The Lady Prefers Dragons Read online

  “No, thank you.” Arcona shook her head. “We were just looking.”

  The woman persisted. “Pardon me, but I overheard a stray thread of your conversation. You seem knowledgeable about ancient world antiquities.”

  Arcona nodded. “I practice forensic archaeology at UCLA’s historical research department. Mostly authenticating and cataloging items.”

  “How enthralling!” With clipped New England tones, the woman’ s speech rushed. “I must hear more about it. Come inside. No arguments. It will only take a minute.”

  Looking wary, Arcona glanced at Devon. “What will only take a minute?”

  The lady’s eyes twinkled. “To cast a fortune for you and show you something special I have in my storeroom. I would relish your opinion.”

  Relish? Who used words like that? This lady was like something from another century. But who cared? Devon’s heart leaped at the mention of fortunes. She loved that sort of thing. Fortune telling, psychic readings, astrology magazines—she loved them all. And was there any harm in hearing some encouraging news? But knowing Arcona, she’d brush this woman off ASAP.

  As predicted, Arcona made a vague shrugging gesture and glanced toward Devon. “I’m sorry, we’d love to, but she has to catch a train.”

  What? They had a few minutes to spare. Her mouth dropped.

  The silver-haired lady held the door wide. “Nonsense! There’s always another train. Just wait long enough and everything comes full circle again. Don’t just stand there. It’s getting chilly. We have a fireplace and hot cider.”

  The offer sounded inviting. Devon hoped Arcona would loosen up a little. “What sort of fortunes do you cast?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, lending her the look of a contented cat. “Highly accurate ones tailored especially for you. For instance, you’re dying to know what the future holds for your personal life, aren’t you? I can tell you right now you’re headed for a double serving of love.”

  Oh thank God! With a squeal of joy, she grabbed hold of Arcona’s hand. “I gotta know more! Let’s do it.”

  Bringing her lips to Devon’s ear, Arcona whispered, “This is a tourist trap. She probably says the same damn thing to everybody.”

  “Who cares?” It would be fun. Sometimes you have to cool it with the judgment and go with the flow. She turned toward the woman. “How much does it cost?”

  Brushing a pale strand of hair from her brow, the woman tucked it neatly behind her ear. “Only your time and your effort to follow through on my advice.”

  Arcona bit her lip. “You won’t need a credit card?”

  “Certainly not. I work pro bono.” The lady extended her delicate hand, embellished with a large moonstone ring. “Let’s discuss this in private. By the way, my name is Dame Bishop. No matter what others might claim, I am the true preeminent witch of Salem.”

  Devon’s heart pounded with excitement. This was great! She couldn’t wait to hear her fortune.

  For once, Arcona went along with the fun. They stepped through the front door with Arcona leading the way. “Here we go.”

  Once inside the eccentric shop, warmth from the stove flooded her face. She looked around. The place was everything she’d hoped for and more. The fragrance of cinnamon and herbs mingled with deeper notes of what reminded her of church incense and old books. Everywhere she looked there was something interesting to see. Even the ceiling was decorated with dangling broomsticks, African masks, and two colorful paper dragons that appeared to be gliding around the room.

  Arcona’s boot crunched a tiny pebble of something soft and crushed it. Her foot had landed on a lump of chalk and turned it to powder.

  Devon glanced down. Just inside the entryway on the floor, someone had sketched a large circle in chalk with a pentagram inside it, along with many other intricate details.

  Lifting her boot, Arcona stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

  A sneaky smile curled Dame Bishop’s lips. “You didn’t. This circle of fate was cast expressly for you. You’ve always been meant to cross the threshold of my shop and break the circle. It’s preordained.”

  Devon stilled. Oh boy. She wished Dame Bishop hadn’t said that. Spooky-wooky comments were sure to squelch the fun and send Arcona running for cover.

  “Always?” Arcona balked. “Wouldn’t anyone who walked through the door break the circle?”

  Standing at attention, Dame Bishop appeared ready for duty. “Not just anyone can pass through that doorway. You’re an exception.”

  “What do you mean?” Arcona looked peeved. “People can’t just walk into your shop? That’s got to be hard on business. And why would you draw a chalk circle for me? I didn’t even know I was coming into your shop until a minute ago.”

  “True. But the potential of you coming into my shop and stepping into the circle has existed for years. Earlier this afternoon, the likelihood became so strong I decided to wait for you by the window.”

  Devon could tell Arcona was fighting the impulse to roll her eyes. Enjoying the warmth of the room, she rubbed her hands together and crowded past Arcona, all the while careful not to step on any chalked lines. “I’m loving this place and I want to stand closer to that stove.” She hooked her arm through Arcona’s and drew her deeper into the shop, wishing she would relax. “Come on. Have fun with it.”

  “Wait a minute. I can’t let it go. I have to know what she meant by ‘preordained.’” Arcona immediately broke away from Devon to engage Dame Bishop in a line of questioning that rivaled an FBI interrogation.

  Whatever. Tuning the argument out, Devon strolled toward a wall lined with leather-bound books and left Arcona and Dame Bishop to settle their slightly antagonistic conversation.

  For several minutes she studied the contents of the shelves. A few unusual titles grabbed her attention: The Global History of Dragons, Reptilian Masters Among Us, Lord O’Griofa’s Guide to Human Hybrids and Extraterrestrials, The Big Badass Book of Shape Shifters....

  Dang, there was a lot of interesting stuff here. Right up her alley. All the books looked well-worn and more like personal possessions than items for sale in a shop. She tried to be diplomatic and not get between Arcona and Dame Bishop, who were clearly caught in a weird little power struggle of sorts, but the clock was ticking. There was a train to catch and a meal with Mom. Maybe it was time to speak up?

  Anxious to get started, Devon approached Dame Bishop. “I can’t wait to hear my fortune. Do you read tarot cards?”

  Dame Bishop lifted her square chin. “I certainly do not, but Witch Casey does. Your reading will be with her and quite unique. In the ways of divination, she is an expert without equal.”

  A purple curtain rustled, and an attractive, middle-aged woman with red hair and catlike green eyes peered from behind. “Hello.” She stepped into the main room. “I’m Witch Casey. When the two of you entered the shop, I sensed a tremendous energy shift. Highly unusual.” Her attention focused on Devon. A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I want to talk to you first, dear. You have such an interesting aura.”

  Devon gulped a deep breath. Please have some good news for me.

  Witch Casey held up a small brocade bag and gave it a gentle shake. “We shall start with a wish stone. You’ll each choose a stone from the bag, and based on your choice, I’ll be able to divine your most likely fate. Now, who wants to know more about their future love life?”

  “I do!” Devon cheered.

  Witch Casey’s eyes twinkled as she offered Devon the bag. “I knew you’d go first. You’re the daring one, aren’t you?”

  Arcona shot Devon a startled look that clearly conveyed, How does she know that?

  The atmosphere of the funky little Wiccan store was charged with a strange excitement as Devon thrust her hand into the bag.

  “Let your fingers do the work.” Witch Casey leaned closer to better see Devon’s actions. “Don’t think about it. Let your heart guide your choice.”

  Devon stirred th
e clattering stones between her fingers. Each was smooth and cool to the touch, and some were far denser in weight than others. How the hell was she going to make a choice?

  “Wow, you’re being so picky,” Arcona teased. “Just choose a stone, already.”

  “Don’t rush me.” Devon laughed. “This is important. I want to choose the right one.”

  “You’re going to choose just one?” Arcona whispered, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Why are you picking on me?” Devon giggled. At Amherst, she was notorious for juggling several boyfriends at a time “There’s nothing wrong with being choosy and having a plan B and even a plan C... especially where love is concerned.”

  Refocusing her attention on the wish bag, she dug her hand deeper. “I need help. My love life has done a vanishing act.”

  A round stone with a slick surface stood out from the others, and she pulled it from the bag with a victorious flourish. “Here it is. I found it!”

  Arcona bent over to gaze at the rock lying in Devon’s palm. “Looks like a pigeon egg.”

