Gena Showalter Bundle. Gena Showalter
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sinking into plush burgundy carpet. Jorlan was close behind her this time. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if reaching for him, desiring his touch.
Why did she have to respond so easily to this man?
As the door closed with a thwack, a bell jingled to announce their presence. They stood in silence, waiting, yet no one greeted them. There were no employees in the small room. No customers.
Curls of smoke rose from jasmine-scented incense, floating up then dipping down and expanding throughout the cluttered space. Dim lighting and glittery walls gave a mystical ambiance, compounded by the soft, lyrical music that played in the background.
Finally, a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her midfifties stepped beyond the decorative fringe. With her large hazel eyes and prominent cheekbones, her features were attractive, if somewhat dulled by time. She wore black slacks and a tailored white blouse completely at odds with her new-age business. Gazing at her, only two words entered Katie’s mind: professional and legitimate.
Suspicion instantly grew in Katie’s mind.
Jorlan knows best about magic, she reminded herself. He said there was a chance this psychic had the power he needed, and she had to allow him time to discover the truth, be it good or bad.
“Hello,” the woman said. “Welcome to my humble establishment.” She had the cultured accent of an English gentlewoman. “How may I help you?”
Jorlan dispensed with pleasantries. “Do you possess the power to open a vortex?”
The woman folded her hands together and drummed her perfectly manicured nails against each other. “Exactly what type of power do you mean?”
Quickly Katie placed a hand over Jorlan’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell us the answer to that question.” Surely a self-professed “seer” could answer so simple a question.
Jorlan pried her hand from his mouth, but didn’t release his grip. He kept her palm captured in the warmth of his own. “Do not silence me again, katya,” he growled softly, the words meant only for her, “unless you use your tongue.”
“Ah, young love,” the woman sighed.
Fat lot you know, Katie almost blurted, her doubts increasing all the more.
The older woman gave her a faint smile, deepening the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “You do not believe in the supernatural, do you, dear?”
“I believe in facts,” Katie replied, trying to ignore the rightness of holding hands with Jorlan. There was just something so gratifying about having her hand linked with his, a subtle reassurance and a tangible action of affection. Even though he felt nothing for her—nothing substantial, anyway—the action made her feel needed.
“I believe in facts, as well,” the woman answered.
“Then you’ll understand why I demand proof of your abilities,” she said. Her alien knew nothing about Earth, knew nothing about scams people often attempted on unsuspecting individuals. If this woman truly was the sorceress he sought, she was going to have to prove it.
“Of course I understand. Sit, sit.” With a delicate wave of her hand, the Englishwoman motioned to a small table at the back of the room. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I even have a wonderful herbal elixir that promotes brain activity.”
“No, thanks,” Katie answered, shaking her head. While the herbal elixir piqued her interest, she wasn’t going to relax her guard. “We’re fine.”
Jorlan tugged her to the table. After she scooted to the middle, he squeezed the long length of his legs underneath the too-short surface. The woman took the seat just in front of them. “Give me your palm,” she immediately told Jorlan.
His lips thinned, and he sliced his gaze to Katie. “Do all the women here command a warrior thus?”
“You better believe it. Now give her your hand.”
Storm clouds of fury filled Jorlan’s eyes, but he did as instructed.
The woman hunched over his palm, tracing each line with a long, oval-tipped nail. “You wish to find a way home. Am I correct?”
“Aye.”
“You cannot do it alone.” A statement, not a question.
That muscle in his jaw was ticking again.
“All that is needed is someone to guide you,” the woman said. “Do I speak the truth?”
“Aye.”
The hard tone of his voice, like a hammer hitting a brick wall, caused Katie’s toes to curl, and she was immensely glad his attention was not directed at her. Intent, she watched and listened as the interaction between Jorlan and the woman continued. Every time the Englishwoman spoke, Jorlan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He appeared both furious and sad, as if he had just accepted this wasn’t going to work, but was holding on anyway just in case a miracle happened.
“Someone can help you,” the woman was saying. “Someone will help you. Someone whose name is…I’m getting an impression of the letter K. Yes, yes. Someone whose name begins with the letter K will guide you home. Do you know someone whose name begins with K?”
“Aye.” He didn’t look happy about it either.
“Good, good.” She continued to study his hand. “I predict much—”
“I do not need your predictions, woman.” Suddenly, his fury overcame his sadness and hope. “I need to know if you can open a vortex so that I might leave your world and enter mine. Can you do this or not?”
“You have the power within yourself to go wherever you wish.”
Jorlan’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I do not have the power within myself. This I know for fact.”
“You do. You have a power that, if properly nourished, can grow to a powerful force.”
Hope grew in his eyes again. “How do I nourish my power?”
“I have developed a potion that binds with the magic inside of you, causing your flesh to weaken and your inner spirit to flourish. After you drink this powerful elixir, I will chant a spell of strength and courage over you.”
Katie had heard enough. There was no way in hell Jorlan was drinking anything this woman had prepared. “What you’re looking for isn’t here, Jorlan,” she said.
His only answer was a slight, almost undetectable nod.
“Now wait a secon—” the woman began.
“For God’s sake,” Katie shouted, cutting her off. “This is a bunch of crap and you know it. Most of what you said is so ambiguous I’m not sure whether you’re talking about a tour through Disneyland or if you were singing the alphabet.” She smacked her hand upon the hard wood of the table. “You can’t help him any more than a Keebler Elf could. Admit it.”
The woman’s lips thinned. “Everything I said is true,” she ground out. “Only the heart can guide a man home. That, and one of my potions.”
“But you just said someone whose name began with K could help him,” Katie pointed out.
Weathered cheeks bloomed with color, from embarrassment or anger, Katie didn’t know. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Katie didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but damn it, she hated that Jorlan was so upset. “He called me katya, therefore you get an impression of the letter K. And the thing you’ve—” She stopped herself, debating whether to confess Jorlan’s true origins. Her gaze gravitated to him. He looked so lost, and wanted to go home so badly, she decided that confessing his alien status was worth the risk of sounding like a nutcase. “The thing you have failed to divine is that we’re not talking about an emotional home here; we’re talking about another planet.”