of police doing their best to maintain order.
4.
Kate didn’t like the looks of the building the second she laid eyes on it. Graffiti-infested, paint chipping, tucked behind a strip mall like a bum in an alley. She checked the address, then checked it again. 500 South Alameda. This was the place. She smelled urine and wanted to walk right then and there. Then desperation took over, forced her to go on. She had to know more about the death number, and, supposedly, this was where the best psychic in all of California lived. She didn’t believe it. The homeless sleeping in the street, the rundown cars. It looked more like a place where she’d find rats and syphilis, not a renowned clairvoyant.
She stepped past piles of maggoty trash, bikes with twisted, flat tires, and discarded wine bottles, and located Number Six. A knock on the door produced nothing. She heard a TV inside, blaring some kind of game show, a contestant squealing, an announcer declaring her victory. She knocked again, louder, and the TV fell silent. Then the door cracked open and a tiny eye peeped at her. The deepest, brownest eye Kate had ever seen.
“Is your mamma home, sweetie?”
The door opened a little more. Kate saw the child’s entire face, and it shocked her. The whole right side of the girl’s body was scarred heavily, in some places to the point of being grotesque.
“Who is it, Sunshine?” a woman bellowed from somewhere in the back of the apartment, a sparsely decorated place bursting with packed cardboard boxes. “Who’s there?” the woman had an uneasiness in her voice, as if she was in a great deal of pain.
“I’m K—” she stopped herself, unwilling to say her own name out loud. “I was told to come here…by Dean Bow.”
“We’re not doing any more readings! For anybody! I don’t care how famous you are, or how much money you have! Just go! Leave us alone!”
“Please, ma’am. I need your help. My friend was killed by some curse, a curse on his name…the death number!”
The girl took Kate’s hand and tugged her inside, putting her finger to her lips and telling her silently to be quiet.
“Sunshine? What are you doin’? I told you no ! Don’t you help that woman!”
The girl smiled in brazen disregard to her mother’s vehement wishes. Kate argued with herself over the child’s age. Ten? Twelve? She hunched her shoulders and sorted through a shabby, antique trunk, finding an ornate yet ragged trinket made of feathers and teeth and bone.
“Sunshine!” yelled the woman. Kate got the feeling the lady couldn’t move. She pictured a bedridden soul, sentenced to a miserable, slow, living death. “Baby, please! Don’t do this! Mamma’s begging you, child! You can’t do this! Not again! You’ll kill me! Honey, you don’t understand how much it takes out of your mamma!”
“Is…is she okay?” Kate sat on the floor.
“Mamma’s okay. But you’re not,” the girl placed her charm on the trunk lid and stared at it. The thing looked like a Native American dreamcatcher, only it had a distinct African vibe. Carved animal faces, richly-colored fabrics, exotic plumage.
The woman moaned stridently, rattling Kate’s molars. Kate felt a freezing wind, only it was inside, beneath her skin. The girl seized the charm and shook it hard while the woman cried out in terror.
“NO! Go away! No! Sunshine! Make them go away!”
Kate uncrossed her legs and stood up fast. She ran to the hall and peered down. Two doors, both on the right. She knew the bedroom was the furthest, but didn’t want to go. She had to do something, so she took a nervous breath and started toward the bedroom when Sunshine grasped her hand.
“Stop! Don’t go in there!”
“I have to! Your mother’s in trouble! Can’t you hear?”
Kate grabbed the doorknob and her palm scorched instantly. Not from heat, but cold. Severe cold, so bad it gave her
4.
Kate didn’t like the looks of the building the second she laid eyes on it. Graffiti-infested, paint chipping, tucked behind a strip mall like a bum in an alley. She checked the address, then checked it again. 500 South Alameda. This was the place. She smelled urine and wanted to walk right then and there. Then desperation took over, forced her to go on. She had to know more about the death number, and, supposedly, this was where the best psychic in all of California lived. She didn’t believe it. The homeless sleeping in the street, the rundown cars. It looked more like a place where she’d find rats and syphilis, not a renowned clairvoyant.
She stepped past piles of maggoty trash, bikes with twisted, flat tires, and discarded wine bottles, and located Number Six. A knock on the door produced nothing. She heard a TV inside, blaring some kind of game show, a contestant squealing, an announcer declaring her victory. She knocked again, louder, and the TV fell silent. Then the door cracked open and a tiny eye peeped at her. The deepest, brownest eye Kate had ever seen.
“Is your mamma home, sweetie?”
The door opened a little more. Kate saw the child’s entire face, and it shocked her. The whole right side of the girl’s body was scarred heavily, in some places to the point of being grotesque.
“Who is it, Sunshine?” a woman bellowed from somewhere in the back of the apartment, a sparsely decorated place bursting with packed cardboard boxes. “Who’s there?” the woman had an uneasiness in her voice, as if she was in a great deal of pain.
“I’m K—” she stopped herself, unwilling to say her own name out loud. “I was told to come here…by Dean Bow.”
“We’re not doing any more readings! For anybody! I don’t care how famous you are, or how much money you have! Just go! Leave us alone!”
“Please, ma’am. I need your help. My friend was killed by some curse, a curse on his name…the death number!”
The girl took Kate’s hand and tugged her inside, putting her finger to her lips and telling her silently to be quiet.
“Sunshine? What are you doin’? I told you no ! Don’t you help that woman!”
The girl smiled in brazen disregard to her mother’s vehement wishes. Kate argued with herself over the child’s age. Ten? Twelve? She hunched her shoulders and sorted through a shabby, antique trunk, finding an ornate yet ragged trinket made of feathers and teeth and bone.
“Sunshine!” yelled the woman. Kate got the feeling the lady couldn’t move. She pictured a bedridden soul, sentenced to a miserable, slow, living death. “Baby, please! Don’t do this! Mamma’s begging you, child! You can’t do this! Not again! You’ll kill me! Honey, you don’t understand how much it takes out of your mamma!”
“Is…is she okay?” Kate sat on the floor.
“Mamma’s okay. But you’re not,” the girl placed her charm on the trunk lid and stared at it. The thing looked like a Native American dreamcatcher, only it had a distinct African vibe. Carved animal faces, richly-colored fabrics, exotic plumage.
The woman moaned stridently, rattling Kate’s molars. Kate felt a freezing wind, only it was inside, beneath her skin. The girl seized the charm and shook it hard while the woman cried out in terror.
“NO! Go away! No! Sunshine! Make them go away!”
Kate uncrossed her legs and stood up fast. She ran to the hall and peered down. Two doors, both on the right. She knew the bedroom was the furthest, but didn’t want to go. She had to do something, so she took a nervous breath and started toward the bedroom when Sunshine grasped her hand.
“Stop! Don’t go in there!”
“I have to! Your mother’s in trouble! Can’t you hear?”
Kate grabbed the doorknob and her palm scorched instantly. Not from heat, but cold. Severe cold, so bad it gave her
Similar Books
The Root of All Trouble
Heather Webber
A Twist in the Tale (2011)
Mel Comley
Protector of the Flame
Isis Rushdan
Always on My Mind
Susan May Warren
The Sweet Life
Rebecca Lim
The Seven Devils (YA "New Adult" Romance)
Sara Danvers
Prophecy
David Seltzer
The Best of Me
Nicholas Sparks
Altered Carbon
Richard Morgan