Pandora's Box

5. Mirror Mirror

"This is a joke, right?" I ask, looking up at Adrian. "Did Leda put you up to this?"

To his credit, Adrian looks utterly confused. "What? No. Why would I joke with you?"

Oops - so this wasn't the referral from Leda. I was really off my game today, and scrambling to recover. Picking up the photograph, I realize two things. First, the paper is old - dry and crumbling around the edges. Second, the woman in the picture wasn't me, at least not exactly. She sat at a sturdy wooden desk surrounded by stacks of books, looking out of a tall window, apparently oblivious to the photo taker. Her hair was cropped in a neat bob, waves carefully styled precisely where she wanted them. It was a far cry from the messy curls that cascaded to my elbows. The resemblance is in the planes of her face, the soft curve of her lips and the scattering of freckles across her nose. It is in her eyes, the way they shine even in black and white. I don't know why, but I'm certain they are the same pale gold that mine are; an unusual color that I've never seen on anyone else.

Now I understand why Adrian thought I was the one for this job. What I don't understand is how he knew what I looked like. I decide to be blunt.

"I see why you would think I could assist you, but I have to ask - how did you find me? How could you have known I-" I hold his gaze, annoyed that I couldn't Sense his honesty, and unable to finish the sentence - how could you have known I resemble this woman?

Adrian gives a small smile in what I assume is supposed to be a sheepish gesture. With his sharp features, he looks anything but shamefaced. "Well, to be honest I saw you walking down the street the other day and I, well, I followed you. Imagine my surprise when you walked in here and put your sign out!"

Right, imagine his surprise.

"It was an accident, truly," he continues. "I've been debating whether I should even try to talk to you for a week. Look, I know how it sounds. But maybe it's fate? Or destiny or whatever. And isn't that your business? Fate?"

It's not, really. Fate implies that the future is already set, and that we have no control over it. If that were true, every single one of my visions would be crystal clear and accurate one hundred percent of the time. But they're not. The future can't be so firmly set; there are too many things in and out of our control to allow the future to be concrete. The idea of Fates, weaving and cutting and tugging on life strings like demonic puppeteers, makes me bristle. What a silly idea.

"No," I say flatly, turning my attention to the perhaps even more disturbing tarot card. My deck is handmade, from the cut of the cards to the gold leaf detailing; it's a one of a kind set. And I have all of the cards. So where the hell did this one come from?

"Where did you say you found these again?" I ask Adrian.

He shifts in the chair before waving a flippant hand. "Old boxes of junk. You know, mother's attic sort of thing."

"I wouldn't know, actually, I never knew my mother. I've never known any of my relatives. So I'm afraid I won't be able to help you in the way you might have been hoping."

The pinpricks at the tips of my fingers holding the picture are almost unbearable. I set the photograph carefully on the table, resisting the urge to fling it away. My intuition is screaming at me that I am connected to this woman. Which means I may be connected to the man before me. I might have a family.

Registering my agitation, Adrian tactfully gives me an out. At least, he gives me a temporary one. "I see I've approached this the wrong way. I did not mean to startle you, or take you by surprise. It's just, this woman appears to have been important to my family, and yet no one knows anything about her. I thought, maybe, if you were related, you may be able to tell me something - anything, about her. And I thought, well, if we're related... that you'd want to know?"