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"And very good ones they are too." |
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The voice was deep and strangely melodious and seemed to have come out of thin air. Cyrus thought it sounded familiar. |
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He winked at Kyna and said, "Okay. I'm hooked. Where are you?" |
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The beaded curtain behind the register parted. |
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Black, tall and regal, the woman was breathtaking. She had long hair that covered her shoulders like an obsidian stole and a body that any gymnast would have envied. Her clothing was simple and conservative: a teal-colored blouse over black stretch pants and black flats. The pocket of the blouse carried a crest embroidered in gold, red and black. |
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"Old woman!" Kyna hissed in Cyrus's ear, giving him the point of her elbow in the ribs. |
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Cyrus cleared his throat. "Paula Inkarha? Kazie Mabuto sent us." |
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"You are Paula Inkarha?" Cyrus repeated. |
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The woman's eyes were the color of robin's eggs. "Are you the one?" |
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"Look, Ms. Inkarha, Kazie sent me to talk to you," Cyrus said. |
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"Then you are the one. The Wicca welcomes you. Come into the back." |
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Paula disappeared through the beaded curtain and Cyrus motioned for Kyna to follow. |
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"She's a rip-off artist," Kyna whispered. |
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Cyrus lifted his eyebrows. "Oh? You can tell that after two minutes?" |
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"Good grief, Russ. It's obvious to anyone with eyes. Look at this place. It's right out of a Vincent Price movie. And that mysterious 'Are you the one?' What a load of manure." |
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Cyrus put his hands on Kyna's shoulders and gently steered her through the curtain. |
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The back room was lined with more shelves filled with more glass jars containing everything from shrunken heads to chick- |
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