Page 103 of Don't Let Me Go
That gets my attention, but I’m still not sure why Riley is so mesmerized. Not until I take a closer look at the psychic. With her bright red hair, pale skin, and high cheekbones, Jocasta Devereaux looks oddly familiar. Then it hits me.
“It’s her.” I gasp, the blood running cold in my veins. “It’s Ulfhild.”
Chapter 41
Riley
“What are we gonna do if we can’t get in to see her?” Jackson asks as we storm into the gleaming, sun-dappled lobby of the Hilton.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to see her.”
Jackson looks unconvinced, and I don’t blame him. At this very moment, Ulfhild or Jocasta Devereaux or whatever she’s calling herself these days is giving a demonstration of her “psychic abilities” on the stage of the hotel’s largest auditorium. Unfortunately, when Jackson and I went online to buy tickets last night, we found the show was completely sold out. All five hundred seats.
Thankfully, I have a plan to get us in. Or, rather, I have Farouk.
“Hey, Farouk,” I call out, marching over to the concierge desk where Tala’s brother is working. Farouk is five years older than Tala, and if I’m honest, I used to have a slight crush on him despite the overwhelming evidence that he is 100 percent straight. With his clear olive skin, sharp jawline, and head of luscious black hair styled in a very sexy pompadour, he looks like someone you’d see playing the romantic lead in a movie, not someone who spends his days helping the hotel’s incredibly entitled guests book tickets to Orlando’s various theme parks.
“Hello there, Riley,” Farouk says, cocking his head to the side the same way that Tala does when she’s surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“We need your help,” I answer, getting straight to the point: “We need to see Jocasta Devereaux.”
Farouk raises an eyebrow, looking very sexy and faintly amused. “Jocasta Devereaux? Really? You never struck me as someone who went in for all that astrology nonsense.”
“I’m not. We’re not. This is Jackson, by the way. But we really need to see her. It’s kind of an emergency.”
Farouk shakes his head and chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’d love to help you, but the event is completely sold out. Besides, it started forty-five minutes ago, so you’ve already missed half of it.”
I know we’ve missed half of it. That’s because we sat in traffic for ninety minutes due to an overturned truck that shut down I-4. But I don’t really care about whatever show Jocasta is putting on for her fans. I’ve had a front-row seat to her magic act before, and I’m not exactly eager to repeat that experience.
That being said, Jackson and I want answers. And right now, the only person who might have those answers is the witch who stabbed us in the back a thousand years ago. Assuming, of course, that JocastaisUlfhild. Which we won’t know for sure unless we talk to her.
“We just need to see her. Just for a few minutes,” I explain to Farouk. “If you could get us backstage so we could meet her—”
“Sorry, Riley. I can tell that you and your friend are big fans, but I can’t get you backstage. It’s against hotel policy. If anyone found out, I could get in big trouble. You understand.”
“We understand,” Jackson says, putting a hand on my shoulder, a signal for me to let the matter go. But I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.
I let out a deep sigh in an attempt to do my best impression of a defeated but gracious loser. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry for bothering you.” Farouk nods, and I start to turn away. Then, as if the thought only just occurred to me, I say, “Oh, by the way, how’s Becky?”
Farouk’s smile falters slightly. “Uh?.?.?.?Becky’s good. Thanks for asking.”
“Cool. That’s really cool. Tala says you guys are ridiculously cute together. She’s really rooting for the two of you.”
“I’m rooting for us too.”
“You must be,” I continue. “I mean, you got her name tattooed on your chest, right?”
Farouk nervously clears his throat. “What?”
“That’s what Tala told me. She said that’s how she knew you must be really serious about Becky. Because tattoos are haram, right? And if your parents ever found out that you had one, they would totally lose their shit. At least that’s what Tala told me.”
I can see Farouk working out the implications of what I’m saying, and though I feel bad for blackmailing my friend’s brother, I don’t have a choice. I’m not leaving this hotel without speaking to Jocasta. Of course I wouldneverin a million years actually tell the Youssefs about Farouk’s tattoo. I’m not the world’s biggest asshole. But I’m counting on him not knowing me well enough to call my bluff.
“Riley, what exactly are you saying?” Farouk asks, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m just complimenting you on being a really good person. Like, you know how important it is to follow the rules, right? But you’re also not afraid to bend the rules. You know, when something’simportant.”
Using his electronic key card, Farouk unlocks the backstage door of the auditorium so Jackson and I can slip inside. “If anyone asks,” he whispers sharply, “I’ve never met you, I have no idea who you are, and you snuck in here on your own. Got it?”
