by Sarah Piper
He glances at the ceiling, literally doing the math.
Goddess, he’s such a nerdy genius.
“Okay, fair point,” he says, then reaches across the table and takes my hand. It’s a friendly gesture more than a romantic one, but a spark races up my arm just the same. “But now we have the opportunity to change that, Stevie.”
I want to believe him. So, so badly. And he’s right, we do have the opportunity. I’ll be sitting here in this lab with him for hours, multiple times a week, probably on the weekends too. And that’s not counting going out for coffee—didn’t he say the invitation still stands?
I almost smile, but force myself to hold back.
It sounds lovely, but spending time with someone doesn’t mean getting to know him if all you’re getting to know are more lies and omissions.
I wish I could convince myself otherwise, to tell him what I know he wants to hear. But I can’t find any more words to fill the awkward spaces creeping in between us, and eventually, he seems to run out of them, too.
So when he rises to put Mom’s research back in the cabinet and lock up his laptop, I lock up my notes, gather the rest of my stuff, and slip out of there before he even knows I’m gone.
Before he sees the tears spilling down my cheeks.
Thirty-Three
STEVIE
“A witch’s mind is her sharpest tool, but a Tarot deck is her closest companion. Her confidante, her trusted advisor.” Standing at the front of our Tarot Divination and Spellwork lab, Professor Nakata beams at us, her brown eyes sparkling. “A Tarot deck is, for all intents and purposes, your squad.”
There are only fifteen of us in the lab, our desks set up in a U-formation, and we all laugh. It’s hard not to; Professor Nakata looks about Dr. Devane’s age, but where he’s cranky and controlling, she’s got a bouncy, youthful energy that immediately makes me feel light and happy.
It’s almost enough to help me forget those infuriating mages.
I say almost, because one of them is in my lab.
As if he can sense me thinking about him, Baz looks at me across the U and grins.
It’s so hard to reconcile that devastating smile and the tenderness he showed me last night with the men I saw in the cave, slicing their hands, chanting about brotherhood and service and the one true source and that book—that black, evil, soul-sucking book…
“The stronger and more intimate your bond with your Tarot cards,” Professor Nakata continues, shuffling her own deck as she does, “the more you’ll come to rely on them in your magickal practice. Practically speaking, the Tarot can be used for all manner of spellwork and divination.”
She draws a card from her deck, holding it out for us to see.
“The Moon,” she says. “Often associated with the realm of dreams and fantasies. Tuck this card under your pillow at night to inspire lucid dreaming and clear dream interpretation.”
She shuffles it back into the deck, then selects another one. This time, it’s a Minor Arcana from the suit of Pentacles—the Page, as it’s called in her deck. The Princess, as I saw in my vision.
“Cards can be used for manifesting certain outcomes,” Professor Nakata says, “or charging up food and drinks with specific magickal intentions. For example, if you need help passing your classes, you might slip the Page of Pentacles under your morning coffee mug. This card promises an infusion of positive energy for learning new material.”
I make a mental note of that, wondering if there’s a specific card to help me pass Devane’s class. Mental Magicks is probably the one I’m most in danger of failing.
Then again, it’s only day two. Plenty of time to piss off more professors. Hey, shoot for the stars, right?
“Similarly, cards can be used to charge ingredients for magickal workings and potions, to enhance love spells or banishing spells, and…” She draws one more card—the Lovers—then smiles. “To encourage a healthy sex life.”
We all snicker at that one, and I’m pretty sure Baz is staring right at me, but I refuse to look at him.
“Good,” Professor Nakata says with a nod. “Just making sure you’re all paying attention. You’ll have only one assignment for this class, but that assignment is something you’ll do each and every day—multiple times, if you feel called to do so. Can anyone guess what it is?”
Baz raises his hand. “Does it have anything to do with the hot sex spell?”
Professor Nakata laughs. “It might, Mr. Redgrave. That’s up to you.”
He gives her a wide smile and puts his hands behind his head. “I’m all ears, Professor.”
“For the remainder of the semester—indeed, for the remainder of your lives, if I do my job right—you’ll be keeping Tarot journals. Handwritten, of course, to encourage a stronger connection from hand to heart. You’ll draw at least one card to reflect on each day, either first thing in the morning or at the end of the evening, in addition to any other spreads you may do. I want you to pay particular attention when your elemental affinities show up in a reading—they’ll always have the strongest messages for you. Now, who’s ready for the fun part?”
Baz raises his hand again. “Does this have anything to do with the hot sex spell?”
The class chuckles, and Professor Nakata shoots him a faux-warning glare, but it’s clear she finds him as amusing and charming as the rest of us do.
She sets her cards on her desk and pulls out a rolling set of shelves from the back wall, steering it to the center of the classroom. There are five shelves, each holding dozens of rectangular packages, all of them wrapped in black silk cloth and tied with silver ribbons.
