She grabs hold of my hand, her eyes full of compassion when she says, "You're doing the right thing. And you're lucky. Not many people get the chance to go back."
I look at her, my lips curving into a grin. "Not many?"
"Well, no one I can think of offhand." She smiles.
But even though we both laugh, when I look at her again my voice is serious when I say, "Seriously, Ava, I can't bear for anything to happen to him. I mean, I'd —I'd just die if I somehow found out that it did —and that it was my fault..."
She squeezes my hand and opens the shop door, leading me inside as she whispers, "Don't worry. You can trust me."
I follow her past shelves crowded with books, a wall of CDs, and an entire corner dedicated to angel figurines, before passing a machine that claims to photograph auras as we head for a counter where an older woman with a long gray braid is reading a book.
"I didn't realize you were on the schedule today?"
She sets down her novel and glances between us.
"I'm not." Ava smiles. "But my friend Ever here —"
She nods her head toward me. "She needs the back room."
The woman studies me, obviously trying to glimpse my aura and get a feel for my energy, then shooting Ava a questioning look when she conies away empty. But Ava just smiles and nods in consent, signaling that I'm worthy of access to the "back room," whatever that is.
"Ever?" the woman says, her fingers creeping toward her neck, worrying the turquoise pendant that hangs at her collarbone.
A stone that, as I recently learned in my brief study of minerals and crystals on the iMac in Summerland, has been used for amulets meant to heal and protect for hundreds of years. And with the way she just said my name, and by the suspicious look on her face, it's not like I need to access her mind to know that she's wondering if she might need protection from me. She hesitates, glancing between Ava and me, then focusing solely on me as she says, "I'm Lina." That's it. Mo handshake, no welcoming hug. She just states her name and then makes for the door, flipping the sign that hangs there from OPEN! to BE BACK IN I0! Then motioning for us to follow her down a short hall with a shiny purple door at the end.
"Can I ask what this is about?" She rummages in her pocket for a set of keys, still undecided as to whether or not she'll be letting us in.
Ava nods at me, signaling that it's my turn to take it from here. So I clear my throat and cram my hand into the pocket of my recently manifested jeans whose hems, thankfully, still reach the floor. Retrieving the crumpled-up piece of paper as I say, "I um, I need a few things." Wincing when Lina snatches it out of my hand and looks it over. Stopping to lift a brow, grunt something unintelligible under her breath, and scrutinize me some more.
And just when it seems she's about to turn me away, she thrusts the list back into my hand, unlocks the door, and waves us both into a room that I didn't expect.
I mean, when Ava told me this was the place that would have what I need, I was more than a little nervous. I was sure I'd be thrust into some creepy hidden basement filled with all manner of strange, scary, ritualistic stuff, like vials of cat blood, severed bat wings, shrunken heads, Voodoo dolls —stuff like you see in movies or on TV. But this room is nothing like that. In fact, it pretty much looks like your average, more or less well-organized storage closet. Well, except for the bright violet walls punctuated by hand-carved totems and masks. Oh, and the goddess paintings propped against the overstuffed shelves sagging with heavy old tomes and stone deities. But the file cabinet is pretty standard issue. And when she unlocks a cupboard and starts rummaging around, I try to peek over her shoulder, but I can't see a thing until she's handing me a stone that seems wrong in every way.
"Moonstone," she says, noting the confusion on my face.
I stare at it, knowing it doesn't look like it should, and even though I can't explain it, something about it feels off. And not wanting to offend her since I've no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to evict me, I swallow hard, screw up my courage, and say, "Um, I need one that's raw and unpolished, in its absolute purest form —this one just seems a little too smooth and shiny for my needs."
She nods, almost imperceptibly, but still it's there. Just the briefest tilt of her head and curl of her lips before she replaces it with the stone that I asked for. "That's it," I say, knowing I just passed her test. Gazing at a moonstone that's not nearly as shiny or pretty but will hopefully do what it's intended to, which is aid in new beginnings. "And then I'm gonna need a quartz crystal bowl, one that's been tuned to the seventh chakra, a red silk pouch embroidered by Tibetan monks, four polished rose quartz crystals, one small star —no, staur-o-lite? Is that how you say it?" I look at her just in time to see her nod "Oh, and the biggest raw zoisite you've got." And when Lina just stands there with her hands on her hips, I know she's wondering how all of these seemingly random items can possibly fit together. "Oh, and a chunk of turquoise, probably like the size of the one you're wearing," I say, motioning toward her neck.
She looks me over, giving me a crisp, perfunctory nod, before turning her back and gathering the crystals. Wrapping them up so casually you'd think she was bagging groceries at Whole Foods.
"Oh, and here's a list of herbs," I say, reaching into my other pocket and retrieving a crumpled sheet of paper, which I then hand to her. "Preferably planted during the new moon and tended by blind nuns in India," I add, amazed when she just takes the list and nods without flinching.
"Can I ask what this is for?" she asks, her eyes on mine.
But I just shake my head. I was barely able to tell Ava, and she's a good friend. So there's no way I'm telling this lady, no matter how grandmotherly she may seem.
"Um, I'd rather not say." I shrug, hoping she'll respect that and get on with it since manifesting these items won't work, it's imperative they spring from their original source.
We look at each other, our gazes fixed, unwavering.
And even though I plan to stand my ground for as long as it takes, it's not long before she breaks away and starts riffling through the filing cabinet, her fingers flipping past hundreds of packets as I say, "Oh, and one more thing."
Searching through my backpack for my sketch of the rare, hard-to-find herb that was oft used in Renaissance Florence. The final ingredient needed to bring the elixir to life. Handing it to her as I ask, "Does this look familiar?"
CHAPTER 39
With all of our ingredients gathered —well, everything but the spring water, extra-virgin olive oil, long white tapered candles (which, oddly, Lina was out of, considering they were pretty much the most normal thing I requested), orange peel, and the photo of Damen I didn't expect her to have —we return to my car.
And I'm just unlocking the door when Ava says, "I think I'll walk home from here since I'm just around the corner."
"You sure?"
She spreads her arms wide as though embracing the night. Her lips curving into a grin as she says, "It's so nice out, I just want to enjoy it."
"As beautiful as Summerland?" I ask, wondering what's brought on this sudden fit of happiness, considering how serious she was in Lina's back room.
She laughs, her head thrown back, her pale neck exposed, leveling her gaze on mine when she says, "Don't worry. I've no plans to drop out of society and move there full time. It's just nice to have the access when I need a little escape."