Strum Again? by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

Author:Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: devils, saga, gypsy shadow, paranormal, fantasy, ghosts, devil, demons, song killer, music, banjo, ballad, songkiller, folk song, demon, musician, folk singer, ghost, elizabeth ann scarborough, folk singers, musicians, folk songs, songs
Publisher: Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

CHAPTER 16

Lucien, being a master psychic, was not, of course, surprised to see Julianne. "What kept you so long?" he asked, ushering her inside and allowing his hand to linger on her shoulder longer than was strictly necessary. "I was expecting you two hours ago."

"Oh, we made a detour to—" She started to tell him about Willie. Seven years ago she trusted this man with her secrets from beyond the grave, but a lot had gone down in seven years, and now she looked at him with fresh eyes.

His eyes were still as piercing as ever, but she noticed dark circles under them. "Lucien, you look tired," she said. "Have you been eating red meat?" It was her kindest guess. Actually, the crystals that studded his house, many of them still yellow-tinged from the ground, fairly throbbed with disapproval. They had been trying to clear the vibes, they seemed to insist, but with some people around, even the most awesome stone was overtaxed. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite tell whether their reaction was to her or to Lucien.

He ignored her question, taking her hands in his own and sitting down with her on a futon couch covered with a homemade crazy quilt. His eyes searched hers with that same old compelling intensity that made her want to give up her will entirely and put her soul into his hands—almost.

"Dear Julianna," he said, enlisting the broad a's that would have made a person think he'd never been near Arkansas. Where was that accent from anyway? It wasn't exactly Germanic, or French, or Spanish—nor was it Gypsy, though perhaps it was supposed to sound that way. She'd never really asked him about his own life and past. How thoughtless of her. Who was he, she wondered, and remembered suddenly that her late husband George, who in death had used Lucien as a medium, hadn't cared for him at all while he was alive: "I heard about your loss," Lucien said, sounding somber, sympathetic—and seductive.

"Which loss?" she asked. There'd been so many of them. George, her career, her deafness, and then for a time her body, as her spirit went to inhabit ballad heroes. She'd been burning through some major karmic debts in recent years.

He looked puzzled and sat back, cocking his head first to one side then the other, studying the sides of her face. "You seem to hear well enough now. I had heard that you were—that you had lost your hearing."

"Oh, yeah. I did. It was the most awful thing too, Lucien. But I just like kept my chakras clear and listened with my inner ears, and overall I think I've come out of it very well, really grew from it all, y'know? And I'm dying to tell you all about it, but I'm a little tired right now. Can I stay here?"

"In the shop? Dear girl, I wouldn't hear of it," he said. "You must come home with me. My house is much more comfortable."

"I always thought this was your house.

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