“Meet your future besties,” she says, and we all lean forward for a better look. “Each one of these very special packages holds a deck of Tarot cards, cleansed and consecrated by the elder witches and mages of the Academy. Tarot decks give off energetic vibrations like everything else, and you’ll want to find the one that feels like a good energetic match for you. They’re wrapped, so you won’t be able to pick based on visual cues. You’ll need to open up your senses and really feel into the deck energies.”
She calls us up one at a time, and I watch as my fellow classmates run their hands along the shelves, selecting their decks.
“Don’t worry about someone else choosing a deck meant for you,” she says. “That won’t happen. There are plenty of cards here for everyone, and you’ll know your unique energetic match when you find it.”
When it’s finally my turn, my stomach is so fizzy I can barely contain myself. Not counting the big novelty deck in my living room, I’ve never had my own deck before—just the magick cards that show up at random, and vanish just as quickly.
As I run my hands over the shelves, a mix of different energies touches my fingertips. Some are warm and welcoming, others slick and cool, one or two cold and prickly enough to make me pull back. I take my time, following the gentle pull of a deck on the bottom shelf, all the way toward the back. When I pick it up, my hands immediately tingle, my heart beating a little faster. It’s almost as if the deck is whispering in my ear, “I’m yours! Take me home!”
Back at my desk, I carefully untie the ribbon and unwrap the silk covering. The cards are face down, their backs a deep purple that’s so dark and inviting it’s almost black, edged in silvery ink with crescent moons at the center.
When everyone has selected their cards, Professor Nakata invites us to shuffle while she draws three card-shaped rectangles on the whiteboard at the front of the room, then writes a question beneath each one.
“Once you’re ready, I’d like you to start with a simple three-card deck interview spread to help you bond with your new cards. Simply ask the deck the question, then draw a card and see what comes up for you.”
I shuffle my deck one last time, then ask the first question.
“What are you here to teach me?” I draw The Hermit, an old man with a long white beard, standing on top of a rocky outcropping that overlooks the valley and river below. He�
��s holding a lantern, illuminating the path ahead.
My sense from this card is that the deck is going to teach me to know and trust myself, to be my own guiding light.
“How can I best honor our connection?” I ask, then turn over the Three of Cups. In this version, there are three men gathered at a table, sharing a meal and holding up their cups in salutation. I’ve always associated the Three of Cups card with friendship, particularly Jessa’s, and seeing it here now makes me smile. The message coming through is that the deck wants me to treat it like a friend, to ask it for advice and include it in important decision-making conversations as well as fun and frivolous chats, just like I would a real friend.
“Now,” I ask, taking a deep breath for the final question, “is there anything else you’d like to share with me at this time?”
In response, I draw The Star.
And my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
There’s a nude woman kneeling in a lake, an urn in each hand, a circle of standing stones behind her…
It looks almost exactly like the vision Dr. Devane and Baz described last night. The dreamcast I supposedly sucked them into.
Dr. Devane said something about my true form. Does it have something to do with this card? The Star?
Is that what the deck wants me to know?
My hands are trembling, my thoughts racing. I can’t even process this message, whatever the hell it’s trying to tell me. Hastily I assemble the cards back together again, but before I can wrap the deck in its silk cloth, two cards slip out, landing face up on the desk.
The King of Wands, a stern-looking man with long auburn hair and bright red robes, sitting on an ornately carved throne, a huge wand in his hand. The other card is…
Shit.
Trump Fifteen—a card that most decks have labeled The Devil. But in my deck, the card has a different name altogether.
Cernunnos.
The imagery on the card is an exact replica of my vision.
Suddenly, the room around me fades, and I’m back in the meadow of the beast. But instead of the gentle green ferns I saw last night, now I’m standing on scorched earth. All around me, a fire burns, consuming everything in sight. Through trees engulfed in flame, I spot a battle raging in the distance, soldiers firing magelight, bodies falling, rivers of blood washing over the land.
The fire continues to rage with all the sound and fury of a runaway train, and when I turn around in search of an escape, I see him.
Not the beast.
The man.
My lover.
His crown of leaves is engulfed in flames, his body burning.
“No!” I launch myself at him and knock him to the ground, swatting at the flames with my bare hands until I’m certain not a single ember remains. His eyes glow through the smoke, red-brown and full of fire, just like the burning trees…
When the smoke clears, I realize I’m no longer in the burning meadow. That I was never in that place.
It’s just Professor Nakata’s classroom.
And I’m on the floor.
Straddling… Baz.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he says quietly, his ever-maddening smirk stretching wide, “but maybe we should take this somewhere private?”
Suddenly I’m aware of the laughter, the phones snapping pics, the whispers.
Gritting my teeth, I say to Baz, “Are you that desperate for action that you have to spell unsuspecting girls into climbing on top of you?”
Baz is still grinning at me, clearly enjoying this. “To be fair, you knocked me down.”
“To be fair, I thought you were on fire.”
“To be fair, you’re still sitting on top of me.” He shifts beneath me, letting me feel the hard press of his cock. And it’s… very hard.
And very big.
“To be fair, I…” Oh, fuck. I’m still straddling him, and quickly losing brain cells as his arousal threatens to ignite my own.
