Contrary to what you might think, I do almost have scruples. There are some souls who show up at my door that I think would be better left alone. Some people who should probably just get a therapist… But then professional curiosity gets the better of me, and I agree to help them.
Fall had set in, I had been canning tomatoes and salamanders all day and was ready for tea and a nice book by the fire. I made the tea and put it on the little table next to my reading chair, but I didn’t sit. Much as I wanted to. In my obsidian ball I caught a glimpse of two young people making their way up the steep stone steps to the cabin as the light faded behind them.
These two held hands as they made their way up the steps. Probably wanting fertility help I thought at first, but as they came closer I wasn’t so sure. Even in the waning light I could see that they looked very similar. One was a man, the other a woman, but they could have been identical twins. I took a deep breath in, inhaling the intentions the pair sent wafting up the hill ahead of them. Intentions and dying fall leaves. This was going to be interesting. And not healthy for anyone involved.
The dogs yawned and dropped their heads to their pillows. I was a little envious.
When the couple were almost all the way up the steps I opened the door and called to them, “You should turn around.”
They stopped, looked up, obvious fear on their faces, and then, confusion. People always expect that hideous crone with tangled hair and a warty nose. And then they get me, barefoot in denim and a flannel shirt. My hair in braids. My teeth and nails clean. Not a single wart. One lady asked if I was an illusion.
“Everything is an illusion,” I had told her, because it’s true. And by all rights I ought to look like that old crone. Signing Lucifer’s book has its perks, as I’ve said. His occasional visits being one of them. High time for one…
“Why?” Asked the young man, pulling me back into the moment. They were very young, early twenties. Dark hair and pale skin, they were both on the small side. Not well dressed, but I got the impression they weren’t out to impress anyone. They wanted to blend in, to disappear.
“Because what you want won’t end well.” I called down to them. They looked at each other, something passed between them, something in an unspoken language only they understood. And they continued climbing. They looked so remarkably alike, they had to be twins. The nature of their relationship was, complicated, I could tell. By the time they made it to the top of the stairs my tea had steeped and I was in my chair, waiting, holding my obsidian ball in my non-tea drinking hand and thinking into its mirrored depths. I had an idea of how to help them, but it wasn’t anything I’d tried before.