In the wind, her sign swayed. Above in large letters read her name. The Arial Font Size 36 letters “Madame D’Nora” boasted an ego as impenetrable as her true heart. Underneath, in smaller letters, her business explained in two words “Palm Reader”. She, of course, did other things. Palm reading was her strength, but she had no qualms toward tarot cards, séances, and other supernatural feats. If it’s one thing she was never shy of… it was the spiritual. Or so she thought.

The jingle reminded both customer and business owner of Christmas, as he walked in. “A stoner,” she thought, at having a look at him. He had faded jeans and a single black shirt, without pattern. His eyes were distant, as if he’d just shot up. But a bulge in his front pocket denoted a wallet, perhaps enough cash to pay for her services. She smiled at him and beckoned him “come in”. He shut the door behind him, and with a wave of her hand, it locked itself. He looked back, dazed then turned his attention back to her. She was grinning.

“Have a seat,” she invited, holding that same magical hand out to the seat. It pulled out from the table itself, producing wide eyes in its guest. The boy, for he was fairly young, took the seat gratefully. She evaluated him, guessing about 25. There was something mysterious about him, however. The look of drugs became less and less likely to her woman’s intuition. But she’d know his secrets soon enough. The spirits had a way of revealing what needed revealing. Nonetheless, it unnerved her that she couldn’t immediately place him. “A stoner,” her mind continued to insist. She wasn’t so certain.

“Thanks,” he spilled out, chaos in his voice.

He put his hands on the table, nervous. Again, she tried to figure him out by her own observation. Again, she failed to do so. But she couldn’t conjure spirits yet. No one else worked unless paid, so neither would she.

“It’s five dollars for a palm reading, ten for tarot, and I just kind of figure out prices based on any other services you require.”

She made sure to add, “Up front.”

The kid was taken aback a bit. Perhaps he hadn’t thought through his actions before entering. He fished into his front pocket and produced a wallet. In it, the Madame could see hundreds of dollars. Her eyes danced.

“I just want to see some spirits.”

Now her eyebrow raised, while from the leather, he pulled out a ten. This was an absolute first. Never had she had a customer only interested in the spirits. Usually, her clientele desired fame, fortune, true love, whatever their heart desired. Never the cause, only the effect. This unnerved her more than his look.

“Place the ten on the table. And… close your eyes.”

He complied, seemingly eager now. She was calmer. Now it made sense. He was just some punk kid who wanted proof that surreal things could happen. But so much money?

He set the money down and lowered his lids. Madame closed her eyes too and began the process. Slow at first. Spirits liked to be romanced. She began chanting slowly, unintelligibly. Some jibberish about “spirits of water and fire, come forth and I will entertain your curiosities…” and so forth. Spirits needed little encouragement to cause mischief. She had only inquire as to their where-a-bouts and they would come running. But most of what she said was for the client, not for them. They’d come willingly, if only the Madame speak slowly and consistently speed until her voice could no longer be deciphered. She sounded much like an old tape recorder turned on fast forward. Like a chipmunk. They could feel them arriving, dancing, laughing, and singing. The young gentleman jumped when one flowed by his hair. But what surprised the Madame was how the spirit also jumped when it got too close to her client. That intuition flared up again, but she pushed away her fears. She had to concentrate on the show and earning her ten dollars. Repeat business is a Fortune Teller’s bread and butter.

“Spirits, come forth! Gather around us and speak your minds.”

More and more spirits arrived, many that she knew, a few that she didn’t. That was fine. She had never had a problem before with a spirit getting out of line. All they desired was attention. In a world of atheism and science, supernatural creatures have few humans to turn to for fear or fascination. Madame was one of their favorites. They did as she commanded, swirling around the head of her and her customer. Then they spoke. But unlike usual, they spoke only to her.

mAdAmE, wE mUsT bE hEaRd

We ArE nOt At EaSe

ThInGs ArE nOt RiGhT

mAkE hIm Go

“Spirits,” she replied. “Be heard by the young man. He has come to pay respects to you. He wants proof of your existence. Give him what you both desire.”

hE iS nOt NoRmAl

He HaS a DaRk PuRpOsE

dO nOt TrUsT hIm

We ArE mAnY bUt He Is ONE

“I don’t understand,” she answered in frustration. “Can you speak less cryptically?’

