Beware the Dark

Beware the Dark

Laura Holt

The carnival was a kaleidoscope of lights and sound around them as Ingren and Lucian walked hand in hand through the press of bodies lined up to ride the carousel. A freak show stood nearby. Its MC dared passersby to “come in and see the eighth wonder of the world!” Brightly colored posters lined the wall behind him: pictures of a girl with a fishtail, a girl with the body and hair of a snake, a man with hair growing out of every part of his body, fangs, and pointed ears, and a man with a nose like an elephant. A small, plum-colored tent sat beside it. A crude, hand-carved wooden sign advertised Madame Corissa’s Fortune Telling: Palm Reading, Tarot Cards, Crystal Balls, Tea Leaves, and More in painted gold script.

“Let us go in there.”

Ingren followed the line of his finger, her brows arching.

“In the fortune-telling booth? You do know that stuff is fake, right?”

“Perhaps not as fake as you think.”

His voice held an odd note she’d never heard before. His hair glowed as if from a halo thanks to the sun shining behind it. Despite her common sense telling her that she shouldn’t waste her money or her time on something so silly, she gave in.

“Okay, we’ll do it if you want to.”

“Thank you.”

A genuine, excited look lit his cheeks with a pinkish flush, and she followed him as he half ran, half walked across the trash-littered midway. His love of magic, it seemed, didn’t extend to books alone.

He held the door flap open, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Obediently, she stepped over a dropped funnel cake and walked inside.

The first thing she thought was that she had never seen so many candles in her life.

They were everywhere—filling the shelves that lined the thick, velvet walls of the tent, dripping white, red, purple, black, and navy wax onto the mismatched colorful rugs on the floor.

The air smelled like vanilla and cherries, violets, licorice, and midnight, with an underlying hint of powerful incense. The latter smoldered in trays situated among the forest of candles, creating a dense cloud of smoke that filled the space near the ceiling.

It burned her nose, making it tickle. Fighting the urge to sneeze, Ingren peered through the haze at the woman seated behind the small, round tea table in the middle of the room.

She looked like something straight out of a novel, like Esmerelda in Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame, with a full, sensuous, red-lipped mouth and round, dark brown eyes. Her skin was the color of bronze, and her hair gleamed in the candlelight, black as a starless night sky. It rested in a loose knot at the base of her neck beneath a tall jeweled turban that’d been wrapped around her head.

Layer upon layer of shawls in different shades of purple covered her body, making it impossible to tell her size. But her arms, their wrists covered in gold cuff bracelets and their fingers glittering with large stoned rings, were slender. And when she sat up straight, she looked tall.

She smiled, the movement pushing up high cheekbones and forming deep dimples at the sides of her mouth. “Sastipe. Good luck and good health, strangers. I am Madame Corissa, seer of the future. Have you come to hear your fortunes this fine autumn day?”

Her accent was strange, and Ingren fought the urge to roll her eyes at the mystical tone in her voice. This whole thing was ridiculous. Why had she agreed to it again?

Oh yeah, she remembered as Lucian stepped forward. Because a hot guy wanted her to.

“Yes. We would both like to hear our futures if you please.”

“Of course,” Madame Corissa agreed. “However, I only do individual readings, so one of you will have to wait your turn outside.”

“I’ll go,” Ingren volunteered, grateful for the easy escape as she took a step toward the door. Already she was planning to say she’d changed her mind or didn’t have the money for a reading after the blonde boy had his turn.

Lucian stopped her, his hand on her arm. “No, I will go. Ladies first.”

He pushed her toward the chair gently. His voice clearly said she was not going to get out of this so easily. Without giving her a chance to reply otherwise, he went back outside, leaving her alone with the madame.

The latter gestured to the plush, tasseled ottoman seat across from her. “Please, sit.”

“Fine.” Giving in to the inevitable, she did as she was told. The soft cushion sank beneath her, sending up a thick puff of dust. Coughing, she fanned it away as she tried to get comfortable. It took her almost a full minute to straighten enough that she wouldn’t fall over before returning her attention to the woman across the table.

She was watching her with a small smile, her odd gaze alight with something like amusement. Her candlelit expression clearly said she got girls like this in here all the time.

Ingren blushed. “Look, I know it’s probably obvious, but I don’t believe in stuff like this. So would you mind just doing a quick reading to appease my friend, nothing fancy or elaborate?”

“As you wish.” Her voice was mild, with no sound of offense. “Give me your palm.”

Ingren laid her hand face-up atop the table, and the madame took it in her hands. Her touch was surprisingly warm and firm. Leaning over, she studied the lines etched into her pale skin with a glittering intensity.

“Hmm, I see a long life. That is good, with one child, a daughter, who you will have at a young age. You have an extremely thick bravery line, as well as a stubborn streak that is interwoven. You should watch that lest it get you into unnecessary trouble.” She paused, her finger resting against one, a small m shape, near the center of her palm, and looked up at her in slight surprise. “You have the sight.”

“I’m sorry, the sight?” Ingren repeated.

The woman tapped her hand for emphasis. “Yes, the ability to see the future.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that the woman could mean her dreams? She’d never told anyone besides her friends that they sometimes came true. Then remembering where she was, she dismissed it as simply another part of the fan fair and shrugged. “Everyone has déjà vu at some point or another. Could you just finish the reading as I asked? Tell me about my love life, or something.”

“Very well,” Corissa replied, not sounding entirely pleased at her disbelief but reluctant to talk back to a paying customer. She lowered her gaze to her hand again and traced several more lines. “Your love lines are very rare. You have six, whereas most people only have one or two. One of them will be your child.” She pointed to an upside-down v below Ingren’s thumb. “Two of them are friends.” She indicated two sideways triangles on her middle finger. “And three of them will vie for your heart.”

