The Key of Astrea

The Fortuna Niche

Jenny wasn't a naive eleven-year-old any longer, but the guilt of making the wedding couple disappear had been eating at her for years. From that point on, she wanted nothing to do with Gypsy culture. That eleven-year-old still existed, somewhere, locked in the deep recesses of her mind, a defense mechanism that kept her from reliving that night. As well as the part of her that enjoyed dancing, bright colors, and folk music. She'd grown to accept that Sally's presence was her punishment.

Now, coming from the strange puzzle under her desk, were the same sounds and vibrations from that night. I don't know what this VRGo puzzle is, Jenny thought, but if it has anything to do with that obsidian bowl, I don't want it. She slid the silver block into her closet with her foot and shut the door.

Jenny traded her black shirt and pants for a black dress and pulled on a pair of black boots. Then, she went to the bathroom and stared at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror. I have work to do, she thought. After splashing cold water on her face, she set out her makeup. She outlined her eyes and darkened her eyebrows with black eyeliner. Next, she added some putty to her flat, dull hair and pulled it into chunky spikes. It was about as rebellious as she was willing to go. She'd thought about piercings or tattoos but always chickened out before going through with it.

Jenny grabbed her smartphone and stomped down the stairs in her heavy boots. The bottom floor of Bea's shop catered to the guests of her trade. Jenny enjoyed the crystals and bright colors of the shop, though she would never admit it to her aunt. A yellow-fabric sofa with dark wood legs sat near the front door. Bea bought and sold sofas as if it were her mission in life. Last week it had been a high-backed pink loveseat.

"What's all that noise for?" Bea stood in front of Jenny with her arms crossed over a billowy white blouse. A bright-red silk scarf was tied around her black hair. Bronze bangles clanged on her wrists and silver hoops dangled from her ears. A black skirt with moons, owls, bats, and snakes embroidered onto it hung off her bony hips.

"You're such a stereotype," Jenny groaned.

"Look who's talking," Bea retorted. "Do you have to wear so much black?"

"It's a reflection of the darkness in my soul."

Bea rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I'd love it if you'd keep the darkness away from our client."

Bea led Jenny into the workroom, where figurines of cats sat alongside handmade talismans. Rose petals floated in bowls of rainwater. The skulls of various animals sat next to dusty tomes.

"Don't forget that Rebecca needs another talisman."

"Yeah, sure," Jenny replied.

In the fortune-telling business, first visits were the realm of tourists. The spiritually curious. For Bea to make a living, she needed long-term, highly superstitious clients. Jenny didn't hate working for her aunt. Some parts of it were fun. She liked running the website and maintaining her aunt's social media presence. She even enjoyed the tarot card readings. But, she didn't like taking advantage of gullible people.

People don't want to hear the truth; they want pretty fortunes. Bea's clients wanted to believe that Bea could see into the beyond, so they did. Her aunt then manipulated them into buying more talismans. Jenny was different. Call it auras or vibrations or whatever, but she could sense what people were feeling. It made it both easy and hard to take advantage of them.

In the workroom, incense smoke curled up to the ceiling. Relaxing music played on a speaker hidden inside an antique cabinet. Bea lit twelve candles to optimize the ambiance, then set out a pot of tea alongside Jenny's homemade cookies. "I brewed Darjeeling," she said.