Class Reunion: a novella

By Vincent Roberts

It's two o'clock in the morning in New Orleans. Salem is leaving the FRench Quarter only to discover he's being pursued. He hears footsteps but sees nobody. He fears a supernatural stalker and he's right. As he rushes through the streets, he looks for asylum and finds it with a Tarot card reader, a priest and a medium. So does his stalker. Salem meets his destiny here. This is his story: his agonizing past, his crimes of vengeance, his uncertain future. Take heed should you share Salem's predilections - someone is watching ... and waiting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Roberts
• Release date: Apr 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201522698

Book preview

It was around two in the morning as Salem walked hurriedly down the dark and quiet streets on his way out of New Orleans’ French Quarter. He was pissed off and he was sure enough spooked. He heard footsteps. He was being followed. Why would anyone follow him?

Perhaps it was some sleazeball hoodlum who wanted to jump him and take his wallet. All he had was a twenty-dollar bill, and anyway, Salem didn’t think it was that simple. No, not that simple at all.

As he rushed along the quiet street, he paid close attention to the footsteps that were just behind him. He could hear the clunking of the heavy heels getting closer.

He looked up and down and around at the street and the buildings. He saw no one. And if he shouted for help, no one would hear him, except for the stalking footsteps.

The further Salem traveled away from the French Quarter, the more ominous the streets became. New Orleans was generally rowdy at all hours of the day or night, but, this night, it appeared that the city had turned in early.

The heavy footsteps were getting closer. He glanced back over his shoulder. No one there. His heart raced and his palms were saturated. In fact, he dripped sweat in the pungent and humid atmosphere of the city. Fear and exertion were his companions, except for the invisible follower.

His mind fabricated vivid images of being pursued by Jack the Ripper on a dark and foggy London night, or having Freddie Krueger chase him down Elm Street.

He didn’t want to be the prey. He’d rather be the predator. But here he was, running for his life down the squalid streets. He turned and shouted out to his invisible follower, I got no money! So, leave me alone!

As he picked up his pace, the sweat ran in rivulets down his body. He wrenched his hands as he ran past buildings and storefronts, desperate for help, desperate to find a light in the darkness. The footsteps followed.

Finally, he saw colorful lights in a window front. The sign in the large window read Sister Charmaine’s Tarot and Palm Readings. Below it was a neon lit sign that read Open. The Universe had led him there for a reason.

He looked over his shoulder again and, for the first time, saw the gray shadow of his follower approaching. Panicked, he quickly jiggled the door handle and opened it. Salem stepped into a small room that was scented heavily with the fragrances of lavender and sage.

The front room had obviously been a living room in years past, but now it appeared to serve as the main place of business. The room was faintly lit. Salem peeked around and then called out, Hello. Is anyone here?

As he walked deeper into the reading room, he saw a staircase off to the side that led up to the second and third floors.

In the center of the room, there was a round table draped with a purple velvet cloth. On the table stood a tiny lamp that shed a haloed pink light, the worn deck of Tarot Cards, a brown wicker basket, a metal bowl that contained the remnants of what was smoldering incense, and several brilliantly colored amulets and crystals.

There was a wicker chair on each side of the table, one for the curious customer and one for the reader. He called out to Charmaine as he went back to the door and leaned shakily against it to make sure his stalker wasn’t bold enough to follow him into the building. Hello. Are you open? Hello? Is anyone here?

A tall woman entered the room through a beaded curtain. Her bright orange hair was long and curly. She was wearing a flowing white floor-length dress. Her skin was soft and white. Her pouty lips were red and full and her jade green eyes, which were encircled with black eyeliner, seemed to glow in the murkiness of the room.

She stood next to the table and spoke in a deep and sonorous tone, I am Sister Charmaine and I am here for you.

He looked at the round table and wicker chairs. Can I sit?

She questioned, Have you come here for a reading?

Nervously, as he kept leaning on the door, he said, Y-yes, Sister Charmaine. I-I’m here for a reading.

Charmaine was concerned as she watched him at the door. She saw that he was anxious and sweating. Shall I lock the front door?

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath of relief and nodded. Y-yes. Please. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

She sauntered towards the front door and flipped the latch in a downward position, making sure it was locked securely. She drew a shade over the window. Then, she returned to her side of the table. Like the sign says in the front window, I charge twenty dollars for each reading and I need the cash up front.

I understand.

You can never trust people these days. I’ve had far too many customers get a reading and then run out the door without paying me.

He nodded. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead. He opened his clammy hands and wiped them on his jeans. I have a twenty-dollar bill, he said as he took out his wallet and handed her the money.

Charmaine smiled, shoved the crisp twenty into the top of her bra and then regally waved her arm in the air. Now, sit down and I will tell you what you need to know. I am Sister Charmaine and I can see all.

Salem hesitated for a moment before he took a seat, still nervously glancing over his shoulder at the door. Even though it was securely bolted, he was still afraid of what was waiting out there on the other side.

Charmaine observed Salem’s edginess as she took her seat on her side of the table. This pleased her because, from past experience, she knew that those who were under duress were more susceptible to her Tarot readings. She got many repeat customers this way.

She picked up a bowl of incense and purified herself with the smoke. She waved the smoke towards Salem but he scowled and shrank away from it. She picked up the Tarot card deck and began to shuffle.

She evaluated the anxious man that was sitting across the small table. He was over six feet tall and muscular. He had dark blonde hair and a face that was conventionally handsome. He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes frequently, but she was not surprised at that. It was after two in the morning and her eyes were tired too.

But something else about him bothered her. There was a furtiveness in the way he moved, his eyes skittered away whenever she looked him in the face, his hands had a slight tremble, and his mouth twitched. She usually didn’t mind if her clients were on edge, but she knew she’d have to watch this one closely. She didn’t want to say or do anything that might push him over the edge.

She touched the small gun she always had concealed in her clothing. She was glad she had it with her.

As she held the cards in her hand, she said, in a deep contralto voice, You must concentrate. I want you to focus on one issue that is important to you. You need to clear your mind of everything else. Focus on only one thing.

Salem had always believed that Tarot