3: 3
Every phone on the grounds buzzed at once, a string of notifications lighting up.
"Dickerson Group hit by cash-flow crisis, shareholders pulling out one after another, former richest man's standing in doubt."
"Dickerson socialite Carissa Henson in car crash, rushed to hospital, condition unknown."
The villagers stood frozen, turning to stare at Antony in disbelief.
Antony gaped at his phone, then jerked his head toward the graves.
Last of all, he looked at me.
He came roaring across the ground. "Gail, did you do this?"
He bellowed at his bodyguards. "Are you all dead? Beat her!"
Just then, sirens wailed up the road, closer and closer.
A wave of officers arrived, faces grim as they addressed Antony. "We've had multiple reports. The women all say the same thing, that you assaulted them. You're coming with us."
Antony's eyes went bloodshot, fixed on me like a beast about to tear into a meal.
The Dickersons left. The villagers, now, looked at me with something close to fear.
Someone worked up the nerve to come over and try to talk to me. I ignored them.
Cradling my mother's urn, I walked out of that village without a single backward glance.
The next day, Max Dickerson came for me, men in tow.
Ten-some years had passed. He looked a little older now, but still polished, still every inch the man of standing.
He clearly didn't recognize me. And I would never forget his face.
"Go on. Tell me what you did." Max looked down at me, all the bearing of a man used to being obeyed.
"I didn't do anything," I said flatly.
Max let out a cold laugh. "You did nothing, and yet my family's been hit with one disaster after another?"
"Antony asked for your help. Fine, you refuse. But instead you turn around and ruin the Dickersons. So young, and already this vicious."
I kept the anger down and said coldly, "The one who steals another person's grave, that's the vicious one."
Men like Max never seem to grasp that they've done wrong.
He offered no apology. He only pressed harder. "Why did your ancestors lie buried there all those years with no trouble, but the moment my family goes into the ground, everything falls apart?"
I said, mocking, "It is good ground, that's true. But when the virtue doesn't match the place, it brings disaster instead of fortune."
I pointed at the door. "Get out. I have nothing more to say to you."
Before Max could answer, someone wrapped in bandages sprang out from behind him.
The woman's face was half hidden under the gauze, but I knew her at a glance. Carissa Henson, Antony's mother.
Her finger jabbed at me. "So it was you, using some black magic to ruin my family? You've got some nerve."
"I had you looked into long ago. You're just an orphan, nobody to raise you, nobody who cared. No wonder you've got no manners!"
"Get my son out of that jail, and pay three million in damages, or I'll have you dead the second I feel like it."
She railed at me like a fishwife, and Max just watched her with the same doting look.
I gave her a scornful shake of the head. "Ms. Henson, your brow's gone dark, there's misfortune all over your face. Keep spewing bile like this and you may well be looking at bloodshed ahead."
Carissa flew into another round of cursing.
Max said, "Gail, do you think knowing a little geomancy means you can hold us over a barrel?"
"Let me tell you, you're not the only geomancer out there. The masters I know probably outnumber the ones you do."
"One word from me, and these masters step in, and the Dickersons' troubles are solved on the spot. As for you, they'll clean house."
He pulled out his phone right then and started calling those masters, right in front of me.
Fifteen minutes later, his face was the color of ash.
