Chapter Four
No sooner had they scooted into the back seat and slammed the taxi door than her grandmother turned to her with a knowing look. “Come into your powers, have you?”
“Nana, please.” She angled her head to the cab driver, hoping to convey her need for privacy. A snort answered her pleas as they both settled into the tobacco-smoke-tainted back seat. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of smoking ban in public places? Then again, it might have been her. Turning her head, she sniffed the shoulder of her uniform shirt again. Still smelled like wood smoke, pine trees, and that disgusting fish she’d eaten. How could that be?
Her grandmother leaned over and sniffed her clothes, too. A thoughtful look crossed her face as she pointed to Leah’s ankles, which were caked with mud and leaves. Where had that come from and why hadn’t the principal noticed? Nana said nothing, honoring Leah’s desire not to talk publicly.
Looking out the cab window, Leah noted the brown grass and the withered leaves on the trees. The drought hadn’t dealt well with the area. It took rain usually to make mud. She picked a small green leaf from her mud-encrusted legs. Twirling it between two fingers, she knew it hadn’t come from here.
Where would she have encountered mud and green leaves in the few short steps from her father’s sedan to the school doors? The flight through the woods had garnered the mud and leaves. It had been real, not a vision or daydream. If her run through the woods with Sabina, Henry, and Margaret had happened, then that meant the man in the throne-like chair existed. Remembering the man’s crazed eyes and hate-filled voice caused her to shiver. How could she stop this?
The ride home in some ways was more like a funeral possession, slow and somber. If she couldn’t think of a way to stop taking these return trips, it might end up being her funeral. Would her death in the past prevent her from being in the present? All she really knew was she didn’t want to test out any theories. She looked at her grandmother for answers, and the woman took her hand and squeezed it.
“Be at peace, my little bird.” Nana managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her troubled eyes.
The driver coasted to a stop in front of their house. Leah opened the door and waited as Nana painstakingly counted out the fee, plus an appropriate tip. Once out of the cab, Leah turned slowly, peering at the familiar, run-down neighborhood. Most of the houses were older ranch-style homes showing their age with peeling paint, crooked shutters, and crumbling driveways. Most of them were rentals with property owners too penny-pinching to fix the places up. Why should they when a renter might just destroy their efforts? A house two blocks down sported a perfect green lawn and freshly painted shutters. An older couple owned it.
The rental houses served only as a stop on the renters’ journey to somewhere else. Leah wished desperately for a house to call home, rather than a rental. She’d never had a tree house or marks on an interior doorframe to show how she’d grown over the years. Instead, her family worked hard not to change anything, from paint to landscaping, because it was not their home. The modest home boasted a basement where a few boards, drywall, and a door suggested the possibility of another bedroom. Her brother slept in the unfinished room with exposed wiring. Even though it was petty of her, she was glad it was he, instead of her.
The neighborhood didn’t show any signs of transforming itself into another time.
Nana snagged her arm as she moved her cane to her other hand. “Let’s go and deal with your trouble.”
Just like that, her grandmother had made it sound like she had a report to write. She could imagine writing such a report. She could title it How I Slipped through Time. The subtitle could be How I Was Almost Burned as a Witch. Although, what she could remember about the Salem witch trials from a television special was some girls started it trying to cover their own attempts at divination. They wanted to see the faces of their future husbands. No one had ended up burned at the stake, just hanged, probably their version of being humane.
Nana unlocked the door and pushed it open. The smell of scorched coffee greeted them. Leah rushed to the kitchen to turn off the coffeemaker. Often, mornings were chaos as they all headed off their separate ways.
Following more slowly, her grandmother entered the kitchen. “Aye, the coffee. I guess that would be my fault, even though I never touch the stuff.” Pulling a chair out from the table, Nana collapsed into it. “Could you make us some tea, sweet pea? I believe we are going to need it.”
Grabbing the battered teapot, Leah filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil. Remembering she’d missed lunch, she also got out a small plate, arranged some almond cookies on it and placed it on the table. Picking out two mugs for tea, she bent to search for the tea bags. Her grandmother came up behind her silently, startling her when she spoke.
