“While we’re at it, Logan, I want to apologize for getting so fired up at the diner yesterday,” I say. “I know we believe in pretty opposite things, but that’s no excuse.”
“Actually, if you’ll indulge me a minute, I spent some of our drive sorting something out,” Chase interrupts.
I remember he did spend some time scribbling away in his journal early this morning, transcribing more secret thoughts. Those, I’m always eager to hear.
“Especially after studying The Lovers quote in Perilli’s booklet: Could things that appear to be opposites really be two versions of the same source? I know on the surface you two seem to believe in very different things, but let me ask you something. Amelia, why does it matter you believe there’s no such thing as fate?”
I’m not sure where Chase is going with this, but I answer anyway.
“I think relying on some ‘grand design’ is an excuse people can use to act however they want. Exactly the way Cain acted, as a matter of fact. I think we all have to be accountable for our actions, because what we do matters.”
“Right, yes, I thought so,” Chase says, turning to Logan next. “And why do you believe in destiny?”
Logan thinks for a beat. Then, to my surprise, he grins widely.
“Because if life is random and meaningless, it’s an excuse for people to live only for themselves and act however they want. I think if we believe we all have a purpose, if we’re all connected somehow, then we know our actions really matter.”
Logan’s eyes then find mine, glancing up into the rearview mirror.
“Maybe someone like Cain uses that kind of purpose to hide behind when he does something selfish,” Logan says directly to me now. “But if he really believed in a higher power, he wouldn’t need to act that way.”
Logan’s final sentiment does more to prove my point than convince me otherwise, but thanks to Chase, I suddenly realize that’s beside the point. What he just laid out reminds me of exactly the kind of thing Grandma would say—and what Cleo said in the diner bathroom, actually.
So I smile at Cleo first, and she gives me a private little wink. Then I turn to offer Chase the same smile, because he has earned that much, despite everything else.
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“I’m glad you three are all resolved, but I think you’re missing the real point,” Cleo says next. “Looking for that card put us in actual danger last night.”
Leave it to Cleo to cut to the core. I purposefully didn’t want to start the conversation in that place, but Cleo is right—we do have to talk about this.
“Not to be the party pooper, but I think we need to ask ourselves if we really want to keep looking for these missing cards,” Cleo finishes.
I sigh. I still don’t know how to process our close encounter of the Wanderer kind. Sure, we managed to make it out of the inn safely, but what could have happened still hangs over us. We don’t know the full extent of what we’re dealing with here yet, but if last night was any indication, then maybe Cleo is right.
Then again, I can’t help but wonder if maybe the other suits—these other “Corners” as Cain called them—will be less intense than the fiery desert Wanderers? After all, Cups are so much more about love and light. Or am I just telling myself what I want to hear because I can’t imagine giving up the search, no matter the risk?
“I actually have an answer for that one, if I may,” Logan jumps in. “To be reminded there are people out there who will attack you for what you believe, or what you possess—that’s the worst. I know it feels safer to protect ourselves and run away from that kind of thing. But I don’t think living in fear is really living at all. So I say we stay sharp and smart and we absolutely do not go looking for trouble. But I also say we don’t let anyone else stop us from having this one last adventure together, now or ever.”
Logan’s words reverberate through all of us for several beats, gaining more power with each second. At least, that’s how it feels to me.
“Jeez, this is some insightful stuff we’re cranking out this morning,” I finally laugh. “Maybe we should get stalked and chased every night?”
“No thank you,” Cleo also laughs, but it’s more of a nervous release. “And Logan, I hear what you’re saying. I do. I just don’t want us to get so wrapped up in the excitement of what we might gain that we don’t think about everything we could lose, you know?”
“I think you’re all right,” Chase says, because of course he does. “I don’t think we should be intimidated away, but I also don’t think we should go rushing in as blindly as we did last night. So we need to keep our eyes wide open.
“But I was also thinking, if we are going to keep looking for the cards, maybe we should pinpoint exactly why we want to find them? I know for me personally, I’m dying to learn more about Perilli. And if I’m being really honest, I want to find out how much this deck is really worth.”
“Well, I’m still just along for the ride with you weirdos,” Cleo answers next. “But Chase’s thoughts are all good ones. It sounds like we’ll definitely learn something at this Azure Tarot place. A lot more than we did with Maggie, anyway. I’m glad we are under no obligation to ever call that guy again, after he sold us out. Plus, once we get past this spot, which they must all know about, maybe the Wanderers won’t have any idea where to look for us next?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping an eye out the entire drive. No one has been following us,” Logan says. “But if we’re talking purpose, personally I think we’re at this giant juncture of change in our lives. Everything is inevitably going to feel more intense. I mean, look how much we already learned in just one day of this trip? If we keep going, there can only be more growth, right?”
Hearing everyone else’s answers, I realize there are many reasons to keep looking for these missing cards, despite the potential dangers we might face. I’m relieved everyone else agrees, because continuing to look for the other missing cards was already a foregone conclusion, for me.
