2. Cheribelle
Cheribelle
First Time Jitters
“So, you see, your auntie dropped off your dog at the shelter, and here’s the paperwork confirming the time, place, as well as her recommendation for euthanasia. Do you know what euthanasia is?”
“No... Not really,” the young boy said. And that was totally fair, since he looked to be nine years old at the most, but was probably only seven or eight.
“That’s okay. Your mother will know what it means, so make sure you tell her. And I really do suggest you tell her as soon as you can, so she knows what her sister did and can react in whatever way she feels is appropriate. Capiche ?”
“Y-yeah! I’m gonna tell her right now! Then maybe we can go get him!”
“Splendid idea,” I said, patting the boy on the back. “I made sure to inform the shelter that I had discovered possible shenanigans around the surrender of your dog, so they have him on hold for the next twenty-four hours. I can assure you, he’s safe and comfortable.”
“Thanks, oracle lady! You’re the best.”
With that, the boy ran off, pulling a cellphone out of his pocket.
My mother would never have let me have a phone at that age.
However, despite the technology, I couldn’t help but glow with pride.
Sure, the compliment was from a kid who just got his dog back after the pup supposedly “ran away” when his aunt was alone at the house.
Still, positives were positives and praise was praise.
I wasn’t about to discredit a job well done just because it was for a kid.
And also for free. But whatever, it wasn’t like I was hurting for money. Again, I was all about the positives.
But what was decidedly not positive was when my phone beeped with a calendar alert. Hastily, I pulled it out and realized I was late for the first reading I’d had in a week.
Shit!
That was a terrible way to run a business, especially since it was a family business that had been around for generations and had a certain reputation to maintain.
Cursing myself, I took off in a dead run toward my home, which also happened to be the location for Haus de Donmoue: Where the veil between what was and what could be was thinner than anywhere else in the world .
That had been my mother’s slogan, and I wasn’t about to change what worked so well.
Even if it wasn’t entirely true anymore.
Thankfully, since I grew up in the neighborhood, I knew the layout like the back of my hand. I cut along the side of two houses, then vaulted over their back fences and another until I cut across the street.
It was going to be close, and I was on the losing side. At least, I was until a kid fell off his skateboard just ahead of me.
“Mind if I borrow that?” I asked without stopping, kicking it up into my hand when it was close enough and then tossing it forward so I could run and jump onto it.
“Hey!” the kid cried.
“I promise I’ll return it later! It’s an oracle emergency!”
While most of the neighborhood knew who I was, I wasn’t sure if that extended it to a totally radical preteen. Hopefully, if he complained to his parents, they’d assure him that I would make good on my word.
As long as I remembered it, of course.
“Almost there!” I panted, more to convince myself that I would make it in time than anything else. As I was coming up through the back alley and turning into the little gap between two buildings that led to my backyard, I saw a car pull into the wide driveway.
Double shit!
Chest heaving, face sweating, and heart pounding, I threw open the back door and practically vaulted in, hastily pulling on the flowing robe I had hanging next to the door and slamming the big, ostentatious hat that I decided was the statement piece for my character onto my head.
It had a lightweight mesh veil around it that made me feel quite mysterious, as well as gemstones hanging all around the edge in sparkling teardrops.
Normally, I would take a moment to admire my carefully crafted appearance, but normally, I wasn’t quite literally racing against the clock.
I suppose I could have just been late, but that didn’t sit right with me.
Yeah, I’d always been frenemies with the perception of time, but when it came to continuing my mother’s legacy, I wanted to do it right.
And I couldn’t do that if I passed off the first real, paying client who wanted a seated reading.
In the year since I’d reopened the family business, the majority of my clients had been online readings, and even then, that “majority” had been less major and more meager.
The chime on the front door sang its delicate, cheery little song as I leapt into my chair in front of my covered crystal ball, the legs making a screeching sound that was in sharp contrast to the pleasant notes from the entrance.
I couldn’t tell if the client reacted to it or not, since she was in my foyer and I was in the reading room connected to it, but she didn’t seem too concerned when she stepped in.
“Ah, come take a seat, Angela. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I made a slow, sweeping gesture with my arm, inviting her into my oracle space. My mother had taught me the best way to sell the persona of someone who had access to what had yet to pass.
