The Fortune Teller(28)

He had no idea. She was teetering on the edge and would rather jump off than stay there.

*

They met at a small hole-in-the-wall in Williamsburg. The place hosted spoken-word nights, poetry slams, house parties, DJ battles, and even stand-up comedy. Bren had done a poetry reading there for his first book of poems, Duende. It had technically been their second date. He had gotten up onstage and spun words with a vulnerability that had made her dizzy. Afterward they cuddled on busted leather couches drinking tequila and beer and danced until three in the morning. The whole night had been her best date in years and cemented the start of their relationship.

Semele never confessed to Bren that she’d had to look up “duende.” The word had many meanings: magic, spirit, and the passion that roused creativity. The next day she bought the book and spent the rest of the weekend reading each poem several times. Bren was publishing a new collection this year called Soaked in Bourbon and Lit on Fire—in honor of her, he teased. She had to admit that sounded more up her alley.

Tonight, the club seemed like the perfect place to go.

Bren was tongue-tied when she walked through the door. She was wearing her sexiest dress, a little black number with burnished red piping that made her feel like the star of her own burlesque show. The dress molded to her body, exaggerated every curve, and showed more leg than anything else she owned. Her hair gleamed like obsidian and curved into a wink right at her jawline. The total effect of the red lipstick, thick mascara, and eyeliner made her look exactly like she felt—dangerous.

She surprised Bren with a long kiss and led him to the bar, where she ordered them both martinis. She planned to have several.

Bren leaned closer to her. “Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting my girlfriend here tonight. You look a lot like her,” he said, raising his voice over the music.

“I get that a lot.” She clinked his glass.

“Hard day at work?”

“You have no idea.” She pulled him onto the dance floor.

The music pulsed, compelling her body to move. She lost herself in the rhythm, dancing to song after song. She kept flitting to the bar for drinks, hoping to catch a buzz, to turn off her thoughts—anything not to think—but she couldn’t get drunk tonight no matter how hard she tried.

Her mind was sharp, on edge, and her thoughts amplified. Seeing her name in the manuscript had completely derailed her. And for a split second, she’d really felt Ionna reaching out to her.

Did that make her crazy?

She went to order another martini and couldn’t help thinking that she resembled her mother tonight. Helen could outdrink anyone at a party.

“Sure you want another?” Bren asked.

Semele laughed and shook her head. She grabbed his hand and they abandoned the bar. They took a cab back to her place, kissing in the backseat like teenagers, their arms like pretzels around each other.

Bren whispered, “Sem, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.” When they arrived at her apartment, she led him inside and up the stairs. They were already pulling at each other’s clothes before they had even closed the door.

They made love for the first time since she’d been back. Semele moved like liquid as she straddled him, kissing him deeper, possessively. Her body took over, forcing her mind to shut off.

The desire inside her spiraled, bringing forth thoughts—an inner knowledge—she had secretly suppressed. She stared into Bren’s eyes, unable to look away.

Like a window opening, she saw glimpses of his future, a string of moments, his life in montage. Never had she experienced anything like this before.

She saw two boys that looked like miniature versions of him running across the park and squealing as he chased them.

Other images flashed by her in a flurry of time.

She saw Bren’s future was filled with love—those beautiful boys—and a wife who wasn’t her.





My abilities blossomed after Ariston and I married. No one but he knew I was a seer.

I did not need to claim fame or glory. I continued to cast the Oracle’s symbols in the privacy of my rooms, where life settled in around me. I began to see how a day’s events would play out. I could tell Ariston what patients he would see that day and what ailed them. But still I could not see how to protect Wadjet’s symbols through time. I feared I would fail her.

After a year of daily training I could stretch my mind’s eye as far as a week, and after two years I could see one month into the future.

That is when I saw what I needed to do.

I will admit I was nervous, but it was finally time to delve into the world of dreaming. I wasn’t sure how to tell Ariston of my intent, so I waited until after we had made love the next night. I shared my plan while we lay in each other’s arms.

“You want to go on a dream quest at Mount Starius?” He looked at me as if I had transformed into Medusa with snakes for my hair. “Now?”

I nodded and waited for his full displeasure. The idea was mad, I knew. Last month I had discovered I was with child; after nearly two years of marriage we had finally conceived. Going on a journey was the last thing I should be doing.

“It’s not far.” I tried to assure him. “You can come with me.”

“Of course I’ll come with you!” he all but shouted. “I’m not about to let my pregnant wife go traipsing around the mountainside alone like some Gilgamesh!”