a second to adjust to the dark room. The large green bird on her shoulder—I’ve seen its kind before. I think it’s a parrot or something, but I’m not really sure. It seems too big for her frail shoulder. The living room is crowded with seven birdcages. All of them house a different bird, except for one empty cage, which I assume belongs to her shoulder accessory. They squawk simultaneously as I stand in the middle of the room. A mixture of rotten food and dirty bird smell makes my stomach churn in disgust. I pinch my nose shut. It’s hard to imagine such an upscale lady, like the one who gave me Madam Zoë’s card, in this filth-infested room.

  I wrap my arms around myself to avoid touching anything. This was a mistake. There has to be a polite way to get out of this room.

  The rest of the house is blocked from view by the thick drapes hung in the living room. There are rows of tiny little cloth dolls, all in the shape of people with button eyes, hanging from the ceiling. Large pins protrude from the sack-like figures, many of them stuck in the heart. Dried blood stains the dolls, like it oozed from the hole the needle made. What kind of evil voodoo goes on here?

  Motionless—and soundless—I stand, waiting. I want to run, but I can’t force myself to be rude to this old lady.

  She cackles as she sits and motions for me to join her at the makeshift fortunetelling table located in the center of all the cages. A crystal ball in the middle of the table would complete the setup, but it’s merely covered with a modest burgundy cloth. Madam Zoë places a large clay bowl on the table. I take a seat in the rickety folding chair across from her and fold my hands in my lap.

  “Go ahead, child. Tell me what you seek,” she rasps.

  There’s no way this lady is truly psychic, so I decide to not spill my demon problems and just ask about my man dilemma. That seems harmless.

  I hadn’t really thought of how to pose my questions, so I stumble around. “Um…Well…I want to know—who’s the right guy for me?”

  She smirks. “Child, you have bigger things to worry about than matters of the heart. I see what you’ve done.”

  What I’ve done? “No offense, but how can you possibly say something like that? You know nothing about me.”

  Her lips draw into a tight line. “I don’t need eyes to see. Your aura’s marked. Tainted. Which means it’s no longer your own.”

  This lady’s crazy. There’s no way she knows my soul is bound to the demon child. I have to get out of here before this lady fills my head with ideas and causes a panic attack. “Look, I think this was a mistake. I’ll just go.” I rise from my seat.

  “Sit down,” she orders firmly. Her frail voice turns authoritative.

  With a huff, I slam back down. This was a shitty idea. She’s out to scam my money and scare the crap out of me.

  “Like I was sayin’—I know what’s comin’ for you. Give me your hand,” she says in her gravelly voice.

  I hold out my hand. The calluses on her fingertips scratch at my skin. Is it possible this old lady knows about the demon? No way. This is probably her line to get her clients roped in, but I’ll play along so I can get out of here.

  She takes my hand in both of hers and gently strokes the life lines in the palm of my hands. “Let me study you.”

  Ice crystals form in the wake of her fingertips against my skin. My breath goes still as I watch in amazement at Madam Zoë’s power. This woman is for real. Fear would have been the response in a normal person, but I’m desperate for answers even though I’m scared out of my mind.

  I’m lost in a trance. Lost in the possibility I’ve finally found someone to help me. The ice numbs my palm, but my fingers feel surprisingly warm. I’m so mesmerized by my own hand I don’t see her grab the silver knife until it’s too late.

  She slices my finger with the razor sharp tip of the blade.

  “Ouch! What the hell, lady?” I snarl as wrench my hand back.

  She grabs my hand and continues to massage my finger. “Shhhhhh. This is necessary to see.” Her voice is calm and soothing—like she’s trying to soothe a frightened animal.

  “To see what?” I ask as a perfect round blood droplet forms on my right index finger. Madam Zoë milks my finger into the clay bowl on the table. Thick, red liquid slides down the side of the bowl and finally settles in the center.

  She smiles. “Your future, of course.”