“Three?” Ingren frowned in confusion because the first two had to be Buck and Lucian, but… “Who’s the third?”

“It does not tell me that.” Madame Corissa shook her head. The gold hoop earrings in her ears flickered in the dim lighting. She traced the three side-by-side lines down the bottom of her palm to where they ended in an x and her forehead furrowed. “I see death.”

“What?” She blinked at the older woman, her heart skipping a beat. Yet it was as if the seer didn’t hear her.

Her voice took on a strange, deep note. Her eyes rolled back in her head, leaving only the whites visible, and she gasped in a rattling breath. Her grip on Ingren’s hand tightened without warning, squeezing her fingers so hard it hurt, and trepidation flooded the younger girl’s veins against her will.

Okay, that’s it. This whole thing just went from The Hunchback of Notre Dame to The Exorcist, and that’s far enough for me.

She tried to pull her hand free, to get up and leave. Only she may as well have not moved at all. Corissa held on with seemingly no effort, her knuckles pale and her expression intent.

“There will be a great battle. Many will die. I see so much death, so much sorrow. Oh.” She moaned, head rolling on her neck. Ingren could hear the bones pop. “It hurts.”

“L…!” She turned toward the door, started to call his name, and bring him running to stop this whole stupid charade. With shocking speed, the madame leaned across the table and clapped a hand over her mouth. Ingren’s heart leaped into her throat as her eyes widened above the fingers touching her skin.

“Beware the Dark!” she hissed insistently, her tongue pushing against the backs of her teeth as she stared unseeing at Ingren. Her pupils were no longer visible. Her eyes had gone completely black. Not brown-black like Ingren’s hair but true black, like crude oil. “It comes for you. It comes for your power. It will kill you if you let it!”

Kill me?

“That’s enough!” Wrenching away from the woman with all her strength, Ingren leaped to her feet, knocking her chair to the dirt floor with a crash. Chest heaving, she stared down at her angrily, breathing hard. “You can’t tell people this stuff. It’s crazy! And if you don’t let me go, I’m-I’m going to tell my teacher!”

She shouted the last, her hands in fists at her sides, fully aware that she sounded like a petulant kid who hadn’t gotten their way but not particularly caring at the moment. Her heart was still racing like an out-of-control race car, threatening to suffocate her. She didn’t have to see her face to know it was a bright shade of red.

For a minute, Madame Corissa stayed where she was, immobile as if she hadn’t heard the other girl’s words. Then she sat back with a sigh, her eyes returning to normal. She blinked up at her, looking bewildered at her less than happy appearance. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I must have dozed off. It happens sometimes, from the incense, you know.”

“What?” Ingren’s voice came out in a high pitch of disbelief, ending with a squeak. “You mean you don’t remember what you just told me? But…” That’s impossible! Unless it was a real vision. Immediately, she scoffed at the thought, trying to regain her earlier skepticism. Yeah, right. This isn’t The Wolfman, and this lady is simply trying to make sure I don’t sue her for malpractice by covering her butt.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Madame Corissa’s earrings jangled when she shook her head, dark eyebrows arching. “Why, did something happen?”

“No.” Ingren said the word slowly, recognizing the futility of arguing further. Besides, she probably wasn’t even close to being the first unsuspecting person the woman had pulled this spooky, dark future crap on to make them come back for more readings. The charlatan. “Nothing happened.”

“I see. Well then, if there is nothing else you wish for me to read, that will be five dollars.”

“Fine.” Throwing the folded bill onto the table, Ingren crossed to the door as quickly as she could without running and stepped outside.

The scent of fresh, popcorn-flavored air hit her lungs, and she took a deep breath, realizing she was shaking. Fake or not, her experience in the tent had been too freaky for words. The way the madame’s eyes had rolled back and her voice got lower. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought she was having a seizure or something.

Plus, beware the dark? Who said things like that outside of books? If she’d stayed any longer, the lady probably would have started drawing a pentagram on her hand while telling her she was a werewolf, and it wasn’t even a full moon.

It was like the woman had been intentionally trying to scare her. Which, she realized belatedly, had probably been her fault for telling her that she was a skeptic. Still, there had been something about the whole experience that made her wonder if there hadn’t been a kernel of truth to the seer’s prophecy. Although how that was possible, she didn’t know.

Mental note to self: never visit another fortune teller, not even the mechanical ones in the glass boxes at the stores.

Lucian rose from where he was waiting on a nearby bench when she approached. “That didn’t take long. What did she say?”

“Oh, you know, the usual junk that fortune-tellers tell girls.” She gave an awkward laugh, not sure why she was lying, only that she didn’t want to try and explain what had just happened when she wasn’t even sure she understood it fully. “That I’m going to marry a lawyer and live in a house with a white picket fence, two and a half kids, and a dog.”

“Tell me something I do not know.”

She punched him on the arm, earning her a rare laugh. “Hey!”

“Forgive me, Ingren, I was only joking.”

“Yeah, well, you better be. That lady’s a hoax anyway. Come on, forget about having your fortune told. Let’s go find the others so we can ride the roller coaster.”

“All right,” he replied, and she gave him a grateful smile for not arguing. Still, she couldn’t help but shoot one last glance over her shoulder at the tent as they made their way back into the midway throng.

Madame Corissa stood in the doorway watching them go, wearing an expression she couldn’t quite place. Scared? Menacing? Concerned? Her eyes darted from Ingren’s to Lucian’s retreating form. Pressing her lips tightly together, she flipped the small wooden sign advertising her talents around to read closed before disappearing back inside.