Thankfully, my breathlessness from my journey sold the bit more than I expected.
Hey, I actually sound kind of cool! I wonder what my heart rate is.
What’s the normal heart rate again? I need to do more cardio .
Where are my sneakers? Should I start running?
Wait, where did I put that skateboard? I cut off that furor of thought as the client sat and looked me over.
While she observed me, I observed her, my mind going a mile a minute.
“Are you okay? You sound a bit breathless?”
Okay. Maybe I sounded a little less cool than I thought.
I sighed. “The fates have been virulent today.”
“Oh no, really? Do we need to cancel? Reschedule?”
Panic surged through me. I shook my head, the beads on my hat rattling in a way that definitely didn’t go with an ethereal seer unbound by time. “No, no, best not to insult the fates by pointing out their fickle nature. I will do my best reading for you.”
“O-oh. Okay, if you are sure.”
“I am most certainly.” I waited until her shoulders settled a bit, then took a breath. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went.
“Relax and focus on the depths of this crystal ball,” I said, removing the cloth with a flourish. I would never forget my mother explaining its use to me when I was a child, well before my Donmoue abilities had manifested and I was, for all intents and purposes, just a human.
“My darling Cherry, you must never , and I mean never, leave the crystal ball uncovered when you are not using it!”
I’d gasped, looking up at her with all the adoration that came from having a pretty cool famous mother. “Why? Because the spirits will enter the house?”
“No, because it’ll refract sunlight and cause a fire. Your great-great-great grandmother burned down her parlor that way. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“No!”
“Exactly. Because just like that nice bear on the TV says, only you can prevent house fires.”
“I think it’s forest fires, Mommy.”
“Close enough.”
“Concentrate on yourself. What you are feeling, what you are thinking. Let all those emotions, thoughts, and worries fill the crystal ball as if?—”
“ Meow! ”
I jolted at the sound of my cat, Hudson, entering the room with all the aplomb she usually had.
“ Shoo! ” I whispered, hoping the client was concentrating hard enough on the crystal that she didn’t notice. My cat wasn’t really a fan of other people unless they were kids or armed with catnip, so I’d expected her to avoid the place.
“ MEOWWW!” she responded even louder, jumping onto my reading table and nearly scattering my tarot cards.
“I apologize,” I murmured, brain rapidly spinning out with how to play the situation off. I really didn’t want to come across as unprofessional. I had a reputation of generations to maintain. “Animals are much more sensitive to psychic energy, and as I said, it’s been a turbulent day.”
The woman nodded sagely, as if everything I said made sense. “This is your familiar, then?”
Oh, well that was convenient! Is she my familiar, though? I don’t know, is that a thing? Do oracles have familiars?
“Yes, this is Hudson. My familiar is very astute.” More like a pain in my ass tute.
“I see. But aren’t feline familiars supposed to be black? If he’s your familiar, why is he white?”
I stared at her. My Hudson had a beautiful, pristine cream coat that she spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning. “You can’t just ask an oracle why her familiar is white.” Was that a little too harsh? Oh well. Whatever. Hudson deserved too much respect to let that slide. “Also, she’s a she. ”
“Oh, my deepest apologies. I meant no offense.”
I looked at Hudson, raising my eyebrows as if we were actually talking.
While the two of us could communicate just fine normally, it wasn’t like we used actual words.
But my kitty got my drift and let out a short chirp before jumping off the table.
No doubt to go to the wall gym I’d had installed for her so she could look down on any humans like the peasants that they were.
“Apologies accepted. But enough pleasantries. Let us commence our communion with the fates.”
Was it a little camp? Maybe. But that was the thing. Although people liked to deny it, liked to insist on only sophistication or high-brow intellectualism, the truth was, one didn’t need to be an oracle to see that people loved camp. Also, the more stressful the times were, the better camp felt.
And no matter how one shook a stick at it, the world was getting pretty damn stressful.
“Return your focus to the crystal ball and intone to me what wisdom you wish to seek from the fates.”
“Pardon?”
I sighed. “Look back into the crystal ball and ask what you wanna ask.”
“Right.”