  After she’s satisfied with the amount of blood she’s squeezed from me, she releases my hand. Instinctively, I shove my finger in my mouth to stop the bleeding. With insane quickness, she yanks four feathers from the green bird on her shoulder and tosses them in the little scarlet pool. I’m awestruck when she throws in three black rocks and sprinkles a fine powder over the bowl’s contents.

  The powder clings to the air and floats around my face. Madame Zoë chants some sort of voodoo words that I don’t understand as she strikes a match.

  The feathers engulf in flames. Smoke whirls around the bowl. The stench of the burning feathers assaults my nose. I close it with my hand. She sticks her face in the middle of the smoke. As it swirls around, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose like it’s a breathing treatment. Without warning, her eyes pop open. The white eyes that I saw when I first came in are now the color of tropical waters thrashing in a hurricane. Blue light streams from her eyes and spotlights the fire in the clay bowl.

  “Holy shit!” My breath whooshes from my lungs as I scramble out of my seat. The chair lands with a hard thud. I should run. I know I should. But she might be my only hope at saving my soul.

  “Sit, Natalie!” she commands. Her stern voice takes me by surprise.

  “How the hell do you know my name?” My voice quivers. I turn the chair upright and grasp it for support.

  “It’s clear that your soul is damned. It happened so long ago when you were just a little girl. Your time is almost up. The countdown has begun. Look at your hands, child. When your life lines disappear, so shall your soul. Be careful, the one who seeks it—the one you fear—is closer than you think.” Her eyes roll back in her head as she takes a deep breath of smoke. “Soon…dark things will appear as a sign the very end of your human life is near. It’s only a matter of time until you're one of Satan’s minions.”

  Satan’s minion? Me? A soul collector?

  Cold unfolds through my whole body, and I shake. Dying I can handle. I don’t look forward to it, but from what I’ve seen, it’s over pretty quickly when a demon takes your soul. Being like the demon child, taking people’s lives, well that’s a new twist I wasn’t expecting. One I don’t want to be true.

  My knees buckle and I drop to the floor. Fear grips every pore in my body as tears stream down my face, and flashes of the five-year-old soul stealer sear my vision. I’ll be just like him.

  A killer.

  On my knees in a bird-poop infested floor, I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to rock back and forth while sticking my fingers in my ears and block out the possessed Madam Zoë. She keeps chanting, “Time is near” over and over.

  I can’t handle this. I want to put all this behind me, not confirm what I’ve feared.

  When I look up to Madame Zoë, a muffled sound hums into my ears through my hands. Her glowing blue eyes light up most of the table as she holds up her hands and screams out her chant. The smoke swirls and expands from the bowl and covers the table, and my whole body quivers in fear.

  I need an escape. I rise to my feet and stumble toward her door. My hands pull free from my ears long enough for me to hear one last thing. “Child, come back. I can tell you where to find him.”

  “I just want to be left alone!” I cry, as I blast
through her front door.

  My feet thunder across the pavement until I reach the security of the Focus. I shove my key in the ignition and tear down the street. My body rocks back and forth while I drive home. My teeth chatter uncontrollably.

  What just happened back there? I sure as hell didn’t expect that freak show.

  The tears continue to pour from my eyes. I wipe them with the back of my hand and smear my make-up all around in the process. My heart floods with relief when I pull onto my street. Home never looked so good. Anxious to get inside, I throw my car into park, fling the door open, and nearly tumble out of it. Still trying to recover from my fall, I run, half hunched, toward the house. I probably look like I’m on crack, but I don’t care. After all, people are used to me being crazy.

  Just as I reach the door, I hear Stew call my name, but I don’t dare turn to face him. My triumphant argument cannot happen while I look crazy. My hand turns the knob, but the door doesn’t budge. A growl escapes my throat and I kick the door as hard as I can.

  “Natalie?” Stew’s voice is hesitant. “Everything all right?” His hand touches my shoulder and I shrug away from his touch. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  My throat constricts. I couldn’t tell him even if I wanted to. I shake my head.