“Not those mugs. I need cups and saucers. I will get my special loose-leaf tea.” Nana weaved a little bit as she held onto the counter for balance.
Leah didn’t like tea, but usually choked down a cup to please her grandmother, who often treated it like a magical elixir. The loose tea was the worst, with the ground-up tea leaves getting in her mouth, often choking her. If she caught them before they slid down her throat, there was always the issue of spitting them out gracefully. So far, she’d managed to deposit them in a napkin while pretending to wipe her mouth. The loose tea was for fortune-telling.
The ritual was a familiar one. Not that Nana had used it to tell her fortune, but Leah had witnessed some of the regulars having their fortunes told. Some of the ladies liked it better than the Tarot cards, feeling it didn’t compromise their religious beliefs. It was more like an elegant parlor trick, since they drank tea while doing it. Nana charged the same.
Nana found the tin of tea and lurched to the table with it. Leah shook her head at her determined grandmother. Why hadn’t she stayed seated? Leah could find the tea on her own. The sounds of objects falling alerted her Nana was on the move again. The sound of cursing led her to the living room, where several candles rolled across the wooden floor.
Leaning against the server that had previously housed the candles, her grandmother pointed to a white column candle half hidden by the couch. “I want that one, for protection. I need the purple one, too, to enhance my psychic senses and as an offering to Minona.”
Leah preferred not to have the fuss of the whole lighting-candles-and-casting-a-circle thing. For a while, she waivered, not certain she even believed any of that stuff. All it had ever done for her was solidify her loner image. Different wasn’t good, especially if she had to keep re-inventing herself with each move. Her life would have been easier if the Sabbats and rituals fell on the traditional school holidays. Still, at this point, she should take all the charms, amulets, and protection she could get.
Kneeling, she gathered up the candles. Nana leaned against the server, favoring her bad leg and warned. “Don’t get old, Leah. Even simple things become impossible tasks.”
Leah looked up from her position and noticed her grandmother sported a half smile. “I’ll do my best, but I think it’s inevitable.” She placed the column candle on the server as she bundled the others back into the box from where they’d fallen. “Is that all you need?”
Nana already had the purple candle in her hand. Pushing upright, she walked back to the kitchen. “Yes, it is enough. I am only going to call on Minona today.”
Leah followed her. “Not calling on the elements, then?”
Her grandmother turned suddenly, causing her to wobble a little. Her voice was firm but trembled with something. Leah couldn’t decide if it was anger or horror. “I always call all the elements. You’d do good to remember that, young lady.”
Of course, Leah knew that. The teapot whistled as they entered the kitchen. “Do you want me to handle the leaves and pour?” Normally, her grandmother fussed with the tea for her clients, making a huge ceremony out of it.
Her grandmother centered the candle on the table, before answering. “It is better if you do it. I want as much of your energy on it as possible, since we are telling your fortune, not mine.”
Pulling out a teaspoon, Leah measured the leaves for each cup, and then poured the steaming water into the delicate wide-mouthed teacups. “How come you always fix the tea for your customers?”
Her grandmother snorted as she cleared the table surface, arranging a cup of water, a stone, and an incense cone at various intervals. “I can’t depend on any of them to do it right. Secondly, they would consider making tea something a servant does, which would be why I have to make it. In the end, it doesn’t matter too much for my women since their lives seldom change overly much. They just come for reassurance that they will continue to lead their well-fed, easy lives. You, on the other hand, have much going on.”
Leah had always wondered why the same middle-age women continued to come to Nana. They weren’t single and looking for love, nor were they businesswomen hoping to start a new project. They were married women who had devoted themselves to a high-earning husband and raising spoiled children and pampered pets. They’d ask about vacation plans, remodeling the house, and plastic surgery, nothing too serious or earth-shattering. A few didn’t even follow the advice Nana gave, much to their regret.