Still, I take my turn next, because no one pinpointed my own reasons for wanting to keep the search alive.
“Something tells me Grandma had an adventure with this deck, whether or not she really knew where it came from. And even if she didn’t, I believe learning more about the cards will be the best way to honor Grandma’s legacy.”
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“I don’t think we can argue that there’s something special about these cards—fortunes, cults, the occult, the arts. So I think if we assemble the deck, we really will unlock some kind of hidden potential. Some new personal power.”
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“I know we still can’t be sure whether my grandma really knew anything about these hidden Perillian origins,” I continue. “But if she was involved in some deeper way, I need to know. And if so, I definitely need to know why she kept it from us.”
“Well, if she did,” Cleo begins, “I’d imagine it was to protect you from exactly the kind of experience we had yesterday.”
“And even if she did come into the deck by blind chance,” Logan offers next, with a knowing smile, “these cards are your inheritance. Discovering more about their mysteries can only enhance that legacy.”
“I totally agree,” Chase adds. “Moving forward, we definitely need to keep our eyes peeled for any clues potentially relating to Gran Flo.”
I smile at my friends, finally feeling some energy and peace return to my body. It might seem like a small thing at first, naming my intention this way. But if our encounter with Cain taught us anything, it’s that our intention always rules the outcome—if only because our intention also rules our perspective.
And now I know exactly what perspective I hope to gain from this unexpected adventure.
So even if this intention I just set doesn’t affect much in the present, I have a feeling it may still prove to be my biggest decision yet.
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“I think we need to stay attuned to exactly what kind of power these cards can wiel
d,” I continue. “Psychologically, financially, spiritually, and maybe even… supernaturally?”
“Who knows,” Logan responds first. “If there really are all different kinds of followers behind Perilli who believe in his work so fervently, then they must be on to something.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Cleo interjects. “Having followers is more a credit to Perilli’s charisma than anything else. But I do promise to keep an open mind.”
“No, it’ll be good to have a skeptical eye on all this,” Chase says. “We have to remember, it’s our job now to figure out what’s fake and what’s real—and what’s really so special about these cards and their creator.”
I smile at my friends, finally feeling some energy and peace return to my body. It might seem like a small thing at first, naming my intention this way. But if our encounter with Cain taught us anything, it’s that our intention always rules the outcome—if only because our intention also rules our perspective.
And now I know exactly what perspective I hope to unlock from this unexpected adventure.
So even if this intention I just set doesn’t affect much in the present, I have a feeling it may still prove to be my biggest decision yet.
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The air in Solvang already feels lighter. It’s not just that the sky here is filled with sunshine and crisp ocean air, it’s the actual spirit of this little town. Joshua Tree felt reverent and powerful, sure, but also unforgiving and foreboding. Here in this quaint faux-Dutch village, the roofs are angled with wooden beams, and every other storefront sells homemade fudge or local wine or craftsman toys. The people here smile as if the festive spirit has soaked right into their very skin. After last night, it’s a welcome change.
Once we arrived at the adorable B&B Anwar recommended, we all fell into naps like the dead. Waking up midafternoon, I actually started feeling way more like myself. We all then set out in search of food. Thankfully, Cleo, our resident foodie, prepared extensive research on where to eat along Chase’s tarot-lined route. Despite yesterday’s enormous detour, arriving at our first preplanned stop allowed Cleo to unleash her first culinary curation.
“You can direct all of your rave reviews to my forthcoming travel blog,” Cleo announces proudly, finishing the last bite of her Danish. “I’m thinking of naming it CleoCraft: Food So Good It’s Magic.”
Cleo’s killer opening restaurant pick has been an excellent reminder of all the things we looked forward to doing on this road trip, before the tarot scooped us off our feet. In fact, my feet still feel thoroughly scooped, since I’m due to meet Anwar any minute.
“Solvang may be my new favorite California town,” Chase says.
“I absolutely have to doodle us in front of every windmill we come across.”
“Cleo, that would take all day,” Logan laughs.
“Well, we need to occupy ourselves somehow while Lady Piccolo entertains her suitor,” Cleo replies, rolling her eyes.
“Yes, but Chase only allotted Amelia an hour before we go to Azure Tarot.”
“Indeed I did,” Chase says. “So when is Sir Anwar slated to arrive?”
“He’s on his way from Los Olivos, the next town over,” I answer.
“Correction, he has arrived,” says a new voice from beside our table. “I was impressed when Amelia messaged that you were here. Only locals are supposed to know about this spot.”
I look up to find Anwar standing there, all six feet of his chiseled self. He looks like a curated social post come to life, wearing a linen button-down, dark jeans, and a jade-gemmed ring. Seeing him in the flesh, I could physically die, just cease respiration and float out of my body into the cloudless heavens.
“That’s all thanks to Cleo,” I say by some miracle. “She’s a sniper with a search bar.”
