This is a guest post from HorrorAddicts.net Press. They have a new anthology out, Dark Divinations. I spoke with its editors and publishers, Emerian Rich and Naching T. Kassa, on the podcast recently. As part of their promotional blog tour, they’ve shared an excerpt of one of the stories, Hannah Hubert’s “Power & Shadow.” 

It’s the height of Queen Victoria’s rule. Fog swirls in the gas-lit streets, while in the parlor, hands are linked. Pale and expectant faces gaze upon a woman, her eyes closed and shoulders slumped. The medium speaks, her tone hollow and inhuman. The séance has begun. 

Can the reading of tea leaves influence the future? Can dreams keep a soldier from death in the Crimea? Can a pocket watch foretell a deadly family curse? From entrail reading and fortune-telling machines to prophetic spiders and voodoo spells, sometimes the future is better left unknown.

Choose your fate.

Choose your DARK DIVINATION.

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An excerpt from Dark Divinations

Power & Shadow

Hannah Hulbert

Norwich, 1895

“More tea, Flora?” I asked, fingers poised near the pot.

“Yes, please, Adeline, my dear.”

She held out the floral saucer with the cup set in the centre. I frowned at the strainer resting over it and turned to catch Mother’s eye, raising an eyebrow in question. A column of darkness in her half-mourning black and crimson at our bright table, she shook her head almost imperceptibly whilst helping herself to a madeleine. 

I reached across the dish of sugar cubes and trickled red-brown liquid from the spout with a wisp of perfumed steam. Flora smiled boldly as she thanked me. My cheeks glowed at her attention. She removed the strainer and set it back onto its dish, turning to Selina as though I had vanished. The warmth drained from me. I focused on stirring my tea.

Conversation was light and punctuated with giggles between Rosina and Millicent across the table. A twist of envy at their closeness gnawed at me for a moment. I attempted to engage Selina in small-talk, but she was too busy twitching her gaze about the parlour like a nervous mouse. I tried not to hold it against her that she wore her heart on her sleeve so. Her apprehension built a wall between us. I told myself I was used to walls and raised the cup to my lips. The steam carried the fragrance of earthy bergamot and fresh lemon. I inhaled, collecting myself.

“Well, ladies,” Mother said, her deep, sombre voice slicing through the joviality. “Shall we begin?”

Our eyes flickered about the table. Sunlight spilled in through the large window, diffused softly by the voile, billowing on a draft.

“I’ll go first, Mrs. Earl,” Rosina said, voice quavering a little.

Mother smiled in what she probably considered to be a charming manner. A shiver ran up my spine.

“Have you finished your tea?” Mother asked.

Rosina nodded, pale-faced.

“Then take your cup in your left hand and swirl the dregs around clockwise three times. Like this.” Mother demonstrated with her own cup.

Rosina mimicked the motion, staring at Mother.

“Then turn your cup over, onto your saucer.” Mother showed her, and set her cup and saucer on the table with a soft clink.

Rosina’s hands trembled. The china clattered as she inverted the cup, flecks of tea splashing over the rim.

“Then we leave it for a moment. As we wait, would any of you ladies like to join Rosina in seeking enlightenment concerning their future? That is why we are here today, is it not?”

There was a long pause full of downturned faces, all of a sudden intrigued by the pink and blue pattern adorning the tea service.

“I will,” Millicent said, at last, full of forced bravado as she blindly followed her friend’s lead.

She drained the last of her tea, swirled the dregs, and turned her cup as she had been shown.

That left Flora, Selina, and myself.

“You’re not curious?” Mother asked, turning first to Selina and then to Flora across the arrangement of peonies at the centre of the table.

The direct challenge broke Selina’s resolve. She raised her cup with quivering fingers and twisted it awkwardly. Flora, however, returned Mother’s steely gaze. My lips curled into a grin despite myself. I raised my serviette to cover my mouth before Mother noticed.

“Very well,” Mother dismissed Flora, but I winced at the displeasure in her tone. She reached for Rosina’s saucer, which the girl passed over the cucumber sandwiches.

Mother lifted the cup, nested it in her palms, and peered inside. Her thin lips twitched as she studied the remaining leaves. The girls shifted in their seats, brimming with apprehensive excitement.

For More Info

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