SOFIA SOL

I give no stock to psychics. One told my mother she’d never have children and yet here I am. Wait, was she a gypsy or a psychic? Is there a difference? Maybe.

I do believe in karma. As a Cipher we’ve dealt out a bunch of it. And sometimes it’s weird how people find us, like they were meant to so we could put an end to atrocities.

Who knows if psychics are real?

But if this will amuse Luke, I’m in.

The bells sing my arrival, and at first glance this isn’t like other places. There are no windows giving you a glimpse of their promises. No repeats of the same ol’ New Age stuff you can buy anywhere. Here, more than a dozen plants turn the dry outside air into cool, clean oxygen. Out of instinct I take a deep breath the moment the door closes, close my eyes, smile.

Nice trick.

I’m alone in the waiting room, running my finger along the spines of paperbacks by Socrates, Plato, Carl Jung, and Eckhart Tolle. I haven’t studied any of them, but I know the names.

Tonk Jr. suggested I read the Power of Now book, then withdrew the recommendation saying, You live in the moment more than anyone I know. Never mind, Soph.

I took that as a huge compliment even though I didn’t know the context.

The bells jingle behind me and I glance to Luke walking in, a silhouette until the door shuts sunshine out. All the windows have black-out curtains, and I like that. It’s as if whoever owns this doesn’t want curiosity. Only the serious need apply.

Luke strolls up, glancing around before he meets my eyes. “Anyone say hello yet?”

“Nope.”

“That’s because anyone was in the bathroom,” comes a female voice. Orange fingernails push open a black velvet curtain, and a woman with short hair and no makeup save for cherry-red lipstick, gives us the once over, one at a time. Him first, and he wins her approval. “Mmmm, very handsome. What gorgeous hair you have, too.” Her amber eyes flick to me, eyebrows flying up. “And dangerously beautiful. How interesting. Come in.”

She holds the curtain open for us. I don’t know how Luke feels but I’m a little fascinated by this rotund woman. There’s a calm wisdom to her that’s no act.

No forced serenity—no smile.

I like her even though I don’t want to.

We’re introduced to a room with old paintings on the wall, the kind you see in a museum, women in gowns, men in pantaloons. There are crystals, but they’re not trying to impress anyone. One small mirror in the shape of an eye faces the door. It’s the only thing that seems cliché, so I point to it as she motions for us to sit on black leather armchairs. “What’s this for?” I ask.

“Keeps the Evil Eye at bay,” she matter-of-factly answers, taking the seat opposite us, an oak dining table resting between. She picks up Tarot cards, but rather than splaying them out, she slaps them aside like they’re in her way. “You aren’t siblings but you are. Why am I getting that? Past life perhaps,” she hums gazing between us with intense concentration. We don’t help her out. “Hmm, yes, there’ve been many past lives where you were together in some way or another. Mostly lovers, once mother and son.” She points to me. “You were the son.” My eyebrows lift, because that makes sense. “But that’s not what I’m seeing. You’ve known each other your whole lives in this incarnation, haven’t you?” Luke and I glance to each other. “I’m right. I thought so. In the same house, are your parents related? No, that would make you related, as well. Hmm, do you live in a commune?”

Luke chuckles and I throw him a smile, with a get-your-poker-face-back look.

Crinkles edge her eyes as she peers at us. “Not a commune but close? You two aren’t in a cult, too sharp to have fallen for that. And too independent, yet…you live in a large home with many people like you.”

“We’re in a motorcycle club,” Luke tells her, leaning back in his chair with legs spread wide.

“Well, shit,” I mutter, dragging my hair back and eyeing him. “Why don’t you just tell her everything while you’re at it?”

“Okay, when you were my son in that past life, you were a pain in my ass.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I think so.”

To her I ask, “So, are you Luna or is your store’s name just about the moon?”

“Moon. My name is Santosh Khalsa, I was a Kundalini Sikh until I went my own way, following the gifts passed down from my grandmother when they grew too loud to ignore.” She lifts the tarot cards and fans them out, chooses one and turns it over. “Hmm, there’s a divorce in your future.”

Instantly my heart aches and I glance to my lap, frowning and recrossing my legs. Luke shuffles his weight, too.

From under her arched eyebrows she tells us, “No, I’m not speaking about you two. It’s someone you love. A man. The woman is unclear.” She turns another over, edges worn and the image doesn’t look good. It’s of a man lying on a bed with swords pointed at him. “He’s under stress. He’s waiting. Has been waiting a long time, it seems.”

I frown, “You’re looking at me.”

“You’re the one who knows him. I don’t see a connection to you…” she pauses.

“Luke,” he offers.

“Not to you, Luke. The people in our lives we love have invisible cords connected to our souls. This man’s connection is to you.” Her eyes rest on me as she turns several other cards, including death. “He’s connected to you by blood. And seeing Death in a reading means an ending. That’s the divorce I saw.”

I sit closer to look at the cards. “Where do you see the blood connection?”

“The same way I saw where you two live. My visions aren’t exact, they’re more like dreams, flashing images, sometimes vague, others not.”

