Hearing Logan’s words, my insides freeze. Suddenly I am brittle again, liable to shatter.
“Wait,” I finally manage. “What?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMELIA
EVER SINCE WE learned the prestigious origins of Grandma’s deck, it has felt like we’ve fallen down a rabbit hole. Our latest tumble has brought us face to face with a stone-walled cottage—though “cottage” feels like the wrong word, since it’s twice as big as my house. Coupled Cottage is many shades of weathered slate and covered in twisting vines. Something about it feels even more remote than this private island, like it’s a shrine preserving an era long gone.
A gust of wind tears across the island, and I fight a chill by taking a sip of tea. Lady Azure brewed it for us on the arrival dock, claiming it was for the “arduous” golf cart ride across her property. Of course, there has been nothing arduous about this experience so far, except for this wind whipping up as the sun sets.
“I am so glad you invited me along today,” Anwar whispers as we approach.
“Not too much for you?” I whisper back.
“Are you kidding? I might not know anything about the tarot, but spooky island mansions?” he says, grinning like a kid. “This is spectacular.”
I smile up at Anwar. Spectacular is certainly one word for it, despite how far out it feels like we’ve sailed. I’m not thrilled Chase and Logan got separated from us, but Lady Azure promised that Seidon will bring them to Coupled Cottage after finding Perilli’s locked file. I look over to check on Cleo, holding her still-full paper cup of tea, and she nods. Whatever she thinks, her poker face is on.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait for my daughter to join us,” Lady Azure says. “She’s an equally devoted Perillian.”
“Perilli really must have meant a lot to you if you let him work and live here,” Cleo begins. “It’s kind of surprising you haven’t offered to buy the deck.”
“That offer stands, for the record,” Lady Azure replies, turning to me. “But I assumed you’d never part with the deck, not after all you told me of your grandmother. After all, some things in life are far more valuable than money.”
I look to Cleo—easy for Lady Azure to say, standing on her private island. Still, I don’t disagree.
“Just how many wealthy Perillians are out there?” Cleo then presses.
“Not many. Which has worked to my advantage,” Lady Azure says. “I see your encounter with Maggie left you cautious, but let me assure you, that old coward couldn’t actually afford the deck. He probably offered a lowball bounty to get his paws on it, then planned to sell it for what it’s really worth, to my infuriating competitor.”
“Wait, you have a competing collector?” I ask. “Who?”
“I know their name, but not who they really are,” Lady Azure continues. “This buyer has only surfaced recently, gobbling up every Perillian scrap they can, often over the price I offer. They always operate through proxies and go by the name ‘Page Zain,’ the Hebrew letter symbolizing the sword. Since Pages and Knights sometimes replace the tarot’s Princesses and Princes, the name is a deep reference.”
“While we’re on the subject, what exactly does overpaying mean?” Cleo asks.
“Young Cleo, that deck is priceless,” Lady Azure says. “Still, if we’re talking brass tacks, I’d probably pay a few million for it, as a work of contemporary art alone.”
I have to physically stop my jaw from dropping. Anwar has no such luck, choking on a mouthful of hot tea beside me. My heart starts racing. That is a lot of money. Not that I care about the price—I just know how much others do.
“If this deck is so valuable, why help us?” I ask.
“An astute question.” Lady Azure pauses, sipping her own tea. “I hope, in return, you might allow me to spend some time with Carson’s final deck. Conducting a reading and perhaps taking some pictures for my collection. It was Carson himself who declared me Coupled and fostered my clairvoyant talents. Any tools that might sharpen these skills and connect me deeper to Carson is all I am truly after.”
Looking at Lady Azure, I’m not sure I believe a devotee like her would really settle for only that. Still, this answer seems fair enough.
“But truly, I am helping you because it was the express instruction Carson left us. I dare not dishonor him, for Carson’s eyes are always upon the Isle of Baxter.”
“You mean in the form of Coupled Cottage?” Anwar asks, still looking at the place like it’s a carnival funhouse. I really hope his enthusiasm isn’t misplaced.
“In a metaphoric manner, yes,” Lady Azure says. “But also literally. Carson’s spirit still resides here, because Coupled Cottage is where he drew his final breath.”
My blood chills in my veins, slowing and sloshing.
I don’t believe in ghosts or hauntings, even if Perilli did pass away here. Lady Azure needs to know that.
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I do believe in spirits of the deceased leaving traces here in our world, so I think what Lady Azure suggests is entirely possible—especially if Perilli actually died in Coupled Cottage.
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I understand the appeal of believing in ghosts, just like I understand the appeal of believing in a higher power or fate. But honestly, I think if anyone is being haunted, it’s because they’re just doing the haunting themselves. The human mind is a vastly powerful thing.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing we don’t believe in ghosts,” I say, looking to Cleo.
“We most certainly do not,” Cleo affirms.
I turn to Anwar next and am surprised to see him hesitate. I know we both love horror movies, but does he actually believe some of that stuff could be true?
“Then I suppose you’re in for quite the awakening,” Lady Azure says, letting Anwar off the hook. “At any rate, the time has come to tell you why we’re awaiting the arrival of Lily, my eldest. Carson himself divined Lily’s talent as a medium when she was just a child, so their connection from beyond the veil is particularly strong.”
My eyes find Cleo’s again. Of course this family would claim to have a medium. I admit, I’ve always found the idea of mediums to be compelling. I never believed they actually talk to ghosts, but I can’t argue that they do seem to have some ability to perceive exactly what a person needs to hear from a deceased loved one, somehow.
“That is so cool,” Anwar says. “I’ve always wanted to meet a medium.”
Lady Azure smiles and Cleo rolls her eyes. I feel more like Cleo in this moment, but I try to give Anwar a smile. After all, part of me is also fascinated to meet a self-proclaimed medium for the first time…
Especially if we are about to enter an allegedly haunted house.
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To me, the idea of an afterlife is so different than the concept of a higher power. Death is simply a reality of life, and one of our most fundamental physical principles is that energy cannot be destroyed. We may not know where our energy goes when it leaves our bodies, but I think it’s actually pretty rational to believe it’s recycled somehow. I’ve always held reverence for the idea that spirits might still have ties to our physical world, as resonant energies transferring… somewhere.
Ghosts, to me, are an entirely separate manner. We all live half inside our memories, their reconstructed truths always shaping our perspectives. And what are memories, if not ghosts of a time past? I’ve always believed ghosts are all around us in the form of photos and videos and stories—and now smartphones.
Looking to Cleo, I already know she buys none of this ghostly stuff. Anwar, on the other hand, has turned a shade paler than normal. I know we both love horror movies, but does he actually believe some of that stuff could be true, too?
“Are you saying we’re about to enter a real-life haunted house?” Anwar asks, staring at Lady Azure.
“I’m not sure I’d use those words exactly,” Lady Azure answers. “But the time has come to tell you why we’re awaiting the arrival of Lil
y, my eldest. Carson himself divined Lily’s talent as a medium when she was just a child, so their connection from beyond the veil is particularly strong.”
Once again, a wave of emotion passes through me. Not just because I do believe mediums exist, at least a few of them in the sea of scam artists. Mostly, I feel woozy because I’ve never actually met a real-life medium before…
And if Lady Azure’s daughter is the real deal, then maybe she’ll be able to deliver a message from Grandma?
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As if on cue, a twenty-something woman comes walking down the path from the main mansion, bracing against a fresh burst of wind. Lily is as striking as her brother and mother, with light brown skin and deep brown eyes. Unlike them, however, Lily appears completely modest, sporting simple clothes, a short pixie haircut, and no makeup.
“I came as soon as you called, