Beyond Your Touch by Pat Esden

canvas—seaweed.”
    â€œCanvas and seaweed?” I said. I hooked arms with Selena, snugging her close as we rounded a slight curve in the road.
    A few yards later, the thick evergreens opened into an overgrown field. Just ahead was a dilapidated bread truck. Crystals and tassels curtained an open doorway in the side of the truck. Behind it and only partly visible from our angle was a tent with a blue tarp for a canopy and purple cloth curtaining its sides. Campfire smoke trailed up from somewhere behind it. I could smell the wet seaweed and canvas Chase had mentioned and something else, the strong musky odor of incense. That raised the hair on my arms and my mind went back to when the priest had performed the exorcism on Dad. This smell was identical to what I’d noticed back then.
    One slow step at a time, we approached the truck’s door. “Hello?” I called out. “Anybody home?”
    Selena shifted even closer to me. “How can she live here? Her and her grandfather in this tiny truck. Where do you think they go to the bath—?”
    â€œSelena.” Chase raised his hand to silence her. A heartbeat later, Lotli appeared in the truck doorway.
    To say she was clothed would be a misnomer. She had a sarong on, but the sheer leaf-green cloth left nothing to the imagination. Her layers of necklaces and arm cuffs covered more skin than the entire dress. She was shorter and smaller than I’d thought yesterday. She also wasn’t as pretty as I remembered. Her nose was large for the size of her face, her dark eyes too intense, and her hair too long and dense to look purposely tousled. But the birdlike tilt of her head as she studied us, the swoop of her fingers, and the swish of her steps as she descended from the camper left a blatant trail of sensuality. She reminded me of a dancer Dad and I had met in Belize when we’d toured a Mayan temple.
    Tiny bells on her slave bracelet jingled as she pressed a finger to her lip and then pointed it at Chase. “We saw you yesterday at the park.”
    Her voice had a strange cadence to it, a musical lilt. And, as her eyes lingered on his face, an uncomfortable feeling writhed in my stomach. “We noticed you, too,” I said.
    Her head swung toward Selena and me, like a black egret about to spear its favorite snack. “Did you not see the no-trespassing sign? He does not allow uninvited guests.”
    Pulling my shoulders back, I stepped toward her. “We saw it.”
    Her hands slithered onto her hips. “How did you find him?”
    Him? She had to be referring to her grandfather. I mirrored her stance. “We’re not looking for him. It’s you we wanted to talk to. You’re Lotli, right?” Despite how weird everything was, I figured there was no reason not to tell the truth. “We found you by using the feather you gave Chase.” I tilted my head in his direction.
    She looked back at him, lowering her eyes demurely. “Ah, yes. Chase.”
    My jaw clenched and I was glad Selena took that moment to step forward. “I used the feather to scry. We want—” She glanced toward the smoke, then at me. “You might as well just tell her.”
    â€œWhen we were listening to you yesterday, we noticed that the smoke from the fire responded to your playing. We came to see you because we wanted to know about that.” My voice sounded calm, but I felt like poking her eyes out for the way she was scanning Chase.
    â€œInteresting.” She peeled her gaze off him. “We’ll ask if we may speak with you.” She bowed, then turned away from us and swished around the tent toward the smoke.
    I leaned into Selena and whispered, “Did you get any bad vibes off her?”
    â€œNo. But it’s freaky that she’s asking her grandfather if she can speak with us—and the whole we thing is really weird.”
    â€œYou’re right there,” I said.
    Chase frowned.