Plague of Death by D L Armillei

Author:D L Armillei [Armillei, D L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998672045
Publisher: Diamond Cove Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-02-11T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

The seer held the bronze coin in his palm and hesitated.

Van tensed. A pec was a legitimate coin, not a stip. It had the Balish stamp and was worth two b-stips—a telltale sign that they weren’t riffraff, and didn’t belong on the island.

She feared the seer may screech at her and Ferox, point them out as invaders. Strangers who had come to ruin the freewheeling lifestyle of the island’s inhabitants. An angry mob of desperados would come and rip her and Ferox to shreds and then toss their pieces into the swamp.

Instead, he squinted at Ferox for a moment. Then, tucked the coin into his pocket.

“Some privacy,” the seer said to Ferox. “Please.”

Ferox stood firm and crossed his arms.

“I cannot concentrate with you lurking over the table,” the seer said. “Privacy. Please.”

Van looked up at Ferox. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ferox considered the request. He nodded and meandered a couple of stores down, to where Daisy and Paley were looking at seashells displayed for sale.

The seer closed his eyes and took a deep breath, apparently satisfied with the newly acquired amount of privacy.

His eyes popped open, and he exclaimed, “I am the Great Brizo.”

He had tarot cards on his table, and yet he clasped each of his hands around each of hers.

His sweaty grip, along with his intensity, made Van squirm.

She tugged her hands, trying to pull away from his grip.

Brizo grasped harder and held her there.

He mumbled something unintelligible, and then said, “The spirits of water, they are flowing through me.”

Brizo stared directly at Van, yet had a distant, vacant look.

He turned her hands to face palm up.

To Van’s relief, his haunted eyes shifted to her palms.

“The cycle of tide and time are washing to shore,” he stated in a dramatic tone. “The spirits, they chatter about astrological signs.” His brown eyes rolled upward into his skull, showing only the whites. “Signs are not exact. They vary by a lifetime. Your spirit ancestors tell me the seven year Escalation to Dishora had not yet begun.”

Van’s interest peaked. It was similar to the message Ildiss have given her. Van had no idea what it meant, or what she was supposed to do with the information.

“You are one who struggles against the pull darkness—it writhes inside your soul,” his voice changed to sound like the throaty voice of a woman. “Your struggle blocks the aid of the Creator.”

The hair on the back of Van’s neck stood up. Not only from the creepy change in the seer’s voice but because what the seer claimed was true. Van always remained aware of her damaged soul. She constantly struggled against the lure of giving into the darkness that battled for dominance inside her Self.

“Cling to the light, to your inner good.” His eyes, still white, continued to stare at Van. “Remain innocent and pure. Selfless and sincere. Only then will you receive the assistance of the Creator.”

“Got it.” Van relaxed, expecting the reading to be over.

“A troubling time draws near,” Brizo said, back to his own voice, yet he spoke in an urgent tone.

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