The tarot reader, p.12
The Tarot Reader, page 12
We were passing the gallery of hanging photographs when the front door swung open, banging against the wall. Lisa shrieked and moved behind me. A gust of wind blew in, sputtering out half the candles. The room was barely illuminated now, and shadows danced wildly against the ceiling.
“What the—” I bit my tongue, trying to maintain my professionalism, but my heart was beating like a drum in my ears, drowning out the noise of Lisa taking quick, desperate breaths behind me. The door ricocheted from the initial impact against the doorstop and banged against the wall once more. I raced toward it and shut it, trying to maintain a facade of calm despite the flush of my skin and panicked sweat in my underarms.
“Some spirits react violently to cleansings. But the door opening is proof we forced the spirit out and slammed the door behind it. Your house is safe now.” My words calmed her breathing. “I always recommend taking a few days away from the house to let the energy settle. Do you have anyone you can stay with?”
“Yes, my sister. I already packed a bag. Just in case.” Lisa sprang from her seat and rushed upstairs, returning only moments later with two leather duffels. “I’m ready to leave,” she announced as she took her purse off the hook and rifled through it for her wallet. “Here’s the remainder of the fee. Let me walk you out.”
She handed me the bills and cautiously opened the front door, peeking left and right before waving us out. She locked the door behind us and, without another word, she was in her car and backing out of the driveway.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re shaking,” Stevie asked.
“It’s nothing. The door freaked me out. I thought I saw—”
“Oh yeah, that was my bad. I don’t think I pushed it closed when I saged the doorway.” She chuckled. “It kind of worked, though, right? You saved it, as always.”
When I didn’t respond, she studied me more closely. “Wait, you said you thought you saw something?”
Lisa’s taillights glowed red as she drove down the street, away from her false haunting.
“Never mind. It was nothing.”
CHAPTER
18
Jade
WHEN WE ARRIVED back at the shop, Stevie and I wordlessly trudged up to our beds, where we fell asleep almost instantly. It was probably four in the morning when I shifted in my sleep at the sound of a creak.
Just the wind blowing against the windows, I assured myself sleepily. I had begun drifting away again when there was an undeniable click of the doorknob and the groan of hinges opening. Sleep fogged my mind and I told myself it was just a dream, but as my eyes darted to the door, it was clear I was wrong.
The door was cracked open, exposing the pitch-black landing outside my door. My stomach clenched in fear as the door opened farther, groaning like it was mortally wounded.
I tried to sit up, but my muscles refused to move. In the opposite corner of the room, there was a tall black shadow. It was too tall to be a human. My heart raced, and a low groan emerged from my throat as I struggled to move. I’d finally done it. Spirits were real, and I’d antagonized them enough that one had finally come for me.
The shadow approached, but there were no footsteps, just a lazy drag before each creak.
I screamed as it lurched across the room, coming right at me. I shot up out of the bed, throwing the covers off me. My sheets were drenched in sweat, and I panted as I searched the room for any evidence of my dream.
Not a dream, a night terror. They were so rare that in the moment, my brain never registered what was happening and my body reacted as though it were staring death straight in the eye.
I turned on my bedside light. The room was empty, as expected. My breath slowed, and I was desperate for a sip of water. I rose to my feet and froze.
My bedroom door was cracked open half an inch. Had I left it like that? I’d been so tired, I couldn’t remember. It was just a coincidence, I told myself as I walked to the bathroom and stuck my mouth under the running water.
I didn’t want to sleep alone. I shuffled to Stevie’s door and cracked it open, not wanting to strike fear in her the way my night terror just had. I hobbled toward her bed and reached a hand out, expecting it to meet her warm, sleeping body.
All I felt was cold sheets. Disappointment and confusion washed over me. Where was she? I needed her. She was the only one who would understand.
I shuffled back to my room, fighting the pathetic, childish tears that were building. I threw my comforter over my sweaty sheets and curled up on top, leaving my bedside light on as I stared at my door, fighting sleep until it eventually won.
* * *
“Stevie,” I said to the sleeping lump under the blankets the next morning.
Stevie wiggled under the blankets and groaned. “Go away.”
I poked her back, desperate to talk about my nightmare last night. I hadn’t had true sleep paralysis since the week Mom died. I thought I’d healed enough, but something in me was cracking open with every bad decision I made.
“What?” Stevie rolled over onto her back, her eyes wide with annoyance.
“I had the dream again. The thing in the corner.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”
Stevie could be an asshole, but she always knew when to apologize. “I came to your room after, maybe around four. But you weren’t here.”
“I was outside smoking,” Stevie said, fidgeting with a fistful of blankets. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
I let out a huff of air. “I don’t feel great about Lisa’s ring. I think that’s why I had the dream. I feel like I’m turning into Dad, or like I’m the puppet and he’s pulling all the strings, even though we have no idea where he is.” Stevie balled up the fabric in her hand, not meeting my eye. “Stevie? We don’t have any idea where Dad is, right?” I put extra weight on the final word, trying to provoke her into looking at me.
