About the Psychic.
Glinda shut the door after her visitors left and lowered herself to the couch in her living room. The wind had picked up outside and she could hear it murmuring through the trees on the side of her house, though she couldn’t hear what it was saying. She could also hear her cat, Amadeus, meowing outside below the kitchen window. He wanted in but she wasn’t up to lifting herself from the soft cushions, walking into the kitchen and opening the door for him. Her body was still tingling. Her mind was still full of frightful images.
“Later, my pet. Go catch a mouse or chase a squirrel. Leave me alone. I need time to think.”
Seconds later the cat was at her side glaring at her with his yellow eyes. He put a paw on her arm.
“Yes, I know exactly what you are trying to tell me. I should stay out of those people’s troubles. I helped enough by warning them. I know, I know. It could be so dangerous for us. But they have no idea what is looking for them or how to fight it. They could be hurt or even die. It depends on what their enemies want from them. I wonder what it is.”
She sat gazing at an antique dresser, a light colored oak with a smoky mirror topping it, shoved up against the far wall. It was very old and had once belonged to another woman who’d also had the sight. She kept her important papers and items in it, some in a locked bottom drawer. Her special books were in there. Books no one else must ever see or read.
After a while she got up and made herself a cup of tea. She hadn’t had breakfast yet so she took a homemade cinnamon roll from the refrigerator and heated it up in the microwave. Throwing on a sweater, and taking the roll and her cup with her, she went out on the small back porch. She needed fresh air. She couldn’t get what she’d seen when she was holding the old woman’s hands out of her mind. The intense feeling of dread wouldn’t leave her.
Abigail’s reading had been enlightening as well. Glinda had felt the strength in the woman; felt the love she had for her husband, the town and her family. She’d had image vignettes of Abigail at her artwork around town and out solving other people’s dilemmas with her husband and Myrtle. Abigail was one of the good ones as were Frank and Myrtle. The three of them were intriguing characters.
Sometimes her insights, or her visions as she called them, affected her for hours after she’d had them. The other visions attached to Abigail had been surprisingly eye-opening–she’d seen the heroic things the woman had done since her first husband had died–but the old lady’s had been truly horrifying. The sensations connected with dark magic were often like that. They lingered. They tormented. Somewhere in Myrtle’s long life she’d run into some tremendously evil influences and they were still stalking her.
Dark magic was nothing to fool with and she knew she should pack up immediately and get out of town while she still could. Yet as dangerous as it was for her to remain, she didn’t want to run away. They needed her help.
Her eyes took in the yard and the creek flowing along the edge of it. There were woods behind the water and the leaves on the branches were vivid oranges, reds and golds. It was going to be a stunning fall. She liked her yard and she loved the house and the town. Spookie was turning out to be an unusual village with quirky, yet amiable, inhabitants and quaint shops. A jewel of a place where time seemed to have stood still. Hidden deep in the forest and far away from any big cities, it was a perfect town in which to make her home. It was the perfect town to hide in.
And she was hiding.
Amadeus appeared at her feet and when she put the cup down on a table beside her, he launched himself into her lap. He always knew when she was upset and wanted to comfort her.
“Don’t worry about me, little friend. I am all right. Sorry if I was sharp with you before.” She petted the cat’s large head as it began to purr, its eyes closed in contentment. It head butted her gently and the purring increased.
Glinda finished her coffee and roll but sat for a long time looking at nothing and everything. She waited for another vision to come. She knew it would because of the light-headedness she was still experiencing. After an hour when nothing happened she went back into the house. She kept having this feeling as if there was somewhere else she was supposed to be, to go. Someone she was supposed to meet. Yet no further information came to her.
She hadn’t built up much of a clientele for her readings yet, she was still too new to the town. She didn’t have another appointment until the following afternoon. Suddenly, she had to get out of the house, run from the shadows gathering in the corners. She craved solitude, was basically a recluse, but even for her there were times she had to go out into the world and hear a human voice, see a human smile, window shop and buy things. She wanted to live and experience a real life. Lately the rain had kept her in but today, under a cloudy sky, it was rainless so it was her chance to escape.
