A few weeks passed, and Alice was finally back to herself. At least in terms of how she looked and acted. On the surface, she was the same person, but something in her had shifted.Her limits were… off. Like they had stretched, broken, or redefined themselves. Her ability to absorb energy had increased dramatically. Any kind of power-related work was now easier. Even the process of restoring her tissue patterns had sped up. It was as if some part of her humanity had died and taken her former limits with it. She couldn’t ignore it. Didn’t want to. She wanted to see what she was now capable of.

  In the center of the city, tucked among identical-looking buildings, stood a small apartment block. In one of the stairwells was a modest little flat, its front door adorned with a plaque that read: Madame Eugenia – Clairvoyant. Alice wasn’t sure if this was what she was looking for, but what the hell. Might as well try. Maybe this time she would find a real medium.

  She knocked three times. Then twice. Waited three seconds. Knocked again, just like she had been instructed on the phone. She had just started to think this was all complete nonsense when the door swung open. The woman who answered was round. No other word for it. Round, and decked out like some over-the-top fortune teller: bangles up to her elbows, multiple colorful skirts, a plunging blouse, and massive hoop earrings. The moment their eyes met, Alice knew the woman had nothing to offer her.

  “Welcome, child,” the woman said in a conspiratorial whisper, then boomed, “I am Madame Eugenia! Through my gifts, you shall peer into the world of the dead and leave here forever changed!”

  I doubt it, the girl thought, staying completely silent.

  The mad fortune-teller didn’t seem to notice or care about her client’s lack of enthusiasm and, entirely unbothered, led her into the room where the séance was to be held.

  A few people were already gathered inside. Most looked just as unhinged as Madame Eugenia herself. A few seemed completely lost, like they had taken a wrong turn in spacetime and ended up in the wrong dimension. One older woman, with a harsh face and pain etched deep into her eyes, immediately struck Alice as someone worth liking. Her wrinkles spelled out a kind of pure contempt laced with desperation. It was something the young witch found oddly beautiful. It perfectly captured the dual nature of humanity that had always fascinated her. Without overthinking it, she sat beside the woman, gave her a small nod of greeting, then glanced around, visibly tense.

  The woman seemed like she wanted to say something, but in the end held back, retreating instead into the shadows of her own thoughts. As she folded into herself, Alice quietly slipped a piece of paper with her phone number into the woman’s coat pocket. She didn’t really know why she did it. It just felt… right.

  Madame Eugenia kicked off her grand, bargain-bin spectacle by smudging everyone with some vile-smelling concoction that instantly set Alice off coughing. Then she played a recording of drums, which were quickly joined by high-pitched, screeching pipes that sounded like fingernails raking down a chalkboard. It only got worse from there.

  Eugenia ordered them all to form a circle and hold hands tight. She herself stood in the center. Within seconds, she began her descent into a deep trance, which mostly involved wild, disjointed movements that looked more like an epileptic fit than anything mystical. After a while, it morphed into a kind of mangled dance that was, shockingly, not half bad, especially given her size. The whole thing, though, went on far too long, and every minute dragged like an eternity. Luckily, the reek of incense burning in every corner of the apartment drowned out the stench of the fortune-teller’s sweat. Apparently, she only managed to achieve the full trance state after dancing through three entire tracks. When the last one ended, she froze, eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. Gasps of awe echoed through the room, genuine, reverent awe, and it made Alice feel nauseous. The woman beside her looked queasy too, which pleased the girl immensely. At least there was one kindred soul in this circus of lunacy.

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  Eugenia began circling the room, stopping briefly at each participant, until she reached a woman in a thick sweater who reeked of cat hair and loneliness.

  “You came seeking comfort,” Eugenia intoned.

  The woman immediately burst into tears and started blabbering about how the psychic had sensed the truth, that her oldest cat had died just yesterday, and blah blah blah. Alice couldn't care less.

  “His soul is now in kitty heaven,” Eugenia declared. “He doesn’t want you to grieve. He told me to tell you: get a new cat from the shelter and give it his name. You gave him a happy life!”

  A chorus of gasps and murmurs rose from the most devoted believers.

  Meanwhile, Alice’s gaze drifted to the ghost of a small girl standing behind the woman. The child’s head was half-crushed, and she clung, terrified, to the cat lady’s sweater. A daughter? Probably. A tragic accident? Without a doubt. The world was a mad place, wasn’t it?

  Next in line was a man in a well-tailored suit. Eugenia informed him that his deceased wife’s spirit was right beside him, supporting him with all her heart and professing her undying love. Well, “undying” might have been a poor word choice, all things considered, but yes, her spirit was indeed present. Supportive, though? Not even close. The woman’s ghost radiated hatred and unleashed a stream of unfiltered insults. She raged that if it hadn’t been for him, she would still be alive and happy.

  Turns out, not all the dead find that calming tunnel of light. Marcel was a perfect example. Actually, Marcel was the textbook case of a soul cursed with terrible luck, even in death. Seeing his eternal suffering brought Alice a strange sense of comfort. Not because she enjoyed seeing him in pain, of course, but because it meant she had been spared. Somehow, life had shown her a sliver of mercy, however twisted.

  Back to the séance: it was duller than dishwater. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out Eugenia had prepped everything ahead of time. She knew exactly whom she would target and what to tell them. It had absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to do with any real psychic ability

  And yet most of the people in the room were in awe. So in that sense, maybe it worked just fine. And of course, the cherry on top was saved for last: a woman who had been cheated on by her husband. Eugenia paused in front of her and went quiet for a long time. Alice leaned in, genuinely curious to hear what kind of nonsense the fortune-teller would come up with this time.

  “Poor child!” Eugenia suddenly wailed. “The soul of your unborn child has come to me! It says it was supposed to be born, but he killed it inside you! You were on birth control, yes, but your love was so strong it overcame even that! And when he betrayed you, the pills finished the destruction. Oh, you poor, poor woman! Know this: he will pay. The soul of your child defends you now and demands justice for its death!”

  The woman collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably and breaking the circle. That snapped Eugenia “out” of her trance, and the séance was officially over. But her overblown melodrama had just won her a fresh new sheep for the flock. That should have been the end of it. Everyone could have gone home and lived happily ever after in their pretty little lies. But apparently God had had enough of this farce, because He had made sure Alice was there.