The Lost Diamond

She arrived on time, at 3:00 PM, after having lunch with some friends as she had told me earlier. I knew it was her as soon as she appeared; her car looked like a futuristic spaceship bound for Mars. No one had ever greeted me from a vehicle like that, let alone offered to give me a ride. She rolled down the window and waved, gesturing for me to get in.

I was immediately enveloped in the scent of her perfume, her long blonde hair hidden under a pink cap with silver lettering. Large sunglasses covered her face. She was dressed very elegantly, and her perfume was hypnotic. I got into her car and somehow ended up in a seat so close to the ground.

I must admit I became quite nervous because of how unusual everything was for me. She seemed like one of those fashion magazine supermodels who advertise Swiss watches, her car was a piece of jewelry, and that perfume... that perfume... It was too much sensory stimuli for someone like me, who finds inner peace by meditating for hours.

The first thing she did was apologize for the choice of vehicle, saying that her father’s Lamborghini Huracan was fine for lunch with her friends but not so much for transporting a “wizard” like me. It seemed like having a “wizard” in her car was quite a curiosity she greatly enjoyed. I regretted not having an owl perched on my shoulder or a bag full of potions to turn people into toads or toads into young ladies who drive Lamborghinis.

She asked me to call her Rossy, as no one has called her Europa or Roxanne since elementary school. There I was, inside that powerful car, with a young millionaire under thirty who knew how to perfume and dress herself, heading to her house to expel some demons that had pushed her boyfriend into taking a short, likely not solitary, vacation at a resort for millionaires. It was all very paranormal.

As we left the city limits, Rossy started driving at breakneck speed along those mountain roads. While she took those right turns and then left turns and right turns again at the speed of light, I had a hilarious thought. I imagined the owl, which every wizard is supposed to have on their shoulder, bouncing around at the crazy speed of that vehicle. It was a good sign; I never came up with funny ideas while getting myself into trouble. On the contrary, the bigger the problem I was about to face, the more the signs were telling me to stay alert. In this case, I imagined the owl bouncing between the windows from left to right, which brought a smile to my face and made me relax more comfortably in the seat.

We entered the property through a huge iron gate, activated by remote control. The entrance was decorated with a variety of floral plants, and there was an elegant wooden sign that read “Velkommen Hjem.” Then we drove another fifteen minutes through a forest with fairly dense vegetation. The road was paved, well-lit, and, above all, in very good condition.

Finally, we arrived at the cabin, which was much less luxurious than I had imagined. It was a beautiful place, overlooking a lake with swans, ducks, and other birds that gave it a paradisiacal look, but it wasn’t a twenty-bedroom mansion as I had initially thought. Constructed with wood and glass, it was the ideal place for a weekend fishing trip with friends or a spot for a secret romantic rendezvous.

When I finally managed to find my way out of the car, Rossy was already waiting for me at my door; it seemed like everything in her life was going at high speed.

That girl was really beautiful. Very tall, blonde, green eyes, beautiful face, very intelligent looking woman, she was driving a quarter of a million-dollar vehicle, she was one of the heirs of the Dainik family and she traveled periodically giving piano concerts.

“I’m not very used to this type of car, but at least I managed to get out of there by myself,” I said as an apology for keeping her waiting for a minute.

“Don’t worry, neither am I, but today I had to meet some very special friends, so I had to use my father’s car.”

“I see... What a beautiful place, there’s a particularly good spiritual atmosphere here,” I would have liked to tell her that she was even more beautiful than all of nature combined, but I chose to control my words.

“Oh, thank you. Let’s go inside,” she said with a charming smile.

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone...?”

“No...! You seem like a good person; I don’t feel afraid. Besides, let me tell you that I hold a tenth-degree black belt, I’ve been practicing aikido since I was seven, and I’ve defeated much bigger men than you. I love the piano and music, but I love aikido even more.”

“No... Thank you for the information... But I didn’t mean to ask if you were afraid of being alone with me. I was asking if you weren’t afraid of being alone in this house with those visions your boyfriend is experiencing.”

“Oh... that... No, I don’t believe in that nonsense.”

The interior of the cabin was like something out of a movie, lots of wood and glass, all clean and orderly, a pleasant scent of leather and wood filled the main room. A Steinway & Sons grand piano dominated the scene. The generous view of the lake through the windows and a large wood-burning fireplace offered a tremendous sense of peace, which, of course, contrasted with the stories of the “entities” that watched Jorik van Fjömm day and night. Luxurious, elegant, and somewhat small for the ostentatious taste of a millionaire family, the cabin ended with wooden stairs leading to the upper floor.

Rossy placed her leather bag on one of the armchairs and the Lamborghini keys on a small table. First, she took off her cap, letting her beautiful blonde hair flow freely, then she removed her shoes and comfortably sat in a corner. She looked at me with a hint of mischief and made an artistic gesture with her arm as if to say that this was my work area.