After putting on blue jeans, a jacket, because the day would most likely get chillier, and grabbing her purse, she told the cat, “I’m going to town, Amadeus, to get us more supplies and some things I need. So you be good. Stay out of trouble, you hear? I won’t be gone long.”
The feline gave her a snooty grimace, jumped up on the couch and settled in the corner, where he promptly shut his eyes and went to sleep.
Glinda left the house, climbed on her bicycle, an antique blood-colored Schwinn she’d had for decades, and rode into town. It wasn’t that far, only a few miles. She refused to have a car. They were expensive and years ago she’d had a vision she’d die in a car accident…in a season which could have been either fall or winter. So she didn’t take any chances and arranged her life where she didn’t need a car. Moving to Spookie and a house not far out of town allowed her to peddle anywhere she needed to go. A metal basket on the rear of her bike was generally sufficient to transport her groceries and sundry items home. If something she bought was too large, she’d have it delivered. She also ordered many things on the Internet. Technology made it all so easy especially when there was free shipping.
She tried to calm herself and enjoy nature as the scenery sped by. She admired the forest around her and the charm of her surroundings. Spookie was a strange little town. It wasn’t far from the city but it felt as if she were out in the middle of a wilderness somewhere. Just riding down the asphalt two lane road eyeing the lushness around her gave her such a sense of peace. She listened to the tiny flying and tree-hopping animals, and the wind, as the air swept by her face. Inhaling the sweet scents of autumn, she began to feel better and gradually the scary vision residue evaporated.
Coming into the town’s limits she rode down Main Street. The village was so cute, like a Norman Rockwell painting. The old-fashioned looking shops were open and decorated for Halloween, which she found disquieting, considering what she’d sensed earlier with Myrtle. Stuffed witches, jack-o-lanterns and hanging ghosts were everywhere. It was the season for spooky. When she’d started out she hadn’t been sure where she was heading, but now she did. She parked her bicycle in front of The Tattered Corners Bookstore and went in.
“Well, if it isn’t our new local seer,” Claudia said, smiling and walking up to her. “You must truly be a book lover to be back in here so soon.”
Glinda liked the woman. She had class and style. When she’d first met her, and on every visit since, Claudia had been helpfully friendly. Since she was the only one in town Glinda really knew, except for the trio who’d visited her that morning, she supposed it was as good a place as any to begin her inquiries.
“You’re correct, I do adore books. I also like my Kindle and read eBooks on it, but nothing takes the place of a printed book in one’s hands. I love the solidness, the smell and feel of them; their history. I often daydream about who’s held a book or read it in the past. Where, when it was, who they were and what they thought of it. But the truth is, today, I just needed to get out of the house and somehow I’ve ended up here. I’m still exploring your lovely little town.”
“That’s okay, too. You’re welcome to visit and gab with me. The day’s been slow so it’s nice to have a visitor, whether you buy a book or not. I have some freshly baked cookies in the back. Would you like some and a cup of coffee?”
“That sounds lovely. Would you have tea instead, though?”
“I have tea. Follow me.”
As Glinda moved through the crowded store her eyes took in the stacks and shelves of books. There were paperbacks and hardcovers filling every nook and cranny of the shop, a feast for her eyes. She had loved books since she’d been a child. Her home was full of books. All kinds of books, even the ones, her secret books, which would surprise or shock people.
At the table in the back with the spotless white table cloth, Claudia poured her a cup of hot water and added a tea bag. “Sorry, no fancy tea here, just Lipton’s. There’s sugar and cream if you take your tea with either or both. Cookies. Help yourself.”
“I’m easy to please so Lipton’s will be fine. The cookies look tasty. Thank you.”
