Page 70 of Dead Set on You
“Too bad I don’t believe a word of it,” I say. Face flushed, I sink into my seat and look out the window, turning my attention outside.
We continue along Michigan Avenue, passing Millennium Park. The Bean shines in the sunlight. Tourists already crowd the park, snapping photos and posting to their social media feeds. I remember wanting to soak up all of the city when I firstmoved here, and I took photos of almost every moment in my completion of bucket list item #1.
An architecture tour down the Chicago River. Dinner atop John Hancock Tower. A Cubs game. A slice of deep-dish pizza. Ice cream along the Riverwalk. I took my time learning the city and becoming a part of it. I’d come here for Annie, but I stayed for me.
As we pass the Wrigley Building, I feel a renewed desperation I haven’t felt since waking up in Rafael’s apartment. I want to stay and be a part of this. I want to feel the sun on my face when I run at sunset. I want to pick up breakfast at Dollop Coffee and dinner at Francesca’s. I want to cross things off my bucket list. I want to stay.
Who cares if he’s hiding something?
You do,both Evies say.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENTEN DAYS AFTER, PART II
Thirty minutes later we’re standing outside a canary-yellow bungalow in Rosemont. A yard sign stuck into the lawn readsHelene Flowers, Medium. At least a handful of wind chimes tinkle softly along the awning of the white porch, on which several cats lounge. One’s head perks up at the sound of the truck door closing. A shiver rattles down my spine.
“Looks legit,” Rafael says, hands dug into his pockets.
“Do you frequent many mediums?” I feel none of the amusement in his eyes. My gut’s telling me this is a bad idea, one that will only lead to disappointment.
Rafael offers me a one-shoulder shrug. “Here and there, as the ghosts come and go.”
“Ohmygod.” Ignoring his soft chuckle, I march toward the stairs leading up to the veranda, anxiety spiking as I land on the first of the steps.
The cats, at least ten of them, doze, laze, and stretch in nooks of faded patio furniture or beneath it, and their eyes seem tosimultaneously settle on me. One’s tongue darts out as if to taunt me.
“Not a fan of cats?” Rafael’s voice startles me.
I shoot him a dark glare Pre-Coma Evie would have been proud of. “I’m notnota fan.”
He has the nerve to smile. “Who hurt you?”
An image of my mother makes me stumble. Bleached-blond hair, over-the-top makeup, and drugstore perfume. Boyfriends, booze, and Benji the cat, who got more attention than either of her daughters ever did. “Not a cat,” I say, not missing the way his features shift with my tone.
Before he can use his compulsion abilities to see through me, I climb the stairs, trying my hardest to avoid every single feline I pass. The stairs creak and groan as Rafael follows. At the top, I step aside, giving him the space to knock.
Three raps break the silence. A cat meows. My unease grows. I know I had the idea, but we’re about to meet with amedium, someone who makes money off people’s grief by pretending to talk to their loved ones. I shouldn’t have suggested this.
Rafael seems unbothered. Even when it takes several more knocks and almost an entire minute for the door to open.
A woman with dark-brown skin scans Rafael from behind oversized glasses. Her permed hair, like spun silver, is pinned in a bun atop her head, and her shoulders, draped in a burnt-orange satin robe, curve inward as she leans heavily on a bejeweled walking stick.
Rafael flashes her a smile like a badge. “Hi! Helene?”
“Yes?” Her mismatched eyes—one sea blue, one forest green—narrow as she peers at him.
“I apologize for dropping by so unexpectedly, but my cousin Lupe sent me your way. Said you could help with a reading.” Even if he’s much taller, broader, and more imposing than Helene, he comes across as sweet and harmless.“I don’t mean to interrupt your day, and I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t urgent.”
I watch Helene, curious if she’s going to allow herself to be Vela’d in her old age. She purses her red lips, and while I should be thrilled that she might say no—so we can skip this whole charade—I also know we need to try it. Desperate times, desperate measures.
“Smile wider,” I instruct.
Rafael eyes me like he’s discovered a new species.
I jerk my head to Helene. “For her.”
His lips tug wider, slow and practiced. The Dimple pops out. Coma Evie feels faint.
Helene hums. “Lupe, you said? You know, I think she texted me.” A southern twang softens her words. “And I have some time before I need to head out, young man. Come in.” She beckons him inside, her bracelets singing alongside the wind chimes.
