Yikes, she was a hot and simmering mess. Intelligent aliens were welcome to zap her with a space laser and implant competence into her brain.
Without a word, Nerissa rose. She walked across the living room to the bookcase and ran her finger across spines. “Don’t sell yourself short. You have more than an undergrad degree, you started a doctorate. You’re smarter than you think, and I can assure you that failure is not in your destiny. Let’s have a peek at my favorite book. It’s one of the witchy ones.”
Helen’s heart seemed to jump to her throat, and an icy ribbon threaded up her spine. Nerissa must’ve figured out the facts about her education through research. The other part? Mere coincidence. A nervous laugh bubbled out with her next words. “Is my aura that strong? You practically read my mind.”
Nerissa’s gray braid swished back and forth as she turned her head over her shoulder. A twinkle in her eye caught slices of afternoon light streaming in through gaps in the drapes.
“There’s no practically about it. My ability to access your surface thoughts is a sign of our spirit-born connection. I see magic swirled into those beautiful amber irises of yours, too. You are gifted, but we can’t step into our deepest truth until we believe in ourselves.”
Helen snorted when her stomach went sour. She’d been called a lot of things over the years, but gifted wasn’t one of them. Mind reading amounted to an easier sell. This woman was patronizing her due to some ulterior motive. Everybody had one.
“Oh, please. If I was gifted, I’d have more to show for myself by now. Behold, my impressive roster of accomplishments: a pit of debt, a retired stripping career, and a useless degree. Not exactly ticking off boxes on those ‘things every woman should have by thirty’ checklists.”
The self-flagellation lashed Helen to the bone, and her trusty armor of sarcasm didn’t protect her from those whip stings. She covered her face and trained her gaze on an area rug, not looking up until the floorboards creaked.
A massive tome in her hands, Nerissa ambled back to her chair and sat. “There will be bigger birthdays if you’re lucky. I still remember the sixties. Woodstock. I was the girl in a famous picture, twirling and twirling. I slept with all of those rock stars and enjoyed free love.”
Heat spread under Helen’s breastbone, tightness squeezing her midsection. Was the ‘rock stars’ comment a sly knock on Helen for falling for the musician ex who cheated on her with every available groupie? A catty little mind-reading trick of Nerissa’s?
Whatever. With her life circling the drain, she could not endure head games. Lisa still refused to speak to her. Bad news for a business partner or best friend, let alone both. She had major problems to solve and not a minute to squander.
“Cool. Sounds like fun. I’d like to talk about your services now. My business goes in to foreclosure next week, and my closest friend blames me. I need money. You can do wealth spells, right?”
A grating guffaw rolled out of Nerissa’s throat. She opened her volume and leafed. Pages warped from water damage and crowded with words offered coy peeks at possible solutions.
“Patience isn’t among your virtues. Hence your tendency to act before thinking and leave projects unfinished. But your drive is noble, and your will is strong. You dare to chase success by any means necessary, which I admire. Takes gumption to sell the spectacle of one’s naked flesh to keep the lights on, and don’t beat yourself up about the studio. There’s a yoga place on every block these days. Lots of entrepreneurial young women such as yourself are losing their shirts teaching Downward Dog.”
Helen clamped her teeth down on the tip of her tongue and swallowed a snarky comeback. Not wise to risk alienating the witch. Better to summon tact and diplomacy.
Nerissa hummed a tune while reading.
Helen tapped her foot. She needed to hit the road before traffic became a zoo, and the final notice of foreclosure stuffed in the bottom of her purse wasn’t about to dematerialize.
“Finding any good abundance spells?” The fake-casual lilt in Helen’s tone prompted her to roll her eyes at herself. She sucked at tact and diplomacy.
“I want to try an experiment.” The gray-haired woman flipped to the front of her book and touched a circle inked on the inside of the cover.
“Alright. Sure.” Helen snuck a peek at her watch and squirmed.
“This grimoire was an inheritance from my foremothers. My coven daughter will inherit my sacred text from me to learn the spirit witch’s craft and begin the work of the six-fold sisterhood. The spirit element is the most cerebral of the six circles.”
God, enough with the pointless anecdotes. Nerissa might have all day to meander, but Helen did not. “Whoever she is will be lucky. Like I said, I’m broke as a joke—”
Another laugh from the old witch made for a jarring interruption. “You may be the she in question. Here’s a free lesson. Your defeatist tendencies stem from fear of finding your true power, so you self-sabotage in an effort to make yourself less threatening. I understand. We wise women have been taught by the patriarchy to hate our gifts.”
Helen ground her molars. Aggravation shot through her in a frying jolt. Cash, not a feminist lecture, would solve her problems. She grabbed her purse off the couch and jumped to her feet. “This was a mistake. I assumed—”
Nerissa muttered in some throaty, incomprehensible language. The old woman’s eyes rolled back in her head. Blank slates of white remained.
Breath vanished from Helen’s lungs. The bizarre sight and sounds boggled her imagination until skepticism intervened. Nerissa’s eyeball move could be a trick,
