John tipped back his draft beer—Flying Dog Doggy Style, brewed locally. He didn’t recognize anyone behind the bar, though Betsy could tell he was searching for a familiar face.
“Tell me what you have found out about your mom.”
“Nothing. The embassy was useless. She was last in Bratislava on Sunday. She was going to one of the castles that Countess Bathory owned at the turn of the seventeenth century.”
“Castles?”
“She had half a dozen of them. Mom mentioned Beckov and Čachtice. But Čachtice seems more likely.”
“Why?”
“Because that is where the Countess did most of her killings.”
“Are you still planning on going there?”
“Yes. I’ve been online looking for last-minute fares. They are astronomical.”
“I’m going with you.”
“What? No, you can’t. You—”
“Thank you. Come back and see us again,” interrupted the waitress, dropping their check on the table. “And have a good day!”
The two exchanged looks—their meals were still in front of them. John snorted a laugh. “Definitely not the same Woody Creek Tavern. Hunter Thompson probably would have shot her.”
“John, really. How could you miss work?”
“I have vacation time. I’ve just submitted another grant and actually the timing is good.”
Betsy bit a french fry in half, chewing in contemplation. She heard a roar from the crowd at the bar as the Broncos scored a touchdown.
John took the other half of the fry gently from his ex-wife’s fingers and put it into his mouth. He chewed it, still looking at her.
“Let me help, Betsy.”
She closed her eyes tight to keep from crying. She nodded, her body trembling with emotion.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
When they got back to the office, Betsy could see movement inside.
Was the intruder back?
Betsy took a deep breath and opened the door quickly. Her heart beat hard against her chest.
Daisy sat on the floor of the office, with an enormous book spread in front of her. Betsy saw a colorful image filling the page.
“Oh, my God,” said Betsy, her hand flying to her chest. “Daisy, what are you doing here? I cancelled our session.”
Daisy looked up.
“I just wanted to see you again. Hey, you should lock your doors, Betsy. Especially after that burglar ransacked the place.”
She shifted her eyes to John. “Who’s the guy? Your boyfriend?”
Stop intruding on my private life, Betsy thought. You are totally screwing up the patient-therapist relationship.
“He—he’s an old friend. John, this is Daisy Hart.”
John approached, twisting his head to see the image on the floor.
“Is that a mandala?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s something Jung drew. He was discovering his soul,” she pronounced ghoulishly.
Betsy suddenly realized exactly what Daisy had on her office floor. The Red Book.
“I saw it was inscribed to you from your mom, Betsy,” said Daisy, as if reading her mind. “Your birthday was just a few weeks ago—that makes you a Scorpio. Me, too!”
Betsy swallowed hard. The tarot reader’s voice rang in her ears.
Talk about nightmares!
Betsy shook her head, dismissing the thought.
“Why did you—what are you doing?”
John made a funny face at Betsy. Are you all right?
“I saw it on your shelf,” said Daisy. “And I was like, ‘Wow! What a coincidence.’ My sister just sent me a copy a couple of days ago. Like synchronicity—”
“Your sister?” Betsy said.
“I told her how cool Jung is. She went to this show in the city, where these celebrities are analyzed on stage, looking at Jung’s art.”
“The Red Book Dialogues…” Betsy murmured.
John squatted next to Daisy and his finger traced the image of a jewel-colored mandala.
“Jung was quite an artist,” he said. “I had no idea. It’s like a medieval illuminated manuscript.”
“Exactly!” said Daisy looking up into his eyes, beaming. “This is really the first time Morgan and I have ever had any common interest. And I mean ever.”
Betsy saw the white makeup buckle as her patient emphasized the last word.
“So Gothic looking,” said John, staring down at the page. “It reminds me of the ancient Book of Kells—”
“Right? He should be crowned King of the Goth world,” said Daisy. “Look—”
She turned the page gently.
Another illustration appeared, this one of a boat with a colossal golden orb and a man at the tiller. Below the boat was a giant fish or sea monster with bulldog teeth.