Chapter One
Valeria Cosoi pushed aside the baubles on the table, catching a swirling blue-and-silver patterned one before it teetered off the edge.
“Stay,” she told it, setting it carefully with the rest before cutting open the box that had been delivered to her shop the day before. Crisp, yellowed paper was wrapped around a stack of objects inside, and she unwrapped each, lining them up so she could get a good look at them.
The first few made her wonder if the man had mistaken her establishment for a pawn shop — though he must have thought it was a rather peculiar one at that. The winding path to the counter had carried him past tarot cards, star charts, various bowls of incense, gems and minerals, wards, and charms. She shook her head and continued through the box. Three silver spoons, nicely made, a small China platter, and a hand-carved wooden bowl were first, followed by a large urn.
Valeria turned the urn over in her hands. It had a swirling pattern around the edges and looked to be pretty old. Bronze or brass or something of the sort. The man hadn’t mentioned whose belongings they were — an aunt or a grandmother’s, maybe? Just that someone had passed away, and he wasn’t interested in selling the stuff, just getting rid of it. She had been more than happy to take the things off his hands. Most of the time, people wanted to sell or trade. Unless they were desperate to get rid of a tarot deck they were sure was cursed, for example. Valeria had long given up reminding them that just because they didn’t like the readings they were getting didn’t mean they weren’t true. Well, Uncle Pop would probably like the urn even if she couldn’t sell it, and she could always use a few extra spoons.
She glanced up at the clock and ducked past the heavy drapes to her private office. It was in the very back of the shop, situated right next to the little alcove, clearly labeled “Seances/Readings/Fortunes”, which did not stop people from frequently wandering back here. Uncle Pop had just grouched at her to put a door on the “dang room”, but Valeria couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would interrupt the whole flow of the space, an answer that Pop found unconvincing. On the wall, a laboriously drawn hanging chalkboard marked out all her appointments for the next two weeks. There had been a dip in demand for tarot, and a rise in other forms of seeing — tea leaves, palm reading, and the like. Valeria wondered if it was tied to the recent popularity of self-readings. It was so easy to buy yourself a book and a deck — though any good psychic medium knew the most powerful decks were ones you were gifted, not purchased — but the appointments were coming in all the same. Two palm readings today, two tomorrow. Valeria liked the symmetry.
She dug her accounts book out from a stack of books on the desk, setting aside a bundle of folders stuffed with receipts she needed to catalog, and logged the donation. She really should venture into the twenty-first century and put all of this onto a computer but, not being a fan of technology, she would wait until it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t mind the paperwork if she was honest.
Valeria chewed on her lip as she looked through the files. Things were going all right, though she could use a boost. Maybe the local coven would be interested in renting out the room in the back? She had seen other shops doing it, and while she didn’t want to become an event space, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more income. Plus, the longer they were in here, the more likely they were to pick up bits and bobs to help them with their spells. Valeria at least had one advantage over some of the new-age shops in the region — she actually believed in the things she sold. Well, most of them. That sort of genuineness was harder and harder to come by as these things went mainstream, and she liked to think that her customers appreciated it.
Valeria heard a faint noise coming from out front of the shop and stopped what she was doing to listen closer. Straining her ears, it sounded to her like someone was trying to get her attention by tapping on the window. Who could that be at this time of the morning? She wasn’t even open yet.
She returned the book back beneath the stack — what Aunt Imogen called “security through obscurity” — and stepped out. Her mind couldn’t stop listing the things she needed to do. Top of the list, after she priced and set up the new donations for sale and finished her appointments today, she needed to completely re-organize the crystals and minerals selection. A young mother had brought her toddler through the day before and he had made an absolute disaster of the area, mixing the amethyst with the jade, the ruby with the aquamarine. At least they had bought quite a few, the little boy walking out with something much more significant than the rock collection he had been calling it. Valeria had slipped in a few pieces of obsidian for protection and grounding. It was always good to have around with kids that young.
The tapping noise came again, more urgently this time, and she hurried out of her office. “Coming!” she yelled, winding her way to the front of the store, feeling relief — and smiling — as she saw her friend, May Dawn.
She waved frantically from the window, hopping from foot to foot and brandishing a brown bag from the breakfast spot down the street. Her long, chunky statement necklace bounced against her neck, clashing comfortably with the earrings only partially hidden underneath her long, messy, dark blonde hair. Valeria noticed she had added some small braids throughout, giving rhythm to the disorder. Her clothes, flowing as always, made her look like she’d fit in just right in a shop like this. Better than Valeria did, even, and when May was around, it wasn’t uncommon for people to mistake her for the shop owner, although her jewelry was more aesthetic than purposeful. She pointed to the door, grinning widely, as Valeria unlocked it and asked her in. The front of the shop filled with the smell of eggs and bacon.