The image of one of the regulars, with her oversized lips resembling flotation devices, made Leah shudder. Nana had told her not to have the procedure done, but she hadn’t listened. Now she had to wait it out and hope her lips would return to normal over time.
Leah stirred in three teaspoons of sugar then carefully carried the thin saucers supporting the cups to the table, sloshing only a little bit. Probably would have been better to pour the tea at the table.
Nana reached for her cup, took a sip, and sighed. “Ah, just the way I like it.”
Leah pulled out a chair to sit down when her grandmother pinned her with a look and an inquiring eyebrow lift. “Since you’re up, why don’t you cast the circle?”
It really wasn’t a request, but rather an order framed as a request. Leah started to walk around the table, but her grandmother stopped her. “Get the salt, the sea salt. This is serious. We don’t want any bad energy or spirits messing with the reading. Come to think of it. It is fortunate you were sent home today so we could have a quiet reading without interference.”
Fortunate might not be the word Leah would have used. It was serendipitous how everything had worked together.
Pouring the salt into her hand, she tried to clear her mind of woods, baying dogs, and the skeletal man on the throne. Breathing deeply, she counted to twelve before walking clockwise around the table, spreading a thin line of salt behind her. Nana welcomed the elements as she walked. Turning to the east, she lifted her hands. “Welcome, Air, breath of life.” She touched a lit match to the incense cone.
She took a few more steps, as Nana bent to light the white candle until it caught. She pivoted and raised her hands in a southern direction. “Welcome, Fire, symbol of warmth and passion.”
Nana placed her fingers in the cup of water, pulling them upward, allowing the water to trickle off her fingers. “Welcome, Water. Mother, life giver, and nurturer.”
A crystal embedded in the stone reflected the flickering light of the candle. Nana placed her hand over the stone. “Earth, Mother Earth, from which all life springs, welcome.”
Leah finished walking the circle and stood while Nana held a match to the white candle flame to light the purple candle. Holding up her hands in a beseeching manner, her grandmother took on a majestic and commanding tone. “Come, great Minona, Goddess of Fortune-Telling, and help us now. As you helped the people of Togo predict the future with palm kernels and cones, help me now read these humble tea leaves. Great praise and gratitude are offered up to you, wise Goddess.” Her grandmother sat down.
At least that answered the question of who Minona was. Leah had had her cards read dozens of times but never tea leaves. “What do we do now?”
Her grandmother gestured to her cup. “You drink your tea, but make sure to leave a little liquid so the leaves can flow free to form shapes. We also talk. Cup your hands around the bowl of your cup to give it energy. Tell me, child, all that is happening to you. I’ve felt a disturbance.”
Leah took a sip of cooling tea, wondering where to start. “I’ve been having these visions that feel real. Look at my legs.” She stretched out a leg to show her muddy ankles. Nana reached out a finger to wipe up some mud to hold it up to her face. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the mud texture.
“This is not from around here.” She held the mud up to her nose and sniffed it. “Lots of humus in it, rich soil, probably from a forest with decaying matter. Tell me how your legs got so muddy.”
The story of running from the witch catchers tumbled out. Her grandmother didn’t look surprised, only interested. Occasionally, she’d hold up a finger as if counting only to put it down, encouraging her to continue speaking with a gesture. Finally, Leah stuttered to a stop, aware of the fantastic nature of her tale now that she’d actually said it aloud.
Nana looked thoughtful as she rubbed two fingers against her brow where the third eye resided. “What is your name in these visions?”
“It is Leah, the same as it is now.” An odd question. What could the meaning be behind it?
“Do you remember the clothes you wore?”
Good question. Had she spent much time looking down at herself? “The first time I wore rough, homespun garments. I saw myself as in third person. I didn’t realize the woman was me until she pushed the hair out of her face. The second time I had on similar garments, but I tried to explain I was from America, but they didn’t seem to understand. The third time, I don’t remember, but I’m dirty from running through the forest.”