She took a deep breath, and when she finally looked up, she was a perfect picture of composure. I was growing too paranoid from lack of sleep and the whirlwind surrounding us. Stevie was the only person I truly trusted—now was not the time to second-guess that.
“Of course I don’t know where he’s staying. His drunk ass probably doesn’t either.” She laughed, but it was hollow.
“I’m going to make some coffee. Feel free to join me if you want.”
She thanked me, and I closed her door behind me. As I was doing so, I heard a long exhale, like she’d been holding it until I left the room.
I stepped outside to grab the mail, and my heart leapt when I saw an envelope in my grandmother’s scratchy handwriting. I tore open the envelope and peeled open the letter.
“Dear Jade,” it said. “I’m glad we’re finally back in touch. I know you are in a hard time and want to help. But remember, too much help can be a hindrance. Keep working hard and trust that success will come. Love, Grandma.”
There was a single bill folded into the letter, and I peeled it out. Fifty dollars. That was it. I should be grateful for anything, but from her reaction on the phone, I’d thought she’d understood the severity of our money problems. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. I shoved the money in my pocket and went back into the shop, where I wadded up the letter and threw it in the trash.
In the shop, I turned on music to drown out my racing thoughts as I packed boxes for the fair tomorrow night. The front door chimed, and my heartbeat escalated with excitement. “Welcome! Be with you in one second,” I said as I finished wrapping an amethyst cluster in bubble wrap.
“I have to say, I’m impressed with how far you’ve come,” a deep voice rumbled near the front door. The familiar tone of it made my gut clench—the last time I heard it was nearly two years ago when he dumped me over the phone, just a week after my mother’s funeral.
I turned around to see my ex-boyfriend Chris leaning against the front door, his arms crossed in front of him. He was bigger than I remembered, more similar in size now to his brother, and his unfamiliar burliness made my body react with both frustration and fear. He was blocking potential customers from coming in, but also me from getting out.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, embarrassed by the tinny sound of my voice.
“I stopped by to check out the famous Ravencroft psychic. Smart to get rid of the Crawford name after everything. Last time I saw you, your parents were still training you to be a thief. Looks like it paid off.”
“They weren’t training me to be a thief. They were training me to read tarot. Which is exactly what I’m doing. Also, we never would have dated if your family hadn’t started working with my dad, so you really don’t need to be coming at me with that tone.”
“Aw, come on now, Jade. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s just how we were raised.”
“If you’re not going to buy anything, you should leave. I told you I never wanted to speak to you again two years ago, but it sounds like your listening skills are still subpar.”
“So are your repair skills, apparently,” he said, ignoring my barb about our failed relationship. He pointed up at the half-fixed ceiling and all the materials the repairmen had left in piles on the floor. Frustratingly, they didn’t work on weekends unless I agreed to pay double. “That looks like shit.”
“Tell that to your brother.”
“Excuse me?” He raised one eyebrow. Chris had the uncanny knack of turning a polite phrase into something vaguely frightening.
“Never mind,” I said quietly.
“How’d you pull off the Nichols tip?” he asked. I silently straightened items, only to move them again. He stepped farther into the shop. “Come on, Jade. Just tell me.”
“It was a psychic vision. Simple as that. You know how that works just as well as I do.”
“No, I actually don’t. There’s a certain honesty in the type of work my family did with your dad. Stealing without playing with people’s minds. You, on the other hand, are some sort of mental terrorist, giving people hope where there is none.”
“Careful on your high horse; you might fall and break your neck.” I turned, begging the burn in my cheeks to dissipate. He laughed casually, only enraging me more.
There was a timid, muffled knock on the front door, but Chris didn’t move. I stomped toward him. “If you block my customers, you owe me money. Get out of the way.”
I tried to push him aside, but he didn’t move an inch. He looked down at me with a satisfied smile, and I recoiled from the memories his woody cologne conjured up. He was the intense, toxic fling almost every woman had and winced every time she remembered. But the brief pleasant moments were unfortunately just as vivid, seared into my mind by all my senses. “Move,” I ordered, shoving pointlessly once more.
He backed away from the door, and we were both greeted by the panicked face of a pale, thin man in a fedora.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Chris asked, staring through the window at the pamphlet the man was holding. It must be Max, the renaissance fair worker who’d called yesterday. This was the worst timing imaginable. Chris had always been the jealous type, eager to flip the switch into a rage at the slightest, most insignificant provocation. I ignored Chris and opened the front door.
“Um, hello. I’m Max.” He looked between me and Chris, his chin tilting up as he looked at Chris’s imposing frame. “I have your booth guidelines here,” he said, struggling to avoid Chris’s glare.
I reached out to take the booklet, but Chris snatched it from his hands. He handed the booklet to me and crossed his arms across his chest. “All right, now get the fuck out.”
Max stood wild-eyed for a moment before turning and running as fast as he could down the street, his arms stiff down his sides. I yelled after him to wait, embarrassed by Chris’s outburst and wanting to apologize, but he kept running.
“What’s wrong with you? He works for the fair. I just got invited last minute, and your little hissy fit could make them change their mind.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t like his face.”
I rolled up the booklet, pointing it at his chest. “Get out. Now. And this time, try listening: Do not contact me again.” I opened the front door and held my breath, waiting to see if he’d listen or continue standing there, domineering my space.
