“I am at peace. Now it is time for you to let go of the past and embrace what you have before you.”
I looked askance at the two people sitting in front of me. They wore identical speculative expressions. “Are you speaking metaphysically, or literally?” I asked.
The woman chuckled. “It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. But now it is time for me to release you from our bond. You have great things in store. Be brave, my heart. Be strong. Do not doubt.”
The tears rose again at the gentleness in the words. I blinked furiously, not wanting to bawl in front of everyone, but not entirely believing what was happening, either. “I’m glad you’re at peace. I do miss you.”
“And I you. But it is time for you to find your feet again. Look to the dragons. They will guide you.”
My gaze flickered to Mrs. P. Dragons again. Was this German woman working in cahoots with Mrs. P? Even as the thought crossed my mind, I rejected it. It had to be Jian speaking to me—no one else would know the things he said. “I don’t think I know—”
“You have great things in store,” the woman repeated before slumping dramatically onto the table.
I sank back into my chair, not aware I’d been tense and holding my breath until the woman had stopped speaking, and the séance hostess moved on to someone else.
“Did you know that woman?” I asked Mrs. P quietly, taking from her the salt shaker she was in the act of stealing.
“No.” She pouted a little, nodding at the silver object in my hand. “They have many others. I like it. It’s shiny.”
“She mentioned dragons,” I whispered.
“Of course. Your husband was one.” Her eyes focused on me with a clarity that I found startling. “He came a long way to release you from your bond to him. That bodes well for your man.”
“You think that’s what he was doing?” I bit my lip in thought, allowing her to take the salt shaker from my hand. “I haven’t really dated much since he died. I tried once or twice, going out for coffee or that sort of thing, but it always seemed… wrong. Like I was betraying him.”
She added the pepper shaker to its mate in the depths of her purse before shifting her attention to the person across the room who was arguing with a spirit about who was responsible for a broken lamp. “He had not released you then. He has done so now.”
I mused on that for a few minutes, wondering if the strange visitation was truly Jian, or if I’d been so desperate for it to be that I was willing to believe a handful of generic comments meant more than they did.
It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. I smiled a sad little smile. That was pure Jian—he had said the very first day we met that he loved my sense of humor and the bright shininess of my spirit. I hadn’t known then what he meant, but we were alone when he spoke those words, and I’d never mentioned his comment to anyone.
“Good-bye, Jian,” I whispered, and blinked back a few more tears that made my eyes sting.
Surreptitiously, I sniffed and brushed away an errant tear that escaped. Something caused me to turn my head, and I realized that the man from the plane was standing behind us, a long, pliable object dangling between his hands. Instantly, every movie I’d ever seen where someone was garroted from behind rose in my mind, causing me to knock my chair over backward as I leaped to my feet. “What the hell?” I shrieked, lunging between the man and Mrs. P, providing a barrier to her that would keep her safe. “Get away from her, you murderous freak!”
The man snarled something rude under his breath, but didn’t move… until a swirl of wind ruffled my hair, followed by a dark shadow falling across us.
“Is there a problem?” a familiar voice asked, and with a sigh of relief, I turned to smile at the newcomer.
“Hello again, Rowan.” I could have cried I was so happy to see him. “You seem to be making a habit of rescuing us from this bastard. Sorry, Mrs. P. I shouldn’t have said the word bastard in front of you.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” she said with a little shrug. “My favorite epithet has always been murderous whoreson, but if bastard rings your chimes, then you go with it.”
Rowan, whose curls were all over the place and whose face bore a pillow crease on one cheek, rubbed his jaw as he looked from the murderous whoreson to me. “I’m happy to be of help, naturally, although I’m unsure of what the issue is this time.”
I ignored the slight emphasis on the last two words. “He was going to garrote Mrs. P. Look, he’s even got the garroting thing right there out in the open where anyone can see it.”