“This is odd,” Nana said. That was the understatement of the year. “Drink your tea.” Leah picked up the cup, sipping and listening. “Many things are going on. It is possible you are returning to a previous life. If so, why are you physically returning? This is something I have never heard of before. If an earlier you held your spirit and existed in the past, why would the twenty-first-century you need to be present, too?”
Another her? Leah loosely believed a person could have several lives, but she’d never bothered to explore any of her past lives. What might this other her be like? Probably scared for her life, obviously, but was the other as young? She might have a boyfriend or was already married. People married much younger then.
Pointing to her teacup, Nana asked, “Done yet?”
A small residue of brown liquid remained over the leaves. She nodded, waiting for instructions, hoping something useful to keep her safe and guide her while putting an end to her impromptu trips could come out of this reading. Cerberus, her three-headed mean-girl monster, was preferable to the lethal and evil man on the throne chair.
Nana held up one finger. “Follow my instructions exactly. Swirl the remaining liquid three times in your cup, then turn it over in your saucer, take three breaths, then lift your cup.”
Holding the china cup in her hands, Leah gently swirled the liquid. She placed the cup on the table, placed the saucer on top of it, and inverted it. Taking three shallow breaths, she carefully lifted the cup. Brown liquid oozed across the saucer, leaving stranded piles of tea leaves scattered across the surface. It didn’t look like an answer. It didn’t look like anything. The desire to fling the saucer off the table came over her.
Her grandmother must have sensed it and covered her right hand with her own. “Be at peace, child. Let me see what the leaves have to say. Hmmm.”
Leah leaned closer.
With one finger, Nana pointed to lines almost making a loop. “Broken loop means disruption and trouble in your life.”
“I got that already.” Biting her bottom lip, she tried to find symbols in the leaves. A streak with a rounded head caught her eye. “What about that? It looks like a comet. What does it mean?”
“Good eye, Leah. It is a comet, which signals change, even a pivotal event.” Nana cocked her head, first one way and then another, searching for symbols.
“Will the change be good or bad?” She feared she knew the answer, but crossed her fingers underneath the table anyway.
“Ah, I see a wolf, a rose, and a hand.” Nana looked up. “Change is change. It just is. A man who loses his job thinks the change is bad until he gets a better job, then the change is good.” Her bracelet jingled as she waved her hand for emphasis.
Leaving school early was a change that had worked in her favor. “What do those other symbols mean?”
Her grandmother fixed her with one of her enigmatic stares, probably the same look that had had Principal Sharpe running to hide. “A rose means new love.”
A smile appeared as she thought of Dylan. It could happen and was certainly not as weird as appearing in a different century. “The hand, what does it mean?”
Nana held her hand open, demonstrating what she saw in the saucer. “That is destiny. Karma. Right now, what is happening to you has a higher purpose you might not understand immediately, but you will.” Balling up her fist, she flourished it. “What do you think this means?”
“A fight.” She answered without thinking. Even in this, her grandmother was teaching.
“You are correct, or an argument.” She pointed to a small symbol that resembled a tiny dog. “The wolf symbol troubles me.”
“Are you sure it isn’t a tiny dog? A Chihuahua might chase me. Maybe Ethan will finally get the puppy he’s wanted,” Leah joked, trying to elevate Nana’s somber mood.
“No, it’s a wolf. This I know. Did I not call on the great Minona to assist me in the reading?” She looked at the white candle.
Leah stared at it, too, waiting for the Goddess to appear in the flame. Fortune-telling used to be a pleasurable activity for Leah. Her grandmother was always one to give happy news, believing you would find out the bad things on your own. She’d also pointed out that bad news didn’t earn any tips or follow-up visits. A happy customer left on the lookout for good fortune and recognized it when it came. “The wolf?”
“Someone close to you will betray you,” Nana said, slowly raising her face to meet her eyes.
“In this century or the other?” She could probably survive a modern betrayal, but she wasn’t sure about one in the past.
Leaning over the saucer, Nana traced an outline in the air. “I cannot tell you when these things will happen. My clients only exist in one century, but I think I see a bag in this last pile of leaves.”
