The Clairvoyant - 'Short Affair' Challenge - 27th October

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts – Shelf/White
Word Count (approx.) - 740



“A clairvoyant, Napoleon?” Illya asked, as he read the sign above the small storefront.

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Illya, than can be dreamed of in your philosophies.”

“Please don’t paraphrase Hamlet at me,” the Russian grumbled. “I was merely asking why we were visiting a clairvoyant.”

“Our courier left the microdot with her.”

The two men stepped in through the door and their senses were immediately assaulted by a varied mix of incenses, causing Illya to feel decidedly woozy. A beaded curtain rattled and an extraordinary looking woman stepped through. She was dressed as what Illya described as ‘the Hollywood version of a gypsy’. Whilst he agreed that gypsies did indeed wear a lot of jewellery, it was never to this copious degree. You couldn’t see the woman’s forearms for the sheer amount of bangles she wore, and she had two or three rings on each finger. She’d also overdone it with the layer upon layer of white skirts and the over-large, white frilly blouse. This was all topped off by a large, and very obvious, long curly wig.

“Gentlemen, I was told to expect you, please sit down.”

The woman hadn’t taken a lot of notice of them as they entered, but when she did look up she gasped in horror.

“What’s wrong ma’am?” Napoleon asked, looking behind him to see what was catching her eye.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, hastily “Please, let us continue. You must cross my palm with sliver.”

“Of course,” Solo replied, looking to Illya and indicating he should pay the woman.

Following a classic Kuryakin eye roll and sigh, Illya handed the woman several coins. She took them then grabbed his hand; holding it across the white linen tablecloth. Running her fingers across his palm she muttered a few generic statements before doing the same with Napoleon. Throughout the ‘reading’, she kept glancing behind the agents, causing both of them to feel edgy. Napoleon could feel his fingers itching to grab his gun, certain that the clairvoyant was seeing someone. Rationally, he knew there was no-one there as it was a small room and no-one had come in behind them.

“You seem uneasy madam,” Illya stated. “Is there something behind us?”

“Oh yes,” she replied, with fear in her eyes. “Death is at your shoulder.”

The Russian relaxed and smiled.

“I have been told this many times by many gypsies,” he told her. “They told me that Death has been with me always.”

“And you are comfortable with this?” she asked incredulously.

“From my early days until the present time, death has been a big part of my existence,” he explained. “I do not fear it as I once did.”

Leaning back in his chair, Napoleon looked to Illya’s back, but couldn’t see anything. It surprised him somewhat that his scientifically minded and pragmatic partner seemed to believe, and accept, that the Grim Reaper was stalking him.

“Erm. . .maybe you have a charm or something you could give my friend here,” Napoleon prompted the woman, in an attempt to get things back on track. “It would seem he needs all the help he can get.”

“Certainly,” she replied, clearly flustered.

The woman stood and pulled open a, hitherto, secret panel to reveal a small set of shelves. Upon the centre shelf was an ornately carved box, which contained several charms separated into compartments. One compartment held a solitary charm. The agents could clearly see the microdot attached to it. Accepting the object, Napoleon placed it in a small bag and put it into his pocket. The two men took their leave, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the figure of Death go with them.

Walking back to the car, Napoleon dropped back a little and stared at the space directly behind Illya.

“There is nothing there,” the Russian called back to him.

“But back there. . .”

“I told her what I had been told, I did not say I believed it,” Illya explained.

“And the bit about not fearing it anymore?”

“I meant that I did not fear death.”

That made more sense to Napoleon so, despite feeling as though there was still something in it, he dropped the subject. As he climbed into the driver’s seat of the car, Solo entirely failed to notice as his partner glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the figure he had said wasn’t there.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Did you read Glenna's short affair fic? It looks like it's a call response challenge within a challenge...why don't you do the next chapter?

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I did, and it's amazingly. I would carry it on, but I already have several half-written fics in the works and real life is being a right royal pain in the backside at the moment.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Okay, thanks for letting me know. I guess I'll take up the gauntlet then. Hmm several half-written fics ? Good on ye! Spit in the eye of real life when all else fails.