“So, what can I help you with?” Claudia picked up a sugar cookie and took a bite of it after Glinda had chosen one. “I assume you’re not just here for books or the cookies?”
The woman was perceptive.
“You’re right. I met some of the townsfolk this morning and was wondering about them. They scheduled two readings and said they’d learned about me from you. They were a colorful trio.”
“Oh, really?” Claudia’s expression was thoughtful as she met Glinda’s gaze over the last piece of her cookie. When she was done the shopkeeper brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “Who did you meet?”
“Frank Lester, his wife Abigail and this old woman–”
“Myrtle?”
“Yes, Myrtle. She’s a character, isn’t she?”
“That she is. What do you want to know about them?”
Glinda caught a hint of restraint from the book seller, a tightening of her body language and her defenses. Oh, these are dear friends of hers and she wants to protect them. Ah, she got it.
“I’m going to level with you. Myrtle’s reading was, let’s say, very dark. It set off an inner alarm and confused me. So I was wondering what sort of person she is. Is she as eccentric as she behaves? Is she…stable?” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to ask but she couldn’t think of any other way to find out what she needed to know.
Now Claudia surprised her by laughing. “Oh, my. Now some people in town would say Myrtle’s sanity was debatable. But believe me, Myrtle is quite sane and don’t let her quirky behavior fool you. She’s a clever and courageous woman. She’s the town’s mystery solver, too. In the last couple years that trio you met this morning have been responsible for cracking some insidious crimes and saving many people’s lives.”
“Are they secret sleuths or something?”
“They’re not secret anythings. Everyone in town knows about their hobby. Frank’s an ex-homicide detective, retired and now a murder mystery novelist–and a good one–and Abby’s an artist. And Myrtle, why, she’s a busy-body with a knack for getting to the truth. They’re just some of our town’s unique residents. Spookie is full of them. If you like odd you’re in the right place.”
Glinda picked up another cookie and drank a sip of tea. What she’d seen and felt that morning made more sense to her now. The town sleuths, huh?
“So who had a reading this morning?” Claudia looked up as a very old woman with long straggly gray hair and in a ragged blue jacket entered the shop and began browsing the paperback exchange table. On her slumped left shoulder there was a bulky cloth sack hanging from a rope and bulging with what might be clothes or personal items. She was possibly a homeless person coming in off the street to get warm and whittle away some of the daylight.
“The two women,” Glinda said. “The man didn’t want a reading.”
The elderly gray-haired woman had paused to peruse a paperback and, to Glinda, looked as if she was eavesdropping on what Glinda and Claudia were discussing. Some people were so nosy.
“That sounds like Frank,” Claudia remarked, lowering her voice possibly because of the eavesdropper. “I’m not surprised he didn’t want his cards read. Most people don’t know this but he doesn’t like anything to do with the supernatural, even something as harmless as a psychic reading. He’s never told me why, but that’s the impression I’ve always gotten. He’s either a fanatical cynic or he’s afraid of something.”
Glinda tried not to react. Her readings, her gift, were anything but harmful. They were meant to help people. She’d spent most of her life enduring and fighting others’ fears or ridicule because she could see the future and…other things. Yet she could tell the bookstore owner hadn’t meant anything hurtful by her words. So it didn’t bother her.
“Anything else you’d like to know about the three musketeers?”
“One more thing. I know it’s a strange question, but has Myrtle ever been associated or connected in any way with the practice of…witchcraft?”
That appeared to shock the shopkeeper. “Myrtle? Witchcraft?” She laughed out loud again and negatively shook her head. “Oh, some people might call her a witch with the peculiar way she dresses and behaves at times, singing songs boisterously on the sidewalks of town like some itinerant troubadour, but she really isn’t. She’s merely eccentric. And I don’t think she even believes in witches, or not as far as I can recall. Besides, there are no such things as genuine witches and magic, right?”
“Right,” Glinda replied in a subdued voice. “No such things.”