“A bag? As in paper sack?” Leah wasn’t too sure she wanted to know what it meant, but a warning could help. She couldn’t fight the enemy if she didn’t know what to expect.
Turning the saucer gently, Nana moved the elusive bag closer to her. “I’m unsure if it is open. Age dims your focus.”
“What difference does it make if a bag is open or not?” The reading experience was not as fun and upbeat as she had hoped it would be. An eerie sense of foreboding similar to a wet blanket settled around her shoulders, chilling her and pushing her down with its soaked heaviness.
Nana exhaled audibly. “It troubles me that I cannot see it clearly. A bag if opened is a form of escape, which means you can escape these odd trips to the Burning Times.”
Escape, that was good, which meant no more return trips to the land of scary. Truthfully, the forest was nice and unpolluted, but she had no desire to stay there. “What does it mean if the bag is closed?”
Sucking her lips in, Nana hesitated, and then said, “A trap.”
A trap? Not exactly what she’d wanted to hear, especially paired with someone betraying her. But there was love, new love. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if she had love if she was stuck, or even died, in the wrong century.
“Nana, is that all it says? It’s not exactly clear.” Leah had expected more since her grandmother’s reputation rested on her ability to make detailed and accurate predictions. Part of it was she kept the readings positive, too.
Placing her hand over Leah’s, Nana squeezed it lightly. “Tea leaf reading is open to interpretation. Where I see a wolf, someone else might see a Pomeranian.”
Hoping her initial impression of gloom and disaster could have been wrong, Leah grabbed a cookie. Munching thoughtfully, she swallowed and gave voice to her thoughts. “You could be wrong, then.”
Nana’s head came up like a dog scenting a rabbit, her dark eyes narrowed, as she said, “I am never wrong.” With such an expression, it was easy to see why Principal Sharpe had hidden. Even knowing Nana worked hard to create the image of a scary gypsy woman from the horror movies didn’t make it any less effective. Her grandmother blinked, as if suddenly remembering to whom she was talking, and managed a weak smile. “What I meant to say, dear one, is we shape our destiny. These are symbols, road signs, to tell you what is out there and to beware.”
That didn’t make her feel any better. “Does it tell me what century I need to be looking for love and betrayal?” So far, she hadn’t met any potential love interests running through the medieval forest. Henry was too old, although kind. Since people in the past aged rough, could be Henry was only twenty-two. She snorted at the idea. Besides, he did nothing for her.
As far as betrayal, she’d go for the mean-girl trio every time. That’s how they normally acted, so how could it be a betrayal? She wasn’t exactly friends with them. It wasn’t a betrayal unless you trusted someone. That narrowed down the field big time.
Leah had learned early on not to trust people, not early enough, though. Whom did she trust? Her family, of course. They might irritate her, but they’d never betray her. There was Stella and Dylan. She trusted both of them. Dylan didn’t know enough about her to betray anything, and Stella had her own secrets.
If not this century, maybe the dream century? All she knew were the three fellow runners. Old Margaret would probably turn her over in a heartbeat since she blamed her for the loss of her cat and home. Henry had too much character to turn her over. A man who stood up to the mayor and helped them to escape was not the type of man to stab her in the back. Then there was Sabina. The woman was near her age and friendly. If the twenty-first century had taught her anything, it was to be careful of people who pretend to be your friends. They too often weren’t.
Opportunistic friendships, her father called them. People who befriended you because they thought it might somehow benefit them, from getting on the dance team to hanging out with a particular guy friend. Perhaps they believed your momentary popularity would rub off on them. She had gathered a small group of followers after her spirited defense of Jeremy, but most had fallen away after she’d failed to do anything else as interesting. The few who had hung on puzzled her. They were people who wanted to know her for something she’d done as opposed to who she was.
Leah needed to know more. Nana could use the Tarot cards, which had to be clearer than the leaves. “Could you…” she started to ask, only to hear the front door slam.