Even as the vibration sang, a woman stepped through the beaded curtain separating a back room. She wore a silver tunic with a silver bracelet coiled above her elbow. Eve noted that she was very young, barely twenty, and like the man, her hair was blonde and coiled into a braid.
“Welcome.” Her voice held a hint of Ireland. “Please be comfortable. Would you both like a reading?”
“No, just me.” Eve took a seat at a far table. “What’s it run?”
“The reading is free. We request a donation, only.” She sat gracefully, smiled at Roarke. “Your generosity will be appreciated. Madam, the hand you were born with.”
“I came with both of them.”
“The left, please.” She cupped her fingers under Eve’s offered hand, barely touching at first. “Strength and courage. Your fate was not set. A trauma, a break in the lifeline. Very young. You were only a child. Such pain, such sadness.” She lifted her gaze, clear gray. “You were, and are, without blame.”
She tightened her grip when Eve instinctively drew back. “It’s not necessary to remember all, until you’re ready. Sorrow and self-doubt, passions blocked. A solitary woman who chose to focus on one goal. A great need for justice. Disciplined, self-motivated…troubled. Your heart was broken, more than broken. Mauled. So you guarded what was left. It’s a capable hand. One to trust.”
She took Eve’s right hand firmly, but barely looked at it. Those clear gray eyes stayed on Eve’s face. “You carry much of what was inside you. It will not be quiet, it will not rest. But you’ve found your place. Authority suits you, as does the responsibility that marches with it. You’re stubborn, often single-focused, but your heart is greatly healed. You love.”
She flicked a glance at Roarke again, and her mouth softened when she looked back at Eve. “It surprises you, the depth of this. It unnerves you, and you are not easily unnerved.” Her thumb skimmed over the top of Eve’s palm. “Your heart runs deep. It is…choosy. It is careful, but when it’s given, it’s complete. You carry identification. A badge.” She smiled slowly. “Yes, you made the right choice. Perhaps the only one you could have made. You’ve killed. More than once. There was no alternative for you, yet this weighs heavy on your mind and heart. In this, you find it difficult to separate the intellect from the emotion. You’ll kill again.”
The gray eyes went glassy, and the light grip tightened. “It’s dark. The forces are dark here. Evil. Lives already lost, and others yet to lose. Pain and fear. Body and soul. You must protect yourself and those you love.”
She turned to Roarke, snagging his hand and speaking rapidly in Gaelic. Her face had gone very white, and her breath hitched.
“That’s enough.” Shaken, Eve snatched her hand back. “Hell of a show.” Irritated that her palm tingled, she rubbed it hard against the knee of her slacks. “You’ve got a good eye, Cassandra, is it? And an impressive spiel.” She dug into her pocket, took out fifty in credits and laid them on the table.
“Wait.” Cassandra opened a small, embroidered pouch at her waist, plucked out a smooth stone in pale green. “A gift. A token.” She pushed it into Eve’s hand. “Carry it with you.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Please come again. Blessed be.”
Eve caught one last glance at her pale face before Cassandra hurried into the back room with a musical jingle of beads.
“Well, so much for ‘You’re taking a long ocean voyage,’” Eve muttered as she headed for the door. “What did she say to you?”
“Her dialect was a bit thick. I’d say she’s from the west counties.” He stepped outside, oddly relieved to draw in the night air. “The gist was that if I loved you as much as she believed, I would stay close. That you’re in danger of losing your life, perhaps your soul, and you need me to survive it.”
“What a crock.” She glanced down at the stone in her hand.
“Keep it.” Roarke closed her fingers over it. “Couldn’t hurt.”
With a shrug, Eve pushed it into her pocket. “I think I’m going to steer clear of psychics.”
“An excellent idea,” Roarke said with feeling as he walked with her across the street and into the Aquarian Club.
chapter three
It was quite a place, Eve mused, and certainly quieter than any club she’d been in before. Both conversation and music were muted, and both had an elegant little lilt. Tables were packed together as was the norm, but they were arranged to provide circular traffic patterns that reminded Eve of the symbol at the base of Alice’s note.
Ringing the walls were mirrors fashioned into the shapes of stars and moons. Each held a burning candle, a white pillar, that reflected light and flame. Between each mirror were plaques of symbols and figures she didn’t recognize. The small dance floor was circular as well, as was the bar where patrons sat on stools that depicted signs of the zodiac. It took her a moment to place the woman seated on the twin-faced of Gemini.
“Jesus, that’s Peabody.”
Roarke shifted his gaze, focused on the woman in a long, sweeping dress in swirling hues of blue and green. Three long strands of beads sparkled to her waist, and earrings of varicolored metals jingled beneath the fringes of her straight, cropped hair.
“Well, well,” he said and smiled slowly, “our sturdy Peabody makes quite a picture.”
“She sure…blends,” Eve decided. “I have to meet with Alice alone. Why don’t you go over and talk to Peabody?”
“A pleasure. Lieutenant…” He took a long look at her worn jeans, battered leather jacket, and unadorned ears. “You don’t blend.”