The room was dim, only the soft glow of candles giving light. Faye sat quietly beside Philip’s grandmother. In front of them, the seer, an elderly woman, moved slowly, placing candles on a small altar. She lit each one with steady hands, her eyes closed as if she was whispering to herself. When she was done, she sat down on a wooden chair, folding her hands on her lap.

The seer’s eyes were sharp. “Oh,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I have lived long, and I have seen many things. Politicians, businessmen, they all come to me, seeking answers. But you—” she pointed a crooked finger at Philip’s grandmother—“you...