Claudia excused herself to attend to her customer and Glinda watched her chat with the homeless woman, who didn’t buy anything, just kept browsing after Claudia had spoken to her.
When the bookseller revisited the table she grinned at Glinda, grabbed a handful of cookies in a napkin, some coffee in a paper cup, and scurried back to where she’d left the old woman. She gave her the cookies and coffee and returned to the table with Glinda.
“I don’t know who that old woman is but I feel sorry for her,” she confessed as her eyes followed the homeless woman’s movements as she shuffled around the shop.
“A regular?” Glinda inquired, cocking her head in the direction of the elderly customer.
“No,” Claudia said. “I’ve never seen her before. It’s rare we have any homeless people in town at all. I asked her who she was and where she lived, but she wouldn’t answer me. I think she might be mentally challenged, as they now say. Poor thing. I also gave her a little money so she could go and get a hot meal somewhere.”
Claudia turned her full attention back to Glinda. “So newcomer, how do you like living in our picturesque little village? Have you eaten at Stella’s Diner yet?”
“So far I adore the town and the house I’m renting is perfect. And, as of yet, I haven’t sampled any of the food at Stella’s Diner. I do my own cooking at home most of the time.”
“Well,” Claudia continued, “Stella’s isn’t only good for having scrumptious food, it’s the gossip hub of our town. Sooner or later you’ll meet everyone there. It’s the quickest way to get to know the townspeople–and have them accept you. If that’s what you want. It’d be good for your business and Stella would let you leave a pile of your business cards on the front counter. I will, too. And I’ll spread the word about your fledgling business.”
“Thanks for the advice and the offer of free advertising. I’ll be sure to check out the diner in the near future.”
They conversed for a time, pleasantries about the community, their everyday lives, and Glinda placed a pile of her business cards on Claudia’s counter. When she stood up to take her leave she studied the books on the shelves as she strolled past them. Claudia had an extensive selection of rare and ancient tomes Glinda rarely saw in most bookstores. Books she could use. She chose a couple and carried them to the checkout counter.
“I can’t believe you have these two books. I have to have them. I’ve been searching for them for years. They’re extremely rare. You have quite an eclectic collection in your shop. I like that.”
“Interesting reading on your agenda,” Claudia noted as she ran up the total and read off the titles. “Wicca in Today’s World and How to Spot It. Advanced Spells and Enchantments. Are you interested in practicing Wicca or is it just curiosity?”
“Curiosity. And in my profession it helps to know more than simply how to read a tarot deck or how to decipher what I see in my crystals. As strange as it sounds, I sometimes have clients who fear they are being targeted or cursed by voodoo priestesses or witches–no it’s true, it’s not that rare–so I need to be up to date with those religions as well. In the world of the paranormal it’s good to know as much about every aspect of it as you can learn.” And I had a premonition I might need to know more than I already know. Glinda smiled and tried hard to keep her countenance normal.
“I never knew that. I mean that people sometimes feel as if they’ve been cursed by voodoo or witches and ask for help. Odd. But I like curiosity. It helps me sell a lot of books.” Smiling back at her, Claudia put the purchases in a bag and handed it to her. “Visit me anytime…for conversation, cookies, tea or books. You’ll find Spookie is a truly friendly town, irregardless of the name.”
“Nice to know.” Glinda concluded she liked the book lady. In her she sensed an integrity and a pure spirit. There was a bright aura around her so she, too, was one of the good ones. Hopefully they’d become good friends.
As she exited the store and burst out onto the sunny sidewalk the homeless woman brushed against her. The old woman caught her arm and peered right into her face. “Do I know you? You look familiar somehow.” The voice was a husky croak and the face was furrowed with dirty wrinkles; the eyes were milky with cataracts. The woman’s teeth, as her lips moved, looked as if she hadn’t seen a dentist in a long time.
