Page 66 of Power of the Mind

I was about to remind him to be careful—the interior lighting wasn’t bright enough to conceal us at the window—when his eyes bulged, and he flattened himself against the wall like he’d been caught.

Copying his action, I cursed under my breath, ready to run at the first hint of trouble. Had he been noticed? We were trespassing, but that ball of twine could unravel quickly if a disgruntled cop showed up. Stalking, burglary, predatory behavior. The list of potential charges was long.

“Holy shit,” Tallus hissed, glancing again before ducking away. “It’s him.”

“What? Him who?”

“Dr. Hilty. Mr. I swear I Haven’t Talked to my Wife Since the Divorce. That lying sack of shit. He’s in there right now. I saw him. Look.”

Tallus unglued himself from the wall and peeked through the window, waving for me to do the same. Curious, I stole a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the psychologist slash hypnotherapist was present. Tie askew, balding head exposed and glistening with sweat, face blotchy with angry red spots, the man radiated fury.

And he had a lot to say to his ex-wife if his runaway mouth was anything to go by.

In contrast, Madame Rowena didn’t appear fazed by the man spewing animosity. Standing her ground, shoulders relaxed, she wore a smug expression. The woman fit the stereotype I’denvisioned when picturing crazy psychics. Her wardrobe was not that different than what I’d seen in the photographs of her in her younger days. The seventies and early eighties had returned with a vengeance. I wasn’t sure if the costume was meant to set the stage so her customers believed the act or if the wardrobe was her preference.

She wore a long, flowing, multicolored, and layered skirt with a frilly blouse sporting poufy, bell-style sleeves and oversized wooden buttons. Her hair, more silver than brown, was parted down the middle and fell to her waist in wiry, frizzy curls. Around her neck, she wore a collection of colorful beaded necklaces. Hoop earrings dangled from each multi-pierced lobe. Her skin was surprisingly wrinkle-free and smooth for a woman in her sixties.

Hilty shouted, and Rowena smirked, shrugged, and shook her head accordingly. The more blasé her responses, the angrier he got.

The pair were in an office, or rather the room where I assumed Rowena entertained her clients. Again, the cliché was rich. A round table with a fringed cloth stood between the ex-husband and wife. A bowl of multicolored crystals sat in the center. Tarot cards were assembled in a neat pile beside a fat burning candle, and although the window was closed, I could swear a hint of cloves or jasmine or bergamot—fuck if I knew what to call it—wafted through the pane.

Celestial paintings hung on the walls. Numerous shelves were packed with figurines, labeled glass jars of herbs, and countless books. Unicorns, Tibetan bowls, dream catchers, trickling fountains, dragons holding gemstones, rune stones, and decorative wooden boxes meant to mimic antiques filled the spaces in between. More candles flickered near a partition by the door. Plants grew from every corner and hung in woven hemp holders from the ceiling. Strings of lights clung to every surface.It was magical, mystical, and so over-the-top I wanted to roll my eyes. Did people seriously believe in this bullshit?

The odd light bleeding through the window came from two color-shaded freestanding lamps.

As I tried to make out the design on the closer one, a suddenbangstiffened my spine and snapped me to attention. My heart rate went from ninety to nothing, my adrenaline surged, and I almost grabbed Tallus and threw him to the ground.

But once I processed the scene and realized the good doctor had done nothing more than slapped the table with a meaty palm, toppling the stack of tarot cards and making the candles flame sputter, I exhaled the panic.

The couple’s argument was muffled and mostly indecipherable, but I picked out the odd word here and there.

“…out of your mind… to prison again… not a game, Row… police… Who… now… to me… owe me… up to…”

Between Dr. Hilty’s rapid speech and the distortion caused by the closed window, the big picture wasn’t quite clear enough to grasp, but we listened and watched. Calm and collected Rowena had no come back for her ex’s vitriol, but when she did, her voice was too quiet to travel. Whatever her words, they only made him angrier. What caught my attention was the smug expression she wore. She didn’t fear this man. If anything, she looked self-satisfied. In control. And devious as hell.

“Give them to me,” Hilty shouted at the top of his voice, smacking the table again. “All of them.” His chest heaved as he waited for Rowena to act.

When Rowena didn’t move, Hilty shoved her out of the way and barreled toward a filing cabinet. He wrenched the top drawer open and ripped it apart, yanking out files from time to time and tossing them on the table. He did the same with the next drawer and the one below it until he’d gone through the whole cabinet. I lost count of how many he took.

Once satisfied, he gathered them into a pile and flicked through them one at a time. Every second that passed, he lost a shade of color. He continued to examine the files, lips trembling, eyes skimming warily over the contents. The man had gone from pure rage to a ball of nerves. Whatever was inside those files had shaken him. Done his perusal, he tucked the stack under an arm.

He said something to his ex, finger jabbing angrily at her face.

Rowena shrugged.

Hilty bellowed with another flash of rage, “No more, Row. No. More.”

When the psychic didn’t respond one way or the other, he shook his head like he was disappointed. Whatever he said next was too low to hear.

Their encounter rapidly concluded, and Tallus and I were far too close to the back exit. Dr. Hilty would leave any minute now, and we’d be compromised.

When Hilty vanished from the room, I snagged Tallus’s arm and wrenched him away from the window, shoving him in front of me and urging him to go through the gate. “Move it. Hurry.”

He hustled along the side of the house as I heard the back door open and fall shut. The street was still thirty feet ahead, so I snagged Tallus again, detouring him toward the hedged front yard next door. It was better to be out of sight than for Hilty to notice two strange men wandering the empty street outside his ex’s house after something sketchy had occurred inside.

We were safely concealed when Hilty came down the driveway, got into his BMW, and turned on the engine.

“Why is it,” Tallus hissed, close enough to my ear to make me shiver, “that you have no problem dragging me around by the scruff of the neck, but you won’t run your hands over my naked body when I’m lying there ripe, willing, and waiting for you to fondle me?”

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