The Ill-fated Fortunes of a Steampunk Madam II: Specter

Lindsey Halloway did not like being called Lindsey, even by his mother. That is why he preferred -- really, insisted -- that people call him Caster. There were, of course, many stories about how he came to be called that. Some insisted it was because it was his job to cast out anyone who would harm Madam Fiona, others that he used to be a fisherman out casting his nets in the deep waters of the Gray Sea. Some even said that it was he who first taught Madam Fiona how to cast fortunes in runes.

He found the stories entertaining, but otherwise let them roll away from him, like water parting for a duckship. Occasionally, someone would approach him and ask if this story or that was true. He always answered the same way: with a gentle laugh, a shake of the head, and a quiet, "no, that's not the story of my name. I'll never tell the story of my name because, like names, stories have power."

As his strong, steady hands cleared the tea service without clinking the china, he studiously avoided casting his ever-so-enchanting gaze upon the old woman. And still, he couldn't help but see the specter of death that hovered around her. It was a cloying, foul presence, like a smell in the air that leaves a taste in the back of the mouth.

Except that there wasn't anything actually there. Just an odd and uncomfortable premonition of a bloody death.