“Yes, I’m here,” Emily Lucent responded in a whisper, yearning to hear her name again. The gentle, lovelorn utterance, tempting and mesmerizing, created a stronger need to see the speaker. His Scottish accent made his bereavement, if she could call it that, all the more intense. She wanted to help him find the love he had apparently lost. She longed to see him.
For the past few months the voice had grown stronger and more frequent as the days passed. He called her name in the pre‐dawn and lately during the course of the day. Her heart would race with anticipation. When would she hear the sweet harmonious sound again? Alone in the house, without the background noise of a television or music, sometimes she would hope to hear it, try to hear it.
Hear her name.
She questioned her sanity. Yet, the deep, clear masculine voice sweetly lulled and soothed her. Restlessness and greed took over. Despite the fear of lunacy, she wanted more, needed more. She wished to see the unearthly being who spoke to her.
Mikhail gathered tarot cards and shuffled the deck. “You need to shuffle this once and fan out the cards. Pick any three cards from the deck and place them face up on the table. The second card should be placed to the left of the first card. The third card placed on the right of the first card. You must concentrate on one aspect of a decision to be made or question while drawing the card.”
A force pulled her further into this web of mystery and mysticism. She must discover, divine or infer the source of the voice. Good or bad.
Earthly or unearthly.
Angelic or demonic.
Ghost or hallucination.
She shuffled, drew out three cards, and placed them face up on the table. Mikhail watched closely. They carefully viewed the cards on the table top. She threw her head back and stared at the door. Emily glanced behind her, thinking Melody had come into the room. Empty space. A shiver of unease rippled over her skin. She returned her attention back to Mikhail. The fortune teller removed the turban and combed her fingers through her hair.
“Emily, I must ask you if you’re a religious person.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with the forecast of my future, but I was raised as a Catholic. For the past two years I haven’t attended mass. Although, I believe I’m a spiritual person.” She lifted her glance from the elaborate, elegantly detailed, tarot cards to connect with Mikhail’s gaze.
“The voice is not a hallucination and does not belong to a…ghost.” Mikhail bit her lower lip. The white of her teeth gleamed against the red lipstick.
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