The ladies bow with one graceful move, their dark curly hair bobbing. Slowly, their eyes meet hers, their green irises dilating. They reach out a pale hand and Theia reaches out one as well. Cold skin brushes against hers, making her recoil.
Trying to pry her hand off of theirs, the squeeze grows tighter. Trying to brush away the touch of death, Theia seals her eyes shut.
I knew this was going to happen.
She focuses on the ladies, taking in the image of their dark suits and multi-colored blouses. They wear crystal pendants on their neck as well as rock hair clips. Without speaking, one of the ladies sniff the air and reach out a hand, placing it on Theia’s brow.
A cadaverous touch floods Theia skin and she questions their age. They don’t look human, neither is their touch.
“Mother!” The command came out as a gasp. A chair creaks in the distance, followed by footsteps. They thud down the stairs bit by bit, almost like a stampede of elephants.
Mother’s auburn eyebrows knit together and her eyes grow as dark as coals. She points a pointy chin at Theia and raises her finger.
“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to send out an article.” Theia lowers her eyebrows, grimacing. Her hands are curled into fists.
“It’s ok,” Mother says, “It just-”
Mom reaches out a pale hand, gently pulling the door shut, but it is met with a halt. A strong firm grasp on the door keeps mom from pulling it shut. The lady steps into the room with a smile on her face.
A random phrase pops up in her head, forcing Theia to speak, “Is there a reason why you are dressed like that?”
Through a crack in between the ladies. A large black minivan sits near a driveway. It reads on one of the windows: PsyCircle.
“Your daughter has written such a wonderful article. It was well over a million views”
Everyone has read what my guardian angel has written, impossible… A million views. I am either famous or infamous right now.
Theia’s heart raises a beat and her breath turns into rapid long gasps. She imagines a sign with her name on it, filled with the graffiti of many angry peoples, along with the ash of many cigarettes. A crowd would await at her house with a thousand index fingers raising, and she would faint. A traumatic experience waiting to happen.
They hate me…
They want me dead…
My life is ruined…
“Am I infamous?” Theia’s hands shake. She shuts the door close.
“No, they would actually want to meet you in person.”
Theia’s lips twitch, turning into a smile, but it turned into a frown, “My dumb guardian angel wrote it for me, saying that I have some sort of destiny to complete. I have to find a white-haired gal… I don’t think they want to meet me, but someone whom I can’t see.”
Their eyes went wide, and they turned their heads towards each other, as if in shock.
“I will not be writing anymore, you can leave.” The tone of Theia’s voice sounds like an insult.
“Coffee?” Mother asks, pouring a cup of coffee in several cups on a tray. She sets the cups down and thin fingers grasp onto a porcelain handle. Theia picks up the coffee, taking small sips. The drink is bitter, yet it has a sweetness to it that makes her want to drink more. She places it on the long wooden table in front of her.
“You came here, what is the deal… with Theia?”
“Lots of people want to meet her in New York.”
Theia spits out her coffee and it splashes all over the table. She gets up from the seat and makes her way to the kitchen. She grabs a roll of paper towels off of the table and cleans up the mess. A slight panic rises in her throat as she soaks the towels.
“Thanks,” her mother says.
She pauses, holding a soaking wet tissue in her hand. She balls up the towels and throws them.
They make an arch in the air, landing straight in a bottom of an empty trash can.
“Theia is certainly talented,” they say.
“Can I go back up to my room. I need somewhere quiet to stay.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I would like to see her room.”
A growl emits from Theia’s throat and she reaches out a hand to stop them from going up the stairs, “What awaits you guys is a bed and a desk, maybe a computer.”
“No that’s not what I’m going up there for. I would like to see your drawings.”
She was always afraid of psychics. What they could see or hear in people’s most private thoughts. The thought of it alone scares her down to the bone.
“If you want to go up to my room. You have to at least give me a name, queen’s orders.” Theia retorts.
The lady nods and the others follow, “The name is Christina. These are my sisters, Christy and Crystal.”
“You may come in.” Theia says in a quiet tone, “No psychic stuff!”
“I’m afraid that what we have to do. If you want to find the demon, then you have to let me and my sisters do a thorough search.”
A knot enters Theia’s throat. She lets Christina enter the room first.