  The oval stone had an opaque metallic sheen on one side and a translucent purple color on the other, like two very different minerals had melded together. The crystalline side reminded Devon of a bluish amethyst, while the other side was a mottled shade of bronze.

  Arcona leaned closer. “Wow, that is an odd-looking stone.”

  Holding the sparkling rock toward the light, Devon gazed at it in wonder. “It’s beautiful when things you’d never think would mix fuse. The world is full of unexpected things, isn’t it?” She glanced at Witch Casey to see if she had an opinion as to why she’d chosen such a stone.

  “Interesting, but not surprising.” Witch Casey shook her head with her lips pinched together. “A dual stone is often attracted to an undecided person.” Her words were terse.

  “Undecided?” Devon stiffened and crossed her arms in a defensive manner. “What do you mean by undecided?”

  Arcona shot her a desperate glance that screamed, Don’t let this woman lead you on.

  With a dramatic gesture, Witch Casey arced her hands through the air. “Your heart is always in two places at once and refuses to choose a lasting home. Am I right?”

  In exasperation, Arcona shook her head and looked away.

  Devon paused. That statement did apply to her. For years, she’d rushed toward one goal while not so secretly desiring another. She longed for a stable relationship, even a family, but then another rogue part of her would take the reins and dream of ditching all responsibilities, picking up a camera, and fleeing to the exotic wilds of Africa to fulfill her creative dreams. The same went for men, and she could never make up her mind. She might as well tattoo variety is the spice of life on her wrist.

  “There might be some truth in what you’re saying,” she answered Witch Casey.

  Witch Casey’s eyes flew wide. “Might?”

  Arcona leaned close to Devon’s ear. “I remember our Amherst days. You were always dating at least two guys at once and trying to keep it a secret. It never stayed secret.”

  “It wasn’t like I was cheating. I always told my dates I was seeing others. They just didn’t want to share.”

  Arcona smirked. “Few men do. It’s sort of a male quirk.”

  “Why can’t a woman have more than one man and not be judged for it?” Devon rolled the stone in her palm. “I’ll make my wish right now. Have my male harem bathed and brought to my tent, ASAP.” She handed the brocade bag to Arcona. “Your turn. Let’s see what you choose.”

  Arcona took hold of the bag and thrust her hand inside. Without further fuss, she pulled out an oval piece of amber the size of a nickel. It glistened like congealed honey in her palm. When she held the amber to the light, it glowed like flame-warmed cognac.

  Witch Casey leaned closer to Arcona to examine her choice. “Blood amber, the blood of trees. Technically, it’s not a stone but a mineralized fossil that carries an electric charge and an enhanced memory of its past.” She wagged a finger. “Powerful stuff and not to be taken lightly.”

  Arcona visibly tensed, as if she’d been handed a writhing snake that she longed to fling from her hand.

  “One rule about the wish stones.” Witch Casey took hold of Devon’s wrist. “Handle them with care, make a wish, and then return the stones to nature where they can be recharged. Will you both agree to do that?”

  Arcona nodded.

  Devon wasn’t so sure she wanted to part with something so beautiful.

  With a beckoning motion, Witch Casey led Devon toward a curtained room. “I’m looking forward to telling your fortune. I think you’re in for a double surprise.”

  Dame Bishop made a slight move as if ready to claim Arcona’s hand. “Shall we?”

  “Wait,” Arcona called to Devon. “I’m feeling a little ill. I think I’d better go back to the hotel.”

  It was over. Fun time was gone. Devon turned. “I’ll go with you.” Her feet remained planted; she did not want to go.

  Arcona shook her head. “No. Stay and have your fortune told.”

  Devon was suddenly nervous to hear what Witch Casey had to say. “Are you sure? It really cuts into our last hour together.”

  “Get your cards read, I know you’ll love it.” Arcona rubbed her temple. “It’s just a headache. Walking a few blocks in fresh air will do me good.”

  Of course Arcona was running away. She should have guessed. Their entire day together had been strange. Devon glanced in Witch Casey’s direction.