I get to my feet as gracefully as I can, and Baz follows suit, but the damage is done. I wonder how long it will take for this to get back to Carly.
“Don’t panic,” Professor Nakata says, her eyes bright as she joins us in the center of the room. “The Tarot can be a very powerful tool, and clearly it had something important to show you, Stevie. Would you like to share your vision with the class?”
“Not… not right now,” I say, trying my best to save face. “I’d like a little time to process it first, if that’s okay.”
“Of course! You know, I think this experience will make an excellent first entry into your journal. Perhaps you and Baz can write something together?”
“Great idea,” Baz says, sliding an arm over my shoulders like we’re the best of pals.
“Excellent,” Professor Nakata says, then reminds us about our daily draws and journaling. I’m so flustered and tangled up about that damn fire-vision and that damn Baz-mounting that I barely register what she’s saying. When the bell finally chimes, it’s all I can do to grab my new Tarot deck and my bag and get the hell out of there.
Out in the hall, the exit blazing a beautiful white light ahead, I’m just steps away from blissful freedom when I hear the call I’ve been dreading.
“Stevie, wait up!” Baz says.
Keep walking, just keep walking…
I hear his footfalls as he jogs to catch up. “Come on, it was kind of hilarious. Admit it.”
“If by hilarious, you mean humiliating, yep, I admit it.”
“Hey. Stevie, stop. Please.”
Closing my eyes and letting out a deep sigh, I finally stop walking and turn to face him.
“What do you want, Baz?”
“Lunch, actually.”
“Great. Don’t let me stop you.”
His brow creases, a flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just… I’m not very good company today.”
“Well that blows, because I was really hoping you’d join me.”
“For lunch?”
Baz flashes his killer smile. “Since we’ve already moved on to the dry-humping stage of our relationship, I thought we should at least grab a meal together. I’m not sure we even know each other’s last names.”
“Mine is leave me the hell alone, and yours is jerkoff.”
“So if we got married, and you decided to hyphenate, you’d be—”
“What do you want, Baz?”
Married? Is he serious right now?
“I told you. Lunch. I thought you might want to check out the Thai place at Flame and Fury. Their Pad Thai is insane. You don’t have a peanut allergy, do you?”
My stomach grumbles, my mouth watering on command, which of course reminds me of Dr. Devane and his stupid mental magicks tricks.
I love Thai food, but I don’t love the good doctor right now, or Kirin or Baz or any other guy for that matter.
As far as I’m concerned, the more distance I can put between me and anyone with a penis, the better.
Especially a huge, hard penis like the one that was pressed between my thighs minutes ago…
“I can’t,” I say, shaking off the memory and hoping that’s the end of it. “I have plans.”
“With Kirin?”
“No,” I snap. “With a wall of solid rock. Because it turns out talking to them is a lot easier than talking to men.”
Thirty-Four
STEVIE
I refuse to go down. I refuse to go down. I refuse to go—
My grip slips, the rock scraping my fingertips raw as I plummet to the ground.
Again.
Thank Goddess Dr. Devane didn’t cheap out on the gear, because this crash pad is getting a workout today.
I get back to my feet and give it another go. This time, I manage to hold on a little longer, my feet scrambling for purchase, the next handhold just one good stretch away…
“Best view of the rocks I’ve seen in years,” comes the voice from below.
I crash down i
n a blaze of humiliating glory, landing hard on my ass, glaring up into the face of the very man I came out here to forget.
One of them, anyway.
“Climber, huh?” Baz holds out a hand to help. “That’s pretty hardcore.”
“More like a crasher today,” I grumble, taking his hand and hauling myself up.
“Didn’t mean to distract you.” He smirks, but then it fades into a smile that’s slightly more chagrined. “I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut this time, huh?”
“Hmm. Which of the many, many possible times are you referring to?”
He gestures toward the rock overhead.
“Yes, probably.” I give him a playful shove. “But it’s not all your fault. I’m off my game today. I haven’t been on the rocks since… Well, it’s been a while.”
I dust my hands off and take a step back to gaze up at my nemesis. The rock wall, not the man, though I’m still on the fence about the man’s allegiances, especially after that shady-ass brotherhood meeting I witnessed last night.
Part of me wants to ask him about it, just like I wanted to ask Kirin. But that was definitely some next-level secret society shit, and the whole point of secret societies is to keep them—wait for it—secret. Asking him now will only alert him to the fact that I’m onto them, and then I’ll have zero chance at figuring out what’s going on.
Best to play it cool, see what I can suss out for myself.
Besides, despite all the sneaking around and half-truths, I still don’t get bad vibes from any of them. Their intentions, their energy, even their eyes when they look at me—it’s all genuine. Protective, even.
I don’t know what to make of it, but I do trust that I’m not in any immediate danger. Not from the guys, anyway.
“Look, Stevie,” he finally says, kicking at the dirt with his toe. “I came out here to apologize. Not about distracting you. About mouthing off, making everything a joke… I know you’ve seen some shit in your life, okay? And it can’t be easy for you right now, being here with all of us… I just wanted to say sorry if I’ve done anything to make it harder on you.”
