The City of Crows Bethany Lovejoy (color ebook reader .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Bethany Lovejoy
Book online «The City of Crows Bethany Lovejoy (color ebook reader .TXT) 📖». Author Bethany Lovejoy
“Do you think we’ll end up like Landon,” Leo whispered.
“Probably,” I choked.
“And yet you think it’s worth it?”
“Absolutely.”
14
Lacus
A purple bricked building sat at the interaction where Burnley and Oak road crossed, paint flaking off it with every gust of wind. It held a small shop, the only one on the block, everything around it having been consumed by the needs of accountants and stock traders. The building once lived in the former aisle of sin of New Haven, but it somehow outlasted gambling and prostitution to become surrounded by beacons of commercial capitalism. It was funny; I was sure that nearly every business on the block had tried to buy it out, if only to make the rest of the district look better by tearing it down. But Lacus did not give in, and here it remained in all of its quirky glory. A neon sign hung from the tattered awning advertising palm readings for five dollars apiece. In the window a sun-faded sign spoke of fortunes to be told, through cards or otherwise, if one were willing to pay the price. Appointment only, however, but the sign bore no numbers or other contact information to book one. It was the sort of place that you see once, and swear that you’ll never forget it, but just can’t seem to find again when you try to go back to it. A place where the address had no meaning, which made it only more incredible that Landon was able to give it to us off the top of his head.
Leo stood beside me on the sidewalk across the street as we watched people pass by, busy people averting their eyes the second they got too close to the building. It was a necessary precaution, to stake out the place before we so much as crossed the street. There was no guarantee that I would be the only witch going to Lacus that day, not after what we’d seen.
I averted my eyes before a man in a grey suit could look back, dipping a lone french fry in ketchup while I waited for Leo to declare it safe to approach the shop. It was another day off for me, another warning from my boss. I was beginning to have a feeling that I wouldn’t hold down my job much longer and, with Rowan knowing where I worked, I was okay with that. I had far greater worries than shelving books at this point in my life, I reminded myself as I eyed the crows that sat on the power lines for nearly the length of the entire block.
Lacus was the only place where they weren’t lurking. The birds seemed to be sitting upon every telephone line and roof that we’d gone past so far. Ominous, even Leo agreed, but we couldn’t quite place why. Maybe if Pat Lobdel were more focused on being an actual mayor rather than bedding young artists and preaching false hatred towards witches, the city would be able to work on its crow problem.
Maybe.
“You’re alright with this?” Leo asked once again, waiting for me to reassure him that he wasn’t making some grand mistake. Around him, waiters and customers bustled around the small patio that we sat at.
Unfortunately, there weren’t many options left. “What do you think it will be like inside?” I’d never been inside a fortune teller’s shop. My mother had no interest in the future when I was growing up, she told me that one should focus on improving themselves in the present, the future will take care of itself.
“I don’t know,” Leo admitted, eyeing the building warily. “Maybe an ancient mystic, or another hidden club; perhaps just one of those old fortune machines from the fairground. I’m not as familiar with this stuff as you are, so it’s hard to predict.”
“I’m not as familiar with divination either,” I admitted, swirling a fry in the ketchup before me. “My mother’s not a fan, she says it’s all hogwash. She used to go when she was a girl, to real witches. They told her she’d have three kids and be happily married as a housewife.” As if my mother even had time for one child or the patience to perform tasks for any man who did not have her on his payroll. “It’s sensationalism, and they only want you to leave blindly happy or desperately upset. There’s no inbetween.”
“Are those your beliefs or hers?” Leo inquired.
“A mixture of both,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I believe that others can read the future, not in these times. But I’d like to, I really would.”
“It’d be interesting if it were true,” said Leo, casting a wary look over at the shop. Again, our only option. I think he, more than anyone, wanted to believe in it. Still, he made no move to get up. It was as if he didn’t want to go in, likely afraid that she’d reaffirm him of what he already knew and feared. Leo didn’t need another person telling him he would soon die.
“Only one way to find out,” I stated, pushing back from the metal table. It was the only way that we would get in, the only way that we would get anywhere. I had a feeling that Leo would be content sitting at the table until the end of time.
The door slid open easily, a small silver bell ringing above it to signal our arrival. The bell did little in actual practice; the young woman at the desk made no move to welcome us, still chewing gum and reading her magazine without a second thought, reaching back to scratch at the base of her half-hearted bun composed of blonde hair so straight that
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