“Val! I brought breakfast sandwiches!” May said. “Because you don’t know how to feed yourself.”
“They say all the greatest entrepreneurs start with a small breakfast,” Valeria protested, giving her a quick hug.
“I think they’re talking about billionaires, not witches,” May replied. “You need more than a banana and a coffee to handle the spirit world.”
“Not a witch,” Valeria reminded her, leading the way to the seance room. “Not that I have anything against the practice. I have some friendly new-age witches who come through here. I prefer the term medium.”
“Medium, witch, whatever it is, you’re good at it,” May smiled. “How are you?” She threw herself down into the chair, the bag of food making a soft thunk as it hit the table. May always had a way of occupying a space — making it look like she had always lived there, always been a part of it, no matter how recently she had arrived. It always gave Valeria a pleasant, comfortable feeling, and there was nobody better at breaking her out of her own internal to-do lists.
“Good. I got some donations yesterday, and I was sorting through those before you dropped by. It’s been kind of slow but I’m still getting bookings and the like.” Valeria ducked into her office, flipping on the coffee machine sitting on the counter of the little kitchenette area. It was an antique and came to life with a rattle that Valeria reminded herself to get checked out. The last thing she needed today was for it to give out and force her to buy coffee from somewhere else. She didn’t want to listen to Uncle Pop or Aunt Imogen giving her grief for spending more money on “those dang drugs.” Just because they didn’t drink coffee anymore didn’t mean she had to follow suit.
“What did you get donated?” May called in to her. “Is it something cool?”
“Some delightful pieces, but they’d be a better fit at an antiques shop. Either way, it’s always nice to have some new pieces to put out. I need to remember to put in an order for some more incense. It’s been going like crazy lately. People are really picking it up.”
“I could never run a shop,” May said, biting into her sandwich. “It sounds like way too much pressure. Plus, I think the incense would give me a headache if it was going all day every day,” she caught herself. “Oh, but I like the scents you sell! Really! Is it okay to eat out here? Or, like, should I come into your office?”
“Good food won’t interrupt good readings,” Valeria poked her head out, reassuring her. “And it’s not that bad, running my own place. I get to set my own hours, be my own boss. And I get to do exactly what I like to do.” She smiled as the coffee spurted into the first mug, filling it to the brim, before filling the second. Valeria brought the mugs over to the table where May sat eating her sandwich. The mugs were handmade by a young pottery student, an ecstatic thank-you after Valeria had told her she would be successful in college, at least according to the leaves. She had dropped the mugs off on her graduation day. “Plus, I like the incense. I think it gives a nice feel, or rather smell, to the whole place.”
“Well, I would want to start a bakery,” May looked off behind Valeria. “Something with a lot of sweets, not like a bread bakery. I think I would get bored, just baking bread all the time. I have all these different ideas. Themed things for holidays, and there are some really cool baked treats from around the world I could do. I think it would help expand palates in the town a bit. We’re not grand just because we have three restaurants that aren’t burger joints.”
“I think you could do it, for what it’s worth. You should book a reading at some point! I could give you the friend discount. See if a bakery enterprise is a good thing for you to start right now.”
“I’m too worried it will be bad news.” May made a face. “I like not knowing what’s coming next, you know? If I know something bad might come, and I don’t do the right things to stop it…” She shrugged. “That’s too much pressure for me. I’ll leave the cosmic balancing to you.”
Valeria laughed. “Your faith in my abilities keeps me going, May.”
“That’s what I’m here for!” May winked. “Now dig in! You need to eat!”
They dug into their breakfast, May telling Valeria all about a man she had met a few days before through work — she worked as an art gallery attendant in town — who had shown up and purchased three extremely expensive paintings on the spot and then asked her out to dinner. The gallery usually made its money off repeat customers, she explained, so for someone to come in out of nowhere and make such a huge purchase just like that was almost unheard of.
“Are you going to go out with him?” Valeria asked. “Dashing man from out of nowhere — sounds like one of those ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ strangers that you always see soothsayers going on about in the movies.”
“I don’t know,” May shrugged. “I took his number when he offered it and told him I’d let him know, but I haven’t decided. I didn’t give him mine — didn’t want him texting me before I was sure. He was cute, but I’m just not sure I’m really over Tony yet.”