“What’s wrong?” the young man inquired, seemingly on edge.

“They don’t want to speak tonight. Let me address them again.”

He sat back, eyes still closed, full of patience, as if he had nothing better to do than be here. Again, that unnerved her, as her clients were always very impatient and tended to get brutal with their demands to hear the news they paid to hear. Wealth and power then on their way.

wE fEeL hIs PoWeR

nOt RiGhT

wE wIlL nOt SpEaK tO hIm

He Is ONE

Again with the ONE. This was making her as uneasy as “they” were. She couldn’t bear it anymore.

“What do you mean? Why don’t you ask him?”

The young man opened his eyes and looked at her with fire. She shrunk back as the spirits spoke.

wE kNoW wE kNoW

hE iS mYsTiC

hE cOmEs FrOm HIM

MaKe HiM gO

“What are they saying, Madame?”

She was speechless. It was mostly cryptic as before, but she was able to make out that single solitary noun which chilled her bones and penetrated her defenses. Mystic. A Mystic, before her. What did he want?

“What have you come for?”

“What are they saying?”

“You have lied. You know of spirits. You command them yourself. What have you come for?”

“So. They’ve revealed me. Then let me show you.”

And from around his neck, he produced a golden cross with a swift yank of his hand. He tossed it onto the table and began to recite:

“He appointed twelve--designating them apostles that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach and to have authority to drive out demons.”

The demons flew faster and faster in a circle, screaming:

MaKe HiM gO

He Is ONE

MaKe HiM gO

He Is ONE

MaKe HiM gO

He Is ONE

MaKe HiM gO

He Is ONE

“In Jesus’ name, I bind you to Eternal Damnation. You will be free to walk this earth no longer.”

“You are not a disciple,” the Madame heard herself say, though she didn’t know where the words came from. “You are not Jesus.”

The Mystic spoke:

‘”Teacher," said John, “we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us.”
‘”Do not stop him," Jesus said. “No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me.”’
Suddenly, the circle began to close in, more and more, until the Mystic was forced to climb onto the table. But try as they might, they could not shorten the distance any more. The cross which still lay on the table shone bright enough to blind all but him who invoked its power.

wE wIlL gO bUt ThE wOmAn Is OuRs

WhEn YoU lEaVe We WiLl TaKe Her AgAiN

gO

And before the fourth could speak, he reached out his hand and grabbefd it as it passed by his right. To its shock and horror, it could not move from his hand. It could not even struggle. The other three came to where the cosmic struggle began and clawed at his hand, trying to force him to let go. But though they could scratch the hand and even cause blood, they could not break the bone or sever the appendage. Within moments, their comrade in mischief dissolved from this world and met his fate in the Next. The Mystic reached out to grab another, and the other three fled, leaving the Mystic and Madame D’Nora alone. He stepped off her table and moved toward her, but her eyes showed hate. More hate than she could sense herself feeling. Yes, she was angered that this man had shooed her bread and butter away. But they were true to their word. They would return once he left. Yet, she knew that if he touched her, they would not come back. She didn’t know why, but knew that it was true. And whatever part of her caused her to say what she did earlier rebelled against him coming near. She kicked out and screamed but no use. He shortened the distance, caught her leg with his left, and before she could bring the other around, his right hand was on her forehead. She felt liquid stream down from it but stop above her eyes, as if defying gravity. Darkness took over for what was seconds but felt infinitely longer. When her eyes opened, the Mystic had his hand held toward her. He smiled. “You’re free now.”

And he left, leaving behind the cross and the money she had seen earlier in his wallet. It totaled five thousand dollars. It had contained fifty more dollars when a Mystic had given it to this young man a week ago, but then bus tickets to nowhere in particular could be pretty pricey. That very night, she left her work/home, with the money and the cross. She bought a fifty dollar bus ride to nowhere in particular, connecting the cross around her neck as she rode. She would find The Great Laurence, a week later.