The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [164]
Vani did not look up. “Far away.”
“I suppose you are that. And let me just say one thing, girl.” Marji’s voice brightened as she waggled a finger at Vani. “You and black leather. One word: Wow.”
Vani looked up, her gold eyes confused. “The leather offers protection while allowing me to move freely. It is practical, if that is what your word wow means.”
Marji rolled her eyes, then looked at Travis, who sat next to her. “Honey, who are these people you’ve brought me? And what planet are they from?”
Travis gave her a sheepish grin. “Actually, that’s sort of a good question.”
Marji lifted a hand to her throat. “You aren’t kidding, now are you, honey?”
“No,” Travis said, gray eyes serious. “I’m not.”
There were points, as Travis spoke in low words, telling their story, when Marji’s eyes grew wide and she gripped the edge of the table, but she did not interrupt. Finally, when his voice trailed into silence, she shut her eyes. Then she opened them again, and they were as dark and peaceful as a garden at night.
“So you’ve been to another world, queen,” she said to Grace. “You and the cue ball here.” She looked at Vani. “And you’re from that world. Well, it makes sense. I’ve never met anyone on Earth who could pull that look off like you do.”
“You believe us?” Grace said.
Now Marji laughed. “Why not, queen? Of course there are other worlds than this. God knows there have to be. I’d go crazy if there weren’t.”
Deirdre thought she understood. Marji was fabulous and unique. But this world was not always kind to those who were special.
She leaned forward to study the pattern of tarot cards on the table. Deirdre didn’t necessarily believe they were magic, but she did believe the cards contained ancient and meaningful symbols, honed over the centuries, that could be illuminating in the hands of someone who was sensitive and thoughtful.
“I’ve never seen this layout of cards before,” she said.
“That’s because I invented it myself,” Marji said. “But the cards aren’t really your bag of tricks, are they, shaman girl?”
Deirdre sat up straight. “I’m not a shaman.”
“Really?” Marji raised a carefully tweezed eyebrow. “Then why do you wear that?”
Deirdre reached up and clutched the yellowed bear claw that hung around her neck. “You misunderstand. My grandfather was a shaman. He gave this to me before he passed away.”
“Okay, sugar. And why do you suppose it was you he gave it to when he knew he was dying?”
Words fled Deirdre, like birds taking wing.
Marji clucked her tongue. “Don’t deny your gifts, girl. I just can’t understand it, why everyone is so afraid of their own power. Well, Sister Marjoram isn’t. Why can’t the rest of you take a pointer from her?”
These words caused Travis, Grace, and Farr to look away. Deirdre joined them. Marji was a cheap West Colfax psychic in drag. She couldn’t possibly be right.
By the time she looked back, Vani was poring over the cards.
“You said you saw trouble,” Vani said. “What sort of trouble?”
“I wish I knew.” Marji glanced at Travis and Grace. “I’m afraid I got just a little bit curious after you two showed up on my doorstep the other day, the police hot on your hind ends. So I decided to see if the cards would offer any illumination.”
She held up a hand, silencing Travis’s question.
“No, don’t you worry. I didn’t tell them anything when they came in here. But they were looking for you all right. And they came in here again, after your little adventure down at the Blue Sky Motel.”
Grace gave a bitter smile. “You really do see all, Marji.”
“Actually, it was the morning news that time. Not that I should watch. I still can’t believe they give top billing to that hussy Anna Ferraro. And don’t you believe those things are any more real than mine are.” Marji adjusted her perfectly shaped breasts.
“Marji,” Vani said softly. “The cards.”
“Sorry, sugar. I digress.” Marji ran her fingernails over the cards. “But the fact is, I don’t know what they mean. And that doesn’t usually happen to Marji.