Page 83 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Willow watches me with a faint frown. “Thank you, Lilah. I don’t know that it’s good to see you again.”

“Right back at you, Willow.”

“Where do we start?” Alistair asks, all business.

“You could pay me,” she says. “That’s one way to break the ice.”

Out of his jeans pocket comes a wad of money. “I believe you said the fee for an emergency reading was one thousand dollars.”

“Yes. For you, it is.” Willow doesn’t count the cash. Just slips it into the pocket of her robe and takes a seat at a small round wooden table. “Go on, then. The clock is ticking. Ask your questions.”

“I can ask whatever I want?”

“Within reason.”

“How did you get into this?” Alistair sits opposite her, the picture of cool, calm, and confident. As if he’s interviewing Willow or something. “Being a witch?”

“That’s what you want to ask?”

“I’m interested in your story. I’d also like to know what credentials you have exactly to tell people they’re about to die.”

“Hmm. I inherited the gift from my grandmother. She had a talent for knowing things.”

“It skipped a generation.”

Willow just nods.

“What sort of things could she predict?”

“If the biscuits would burn or when her neighbor would go into labor or if her father was going to lose his job.” Willow shrugs. “Things of a domestic nature mostly, since that was her world. Messages can be both big and small.”

“And yourself?”

“The times had changed. I grew up in the city and often traveled with my mother. So the things I saw were of a different nature.” And that is all she says.

“At about what age did it start?” asks Alistair.

“With the onset of puberty.”

“Seeing the future at such a young age must have been terrifying.”

“There were often times when I didn’t understand the message. As a child, I simply lacked the maturity or the knowledge.” Willow gives him a long look. “You learn to keep quiet after scaring and alienating people. Growing up is hard. However, being alone and misunderstood is its own special sort of hell. As you well know.”

He ignores her last remark and asks, “How did you handle it?”

“I was fortunate—I had my gran. But knowing things isn’t always nice, as your fiancée can attest to.”

“Talking of my fiancée, how do I save her?”

“Her heart will stop soon,” says Willow. “There’s no getting around that.”

I freeze in my seat as if my heart has stopped already. Hearing it said out loud in this manner is a whole new world of awfulness. Not even him referring to me as his fiancée can soften the blow. Though I sure like the sound of those words coming from his lips. I know it’s nonsense, but still. Why not enjoy it?

“Are you sure you can’t sell us a protection spell or something?” he asks.

“I can sell you as many protection spells as you like. There are also amulets, potions, and talismans I could recommend. If you like, for another thousand dollars, I could pull out my cauldron and wand and get busy,” she says. “But the fact is, none of these things can fight fate.”

“So they’re pointless.”

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