Page 5 of The Second Sight
The interior of the Emporium swallowed us whole. After the bright sunshine outside, my eyes needed a moment to adjust tothe dim light that filled the space. Tiny beams of light came in from high windows I hadn’t noticed from the street. Brooklyn coughed beside me, but I barely noticed. She was allergic to dust. Going into a thrift store could send her into anaphylactic shock.
I was trying to take in everything at once. There were towering shelves that stretched toward the ceiling, and narrow pathways between displays of objects I couldn’t even begin to identify. This stuff was old as the dirt dinosaurs walked on.
“Jesus,” Brooklyn whispered beside me. “It’s bigger in here than it looks from outside.”
She was right. The shop seemed to extend impossibly far back. The rear wall looked like it was a block away. Antique brass lamps with green glass shades cast pools of warm light throughout the space, illuminating collections of various things. Every surface was covered with strange vintage gadgets and thingamajigs.
“Hello, ladies.”
The commanding but serene voice came from the center of the shop, where a wooden counter stood like an island in a sea of organized chaos. Behind the island stood a woman, tall and regal with dark skin that seemed to glow in the amber light. Her hair was a crown of silver coils, and she wore a flowing dress in deep purple that rustled when she moved. Something about her made my heart stutter. It wasn’t fear exactly, but recognition. Which was impossible. I’d never seen this woman before. I would’ve remembered her.
“Welcome to the Emporium,” she continued, like she was singing instead of talking. “I’m Moira. And you are?”
Brooklyn nudged me when I didn’t respond. “Hi. I’m Kasinda. This is Brooklyn.” Why did I tell her my full first name?
Moira’s dark eyes locked with mine, and for a moment, I could have sworn they flashed with some hidden emotion. Maybe surprise, perhaps, or satisfaction. But it was gone soquickly I might have imagined it. Plus, if it was hidden, I couldn’t have seen it.
“Look around,” she said, gesturing with elegant hands adorned with silver rings. “See if anything speaks to you.”
The phrasing struck me as odd. Not “catches your eye” or “interests you,” but “speaks to you.” As if the objects here in the shop had voices of their own.
“Thank you, ma’am. Come on,” Brooklyn whispered, tugging at my sleeve. “Let’s look around.”
Chapter
Two
KASI
We moved deeper into the shop, Brooklyn’s initial worries giving way to curiosity. I drifted toward a wall lined with ornate perfume bottles of every shape and size. They glinted in the low light, one cobalt blue, one emerald green, one of amber, and one of clear crystal with gold filigree. Beneath them sat a worn wooden box filled with handmade candles, their wicks unburned.
My fingers hovered over the candles, not quite touching. Mom had made candles. It was her job, where she worked. The scents coming from this box, lavender, sandalwood, something citrusy brought her back so vividly I could almost feel her presence.
The place was large but filled with so many things crammed together. I had to clutch my shopping bags close to my body to ensure I didn’t accidentally knock anything over.
“Kasi, look at this,” Brooklyn called from a few feet away. She pointed to a delicate gold necklace that balanced precariously on the edge of a small table. The pendant was a large, bruised red stone cradled between two dragons.
“It’s pretty if you like dragons.”
“It looks like it’s about to fall on the floor. How long do you think it’s been sitting there like that?” Brooklyn asked.
I shrugged, still distracted by the candles. “No idea. Couldn’t be too long. This place has to be new.”
“This strange ass place,” Brooklyn muttered, moving deeper into the shop. I followed, aware of Moira’s eyes tracking our movement from behind the counter. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to sell us anything. She just observed with that same serene expression. Watching us with her eyes wasn’t the same as following us around the store, but I was keenly aware of her presence.
Brooklyn ran her fingers over the curved back of a worn wooden chair. The arms were carved into the shape of lion’s paws. “This looks like it came from the motherland,” she said in a hushed voice. She lifted a dusty box from the seat, revealing a tarnished gold goblet beneath it. The cup was beautifully crafted, with intricate engravings along its stem and base.
“I should buy this and drink red wine out of it,” Brooklyn joked. “Imagine the look on a guy’s face when I pull this out on a first date at a restaurant.” She giggled. “He’s going to be like, hoe is you cool?”
Her laughter made me smile, breaking through the strange, dreamlike state that had fallen over me since we entered the Wanderlust Emporium.
“This place doesn’t feel real,” she murmured, setting the dusty box back down. “Like we stepped through a portal into some fantasy novel shop.”
I knew what she meant. The Emporium felt disconnected from the world outside. In here, time moved differently.
“These are pretty,” I said, pointing to a collection of antique hand mirrors arranged on a velvet cloth. Each one reflected our faces back at us, but somehow differently. In one, my eyeslooked darker; in another, Brooklyn’s cheekbones seemed more pronounced.
“Don’t touch those,” Moira called from the counter, the first words she’d spoken since her welcome. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it held an unmistakable warning. “They’re very old.”
