Secret Worlds (116 page)

Glenna closed her eyes and lifted both hands to her temples, as if seeking guidance from a divine source inside. What a drama queen. Glenna extended her right hand and passed them over the cards several times. “This one,” she said emphatically, handing it to Skye to read.

Skye laughed at the scales depicted on the card. “Justice.” She couldn’t keep out the note of triumph in her voice. “This is a
good
card, Glenna. It means balance and –”

Glenna snatched the card. “Let me see.”

Skye crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “It had to happen one day you know. You picked a nice card. Why can’t you just –”

“It’s reversed.” Glenna grabbed the deck from Skye and stuffed the Justice card back in it. “So it means the opposite of fairness and balance.”

Skye threw up her hands. “I give up. If you want to always believe the worst is going to happen, then that’s what you’ll find.”

“Mugwort. Glenna need mugwort.”

They both turned to see Kyle who had edged up behind them unnoticed.

“Why do I need that?” Glenna asked.

“Make
really
psychic,” Kyle mumbled, face averted.

“I’m already psychic,” Glenna said, taking offense.

Skye smothered a laugh, even Kyle saw through her act.

Kyle spoke a little louder. “Make more psychic,” he insisted.

“Okay, then.” Glenna relaxed, somewhat appeased. “I’ll add some of the herb to my tea before I do another tarot reading.”

Skye studied Kyle as Glenna moved on. The differences between him and Kheelan stood out. The striking resemblance was there, of course, but where Kyle’s eyes were dreamy and distracted, Kheelan’s were focused and direct. Kheelan’s features were sharper, more chiseled, where Kyle’s were softer and more rounded. What would Kyle think if he met his double? Would it freak him out, or would he even notice? It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Kyle?” She bet this would be one of the first questions on Kheelan’s mind. To someone who had no family, biological kin would be important.

“Sister.” Kyle picked up several of the crystals, then set them back down. “Katie.”

“How old is she?”

He didn’t answer right sway, but shuffled his feet and scratched his head.

“It’s okay if you don’t know.” Skye reached out to touch his arm in reassurance, then dropped her hand, remembering he was uncomfortable being touched.

“Twenty,” he said at last.

She couldn’t wait to tell Kheelan. He could meet a real, live sister when Samhain was over and this mess behind them.

“Excuse me, miss. Could I get your help with something?”

A middle-aged woman smiled at her tentatively, clutching a huge vinyl handbag in front of her.

Skye gave a warm smile. “Absolutely. What do you need today?”

The woman glanced nervously at Kyle, but he shuffled over to a row of books a few feet away.

“Do you have anything to help with, um,” she lowered her voice, “weight management.” She blushed and held the handbag even tighter, as if it were a talisman for courage.

“I’ll fix you right up.” Skye sought to put her at ease. “I’ll make you a charm bag with special crystals, herbs and oils to help you. I may even do one for myself while I’m at it. I’ve been eating way too many late night pizzas since starting college.”

Skye picked up a small glass bin with dozens of blue and green tumbled stones. “These are apatite crystals, and they help control appetite. Reach in and pick whatever stone feels right to you.”

The woman dug in and delicately fingered several of the stones.

“Clementine. Cardamom.” Kyle’s flat voice drifted over from the book area.

“Thanks, Kyle. Bring me over a half ounce of each.” At the woman’s questioning look, Skye explained. “Those are some herbs we’ll add to help with your intention. When I mix the powder with sweet orange and patchouli oil, it’s gonna smell terrific, and it all works together to help you lose weight.”

“I’ll take this one.” The woman held up a transparent green crystal to the light.

“Good choice. When the apatite is that color, it’s called an asparagus stone. Pick two more crystals for your charm bag, a fire agate that motivates physical activity, and an angelite for spiritual assistance. While you do that, I’ll get your charm bag ready with the herbs and oils.”

Skye went to Kyle with a red charm bag for him to place the herbs in. “Thanks again, Kyle,” she said, turning to go back to her customer.

A sharp jab in the middle of her back made her jump.

“Uh, oh. Boo-boo,” Kyle said, pointing between her shoulder blades.

