Touch of Sibyl

Chapter Six

Mythic might be its own little world, but what lay beyond the wall was surprisingly normal, since Teide Mountain was a charming little suburb in its own right. A two-lane road curved around in front of the school, and a variety of shops clustered on the other side, directly across from the imposing spiked iron gate. A bookstore, some coffee shops, several high-end clothing and jewelry boutiques, even a car lot full of Aston Martins and Cadillac Escalades. And, of course, a couple of upscale wine stores that helped the academy kids party hard, despite the supposed campus ban on alcohol.

The shops were all located here to take advantage of the limitless credit cards and enormous trust funds of the Mythic students. Apparently, the gods and goddesses had all rewarded their mythological warriors with sacks full of gold, silver, and jewels back in the day and the various descendants of those warriors had kept the gravy train of wealth going, adding to their bank balances over the years, which was why all the kids at the academy were so loaded today. I waited for a lull in the traffic, crossed the street, and walked down to the bus stop at the end of the block. I only had to wait five minutes before the bus rumbled by on its midafternoon route, taking tourists and everyone else who wanted to ride from Teide Mountain down into the city. Twenty minutes and several miles later, I got off in a neighborhood that was a couple of streets removed from the artsy downtown Isheville shops and restaurants.

If Teide Mountain was some whacked-out version of Mount Olympus with its population of rich warrior whiz kids, then Isheville was definitely where the poor mere mortals lived. Older, well-worn homes lined either side of the street, mostly two- and three-story houses that had been cut up into apartments. I knew the area well. My Grandma had lived in the same house all her life, and my mom and I had only been a few miles away in one of Isheville's modest middle-class subdivisions. At least when I'd started going to Mythic I hadn't had to move across the country or anything. I don't think I could have survived being that far away from Grandma. She was the only family I had left now that my mom was gone. My dad, Ty, had died from cancer when I was two, and the only memories I had of him were the faded photos my mom had shown me.

I walked to the end of the block and skipped up the gray concrete steps of a three-story house painted a soft shade of lavender. A small sign beside the front door read: Psychic Readings Here.

I opened the screen door, then used my key to let myself inside. A heavy black lacquered door off to my right was closed, although the murmur of soft voices drifted out from behind it. Grandma must be giving one of her readings. Grandma used her Sibyl gift to make extra cash, just like I did.

I walked through the hallway that ran through the middle of the house and veered left, going into the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, which featured dark paneling and somber gray carpet, the kitchen had a bright white tile floor and sky blue walls. I slung my messenger bag onto the table and dug the hundred that Carlos Callahan had given me out of my jeans pocket. I stuffed the money into a jar that looked like a giant chocolate-chip cookie. It matched the empty tin in my messenger bag.

Ever since I'd started going to Mythic, I always gave half of whatever money I made to Grandma. Yeah, my grandma had plenty of money of her own, more than enough to take care of us both. But I liked helping out, especially since my mom was gone. Besides, giving Grandma the money made me feel like I was doing something useful with my gift, besides just finding some girl's lost bra that she should have known better than to take off in the first place.

My eyes flicked over the other bills inside the cookie jar. Grandma had had a good week giving her readings. I spotted two more hundreds in there, along with a couple of fifties and a few twenties.

The voices kept murmuring in the other room, so I raided the fridge. I fixed myself a tomato sandwich sprinkled with salt, pepper, and just a dash of dill weed. A thick slice of sharp cheddar cheese and a layer of creamy mayonnaise completed the sandwich, along with my favorite, yeasty sourdough bread. For dessert, I sliced off a piece of the sweet, spongy pumpkin roll that Grandma had stashed in the fridge. I licked a stray bit of cream cheese frosting off the knife. Yum. So good.