  Taking quick steps, Arcona closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around Devon, and hugged her like a loving sister. “I want you to do it. And I expect to hear all about it later,” she said softly. “Don’t hold anything back.”

  Once again they were saying goodbye and going their separate ways, and it stung.

  “We need to get together more often,” Arcona whispered.

  “We will.” Devon returned the embrace. In her mind, she was already planning a trip to Los Angeles. “Call me after you get home, okay?”

  Witch Casey stood too close, her coral lips pulled tight, and she appeared impatient.

  “I’d better let you go.” With a light kiss on the cheek, Arcona released her hold on Devon.

  “Bye.” Devon tried to smile, but felt selfish for wanting to hear her fortune.

  “Go on.” Arcona playfully shooed Devon away. “We would’ve had to say goodbye in a few minutes anyway.”

  Devon gave Arcona another hug. “I’m coming to see you soon.”

  “Do,” Arcona whispered.

  She held her friend a little longer. Arcona seemed anxious to go, so she broke away and allowed her to walk toward the door.

  Dame Bishop called after Arcona, “Are you sure you don’t want to know your fortune?”

  Arcona turned and shook her head. “Another time.”

  A content grin did little to add warmth to Dame Bishop’s severe face. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll be back.”

  Arcona pushed the door open to a gust of cold wind. “Thank you. Do I owe you anything for the wish stone?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it!” Devon called to her as the door shut. She watched Arcona wander out the door, clutching the piece of amber she’d pulled from the wish bag and looking a bit distracted. A part of her worried for Arcona, and she wondered if she’d been unwise to allow her friend to walk away alone.

  “Let’s go, dear.” Witch Casey guided Devon toward a purple curtain, pulling it aside.

  Chapter 2

  Devon followed Witch Casey into a tiny room decorated like a Bedouin tent, filled with exotic things. The resinous scent of frankincense hung in the air. In the corner, woven baskets were stacked high. A brass carafe inlaid with colorful bits of lapis lazuli and red jasper sat in the center of a small table. A colorful Moroccan lantern glowed overhead, casting soft streaks of crimson and blue against the cloth walls.

  Witch Casey picked up the brass carafe and poured
steaming liquid into two cobalt- blue cups, barely larger than shot glasses. She offered one to Devon. “Try it.”

  Devon accepted the cup with a curious sniff. The pale lavender liquid smelled like mint tea with a hint of lilac. “What is this?”

  “Something special, healthful and energizing. It’s brewed from Draca flowers.”

  The taste was as sweet as honeysuckle. “Draca flowers? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Few have. They’re very rare. Draca leaves make an excellent tea as well, but that’s another story entirely.” Witch Casey rolled her eyes. “Steeped Draca leaves produce a potent concoction that delivers a wild ride. The flowers are much milder, more of a homeopathic dose.” She puttered around the room, lifting things and setting them down as if she was searching for a lost object.

  Dose? A dose of what? She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

  Witch Casey removed a scarf from a trunk and opened the lid. “Ah.” She reached inside and pulled out a flat wooden box. “There it is, my card cask. I keep my tools of divination stored safely inside blessed cedar.”

  Eager to know, she asked, “What tarot card deck do you use—Rider or Thoth?”

  Looking annoyed with Devon’s question, Witch Casey waved her hands in the air like she was swatting at invisible flies. “Too early to say. Please don’t ask. These things take time. Right now I’m in the process of calibrating myself to your energy. Your aura is quite chaotic and difficult to hone in on. It’s pulling me in two directions at once. Obviously, you have a lot going on in your life.”

  Okay. This woman is a little wacko, but I like her. Devon sipped the tea, which was fragrant and subtle with rich cinnamon undertones.

  “Have a seat.” Witch Casey pulled out a folding canvas chair that looked like something Dr. Livingstone might have brought on safari.

  She took a seat in the fragile chair, held the cup to her nose, and took another sip. “I like the tea.”

  “Help yourself to more, dear.” Witch Casey turned her back to Devon and rummaged through a pile of cushions.

  She poured another splash of tea into her cup. “What are you looking for?”