Page 107 of Roses in Summer

My eyes must look like saucers on my face, a mixture of fear and relief that the client wasn’t my sister. “They said it was a serial killer.” The news has been playing details about the double murder nonstop, linking it to the death of several other self-proclaimed mystics and psychics and their repeat clients in the tri-state area.

“I know. I saw. And it’s sad, it’s tragic, especially for their families. Marie was a nice littlestrega nona, who had relics and pictures and statues dedicated to the Virgin Mary and Jesus. She described her gift as one from God, and maybe people don’t believe in it or don’t want to entertain it, but she was kind until she asked me to leave her house.”

I pull my brows in, tossing over her words in my head. “What do you mean she asked you to leave?”

Bianca pushes her bowl aside and leans back. “She told me she saw death in my future, a symbol that could either mean literal or figurative death, and that I was the cause of it. Whatever she read in her cards freaked her out so bad she asked me to leave and told me to go to church.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure how else to respond right now.

“I’ve been trying to forget about it the last week, and that’s why you saw what you saw on the couch.” Bianca looks down, not meeting my eyes as she speaks. “I’m sorry for that, but I just wanted to forget, at least for a little while.”

“B,” I whisper, my heart breaking for the pain and confusion I see in my sister’s face, the very real “what if I were there?” game she must be playing in her mind.

“I got a call from the police today. I have to go to the precinct and give a statement and my alibi.”

“What? Why?”

She looks up, tears trailing down her face. “They’re interviewing all repeat clients.”

“How many times have you gone?”

“Five.” Her voice is hushed, embarrassment lacing the word, even though going to a psychic shouldn’t evoke that emotion. “I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, but Rafe knows since it’s his precinct.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to tell Mom and Dad.”

I can’t hold in the chuckle at my twin’s no-nonsense response to Bianca’s very real problem. “He’s probably right.”

“He’s probably a dick.”

“He’s definitely a dick, but he’s right that you need to tell Mom and Dad.”

“Haven’t they been through enough? Ava’s stabbing, you being a martyr and then getting socked in the face, and now this? I always thought Rafe would be the pain in the ass since he’s the moodiest one out of all of us, but even after the military, he’s fine.”

“It’s life, Bianca. But nothing is worth your safety, and that means you shouldn’t go down to the precinct without two of the best lawyers in the area with you. Even if Rafe was in the room with you while you gave your statement, there’s only so much he can do.”

“I know. It’s just scary, okay? Two weeks ago, my only concern was that I had a less active social life than I did last year, but now murder? It’s like a bad movie that keeps throwing useless plots at the audience.”

“I know, but you need to call Mom and Dad.”

“I will, but they’re going to freak as soon as I tell them.”

“Probably.” I shrug, offering no false words of comfort. “But still, you have to tell them. They’ll do everything they can to protect you. And give them a little credit; all they’ve done over the years is support the four of us.”

“I hate it when you’re sensible. I should have called Ava.”

I shake my head, reaching out to draw my little sister into a hug. “Ava would have told you the same thing. Why don’t you call Mom now so she knows to meet you tomorrow? I’ll clean up.” I motion to her bowl of half-eaten pasta.

Breaking from my hold, Bianca pushes the stool back and stands, turning her back toward me as she walks to her room. I watch her as she retreats, pausing only long enough for her to say, “Thanks, Sera,” before she disappears into her room and shuts the door behind her.

My mind is overactive as I clean the discarded bowl and wipe down the counter, thinking about all the misfortunes surrounding us. There are happy things, of course—like Ava and Grey’s engagement and their wedding planning—but the clouds over us seem to cast a shadow on the excitement.

Throwing the paper towel in the garbage, I shut off the light behind me and tiptoe back into my room, pausing at the light beneath Olivia’s door. She must be up if her light is on, and I could tell her about my run-in with Mitch and Lincoln’s encounter today since I wasn’t able to tell her this morning.

Sighing, I knock on her door, knowing it’s better to get it over with than let it fester more than it already has.

Liv opens her door in a matching sleep set. “Everything okay?”

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