Exposure (16 page)

“Oh, snap!” Shelton sat forward. “I’ve heard of this dude. He’s in Final Fantasy Legend!”

Blank stares from me and Clara.

“A video game series,” Shelton explained. “From Japan. Hi knows. It’s big.”

Hi waved away Shelton’s comment. “This whole meeting is under protest.”

“However,” Clara continued, “even mainstream sidereal astrology—which includes Hindu and sun-sign astrology—still use the traditional twelve-sign zodiac. Correctly realigned, of course, but dividing the heavens into twelve equal parts, rather than using constellational boundaries. Therefore, even those systems do not regard Ophiuchus as a true sign. But the sun rises in him every winter. That’s a fact.”

“If Ophiuchus
was
a thirteenth sign,” I asked, “what would the associated characteristics be? What would it mean to have him as your zodiac symbol?”

Shelton huffed loudly, but I could tell he was paying attention.

“That’s harder to answer. The Serpent Bearer has been excluded for millennia, and isn’t regularly interpreted.” She tapped her lip in thought. “Also known as Serpentarius, Ophiuchus has an affinity with snakes, obviously, and is said to offer protection from poisons. He’s been associated with doctors and healers, likely because of the similarity between poison and medicine.”

“Don’t like snakes,” Shelton grumbled. “Though Serpentarius sounds kind of awesome.”

Clara flared a brow. “An Ophiuchan seeks wisdom and knowledge, has a flamboyant fashion sense, and usually doesn’t reject authority. Twelve is the lucky number. They make great architects, have large families, and leave home at an early age. That’s about all I can tell you.”

I thought about everything Clara had said.

Interesting, all of it, but not helpful.

The info told me nothing about the Gables’ disappearance.

“What type of person would be drawn to Ophiuchus?” I asked. “Who would the Serpent Bearer appeal to?”

“A poisoner, obviously.” Clara stood, face troubled. “Beyond that, I can’t say. And your time is now up. Please excuse me.”

And like that, she spun and dipped through the black curtain.

“Um, bye.” I was stunned by the woman’s hasty retreat. “Thank you!”

“Stranger and stranger.” Shelton popped from his seat. “That’s all for me, folks. I’m out.”

“I don’t wanna be a stupid fish,” Hi whined, trudging to the door behind Shelton.

I followed the boys outside, trying to digest what we’d learned.

A lost astrological sign? Snakes? A poisoner? How did any of it fit?

Maybe the zodiac has nothing to do with the twins at all.

But why had Clara reacted so strangely? Twice. I felt sure there were pieces missing here.

My thoughts were interrupted by the screech of tires on gravel.

I whirled. Ben’s beat-up Explorer was idling ten feet behind me.

He leaned out the window. “You clowns need a lift?”

“No.” I turned furious eyes on Shelton and Hi.

Shelton cracked first. “I told him. He’s still a part of this, too, right?”

Before I could answer, Ben cut me off.

“Don’t flip out, Victoria.” He wore a satisfied smile. “I have news.”

My hands found my hips. “Well?”

“Still wanna hack into Karsten’s flash drive?” Ben asked innocently.

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I can make it happen.”

C
lara Gordon watched the kids load bicycles into an SUV.

They drove off. She exhaled, stepping away from the window.

Who’d have thought?
Exactly
as described. And so soon!

Clara rubbed her arms to quiet a rash of goose bumps. The whole business had her on edge.

A reading. Before I do anything.

Clara strode to a mahogany cabinet. Closing her eyes, she mumbled an incantation under her breath. Then she unlocked the door, removed a cloth-wrapped bundle, and returned to the table where she’d spoken to her vistors.

I shouldn’t have done that. I may have said too much.

Clara unwound the sky-blue velvet, revealing a worn set of tarot cards. Hand-painted. French. Seventeenth century. A gift from her mentor only days before passing, Clara considered them her most precious possession in the world.

Clara shuffled the cards slowly, emptying her mind of distraction.

It’d been weeks since she’d done a personal reading.

Why?
She carefully cut the deck, then placed the stacked cards on the red felt surface.
Am I hiding something from myself?

Deep breath. Deep breath. Give thanks.

She allowed a question to crystalize in her mind. Clear. Concise. Simple.

Then, grounded and centered, she fanned out the cards. Flipped one at random.

The Tower.

Clara felt a chill travel her spine. A card of the Major Arcana, the Tower meant disaster. Upheaval. The destruction of peace and harmony.

Easy, now. Not always.

The symbol could also represent sudden change. Or revelation. The Tower energy was both a destructive
and
creative force.

Old attitudes and beliefs, perhaps? Something that must be let go, liked or not?

Troubled, Clara flipped a second card.

Justice. Reversed.

Clara’s alarm grew. A second card of the Major Arcana. A rare occurrence.

This reading spoke of more than a mere day-to-day experience. That much was clear.

The cards foretold a life-changing event, with long-term influences.

Focus. The lesson here is important.

The inversion altered the card’s meaning. Upside down, Justice stood for unfairness. Dishonesty. Lack of accountability.
To myself, or others?

Clara thought furiously. Had she’d failed to scrutinize her own actions? Was she trying to dodge a bullet, or blame another for her mistake?

The key is to take responsibility. But how?

She thought of the two cards in conjunction. The Tower. Justice, reversed.

Disaster and Dishonesty. Upheaval and Unfairness.

