The woman glanced nervously at Kyle, but he shuffled over to a row of books a few feet away.
“Do you have anything to help with, um,” she lowered her voice, “weight management.” She blushed and held the handbag even tighter, as if it were a talisman for courage.
“I’ll fix you right up.” Skye sought to put her at ease. “I’ll make you a charm bag with special crystals, herbs and oils to help you. I may even do one for myself while I’m at it. I’ve been eating way too many late night pizzas since starting college.”
Skye picked up a small glass bin with dozens of blue and green tumbled stones. “These are apatite crystals, and they help control appetite. Reach in and pick whatever stone feels right to you.”
The woman dug in and delicately fingered several of the stones.
“Clementine. Cardamom.” Kyle’s flat voice drifted over from the book area.
“Thanks, Kyle. Bring me over a half ounce of each.” At the woman’s questioning look, Skye explained. “Those are some herbs we’ll add to help with your intention. When I mix the powder with sweet orange and patchouli oil, it’s gonna smell terrific, and it all works together to help you lose weight.”
“I’ll take this one.” The woman held up a transparent green crystal to the light.
“Good choice. When the apatite is that color, it’s called an asparagus stone. Pick two more crystals for your charm bag, a fire agate that motivates physical activity, and an angelite for spiritual assistance. While you do that, I’ll get your charm bag ready with the herbs and oils.”
Skye went to Kyle with a red charm bag for him to place the herbs in. “Thanks again, Kyle,” she said, turning to go back to her customer.
A sharp jab in the middle of her back made her jump.
“Uh, oh. Boo-boo,” Kyle said, pointing between her shoulder blades.
What the heck was he talking about now? Maybe he overheard her complaining about backaches before. She’d check it out later. Skye assembled everything in the bag and handed it to the woman.
“Whenever you need energy to exercise, or need motivation to lose weight, take out the crystals and rub them between your palms. Visualize the end result and this will help you meet your goals.”
Her customer looked around the store as if she hoped not to run into anyone she knew. “Thank you so much, I’m sure it will help,” she gushed, scurrying over to pay Glenna at the cash register.
An inner hum of contentment rumbled in her stomach as Skye watched the woman leave. Crystals helped people; they just needed to be pointed in the right direction. Kyle, head down, wandered to the coffeehouse areavto help Mama D serve students needing a mid-afternoon coffee pick-me-up. She remembered his boo-boo remark. Curious, she entered the restroom and craned her neck in the mirror.
Several red dots, the size of M&M candies, stained her shirt and lined the middle of her spine. No wonder Kyle thought she was hurt. Skye couldn’t make out exactly what it was so she dashed in a stall and took off her shirt to look closer.
Blood stains. Six bloodstains. Her fingers shook as she held the shirt in front of her. If it had just been one spot of blood, she could dismiss it as maybe a bra hook that had scraped her skin. She ran a hand down her spine, and fingered tiny sores, each about four inches apart. Backaches she was used to, open sores—not so much. Thank goddess it was only an hour until closing time. She could throw a sweater over her shirt, go home, shower, and see if she needed to visit the university infirmary.
It’s some kind of fluke thing, she reassured herself and returned to work, only to find Claribel in rare form, entertaining the customers with a fairy chanting dance. In the middle of the room she waved a multi-colored streamer like a rhythmic gymnast swirling ribbons.
“Come my little fairies
Let us make merry
Send tiny sparks of energy
So we may join your revelry.”
A guy standing by the bookshelves sidled over to Skye. “Is she for real?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. Hard to tell how much Claribel believed in the fairy world, or how much was a calculated publicity charade, or a combination of the two.
The guy snickered and assumed a deep, radio-announcer voice. “Mad or Charmingly Eccentric – You Decide.”
Claribel caught her eye. “Skye, darling, I have a favor to ask you,” she trilled across the room. Motioning to her office with the streamer, Claribel marched ahead, orange and pink maxi skirt billowing in her wake. “Have a seat, dear.”
Claribel fumbled around her crowded desk of crystals, teacups and papers.
“Here’s what I was looking for!” She held up an inventory book in triumph. “Delia and I are going to be at that metaphysical workshop in Birmingham tomorrow.”