The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy) Read Free Page A

the sparkles of her outfit.
    “Now
let’s go dazzle these people. Let’s get some extra readings and sock money away
for a trip.”
    “Mother,
now you’re talking my language.”
    As the
emcee announced the duo, Nadia pirouetted across the stage. Helena shuffled
into the spotlight, dismissively waving her hand at her daughter’s antics.
“This one takes dazzling far too literally. If I did that, I’d dislocate
something.” She waited for the few chuckles. “So, you’re here, not to see my
daughter’s interpretation of La Boheme —”
    “ La Boheme ’s an opera, Mom,” Nadia
interrupted petulantly.
    “And
this is Las Vegas. Everything here is La
Boheme ,” Helena delivered with such thick distaste that the crowd couldn’t
help but laugh. “Anyway, you’re here to get a glimpse at what a real psychic
can do. Well, we’re both psychics. And my mother was a psychic. And so was her
mother.”
    “You
know what the worst thing about being a psychic is?” Nadia blurted out to the
crowd. “Blind dates. They never are,” she shook her head sadly.
    “You
can tell she’s not a mother yet, if she thinks that’s the worst thing about being a psychic.” Helena turned to the
packed room. “Our show demands audience participation.” She shielded her eyes
to peer more intently at the crowd. “Sober or not.”
    “Preferably
not, so you think we’re really psychic,” Nadia said with her hand to her mouth
as if she were telling a secret.
    Helena
rolled her eyes. “I knew she was
going to say that.” She clapped her hands. “We’re not your run-of-the-mill
psychics. We don’t read tea leaves and promise you Mister Right. Or a ton of
money. We read minds.” She smiled devilishly. “Who wants to be our first
victim?”
    A
clearly drunk, middle-aged woman raised her hand fervently. She had on stretch
pants, too much make up, gaudy jewelry, and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the
faces of toddlers and the words, “We love our Nana!” A huge gold purse was
slung over her shoulder.
    “Mother,
pick her,” Nadia said, winking to the audience. “She’s the type that’s gonna
believe we’re psychics.” She smiled as the crowd laughed and the woman seemed
to miss the joke at her expense.
    “Ma’am,
what’s your first name?”
    “Why do
you have to ask?” A man called from the back.
    “Because
she isn’t a plant,” Helena answered without missing a beat. “If I paid her to sit
there, I could call her Jehoshaphat and she’d say yes. Name, please.”
    “Stella.”
    “Stella,
I’d like you to dig deep in your purse—”
    “Mom,
you sound like a televangelist.”
    “Pick
out an object. But don’t show us. Keep it hidden in your palms so no one thinks
there’s a spy camera or what-have-you. Show it to the audience.” Helena watched
the drunken woman. “No, the audience is behind you, dear.” More peals of
laughter. “Eyes closed, Nadia.” Nadia and Helena closed their eyes. Stella
turned, showing the first few rows of people whatever she pulled from her
enormous gold vinyl purse. “Has she shown the crowd?”
    “Yes,”
the boisterous crowd cheered.
    “Now we
need silence as we concentrate on the thoughts inside Stella’s mind.”
    “Why do
I suddenly have a craving for a gin gimlet?” Nadia asked. The crowd roared.
    “Nadia,
silence! Please...”
    A hush
fell over the crowd as Nadia and Helena stood, stone-faced, under the harsh
spotlight. Their dresses sparkled. The crowd shifted tensely, whispering to
their neighbors. Several seconds passed—only 10, but for the crowd it felt an
eternity. “Silence...” Helena cautioned again. She could feel the restlessness
of the crowd. They would lose them soon.
    “Stella,
you made it too easy,” Nadia announced. “It’s a keychain photo of the same two
adorable grandkids on your shirt. Nicky and Ricky are their names.”
    “Yes!”
Stella cried gleefully. The crowd cheered.
    Nadia
looked over the crowd and smiled though her mind throbbed