Beyond the Veil by S.c Wynne EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: S.c Wynne
- Language: English
- Genre: LGBTQ+ Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“Use my body if you must, Agatha. Allow me to be your vessel.” I
slumped in my chair, peeking from beneath my lashes at my new client
Mrs. Beckom.
Mrs. Beckom was probably late sixties with silver hair, peppered with
traces of its original chestnut color. Her slender wrist was adorned with a
vintage gold watch with stars and moons etched into the soft metal, and she
wore a matching necklace.
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The late morning sun snuck through a crack in the thick brocade curtains
over the window, backlighting the particles of dust that floated in the dark
room. “I’m here for you, Agatha. I can feel you hovering. I beg of you,
please let me be the bridge to your sister.”
Admittedly, I was laying it on a bit thick, but Mrs. Beckom seemed
receptive enough. I got the feeling she was the type who enjoyed the
theatre, so why not put on a show for her? Her brown eyes were wide with
wonder, and it was obvious she was only too willing to believe anything I
said.
However, the attractive blond guy next to her had a smirk on his full lips.
He was a bit overdressed for a spiritual reading if you asked me. With his
navy silk suit and red tie, he reeked of money just like his more openminded companion. My guess was he worked as a financial advisor or some
other stuffy profession. His long tanned fingers were adorned with chunky
silver rings; one with a glittering green stone in particular caught my eye.
The ring was nice, if a bit pretentious, but it was the guy’s mocking
expression that annoyed me the most. The least he could do was pretend to
be impressed. Dazzling clients was no easy task these days. Especially with
all the reality TV shows busting fake psychics left and right for scamming
people. The con artists really made it difficult for those of us who actually
had psychic abilities to make an honest living.
“Is she really here, Great Lorenzo?” Mrs. Beckom asked. We sat at a
round mahogany table with tarot cards staged strategically across the
polished surface. A glowing crystal ball sat atop the table, smack in the
center, and beside that a red candle flickered wildly inside a vintage wax
skull. Mrs. Beckom’s chair creaked as she scanned the dimly lit room for
airborne spirits. “She’s really truly in the room?”
“Yes,” I hissed, my breath almost causing the candle to snuff. Oops.
“She’s with us now.”
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Beckom clutched her vintage necklace and sniffed the air.
“I smell jasmine. That was Agatha’s favorite perfume.”
“You know Glade makes many charming floral scents,” her companion
said. “Perhaps The Great Lorenzo sprayed some air freshener before we
arrived.”
I frowned at him. “I did no such thing.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Oh, Ian, you’re so naughty.” Mrs. Beckom sighed.
“Yeah, Ian, behave,” I muttered.
“Doing my best.” Ian twisted his lips.
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