“You don’t know me. I don’t know you–” was all Glinda got out before the homeless woman spun on her filthy shoes and sprinted off down the sidewalk. For a moment in the distance, as the old woman was poised against the cloudy sky, Glinda could have sworn suddenly there were other women, a group of them, around her. More old crones wearing drab clothes. Then a fierce swirl of mist came from nowhere and cloaked them. And when the mist dissipated, they were gone. Poof. All of them, even the homeless woman. So weird. The woman went behind the building, that’s all, and seeing all those other hags around her, why that had been a trick her eyes had played on her. Perhaps it was time for an eye exam?
Something made Glinda follow her–them, if there were a them–but when she turned the corner, the homeless woman and her friends were still nowhere to be seen. Though she hadn’t recognized the woman she’d felt the wrongness of her. Her aura had been such a deep blackish purple it had nearly knocked Glinda to the sidewalk. Whoever the homeless woman was she didn’t belong in Spookie.
Shaking her head to dispel the wrongness she’d felt, the psychic put the books in her bike’s basket and rode to the IGA. She needed more cat food and milk. Some chocolate bars. She had to have chocolate, especially after her run in with the homeless woman. There wasn’t any problem, she believed, chocolate couldn’t fix. Well, usually.
After she picked up the groceries she peddled home, her thoughts scattered and her psychic antenna in overdrive. What she’d seen when holding Myrtle’s hands that morning and the darkness which had chilled her when she’d bumped into the homeless person, not to mention seeing the spectral gang around her, had changed everything. There was no longer any doubt in her mind. Something was threatening her new home and she had to discover what or who it was. She had to be ready for whatever was coming.
*****
Glinda woke as dawn broke on the world and no matter how she tried she couldn’t recapture sleep. She’d had an awful awful dream.
In the half-light Amadeus jumped up on the bed and perched himself in front of her. He leisurely licked his paws and meowed in the way he sometimes did when he was attempting to communicate with her.
“I’m all right, friend. Just a bad dream. But there is trouble coming our way and we need to find out what it is.”
The cat meowed one final time, its eyes glittering.
She stroked his soft fur, gave him a quick hug, and slipped out of bed. The dream hung on to her consciousness for a fraction of a second longer and dissolved as most dreams did, leaving only a feeling of angst. She wasn’t sad to see it go. She let it go.
Go into town, the voice in her head murmured. Something is waiting there for you.
Since her next and only reading of the day wasn’t until later she decided to have breakfast at Stella’s Diner. As Claudia had suggested, what better way to get to know the townspeople, the town’s business and perhaps get a hint of what danger might be approaching? She could leave some of her business cards on Stella’s counter and maybe collect some new clients. Heaven knew, she needed them.
She parked her bike on the sidewalk by the door and entered the diner. The minute she was inside she knew something was going on. The restaurant had quite a lot of people in it and was buzzing like a beehive. There was an elderly woman, in an apron, with snowy hair and crimson lipstick shuffling from table to table with an order pad.
Sitting down at a table by the window, she introduced herself to the waitress, Stella, who also claimed to be the owner, and ordered tea and pancakes.
“Ah ha, the mysterious psychic. I’d been told we had a recent addition to our town and you’d hung out your business shingle.” A gnarled hand reached out to shake Glinda’s. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And nice to meet you, too, Stella. I’ve heard so many great things about your restaurant and its food. So here I am.”
“Really, huh? Okay, for your kind words your first meal at Stella’s is free, sweetie. I’ll be back in a jiffy with your breakfast.” Then Stella bustled off to get it.
As she waited Glinda sat quietly and listened to the conversations around her. Some of the folks stared at her, some smiled as if welcoming her. One couple said hello and she said hello back. She heard a name spoken which sounded familiar, though at the moment she couldn’t recall where she’d heard it.
When Stella returned with her tea and pancakes she questioned, “Who is Evelyn?”