  “Did something happen? Are you hurt?” His words have a little panic in them. “Is it Steele? Did he do something? I had a bad feeling about that guy.”

  Tears thicken in my eyes and cloud my vision. I blink them away and let them fall down my face. I sort through my ring of keys to gain entry. My hands shake like a withdrawing junkie. I find the right one and finally manage to slip it in the slot. The door shoves open and I bolt through to seclusion and slam the door in Stewart’s face.

  Stew pounds on the door and yells, “Come on, Nat. Talk to me!”

  My back presses against the door, and I close my eyes.

  “Please, Natalie.” When I don’t answer, he yells out my name again. “Let me fucking help you!”

  I can’t fathom dealing with him right now. Stew and his bullshit will have to wait.

  I sprint up the stairs and lock myself in my room, then throw my exhausted frame on the bed. My clothes are drenched in sweat, and my legs feel like Jell-O. All these years I’ve questioned my sanity, and now I know there is someone else who knows. If people could see what I just saw, they would stop doubting me. Madam Zoe is definitely the real deal. It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to run out of there before she finished telling me all the information she had, but I couldn’t help myself. Those neon blue eyes freaked me out. It was just too much for my brain to process at once. If I would’ve stayed, I’m sure a squad would have had to come and pried me out of that house, and then dropped me off at the nearest padded cell.

  I curl into a ball as Madam Zoë’s words replay in my mind, and I feel ashamed of running out on her. She seemed like she was only trying to help. After all, she even offered to tell me where to find the demon boy. It would be nice to know where he is, that way I can go to him and plead for my soul.

  Tomorrow, I’ll go back, and explain. Apologize, even. I’d do it now, but I’m a mess, and it’s getting late. Stew might still be out there and I can’t face him right now.

  Tomorrow is definitely a better plan.

  Chapter 13

  “So what the hell was going on with you yesterday?” Stew’s words startle me as I grab my bag from the car, and my whole body stiffens.

  I tuck a loose strain of hair behind my ear, trying to play it off, and throw my bag over my shoulder. “Nothing was wrong with me.”

  Stew shakes his head. “You forget how well I know you. Just tell me. You were crying. Did that freak, Rick, do something to you?”

  Where does he get off calling my friend a freak? I clamp down hard on the meaty flesh inside my cheek to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs and turn away from him.

  Fingers grip my elbow. “For God’s sake, just tell me what happened.”

  I jerk away from him. “Leave me alone, Stew. I don’t have to tell you anything. We are not together, remember?”

  Stew’s nostrils flare and his mouth draws into a tight line. “Fine. Whatever.”

  My chin tips up. “Good.”

  I stalk away from him, and a small part of me wants him to stop me. When he doesn’t I wrap my arms around my body and head into school.

  I decide I need to apologize to Madame Zoë for freaking out yesterday. Now that I know what to expect, I think I can sit through the whole reading and find out more about this boy demon. Maybe she can tell me exactly where to find him and how to cut a deal to get my soul back. Obviously my methods of killing him aren’t successful. Thoughts drifted all around last night, trying to pinpoint exactly where the demon might be. She seemed to know a lot about my situation, and she said he was closer than I thought. He could live right in my neighborhood. Madame Zoë is the only one who can tell me where he is. Hell, at this point I’d do anything to not become a killer.

  When my last class for the day ends, I scoot out the door.

  Rick yells for me as I fly down the hallway. My pace slows, and I whip around to face him.

  He eyes me suspiciously. “You weren’t going to wait on me?”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m in a hurry. Sorry.”

  He nods. “Hot date?”

  I sock him lightly in the ribs. “Whatever.”

  He holds his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m just checking. I mean, you could at least tell me where you’re running off to.”

  I shrug. “I told you, it’s no big deal. Just something I got to do.”

  He looks around. “It doesn’t involve Masterson, does it?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Okay,” he says as he leans in and kisses my forehead. “Call me tonight.”