The answer she’d sought abruptly smacked her in the face.

Those kids. The charge. Of course.

Clara nearly ended the reading right there, but some instinct compelled her to continue. Hands shaking, she flipped the last card in the deck.

And flinched. The chill on her spine morphed to an electric shock.

A
third
card of the Major Arcana. In ten years of readings, that had never happened.

The image grinned up at her. An armored skeleton, mounted on a white horse.

Death.

Clara moaned softly, though she knew the card wasn’t literal. Death merely indicated that a significant transformation awaited. Change. Transition.

The end of something. But what will replace it?

Clara stared at the three cards. Tower. Justice. Death. She’d not flip a fourth.

Something profound was happening. Something that could go terribly wrong.

Disaster. Deceit. Change.

The message is clear. Do as instructed.

Clara gathered the cards and returned them to the cabinet. Grabbing her keys, she locked the shop and hurried to her car.

Do as instructed.

Three cards. All Major Arcana. Each fraught with danger.

She fired the engine, then spun from the parking lot, heading north.

Clara Gordon raced downtown like a bat out of hell.

“T
ory, you’re a Capricorn now, so you’ll have to accept an affinity for goats.”

“Thanks, Hi. I think I’ll be fine.”

In the rearview, I saw Hi shake his head. “You’re just being stubborn, like the Aquarius you
used
to be. But your days as a water bearer are over. It’s time to accept and move on.”

“I can’t believe you follow that garbage.” Ben turned onto the James Island Expressway. From there we’d link up with 17 North, cross the peninsula, and then traverse the massive Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge to Mount Pleasant.

“This affects you, too, pal.” Hi snapped his fingers. “Like that, you’ve jumped from Capricorn to Sagittarius. Which suits you well, since you’re both cocky
and
reckless. Plus, you look like a centaur.”

“See this?” Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. “This is my ‘couldn’t care less’ face.”

“Philistine.” Hi turned to Shelton, with whom he shared the backseat. “Tell me you’ve debunked this outrage by now.”

“Unfortunately, the witch is right.” Shelton glowered at his iPhone. “About all of it, even Sir Snake Sleeves. But nobody seems to care. The first article I found is from 2010.”

“No one cares because it’s
astrology.
” Ben rolled his eyes. “The whole concept is dumb, so who cares if it’s accurate?”

“All
we
should care about,” I cut in, “is whether Ophiuchus has anything to do with the Gable twins’ disappearance. Whether that card is a clue, or not.”

Shelton scratched his cheek. “I’m not saying I know her well, but radical astrology? Doesn’t seem like something Lucy Gable would be into. Or Peter.”

“Agreed.” Still shunning Ben, I aimed my words at Hi and Shelton. “So the question becomes, did someone intentionally leave that card in Lucy’s room? And if so, why?”

No one had an answer. We drove the next few miles in silence.

Hi broke it as we entered Mount Pleasant. “What’s this guy’s name again?”

“Eddie Chang,” Ben replied. “I heard about him at Wando. He used to go there, and apparently he now makes fake IDs, rips movies and music, that kind of stuff. This dude I know says Chang is a serious hacker, too. Maybe even a member of Anonymous.”

“So we don’t really know anything about him,” I said. To the windshield.

Ben’s expression hardened. “You said we needed to hack the drive. I found a hacker.”

I didn’t respond, but mentally conceded the point. It’s not like I had a better plan.

Ben turned into the parking lot of a run-down apartment building, one of a handful in the otherwise wealthy community. The brick-and-concrete box rose ten depressing stories, bristling with rusty metal balconies.

I knew Ben’s mother rented an apartment somewhere close by. Was it like this building? Suddenly, I couldn’t believe I’d never seen the place where Ben spent half the life.

“This is it.” Ben killed the engine.

“You been here before?” Shelton asked, nervously eyeing the complex.

Ben shook his head. “My friend Ronnie has. He bought a killer fake from Chang.”

He got out and slammed his door. Without other options, we hurried after him, across the cracked and crumbling blacktop to a glass-enclosed entry a dozen yards away.

We slipped through a pair of blurry glass doors into a small foyer. A second Plexiglas-and-steel barrier barred further access. A dingy call box was bolted to the wall beside it. Above the box, a metal-encased security camera glared down at us.

“Jeez,” Hi muttered. “This feels like a gas station in Compton.”

Ben pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket, read, then punched a four-digit code into the call box. It began to ring. At the same time, a red light appeared on the side of the camera.

A click. Static.

“Yeah?”

Ben cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Eddie Chang.”

“Wrong number.” There was a second click as the line disconnected.

Shelton shifted his weight. “Um, okay.”

Ben glanced at the paper, then winced. “Damn. Hold on.”

He jabbed the keys again. This time, no one picked up for several rings.

CLICK.

“Yes?” Irritated.

“I’m here to see . . . Variance. About a model airplane.”

Dead air.

Buzz.
The interior door swung open.

Ben waved us into a gloomy lobby. Spotting a decrepit-looking elevator, he mashed the up button.

I had a thousand questions, but held my tongue.

I will
not
speak to you, Ben Blue.

We rode to the ninth floor, where Ben led us down a drab floral-papered hallway to the last unit on the right.

The reinforced door had steel plates screwed into the wood. A newer, more expensive-looking video camera was mounted above its frame. It swiveled as we approached, tracking our progress down the corridor.