“Oh, Evelyn Vogt. She’s this animal-hoarder daft woman who lives on the edge of town with about a hundred cats and dogs and we think she is missing. Her friends and her sister were just in here getting a posse together to look for her. They can’t find her.”
“Her sister?”
“Myrtle Schmitt. She’s our friendly neighborhood eccentric wagon lady. She wanders about town pulling that rusty wagon behind her like she’s homeless or something, which she positively is not. She’s an odd bird herself, but shrewder than she lets on. Have you met her yet?”
“I’ve met her and her friends,” Glinda admitted. “They had readings earlier this week. I saw trouble coming.”
“You did, huh? Well, you were right. Myrtle’s sister, Evelyn, can’t be found nowhere. The police and half the town are out whacking the woods for her.”
“The woods?”
“Yeah.” The waitress stood there, her eyes checking out the tables around them in case someone wanted something. She was extremely energetic for someone her age. There was something about the waitress…she’d lost someone very dear to her recently and there was something wrong with her heart. Should Glinda tell her? People didn’t want to hear about the bad stuff.
Before the waitress rushed off, Glinda grasped her hand and whispered, “I’m so sorry about your cousin Wilber’s unexpected passing. But he didn’t suffer and went quickly. He’s happy now for the first time in many years. He’s finally with his wife, Louisa, again and their son Lucas.”
The instant shock reflected on Stella’s face was replaced by a sad smile. “My, my, you must be psychic. How did you know all that?”
“As it always does it just came to me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Nah, it takes a heck of a lot more to scare old Stella. I’ve been around for a very long time and I’ve seen everything there is to see, heard everything there is to hear, or I think I have. Thank you for the sympathy, though. It is kind of you.”
Someone called out to the waitress for a coffee refill but before she dashed off, Glinda disclosed one more thing. “Stella, tomorrow you need to call your doctor and get a complete check-up. Ask to have an MRI of your chest. There could be something wrong with your heart.”
“My heart?” Her voice was just the least bit worried, but her eyes were anxious. “What’s wrong with my ticker? Is it serious? Fatal?”
“I believe it can be fixed but you must see your doctor. Soon.”
Again the old waitress flashed her a strange look but nodded. “I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.” Then she went off to fetch more coffee for the bearded man in the corner.
Darn, I shouldn’t have done that, Glinda chided herself. I scared her. One of the reasons she never had friends even in the towns she’d stayed in longer than normal. People didn’t always want to know their future, especially if something bad was going to befall them. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She had to warn the old lady and couldn’t have lived with herself unless she had. She often opened her mouth, blurted predictions out she shouldn’t, before her brain approved what she said. It was part of her curse. Her gift would have its way.
She was suddenly tired so she ate her pancakes, drank her tea, left a tip on the table, and quietly left the diner.
It was as she was throwing her leg over the bicycle that the woman at the end of the street caught her eye. She was sure it was the same homeless individual she’d seen the day before in the bookstore. The long dirty hair, the cloth bag on her shoulder and the unkempt clothes were hard to miss. The old lady wasn’t looking in her direction so most likely hadn’t seen her–but there was a pulsating dark aura around her. It was one of the darkest aura’s Glinda had ever seen and darker than the last time she’d run into her. How strange.
A wave of nausea engulfed Glinda and the world spun around her. With her foot going to the sidewalk for balance, the bike kept her from falling to the ground. When the dizziness passed the homeless woman at the end of the street was gone. Again. Glinda turned her bicycle around and rode to where she’d last seen her. Looking around, there was no woman anywhere. The streets branching off from the one were all empty. Where had the old woman gone? If was as if she’d vanished into the air. Again.