What the heck was he talking about now? Maybe he overheard her complaining about backaches before. She’d check it out later. Skye assembled everything in the bag and handed it to the woman.

“Whenever you need energy to exercise, or need motivation to lose weight, take out the crystals and rub them between your palms. Visualize the end result and this will help you meet your goals.”

Her customer looked around the store as if she hoped not to run into anyone she knew. “Thank you so much, I’m sure it will help,” she gushed, scurrying over to pay Glenna at the cash register.

An inner hum of contentment rumbled in her stomach as Skye watched the woman leave. Crystals helped people; they just needed to be pointed in the right direction. Kyle, head down, wandered to the coffeehouse areavto help Mama D serve students needing a mid-afternoon coffee pick-me-up. She remembered his boo-boo remark. Curious, she entered the restroom and craned her neck in the mirror.

Several red dots, the size of M&M candies, stained her shirt and lined the middle of her spine. No wonder Kyle thought she was hurt. Skye couldn’t make out exactly what it was so she dashed in a stall and took off her shirt to look closer.

Blood stains. Six bloodstains. Her fingers shook as she held the shirt in front of her. If it had just been one spot of blood, she could dismiss it as maybe a bra hook that had scraped her skin. She ran a hand down her spine, and fingered tiny sores, each about four inches apart. Backaches she was used to, open sores—not so much. Thank goddess it was only an hour until closing time. She could throw a sweater over her shirt, go home, shower, and see if she needed to visit the university infirmary.

It’s some kind of fluke thing, she reassured herself and returned to work, only to find Claribel in rare form, entertaining the customers with a fairy chanting dance. In the middle of the room she waved a multi-colored streamer like a rhythmic gymnast swirling ribbons.

“Come my little fairies

Let us make merry

Send tiny sparks of energy

So we may join your revelry.”

A guy standing by the bookshelves sidled over to Skye. “Is she for real?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered. Hard to tell how much Claribel believed in the fairy world, or how much was a calculated publicity charade, or a combination of the two.

The guy snickered and assumed a deep, radio-announcer voice. “Mad or Charmingly Eccentric – You Decide.”

Claribel caught her eye. “Skye, darling, I have a favor to ask you,” she trilled across the room. Motioning to her office with the streamer, Claribel marched ahead, orange and pink maxi skirt billowing in her wake. “Have a seat, dear.”

Claribel fumbled around her crowded desk of crystals, teacups and papers.

“Here’s what I was looking for!” She held up an inventory book in triumph. “Delia and I are going to be at that metaphysical workshop in Birmingham tomorrow.”

A perfect opportunity for Kheelan to meet Kyle at the shop, Skye thought in excitement. If she could get rid of Glenna awhile.

“While we’re gone, I want you to go through the stock book and place an order for several dozen more of those gorgeous lavender soaps everyone is buying. Also, reorder all the essential oils we’re running low on and more of those astrology posters on display in the coffeehouse. Several students expressed an interest in purchasing one.”

“No problem.” Skye found a blank piece of paper and a pen and made notes.

“You’re doing a wonderful job with your additional duties. Delia and I really appreciate it. I hope none of the other employees gave you a hard time about it.”

Skye shrugged. “Not too bad.” She didn’t want to rat on Glenna who had ranted about it for over an hour. She changed the subject. “Why don’t you two go ahead and leave the store now? I can close up for you.”

Claribel clapped her hands. “That’s a great idea, if you don’t mind. Our bags are packed and if we leave now we’ll miss the rush hour traffic.”

In a surprising feat of organization, Claribel and Delia left the store within thirty minutes, leaving Skye alone with Glenna, Kyle and two other employees. While they handled the remaining customers, Skye sat in Claribel’s chair to look over the paperwork for the stock reorders. She eyed the other books and papers on the desk curiously. There were a handful of bills, bank deposits and a payroll ledger.

She picked up the ledger and rifled through it. Something wrong was going on here at the store. Maybe there was a paper trail of some sort. Her finger edged down the columns and stopped on the name ‘Glenna Joy Harris.’ She snickered in disbelief at the irony. She didn’t know anyone more
un
joyful than Glenna.

“What are you doing in here?”

Skye shut the ledger guiltily and confronted Glenna’s scowling face in the doorway.