“I’m not believing any of this, but…what do you see about him, this guy? It’s not my Dad, is it?” Glancing to Luke I mutter, “No way are my parents getting divorced.”

He makes a face that it’s not possible.

Santosh closes her eyes in concentration. “I see a home, not like yours, large and strange, but warm and quiet. Maybe in the woods, or no…but not in a city. That matters to him. He spends a lot of time there.”

Luke’s staring at me to see if it rings a bell.

I nod, “That could be Ben.”

“He has a good heart, which is why I can feel that disconnect. It’s troubled. He’s searching for something. Hasn’t found it yet. We all have that to a degree, but his is more intense.”

I stand up with sarcasm. “Okay, well, that’s great news.”

Luke chuckles, knowing we’re done here. “It was nice meeting you, Santosh. How much do we owe you?”

“I’m donation only, however…” she trails off and we wait for her to find the words. “This club that you’re in, what do you do in it? I feel I’m supposed to know.”

“Oh, are you?” He laughs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets.

I don’t like what she said about my cousin Ben…if it was about him. I’m super protective of my family. They’re good people, and he’s one of those I’m closest to since we’re less than a year apart. Our parents are the only ones of the Cocker Brothers who only had one child. It’s bonded Ben and I all through our youth, us being on the outside a little. Spent a lot of time at his ranch since our fathers are so close, too. Maybe that bond has Santosh seeing him and his marriage through me.

Since she seems like the real deal, I’m curious to know what she sees about the Ciphers. “Why do you want to know about our club?”

“Soph.”

“No, Luke, let her talk.”

She frowns, hesitating. “Do you help people or hurt people?”

“Both.”

She peers at me and stands up, too. “I have someone who needs help. Am I right in telling you that?”

“Maybe.”

“Excuse me a minute.” Santosh disappears behind a curtain in the back of her shop and returns a moment later with a framed photograph. “This is my son.”

I take it from her and Luke steps closer to see the picture of a young man’s high school yearbook photo. Blue eyes are saying he hates every second of this photo session, and probably school, too. He’s got an edge to him, even with his pretty boy looks.

“He’s twenty-seven now. Struggling.” She sighs and corrects herself, “No, he’s lost. I haven’t been able to get through to him. He’s a good boy, good heart, but doesn’t conform to society’s rules. I was thinking…no, I had a feeling that he might fit in with your club.”

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Me neither,” I mutter, staring at the image. “But we’re not the psychics. Is your feeling tellin’ you we’re good or bad, Santosh?”

“Good, or else I wouldn’t suggest this for my only child, would I?” It’s the first time she’s impatient, and I can respect that. This crazy proposition coming out of nowhere makes me believe she really is ‘gifted,’ and that just has me more worried for Ben.

Handing the photo back to her I ask, “Does he live in town?”

“He does.”

Luke and I turn toward each other as he says what I’m thinking. “Haven’t brought someone in from the outside since before I was born.”

“The other houses have.”

“Yeah, but not us.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t look into this.”

“We’ll look into it,” he mutters as if that’s obvious. “I’m just not sure what we’re looking for.”

“I think we’ll know when we see it.” Meeting Santosh’s watchful gaze I ask, “What has he been up to?”

“Trouble. Can’t keep a job for long because he hates authority. The best one he had was in construction. Sean’s good with his hands, but there isn’t much building going on here with the recent law to keep things as they are. We don’t want to expand. Quaint and private is what people come to Sedona for. My son has an itch to get into trouble but I’ve raised a good man. Recently he’s been in quite a few bar fights, sent someone to the hospital, but this is a small town so people talk to me. The fights have been for good reasons. He’s defended people, and I’m proud of him for standing up to those people, but it can’t go on. People are getting nervous.” She’s wringing her hands, realizes it, and drops them. “Does that sound interesting to you? I had a feeling I needed to bring it up, but I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous about doing so.”

Luke shoots me a grin, “Sean doesn’t sound like us at all.”

“Nah, we’re pretty sedate.”

He side-eyeballs her, smile fading. “We take down the abusers, fight for the victims who can’t fight for themselves. Travel all over the states, sometimes Canada, sometimes Mexico. But there’s more than enough here to keep our club busy, usually.”

I cross my arms, eyes rolling. “Been a little slow lately. We should branch out.”

Santosh gazes at me. “Maybe you were meant to come here and help my son.” To Luke she asks, “How do you hear about these people you help?”

“Gratitude.” he explains without emotion. “They spread the word to others. All under the radar if you know what I mean.”

I add, “They want us to keep doing what we do, so they don’t tell, understand?”

She nods. “I’ve never met you.” Turning for her hutch, she opens a drawer and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, scribbles on it and hands it to me. “This is our address. He’s recently moved back home. He’ll be there today.”

I hand it to Luke. “Map this.”

“Got it.”

“Nice to have never met you, Santosh,” I smile, dipping my head. “Maybe we’ll never meet you again soon.”

Her eyes are weary, the sign of a mother hoping for the best. “God speed.”