Introductions are made. Laughs are shared. Anwar and I are given leave. Not too long, Chase reminds. Just enough time for a stroll around the village.
I know all of this happens, but it feels like I watch it from a place hanging somewhere above my head. I don’t sink fully back down into my body until Anwar and I settle on a park bench. It faces a lily pond, one with a white walking bridge stretched over its blue surface. We each hold a paper tray of some jelly-topped pancake-donut things called aebleskiver, an authentic Dutch dessert Anwar insisted I try. But eating again is the last thing on my mind.
Anwar is just so goddess-damned gorgeous. Despite my best efforts, only one thought keeps repeating in my head: Why on earth is he potentially interested in me?
“I have a somewhat radical proposition,” Anwar says, wiping powdered sugar off his lips. Radical proposals of my own race through my mind.
“It’s been an unusual couple of days,” I answer. “Try me.”
“Why don’t we skip the whole awkward small talk thing and skip right to the fun stuff? A lightning round, three questions each, which we have to answer on instinct. No long pauses allowed.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I say. “I’m in.”
“Excellent.” Anwar then turns to me, his eyes two amber pools. “I’ll start. I’ll even go easy on you. What’s your favorite scary show or movie?”
“There is nothing easy about that question.”
“First instinct. No thinking. Go.”
“The Haunting of Hill House. Close second would be The Birds.”
“Amelia Piccolo, I did not take you for a cheater. One answer only.”
“Okay, fine,” I say, angling myself toward Anwar. “Then here’s my first question. If not a cheater, then what kind of girl do you take me for?”
Anwar grins. “The best kind: lionhearted and unabridged.”
It’s my turn to grin.
“Wow, does the brooding poet thing always work for you?”
“Usually,” Anwar answers. “That’s two questions, for the record. My turn. What keeps you up at night?”
Another impossible question because, really, what doesn’t?
“The thought of losing people I love,” I answer on instinct, as instructed. “Or the thought of love lost in general.”
“Who’s the poet now?” Anwar says. “That was a rhetorical question; it doesn’t count.”
“Sneaky. In that case, my last question is a big one,” I reply, pausing for dramatic effect. “You know we’re headed back over the hill to Summerland today. Since our time is limited, want to come with us?”
“I do,” Anwar answers right away. “Assuming you promise to return me home at a reasonable hour. Period there, not a question mark.”
“Sorry, I can make no such promise,” I say, knowing he was only joking. “Okay, what’s your final question? Better make it a good one.”
Anwar sets his paper plate of pancake balls down on the bench and turns toward me, his arm now resting against mine. The contact gives me a jolt, like a flint strike. He beams his full smile, and looking at him feels somewhat blinding.
“If you could do anything right in this moment, without fear of consequence, what would it be?”
Anwar’s last question turns out to be a dangerous one.
Still, I know the answer.
“I would ask you for one more bonus question,” I say, knowing that bonus round would definitely include a first kiss, if I have my way.
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“I’d bring you to hang with my friends. Mostly because Cleo would never forgive me if I didn’t bring her back some of this pancake-ball magic.”
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“Then consider us entered into a bonus round,” Anwar answers.
I put down my mostly untouched dessert on the bench to try to catch my breath. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears, I swear Anwar must be able to hear it. Don’t think! I yell in my head. Just ask.
“Why did you really ask me to come visit you?”
“Because you have really good taste in classic and contemporary horror,” Anwar begins without hesitation. “Because every girl up here seems to be preoccupied with social media influencing, b
ut you don’t care about perfectly curating anything. Because I look forward to our pen-palling every night. Because I think you’re brave and sensitive where most are timid and guarded. And because I think you’re beautiful.”
Well, damn.
Damn.
“While we’re asking bonus questions,” Anwar continues over my stunned silence, “why did you go out of your way to come visit me?”
I smile back at Anwar, standing from the bench.
“Well, this is embarrassing now,” I say. “But I came for the aebleskiver.”
Anwar laughs, standing to join me. “In that case, glad I could be of service.”
“Well, I might have come for something else…” I say, angling my body toward Anwar. “Something… well, you know.”
Anwar looks down at me, puzzled. “Do I?”
Embarrassment flushes through me, steaming my insides. What in the world was I thinking? We’re sitting in broad daylight on a park bench, and I’m a relative stranger to this boy. Of course Anwar is not going to kiss me here, if he even wants to kiss me in the first place.
I put down my paper tray to give my hands something to do. When I turn back toward Anwar, I’m surprised to find him leaning in closer. His hand suddenly reaches out and holds my cheek, steadying my face. Electricity shoots out of his fingertips, shocking me into place.
Anwar’s lips come close to touching mine, but he hangs there for a few seconds. His eyes flicker up and down and I feel his breath on my lips. I have to fight the urge to gasp out loud.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for quite some time,” he finally says, holding himself back for another second. It’s just enough time for me to place my hand on the solid muscle of his chest.
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