The Fortune Teller(37)

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cabe’s eyebrows shot up. He was close with Bren too, so Semele didn’t feel she could be totally honest, but she tried. “Let’s just say, I’m starting to have doubts. It’s complicated,” she said.

Bren had left her several messages and she had yet to return them. She was being absolutely horrible, the kind of horrible that could not be forgiven. Deep down she knew that was the point. Cabe was right. She was sabotaging herself.

She tried to change the subject. “How’s Oliver?” she asked, pouring herself more wine and studying the label. It was a 2011 Barbaresco from a boutique winery, incredibly smooth. She really should e-mail him a hello. She’d become friendly with Oliver after she had tagged along with Cabe to the Hamptons once.

“He’s fine. And don’t change the subject.” Cabe pointed his finger at her. “Bren is the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you.” The pasta bowls clanked together as he set them down on the table.

She let out a sigh. How could she explain that ending her relationship with Bren was the right decision? The idea of women’s intuition had been distilled into a vat of ridiculousness for centuries and was usually scoffed at—and she knew she’d sound crazy if she told Cabe the full story. While her time with Bren would always have a place in her heart, that time was over; her premonition had helped her see it.

“Let me just say one more thing and then I’ll shut up,” he advised. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You know I’m not like Allison,” she said softly. “Even if Bren and I don’t last, I’m not like her.” Allison was Cabe’s ex-fiancée. She had dumped him at the altar right before Semele moved to New York. Cabe had moped on Semele’s new couch, curled up in a fetal position, for weeks.

“But something did happen in Switzerland, didn’t it?” Cabe asked. It didn’t sound like a question.

Semele could feel the weight of his judgment. First Bren and now Cabe. Did she have “something happened in Switzerland” tattooed on her forehead?

Yes, something had happened in Switzerland. The problem was it was more than kissing Theo. She couldn’t begin to tell him that a prophet was speaking to her through an ancient manuscript, or that she had started to see the future. Thinking about any of it made her head hurt.

“Can we move on?” she asked, picking up her fork. Cabe’s doorbell sounded as if on cue. The thought of Raina made her lose her appetite.

Cabe jumped up to buzz her in. “Oh, hey, I got the DNA test back on that manuscript,” he said on his way to the door.

“And?” Semele asked, her heart stopping and starting again. She wasn’t sure she was ready to know.

“It’s from right around 46 B.C. at the latest, no question,” he said and promptly disappeared into the entry hall.

Semele sat back and let out a long breath, glad she had a moment alone to process. Those results were staggering. Ionna really had known about Gundeshapur, a city founded over two hundred years after she had written the manuscript. What else had she known? Semele was barely halfway through Ionna’s story.

She could hear Cabe and Raina talking quietly in the hallway. Then Cabe came back alone, looking irritated.

Semele glanced toward the door. “What happened?”

“She had an emergency pop up and could only stop by for a minute.”

That sounded unlikely. “Who shows up for two minutes and leaves?” Semele could tell by the look on Cabe’s face that she was the reason Raina had bailed on dinner. “Was it because of me?”

“No, not at all.”

She could tell he was lying. “Cabe, seriously. Who gets jealous like that?” she asked, feeling disturbed.

“She wasn’t jealous.” Cabe sounded peeved. “It’s just dinner.”

Semele nodded and tried to eat. But she couldn’t help feeling that Raina was driving a wedge between them. She might as well have still been in the room.

Cabe was completely distracted and most likely wishing Raina was there enjoying his culinary efforts, not her. For the first time, Semele felt like an intruder and the feeling didn’t sit well. But she had come here for help. She needed to confide in him.

“Cabe, I’m in the middle of something serious. I think the manuscript I’m reading … is special.”

That got his attention. “What do you mean?”

“The person who wrote it talks about history that hasn’t happened, like a prophecy.”

“Like Nostradamus or something?”

“Kind of.” Except unlike Nostradamus’ predictions, Ionna had recorded facts and names without codes, quatrains, or rhymes that needed to be deciphered. Semele didn’t want to get into the details right now. “Someone knows I’m reading it. I think I’m being followed.”

“What?” Now Cabe was completely with her. “Hold on. Back up. From the beginning.”

“I found a manuscript that Marcel Bossard had kept secret, and I made a copy in Switzerland. The night before I flew out someone broke into my hotel room, but they didn’t take anything. They opened the file on my computer.” She hurried to explain, feeling her anxiety returning. “Then today I went to the library and caught a guy watching me—and he was on my flight from Geneva. I know the Rose Room is a serious tourist destination, but what are the odds? He was on my flight.” And he had shown up in the Rose Room right when Ionna had said Semele was being watched.