Page 57 of Female Fantasy
Minutes later, the taxi pulls up in front of the station. I reach into my duffel and pull out a scarf, a hat, and two pairs of sunglasses. I drape the scarf over my hair and hand the hat and one pair of glasses to Nico.
He gives me a look.
“Come on, we need disguises. No arguing. Put those on.”
He grumbles, then dons the bedazzled oversize spectacles.
I burst out laughing. “Oh, this is too good. If only I had my phone. I can’t wait to buy a burner in New York.”
The train is already waiting for us on the tracks. We get on at the café car, and I position us by the bathrooms so I can watch as people get on and off at each stop. My stomachgrumbles so loudly that several passersby look up and shoot me dirty looks.
“I’ll go get us breakfast,” Nico offers, “before your body makes a sound so offensive that we’re thrown off the train.” He gets up before I can say thank you and approaches the counter.
I sigh, wishing—not for the first time—that I could check the Salty Girls group chat. I miss my friends, my community. But on the bright side, if I don’t update my latest fic by the end of the week, there’s a 90 percent chance my readers will send an actual search party out looking for me. I smile, thinking about 911 texts and police dogs.
It’s nice to be noticed.
To be missed.
Too bad they don’t even know my real name.
Someone clears their throat. I look up just as an older woman slides into the seat across the table from me. She has gold bangles on both her wrists, henna tattoos swirling up her inner arms. A long, tentlike skirt drapes across her body, and there’s a scarf adorned with gold coins tied around her waist. Large black curls fall down her back. Her skin is cracked with age, but her eyes crackle with fire.
She looks in my direction. Not directly at me, but through me. I feel every inch of my body ignite at once.
“Um, hello,” I hear myself say.
The strange woman stares. “I was called to you.”
I squint, looking around. “Nico called you?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Your spiritual energy. I feelpulled toward you, as if propelled by a force larger than myself. By the universe. Do you know what I mean?”
My hands turn ice-cold. “Just like Merriah and the conch,” I whisper.
“What?” The woman tilts her head.
“Never mind,” I say quickly. “What’s your name?”
“Veda. I am a psychic, the greatest in the tristate area. I have true ties to the prophet.”
I frown. “Which prophet?”
“All of them. None of them. It does not matter, child. I come bearing a message for you and your traveling companion. A prophecy.”
My heart races. As a lover of fantasy romance, I am obviously very fucking familiar with prophecies.
I lean forward across the café car table. “Tell me everything.”
“Uh, uh, uh.” She shakes her head. “What will you give me in return?”
I frown. “I have no cash. See?” I take out my wallet and turn it upside down, shaking it. Nary a cent falls out.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Venmo, then?”
“No phone.”
She sighs, long and hard. “Okay, girl. Then this one’s on the house. But listen carefully, as I will not be repeating myself. I will say this only once, and then the words will evaporate, never to be uttered again. Okay?”