Glinda rode through the sunny town and into the countryside. The beautiful fall day revived her spirits, helped calm her disquiet, and by the time she arrived home she was almost herself once more. Which was a good thing because her afternoon client, the town’s newspaper publisher Samantha Westerly, was early and waiting for her. She’d met the reporter at the IGA a week ago and the woman had asked for a reading and an interview. She said it’d help Glinda’s business if she could do a newspaper article on her and what services she offered. The journalist did that for most new arrivals in town and afterwards would publish the interview and also post it on the newspaper’s website. Glinda had consented. She didn’t turn down free promotion, though she tried not to give too much away of her own past. She’d stick to generalities and interesting tidbits about what it was like to be a psychic. That generally satisfied reporters and their readers.
She let the reporter in. Samantha was a friendly woman probably in her thirties with thick glasses, a pretty face and wavy red hair. They hit it off from the start, conversing about a variety of subjects. Samantha was dedicated to her newspaper, her friends and the town she loved. She provided a wealth of information on the town’s history and who was who in it. Glinda learned about Frank, Abigail and Myrtle’s earlier exploits–a thirty-year old missing person’s case, the Mud People Killer and how they solved a series of senior citizen’s murders–and was amazed at what they’d been through, what they’d accomplished. They were like a crime fighting club or something.
Thankfully Glinda didn’t receive any startling forebodings about the woman when she did her reading. Samantha Westerly’s future looked normal and bright. Thank goodness.
“Your newspaper, or the media hub it will become, will continue to do well…it will expand…and I see a marriage for you in the near future…children.”
“Marriage? When?”
“Within two years. You’ll have a proposal from your boyfriend very soon.”
“You don’t say? I’d begun to fear Kent would never pop the question. Interesting. How many children?” The reporter was trying not let her skepticism show, but was having a challenging time of it.
“You’ll have three children within the next decade. Eventually, later in life, with a second husband you’ll have a final child.”
The reporter put her hand to the side of her face in a motion of incredulity and exclaimed, “Oh my. Two husbands and four children? Boy, I have a busy life ahead of me. Are you sure that’s what you see?”
“It’s what I see.”
“Will I always be an editor and a publisher?”
After a hesitation, the psychic replied, “I see you going into politics.”
“Politics?” The reporter showed more disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“You’re going to be a congresswoman and someday perhaps run for a senate post. You’re going to outlive both your husbands and live a long, fruitful life, Samantha. You’re going to make a difference in the world.”
“Whoa, I don’t know whether to be happy or panicked. Politics, huh? You know I have thought of running for office at times but never thought I’d have the nerve. It’s a cut throat world, politics.”
“You will run for office, and win, and do great things. Your life will be happy.”
Then she cautioned the reporter about a man named William she would meet in the next month. “You’ll be tempted to date him, fall in love with him, but he won’t be right for you. He’s hiding some mental problems and a history of being controlling and abusive to his romantic partners. Run the other way is my advice. Stick with your boyfriend. He’s dependable and his heart is true. Don’t be swayed by others’ flattery. Marry him when he asks you. It’s the first step on your life’s journey.” Glinda hoped she’d listen to her. The new man was bad news.
The interview and visit lasted longer than it might have because they talked more about Spookie and the people who lived there. They spoke of the missing woman, Evelyn, and Glinda promised to help if she could, if her gift showed her anything.
In the end the psychic learned more from the reporter than the reporter learned from her and the seeds of yet another beginning friendship were firmly planted.
Long after the journalist went out the door Glinda sat on her porch and thought about what they’d discussed. Amadeus showed up and leapt into her lap.
“I think, my pet, we’ve landed in the middle of something. I wonder if any of them have any idea of the darkness which is coming. Probably not.
“And I wonder if Evelyn’s disappearance is the beginning of it? What do you think, my friend?”
The cat didn’t respond but cuddled in her lap and purred.
She tried that night to see something, anything, which might help her see where Evelyn Vogt had gone to, if she was safe, if she was still alive. But, frustratingly, her gift refused to help her in any way. At least, not that night.
Sometimes it was like that. She wasn’t allowed to see everything she wanted or needed to see. Maybe she’d see it tomorrow.