Seeing is Believing - Robin and John Stoker

It’s been a rare shift, uneventful and actually a bit boring. John didn’t voice that out loud, though, until they were checked out of the building and on their way home. “Want to stop and get tea from that fae place?” he asks Robin when they’re about a block away.
“Sure.” Robin looks up from where he’s been arranging a herd of origami deer on the dashboard. “That sounds great.”
John parks in the lot for the legal firm across the street (which also might be fae, honestly) and they walk over to the cafe. John takes a deep breath of the spicy smell of glamour when they step through the edges of it, then pauses at the sight of a woman in a white embroidered peasant blouse sitting at one of the tables with her eyes closed and her hands held out in front of her like she’s meditating.
“Who’s that?” John asks, although he’s not aware he said it out loud until Robin answers him.
“I don’t know.” Robin glances at the table. “She’s been here a couple times. I think she tells fortunes.”
“Second sight?” John asks. “Abuela Rosa used to get visions strong enough to tell people things.” He steps toward the table.
“Uh, I don’t think…”
“You’re a fae and you don’t believe in clairvoyant powers?” John asks.
“You have second sight and you didn’t like fae magic.” Robin shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t believe sometimes you get glimpses of things. But I don’t think anyone can control it like these people claim to. It’s all a game.” He sounds nervous in a way he normally doesn’t. John guesses after you’ve had people dredge up your secrets and hold them against you, you don’t like the idea of people who can see your past or future.
John shrugs. “Okay. We’ll go get tea.” He doesn’t tell Robin why it is he really wanted to talk to the woman.
Abeula Rosa’s been gone for almost twenty years. No one else he knows has the Second Sight. And he just wants to know if someone can tell him why he’s still dreaming of the same grave. If it’s just a recurring nightmare and no longer a true vision, or if what it presaged is still out there waiting somewhere ahead. He just wants to talk to someone who understands.
Granted, there’s a better than even chance the woman is a total charlatan, but…he’ll know in a few minutes if he starts talking to her. But if it makes Robin uncomfortable, he doesn’t want to push things. The kid’s got a lifetime of trauma because someone went digging around in the things he wanted to hide. He probably doesn’t want this woman to see them if she is what she claims to be.
They have to walk directly past her table to get inside, John is sure that’s part of her schtick. There’s a hand-lettered watercolor sign on the table that reads ’Genuine Fae Seer - fortune readings, $5’. A woven basket on the table holds a small stack of bills.
It’s one of the few jobs an unregistered fae can have without getting outed. Here, protected by the glamour of the magical coffee shop, she can set up her business and not need to explain herself to anyone. The only people who will ever get in here are ones the shop owners trust. Or people with the second sight like John. Robin informed him after their first visit here that he should probably avoid mentioning actually being able to see a functioning coffee shop on this corner.
They’re about to walk in when Robin stops with a jolt. John turns to see that the fae woman has stood up. Her wild blond hair, pulled back from her cheeks by fraying twin braids, is glowing in the sunlight and her blue-grey eyes are simultaneously intense and empty. And she’s looking right at Robin.
“Do you know someone named Ellie?"
"I…” Robin flinches.
John knows she didn’t use the kid’s name, but he looks just as frozen as if she had. There’s grey fear swirling in his own eyes, and he looks like he wants to get out of here but can’t. John immediately goes on the defensive.
“Hey, he didn’t ask you for a reading or anything, let him be."
"I didn’t mean any harm.” There’s a skittish fear in her eyes, like a feral cat from the ranch. If he moves wrong, she’ll bolt. Probably had some bad experiences with people before. Fae generally do.
“My mom’s name was Ellie,” Robin says. He’s not looking at either of them but at the toes of his shoes.
“Your mother?” The woman glances at him. “Of course. The resemblance is striking.” Her hand trembles slightly. “We were friends as children. How…”
“She’s been dead almost thirteen years,” Robin admits shakily.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks. A genuine sound of heartbreak. “I didn’t know."
John frowns. He’s not quite ready to take this woman’s word for who she is, even though fae can’t actually lie.
"How do I know you didn’t just have a lucky guess about the name Ellie?”
“Because I know her mother’s name was Serenity, her grandfather called himself Hamish, and she had a scar on her arm from where she fell off a stone in her back yard when she was five."
Robin’s eyes widen. "That’s all true.”
“Like I said. I used to know her.” John can see Robin thinking, trying to place any possible memory of a friend his mother had with Second Sight. Although, if they lost touch when they were in their teens, her power might not have manifested yet.
“Who are you?” Robin finally asks.
“You can call me Vera.” The choice of given name gives John a moment’s pause, when he remembers the meaning.
“A bit on the nose don’t you think?"
"People come to get their fortune told by a mystical fae. They pay good money for a convincing act.” She shrugs. “They think the Sight can be bought and paid for. It’s a gift. But…a girl’s got to make a living in this town.”
Robin nods. “I understand. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of to survive.” She nods. “If your mother ever mentioned knowing me, she probably used a different name.” Her eyes flicker pale brown for a moment. “People used to call me Tara."
John wonders if she’s Irish sidhe fae. Given that name…most likely. And Sidhe are known to have bloodlines with powerful Second Sight.
"Would you tell me a story about her?” Robin asks. “I’ll pay you…”
“That’s not necessary. ” Her hand covers his, pushing it back from where he’s attempting to drop a handful of bills into her basket. “Sit down and I’ll tell you as many stories as you want to hear.”
Robin pulls out a chair and sits down, then glances up at John. “You don’t mind…”
“Not at all. I’ll go order us some tea.” He knows the kind Robin likes, right down to how many sprigs of lavender the kid puts in. “We can stay here all day."