Little Red Gem
eyes. “I wish I could have been more help to
you.”
    “ Yeah, me too.”
    I refrained from asking
how she had survived in this business as long as she had: she
hadn’t told me anything I didn’t know or couldn’t have figured out
for myself; the cat had insulted me; and Audrey was playing a
childish game of hide and seek. People came here for answers, not
theatrics.
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
    I stomped out of
Mysteries, livid over being cheated out of a free reading by a
clairvoyant who was obviously having a nervous breakdown. By the
time I reached Main Street I could only muster up pity for Audrey’s
mom. My mom was right; never mind that Teri hadn’t predicted my
future, she hadn’t been able to predict her own.
    At least she’d freed up my
morning.
    This time, while waiting
to cross Main Street I kept my gaze off the sign on the museum and
I eyeballed the sign to the café across the road instead. Two
stores down from the corner and a haven for bored teenagers, I
headed there in search of a friendly face.
    I found two. Natalie and
Shanessa sat inside at our usual table, closest to the counter
where we could drool over chocolate muffins and cheesecake. White
ceramic cups and empty plates sat on the table in front of them. I
couldn’t blame them for eating without me. Having lost my phone
they’d probably been texting me for hours. But that wasn’t why I’d
come here. Natalie had a car, a peacock-blue Mazda which she’d
gotten for an early eighteenth present, and I aimed to borrow it to
drive out to the cabin.
    I lifted my hand to push
through the glass door when a voice from behind startled
me.
    “ I wouldn’t go in there if
I were you.”
    Audrey stood on the
sidewalk.
    “ I’ve had enough theatrics
for one day,” I told her.
    “ I’ve come to help
you.”
    “ Unless you have a
chocolate muffin to go with the coffee I’m about to inhale, I doubt
it.”
    Flicking a nervous look
inside the café, she stepped in closer and lowered her voice. “You
can’t go inside.”
    The quiver in Audrey’s
lips captured my attention more than the warning in her words.
Maybe she was better at predicting the future than her mom. “Is
something bad going to happen to me if I go through this
door?”
    “ What if I were to tell
you something bad already happened?”
    “ It already has,” I
answered, thinking back to the argument with Leo.
    “ You can’t go inside.” She
glanced down at her feet. “It’s, well, it’s because nobody can see
you.”
    Maybe I still wore the
same underwear, dress, leggings, and boots I’d worn last night,
didn’t mean people would publicly ridicule me. I scowled at Audrey,
but my aggravation shifted into uncertainty when I noticed the fear
in her eyes.
    “ You’re serious, aren’t
you?”
    Her eyes shimmered from
fighting back tears. “They won’t see you. I really hate to be the
one to break this to you, but you’re dead.”
    I was about to tell her to
get lost, but she carried on. “Ruby, I’m not making this up. You
have.” Her hands floated through the air. “Passed on. Crossed over.
Are no more of this world.”
    “ That’s the most insulting
thing anyone has ever said to me.”
    A couple – a man and a
woman about my parent’s age – came walking down the sidewalk.
Audrey stepped in their path, catching me by surprise. We had not
been raised to force strangers to sidestep around us. At the last
moment she moved aside to let them pass, and she was lucky not to
have copped an earful from them.
    “ You’ve known me for
years,” she said. “Have I ever been one for practical
jokes?”
    Out of loyalty to my
mother I had always kept a cool distance from Teri and Audrey. I
wasn’t about to cross into the realm where we pretended we’d been
close growing up. “I haven’t known you for years. I knew you years
ago, there’s a huge difference.”
    “ I’m not crazy and I’m not
making this up. Don’t you remember? You died. A week ago. Mom’s
freaking

Similar Books

A Song of Shadows

John Connolly

Aurora

David A. Hardy

The Anathema

Zachary Rawlins

A Wee Dose of Death

Fran Stewart

Lilah

Gemma Liviero

To Perish in Penzance

Jeanne M. Dams