“May, you’ve got to let yourself get over him,” Valeria prodded. “It’s been what, two years? I know it was so hard, but you can’t just give up.”
“I don’t mean to! I don’t get to pick when I’m ready,” May complained.
“But going out with this guy might be a good first step,” Valeria said. “It’s like, every other aspect of your life, you just go with the flow. So why not on this, too?”
“Hmmm. I’ll think about it. He had wonderful hair, after all.” May giggled, wiping sauce from the side of her lip. “And clearly he knows how to make commitments with a purchase like that.”
“And money. You could turn that into bakery-owning money one day.”
“Val!” May laughed.
Valeria shrugged and smiled, finishing her food. May was a slow eater — no matter when Valeria started, she would always finish first, as May made her own methodical way around the dish. There were so few things in life that May did carefully, Valeria thought, as she watched her friend. Eating was one thing she did with careful enthusiasm, she supposed, though she would try any food twice. Always twice — that was the rule. If she didn’t like it the first time, she might have been in a bad mood, or had a cold she didn’t know about.
But really, it was men that May was the most careful about. Unlike the rest of the free-spirit friends she ran with, May was careful, almost too careful, about her boyfriends. Once she had one, she was going to stick by him. And if he pulled some cad move like cheat on her, the way Tony did? It was going to take her at least as long as the relationship had lasted to get over it, if not more. Valeria wasn’t the best at meeting men — there weren’t a ton of them in her line of work, and those who were could get a little strange — but she still took her chances more confidently than May.
Valeria felt a prickle on the back of her neck. The same old rush of air, the same tingle she recognized immediately. Yes. It was happening again.
She set her cup of coffee down, just the dregs remaining, and let out a little sigh. What was it this time? There was so much to do today. The readings! And the rocks! Maybe it wouldn’t be anything, Valeria told herself. Maybe this time, it really would just be a breeze. A chill. Someone walking over her grave.
But she turned, and behind her, suspended about a foot above the ground, was the transparent, greenish-blue figure of a woman. Her hair was spread out around her head in an irregular halo, and interspersed Valeria could make out something else, though the image was hazy. Weeds, or maybe grass, deeper greens tangled amidst the hair. The woman’s blouse billowed around her, a sharp contrast to the way her leggings seemed almost shrink-wrapped against her legs. She reached out a hand and her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Valeria turned back to May, propping her hand up on her chin. “You’re not going to believe it,” she said, her voice tired.
“What?” May asked, her eyes getting wider. “Is there something going on?”
“A ghost,” Valeria said, “right behind me.”
“Really!” The word was more of a squeak, and May jumped up, hurrying around the edge of the table and waving her hands out behind Valeria. “Here? It might be a little colder right here, I’m not sure. Maybe here?” She shifted to the right, still waving her hands in the air. They passed freely through the ghostly woman as Valeria watched, and she saw the ghost begin to look annoyed.
“Stand back, May, I think you’re getting in her space,” she said, standing. Where had this one come from? She hadn’t visited the graveyard recently, so it couldn’t be a tagalong from there —
Her mind flashed to the donated urn. Could it be? She held back a puff of frustrated air. Had the man donated cremated remains without even realizing? How did you forget that a family member was in that particular urn? Valeria tried to compose herself. Sure, she wasn’t expecting this today, but it’s not like the ghost had picked this point to show up, either. Maybe she was just passing through.
“Who are you?” Valeria asked, keeping her voice pleasant. May had pasted herself against the wall in an attempt to prevent herself from annoying the ghost any further and now she looked at Valeria with a thrilled expression on her face, her eyes shining.
The ghost seemed to struggle to speak again, and Valeria motioned for May to wait there. She rushed over to the front desk and picked up the urn. The ghost followed after her, drifting along like a twig caught in the current, but seemed to stiffen when Valeria touched the cool brass of the urn. The floating woman filled out slightly — now less of an overlay and almost a two-dimensional being. She changed into a fuller, more three-dimensional form. Her hair agitated and her blouse flapped before coming to a rest again. Valeria could hear the ghost clear her throat, looking like she was trying to collect herself.
“Please,” the ghost managed at last, the words sounding forced out — Valeria wondered how long she had been like this, dead and waiting for someone to notice her. “Please, you have to help. Only you can help.”
Valeria set the urn back down, trying to keep a neutral face. The ghost maintained her stronger state — Valeria had tried an old trick, repeating contact with the object to strengthen her ties to the spirit within. For a second, she regretted this decision.
She didn’t know exactly why, but she had a feeling she had just gotten herself into a whole lot of work.
