Page 5 of Soothsayer

“Paula, hey.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. I rolled my eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

For fuck’s sake. Well, at least the settlement from the trucking company would give them a nice nest egg to get their new place together. I turned away and walked to the end of the block before getting out my phone again and making a call.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hi, baby.”

“What, you can see me getting smeared across a wall, but you don’t bother to let me know about having a gun pulled on me?”

“Cillian.” My mother sounded half apologetic, half resigned. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

Yes, fine, I did know that, but I didn’t feel like being reasonable right now. “So you didn’t see that this morning, then?”

“Did youneedme to see it?”

I wasn’t about to go down the self-sufficiency road with her. It meant a surefire argument, and I was still buzzing with adrenalin from being so close to the car crash.

“No,” I said flatly. “I guess not.”

“Cilly…”

Fuck, I was being an asshole. I didn’t talk to my mother very often, and I didn’t want to turn this into athing. She didn’t hold grudges, but I did, and if I didn’t get myself together now, I’d end up not calling her for months out of guilt for being a dick to her. Vicious cycle.

“I thought you didn’t like to text.”

“The timing worked out better that way,” she said, sounding a bit more relaxed. “You’re all right, then?”

“You know I am,” I replied, pulling out another cigarette and lighting up on the corner. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” She sounded genuinely pleased, and I started to respond, but waited for the wail of the oncoming ambulance to diminish first.

“How are you?” I asked once we could hear each other again. It sounded like a banal question, but it was anything but. If my mother was seeing things about me, then she was opening herself up more to other psychic influences. Depending on how those manifested, she might lose consciousness for days. I knew the neighbors would check on her?it wasn’t like she would die up there all alone?but I couldn’t help worrying. I would have given almost anything to be the one she could rely on, but she and I hadn’t been able to live in close quarters since I was thirteen. I might damage her if I stayed too close.

“Fine, baby, I’m just fine. Dana’s dog just had puppies, and she offered one to me when it’s old enough. I think I’ll take her up on it.”

“Good.” That was really good, actually. My mom did a lot better with a pet around, but she’d been heartbroken when her last dog had died and put off getting another for two years. There had been a few close calls since then, so a new puppy was a positive step. “That’s great.”

“I thought it was time,” she said. “It’s been a little lonely, and I don’t want to go into another winter without a companion.” I wished, not for the first time, that that companion could be me. It hurt to know that my mom felt like she had to be alone in order to be safe. Just becauseIwasn’t safe with her didn’t mean no one else could fill that void.

“Sounds like the puppy will be perfect,” I said, staring out at the passing cars but not seeing any of them. “So no headache, then?”

“Not this time. Random events seem to affect me less strongly.”

“Good.” The silence stretched out between us, and I thought about the last time I’d seen my mother in person, almost half my lifetime ago. I wondered if she was sitting on the same old couch by the window or if she’d finally gotten it replaced—the springs had been going back when I’d lived with her. I wondered if she was wearing warm enough clothes, because she tended to ignore the weather until it prevented her from going outside, and summer in Yellowknife was different from summer in Denver. I wondered if she missed me, and then felt like an idiot.

“I looked up your interview online. It seems like it was fun.”

“Oh.” Right, the interview. Through the complicated web of favors and reputation that my mother somehow maintained, she had gotten me in touch with a friend of hers whose daughter’s fiancé, a freelance journalist, was writing an articleabout psychics and wanted someone to talk to about it. I’d been volunteered and caved to my mom after a few minutes of arguing over exposure.

I eventually talked to the guy on Zoom, using a fake name and not giving him a visual, and the interview had been…surprisingly fun. Kind of tongue in cheek, really. He was more journalist than hardcore believer in supernatural phenomenon, but I guess when the economy was down you took work where you could get it, even if it was withModern Parapsychia. “It was all right.”

“You should take a look at it.”

“I will.” My skin was starting to itch, just a little bit, and I knew it had to be worse for her. The longer we talked, the higher the chances of an incident happening. “Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“I know, baby.” She was quiet for a moment and then said, “I love you, Cillian. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” I wanted to ask her to call me again when she got the puppy, to let me know when the snow hit, to tell her about Marisol and her tarot and her strange dreams. Instead I hung up. The prickle immediately went away, and I scowled.

Fuck this for a lark. The day was hardly begun and I already needed to forget it.

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