“Well, Mr. wizard... here is whatever is bothering my boyfriend. Please tell them to find another house and leave him in peace.”

“I’m not a wizard. I define myself as a person who perceives activities in the spiritual world. Some call me a shaman, although I don’t really like labels. Anyway, you told me you don’t believe in any of this. What do you think I came here to do?”

Rossy already had a magazine in her hands, as if to keep herself occupied while I, supposedly, expelled demons, burned incense, and lit candles with esoteric symbols. Whether it was because she found the magazine boring or because my question piqued her interest, she stood up like a tigress, ready to engage with me in an aikido match. She walked barefoot with all her beauty and sensuality until she was four steps away from me and said, looking me directly in the eyes,

“Yes, it’s true, I don’t believe in any of that. I’ve been coming to this cabin since I was a child when I used to sleep alone with my grandmother many weekends. I love this cabin because it has special acoustics for my piano; I feel the music here more closely. This is where my schoolmates and I used to come to dance and get drunk without our parents finding out, and even when I was completely drunk, I never saw one of those demons. Why should I start believing in it now?”

“Rossy,” I said, trying to be conciliatory, “these phenomena happen more often than you imagine. Many of them are false, others are imaginary or caused by fear, but several are real. I myself have faced complicated situations with spiritual beings, very difficult to explain to someone who demands scientific proof.”

“Well, I believe that as long as there is someone willing to pay for a service, any service, there will always be someone willing to offer that same service. I feel that Jorik doesn’t want to live here, and maybe that’s why he started seeing things that no one else did. We talked about it; I told him that I loved this cabin and that I was very happy here. Then someone mentioned about a sorcerer who could banish spirits. No one here believes in that, not me, nor the people who work in the house, but I offered to hire you so that he would feel better. And now you’re here.”

“Oh, what a surprise, I thought it was Jorik who had hired me, I didn’t know it was you. In any case, I can assure you that my experience is based on a great deal of serious work, people who can testify that their lives changed for the better after hiring me. It’s important to me that you have confidence that, if there is any spiritual reason affecting this place, I will at least be able to find an explanation. But it would be crucial to have your vote of confidence in my ability, at least for a while.”

Rossy sighed resignedly; after all, what she had paid me wasn’t an amount that would require someone like her to make any special sacrifices, and who knows, she might even have an interesting story to tell her friends at the next lunch. As if putting her doubts behind her, she returned to the couch, stretched her long legs over the armrest, and shifted her mood from an aikido fighter to a relaxed, wealthy girl in her own home. I was a little distracted by seeing what pretty feet she had.

“And what are you going to do to..., well..., to see if there’s a demon in the cabin?” she asked with all her natural sensuality.

She herself couldn’t stand how ridiculous the phrase she had just said was, and let out a brief laugh while apologizing. Smiling, she was even more beautiful, and when she laughed, she was an image impossible to forget, irresistibly beautiful. I imagined that many of my friends would gladly pay to experience a moment like this, to enjoy that instant with that beautiful woman, even if she acted sarcastic, as if mocking me. The worst thing I could do was take it personally and get offended. On the contrary, I started laughing with her. In the worst-case scenario, it was around 6:00 PM, and I was alone with the beautiful Europa “Rossy” Dainik in her cabin in the middle of the mountains, talking about demons. Nothing could go wrong.

“Rossy, my plan is to sit here for as long as I can, waiting to sense some spiritual presence. I never mention the word ‘demon.’ Not all spirits that couldn’t complete the transition to the spirit world are demonic or malevolent. It’s better to ask them what they need first and then try to help them.”

“Excuse me, can you remind me which name you have?”

“I already told you. Many call me a shaman. I think that comes close to what I do. ‘Sorcerer’ sounds like practicing black magic, something bad.”

“I meant, what’s your name? Besides, we can use first names, right? We’re about the same age.”

I felt a warm flush on my face, a sign that I was blushing with embarrassment.

“Bambo..., Bran..., I mean, Brandon, Brandon Nagha.”

My stuttering was, probably, what amused her so much; she knew very well that being so attractive and being in her own home gave her complete control.

From that moment on, we started chaining conversations without stopping. We spoke softly, regardless of the passing time, enjoying the present as if we were on vacation on a Caribbean Island.

She continued with her sarcasm, telling me that if my job involved sitting and waiting for something to happen, it didn’t seem so bad; it was better than traveling the world playing the piano. So, I asked her when her passion for the piano had started, which led to her sharing much of her life with me. She also talked to me about a famous pianist who lived a drunken life but appeared profoundly serious at concerts and in photos. She knew him well because that pianist once surprised her by proposing marriage without even having been in a relationship.

In no time the clock struck 11:00 PM, the entire cabin was dimly lit by a single floor lamp. She worried about me, whether I was tired, hungry, and finally, we shared a delicious salad. By that time, we were breathing an entirely different atmosphere, one of mutual trust and friendship, without the initial prejudices or mockery.