  I nod and back away from him. “I will.”

  A couple minutes later, I’m in the Focus, zooming toward Madam Zoe’s. Mentally, I’ve prepared all day what I’m going to say to her.

  When I pull up to the blue house, it appears just as innocent as yesterday. I wonder if the neighbors have any clue about the freaky stuff that happens inside this place? The absolute filth is probably a health code violation.

  The thought drifts away when I get out of the car. It only takes a few seconds to get on her little stoop. The lion knocker stares me in the face. There’s no nervousness in my body today because I know what’s on the other side of the door. After three knocks, I wait.

  Nothing.

  Yesterday it took her a couple of seconds to come to the door, but at least she’d yelled to let me know she was coming. I press my ear to the door. The birds squawk and their cages rattle, but I don’t hear Madam Zoe.

  I try again, knocking a little harder this time. This time I hear footsteps behind the door. It opens. My eyes almost bug out of my skull. It’s not Madam Zoe. Taylor Gee stands in the doorway, mouth open. She doesn’t say anything. She stares at me expectantly with big chocolate eyes.

  I swallow deeply, and then ask, “Is—is..Madam Zoe in?”

  Taylor stands a little straighter. “Natalie? What are you doing here?”

  I scratch my head. It’s not like I can tell her that I’m here to get help tracking down a demon. No way does she need more information to back up my crazy-chick status. Life has been a little more bearable the last couple of weeks since I’ve gained her acceptance again. “Um…I came back to finish my reading.”

  She frowns. “Listen, Natalie. You can’t tell anyone about what Grandma does here. If this got out, people would treat me like…” She looks me up and down.

  That look says it all. The last thing Taylor Gee would want is to be like me. If it got out that her grandma was a freaky fortuneteller, her reputation would be ruined. She’d be out-casted like me. So, I understand why she’s worried. “I won’t say anything. You think I need to give people any more ammunition against me.”

  Her mouth tilts sideways. It�
��s kind of a sad smile. “Good. But, you have to go. Grandma got really sick last night and I’ve got to get things cleaned up around here while my mom watches over her at the hospital.”

  My mouth feels dry, like I haven’t had a drink in years. I wet my lips and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

  Could this be my fault for involving her in my demon madness? Had he come here and hurt her?

  I nod and step back as guilt rushes over me. “I’m so sorry.” My breath catches, and I can’t get anything else out.

  Taylor shuts the door without saying goodbye or telling me what exactly happened to her Madam Zoe.

  When I flop into my car seat, my brain wanders. She was really old. I’m sure telling a fortune the way she does is hard on the old ticker. That was probably it. A heart-attack. Nothing I did. My hands grip the steering wheel, and my knuckles turn white.

  My breath comes out in ragged spurts. I try to calm myself down and convince myself this has nothing to do with me. I rest my forehead against my hands and breathe deeply. How the hell am I going to find that little bastard now? The one person who can help me is out of commission. Now that his visits have become so frequent I just know something is about to go down. I can feel it. I need some major help with this. But who can I turn to? Rick hasn’t exactly been a great resource. He romanticizes demons to much and never gets down to business about how to kill them every time we talk about it.

  My four-cylinder starts up and putters down the street. Things never work out for me. Whenever I want something, it never happens. Stew is a prime example of that. Finding the demon is never going to happen. It’s funny because I never thought about searching for him until Madam Zoë brought it up. Maybe that’s what I need to do? I could gain the upper hand.

  She did say he was close to me. I bet that creeper lives in my neighborhood somewhere, pretending to be a regular kid. If I keep my eyes peeled, maybe I can find him on my own. After all, I’d never forget his little face.

  After I make it home, I peek through the blinds, looking for any dark-haired male suspects. There’s a couple of blonde kids playing across the street, but they don’t fit the profile, no sense in checking them out any further. Next door is where Stew lives. I know the demon doesn’t live there, so I move on to the neighbors. None of them have kids. At least I don’t think so, anyway.