“Working. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Snooping.”

“I’m ordering supplies, not that it’s any of your business.” Skye hoped Glenna didn’t notice the hot flush creeping up her neck.

“It’s six o’clock, time to go.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to finish this paperwork. Just lock the door behind you.”

Glenna leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms. “I don’t know why they chose you.” She frowned, eyes ablaze with indignation. “I’m the one who should have been promoted.”

Skye shrugged. “Take it up with them.”

“Maybe I will.” Glenna abruptly stormed out and Skye rolled her eyes.

“Brown Noser.” Glenna stuck her head in the door and spat out the words before taking off again for good. The entry door slammed shut as she left with the others, the bells above the door ringing dizzily.

Finally, alone.

Skye listened to the silence, thinking of Kheelan. Would he call her tonight? Her fingers tap-danced on Claribel’s landline phone, itching to hear his voice. She could call him.
Never chase a man, you’ll look desperate
. Skye heard her mother’s admonition as clearly as if she was standing in the room. But if she had a good reason . . .

She took in the mounds of haphazard paperwork on the desk and sighed. Going through all this would take time and seriously interfere with her schoolwork schedule.

“But how often do you have a chance to balance the scales of justice and save the good guys?” she wondered aloud. Not to mention having a legit reason to call a gorgeous guy whose kisses left her reeling. Resolutely, she dug in, not even sure what she was looking for, but hopeful there was a clue somewhere as to why pixies were being trapped and murdered at The Green Fairy.

Forty minutes later, she held up a paper in excitement.

***

Five days until Samhain, and the blood moon was ever closer to its zenith. The earthly plane filled with all shapes and sizes of the Unseelie fairies roaming unseen by most human eyes. Kheelan ignored them, his mind focused on finding the house of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Jeffries, his not-so-dead parents. He drove through the upscale neighborhood conscious of the loud noise his motorcycle made in the quiet, oak-lined subdivision with driveways full of BMW, Lexus and Mercedes vehicles. He and his beat up Honda Shadow didn’t belong—on so many levels. He turned onto Pinewood Street and slowed to read the mailbox numbers. 320, 319, his heart raced the closer he got. 318, 317 . . . mailbox number 316—The Jeffries.

He took a quick glance around and saw no one. Just him and the hobgoblins. He let down the kickstand and turned off the engine.

The two-story Tudor style home exuded solid upper middle class respectability, from the well-manicured lawn to the silver Corvette in the driveway. Someone had a bit of a sporty streak. Dad? Kheelan’s heart constricted and his breathing became harsh and labored. A light was on in the living room and he saw a man sitting in a recliner, watching a large flat-screened television mounted over an elaborate stone fireplace. It was hard to make out details since his chair was in the shadows.

A woman joined him, placing a tray of food and drinks on the coffee table in front of the man. She sat in the chair beside him, more in the open. Kheelan could make out her brown eyes, same as his. She passed a tired hand over those eyes and yawned, stretching out like a cat.

What would they do if he went up, rang the doorbell, and identified himself? They couldn’t help but see his resemblance to the child they thought of as their own. Maybe they would think Kyle had undergone a miraculous healing, his autism gone into some kind of instantaneous remission. How cruel it would be if they believed that, only to find it untrue at Kyle’s next home visit.

Most likely they would think he was some kind of nut. Even if they did believe his story, it would pain them as much as it did him, the truth would be a searing sword of loss that pierced with a stabbing bitterness. In every way but a biological one, Kyle was their son, the one they had raised and supported and agonized over while dealing with his developmental disability.

The best thing he could do for his parents would be to leave. To never see them again. Kheelan had never felt so alone in his life. With a sudden violence that made even the nearest goblin pull back in surprise, he put up the kickstand, turned on the switch and peeled out of the street in a deafening roar. He raced through the subdivision as if he were on an interstate freeway, needing to put as much distance as he could, as fast as he could, between himself and the human parents he never knew.

***

No answer. Skye’s lips upturned slightly. All the inner angst on whether or not to call Kheelan and when she did, he didn’t answer. Fine, she could do more digging on her own, starting with going back down to the basement. If any fairies were still trapped, she would try to communicate with them.