The Secret Language of Stones by M. J. Rose Page A

“The opal is not just my birthstone. It’s part of my name. Is that why these things are happening?”
    â€œYou are double cursed and double blessed,” Anna said as she gathered up our plates and put them in her wicker basket. “Let’s go upstairs to my reading room and we’ll see what we can see.”
    We walked through Anna’s sitting room, all done up in a mauve silk, and into her closet. Here, behind a rack of the lavender- and deep-amethyst-colored clothes she favored, all scented with her powdery iris perfume, was the secret door leading to her reading room, her monde enchanté .
    Anna’s hidden enclosure had been built by the apartment’s previous owner. We often wondered who might have required such a hideaway. What nefarious, clandestine business had been transacted here? Had it been an opium dealer’s den? A lover’s trysting place? A torture chamber dating back to Richelieu’s reign?
    Using the ambient light from the closet, Anna lit an ornate silver candelabra. One by one, the five candles burst to life, revealing a wondrous cave.
    The room was half the size of a bedroom and windowless. Antique mercury-spotted mirrors covered the ceiling; midnight blue wallpaper covered the walls. Sitting on the floor, on shelves, and ontabletops, Anna’s vast collection of crystal balls sparkled and shone and reflected in the mirrors, like hundreds of dazzling stars in an infinite universe.
    Anna, descended from gypsies, had inherited the ability to use these orbs to see someone’s past and into his or her future. Combined with the fortune-telling, she used astrological readings in order to fully divine the complex paths a human psyche traveled and where that person was headed.
    â€œChoose one,” Anna said to me, gesturing to her collection, her bracelets jangling and sending more rainbow flecks onto the walls. Being married to a jeweler, Anna could have worn different jewels every day, but she always wore the same pieces: three bracelets on her right wrist with ancient cultural, mystical, religious, and astrological symbols dangling from the gold chains; an Egyptian amethyst scarab ring surrounded by diamonds; and amethyst teardrop earrings hanging from diamond studs.
    Scanning the shelves, I spotted a sphere on the third shelf with slightly bluish occlusions that looked like starbursts. I placed it in the depression in the leather-topped table, a hollow made from all the readings Anna had conducted over the years.
    Pulling out a chair, I joined her at the table and watched as she leaned in and began to study the orb.
    After a few moments, Anna looked up. “When was the last time we did this?”
    â€œAbout four or five months ago.”
    â€œSomething has changed.” She smiled. “You’ve met the man you are going to love.”
    â€œThe only man I’ve met is your stepson, and that was seven months ago.”
    She looked into my eyes, back into the ball, then shook her head. “Yes, you are on a path with Grigori, but . . .” She hesitated. “But I’m not sure he’s who I see here. I’m trying . . .” She hesitated as she focused. “Your aura has definitely altered. I believe it has to do with the voices, Opaline.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI’m not certain. What you described, it’s the first time a voice has interacted with you, yes?”
    â€œYes.”
    She studied the ball again. The quiet was profound in the small room. If there was an air raid, would we hear it so deep inside the apartment? The thought of bombs was never out of my mind for long.
    â€œHave I ever asked you when you began hearing things others couldn’t?”
    â€œI’m not sure when it started. I remember being a little girl sick in bed. My mother would bring me her large jewelry case, covered in silver sharkskin, and let me rearrange her treasures. Mostly she had rubies,