My breath hitched as he stepped closer. “Have fun at the fair, Jade. See you around.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from spitting venom back at him. He never listened—whether out of sheer laziness or spite, I didn’t know. I slammed the door shut, watching through the glass window as he sauntered slowly down the street, a freshly lit cigarette leaving a toxic trail behind him.
CHAPTER
19
Jade
LATER THAT AFTERNOON I was wrapping up with Eloise, a new client who was nearly eighty and needed help walking to her car. As I shut her car door, I spotted another elderly woman, but one who was much less kind and much more vindictive.
Phyllis had lived in the upstairs apartment in the building next door for almost thirty years—something she happily bragged about to anyone who would listen. Her family had run an antique shop on the bottom floor for nearly eighty years, and apparently each person who lived in that apartment had been more miserable than the next.
I waved to Phyllis as Eloise drove off, nearly sideswiping a shiny black Volvo. Phyllis was midconversation with someone I couldn’t see from this angle, and like every conversation with Phyllis, it looked to be one filled with gossip and self-righteous anger. She ignored my wave and instead pointed aggressively at me with a long, furious finger.
A head peeked out from behind the column of Phyllis’s stoop, and my stomach dropped. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead gave another fruitless wave to the increasingly annoying reporter, Maria. Since we last spoke in person, she’d called at least twenty times, always at the most inconvenient moments. Maria’s lips spread slowly to the side in a menacing grin as if to say I’ve got you now.
I had no idea what they could possibly be talking about, but I knew it was definitely about me. Phyllis had had a vendetta against my family from the moment my parents leased the building. It had started with complaints about lack of upkeep, then progressed to threats to call the police about loud arguments and Dad stumbling home from the bar, occasionally misnavigating and passing out on her front stoop. After he went to jail, Phyllis had been forced to come up with brand-new complaints, and she’d wasted little time.
For a moment I pictured her short, frail frame scurrying through the dark rooms of the shop, looking for evidence of the crimes she was always accusing us of. Her building had the exact same layout as ours, so she would know which dark corner to dip into to remain unseen. I shivered at the thought, as well as Phyllis’s growing scowl as she and Maria stared at me.
I needed to hear what they were saying. I acted like I was walking into our shop, but at the last minute I skirted around the side into the alley between Phyllis’s and our shops, where I could hear their conversation plain as day.
“Those girls and their shop have always been a nuisance,” Phyllis said. “People go in and out at all hours, not to mention the utter ridiculousness of what they’re peddling.”
“Which is?” Maria asked.
“They’re peddling malarkey,” she spat out, and I withheld a laugh. “The older one, Jade, spews vague nonsense, and those desperate people eat up every crumb.”
“There’s nothing illegal about that, necessarily. Plenty of institutions have commercialized hope.” I was surprised at Maria’s defense of me, but more than likely she was trying to get a reaction out of Phyllis to get more information.
“She’s got criminal blood in her. I wouldn’t be surprised if their shop is a front for something.”
“What do you mean by ‘criminal blood’?”
“Her father’s a jailbird,” Phyllis stage-whispered. “Some argument gone wrong.”
A hand gripped my shoulder from behind, and I gasped loud enough to interrupt Phyllis’s gossip. Their conversation halted, then picked back up, but when I turned around to a large, looming figure, I lacked the focus to follow any of it.
* * *
Chris stood in front of me, his ominous frame blocking the narrow alleyway. My pulse quickened, fully aware I was trapped in the space between him and a locked chain-link fence. But he wouldn’t hurt me, right? Sure, he had a temper and had lashed out at me, but he’d never hit me. But I could tell he wanted to.
“Is your memory so bad that you forgot I told you to fuck off just this morning?”
Infuriatingly, he smiled. “Oh, I remember. I just came by to apologize and offer my help.”
“I don’t need your help. With anything.” I tried to sidestep away from him, but he backed up and kept me trapped between the two buildings.
“My brother got me a gig at the renaissance fair setting up equipment,” he said proudly.
My stomach dropped. Having a booth at the fair was a huge deal for the shop, and I didn’t want them dampening it.
“Look, I’m trying to smooth things over. I wanted to offer you a ride. Figured you still don’t have a car.”
I snarled at the dig. “Like I said, I don’t need your help and definitely don’t want to keep running into you.”
I pushed my way past him onto the sidewalk, grateful to be in a more open space but regretting that Phyllis and Maria were going to be privy to what was likely about to turn into an argument.
Chris grabbed my bicep to stop me. His grip was just tight enough to dance between discomfort and pain. “You know I can make you more money if you just let me help you. My brother and I could sell that ring faster than Dad and you know it,” he said, his voice raised in annoyance. Panic mounted at the thought of him sneaking into his parents’ pawnshop to take Lisa’s ring just to spite me. Phyllis and Maria were now unabashedly eavesdropping.
“I don’t want any help from you,” I said in a harsh whisper as I jerked away my arm, “especially if you’d be selling it to the type of people you and your brother work with. I don’t want ties to any of y’alls little friends.”
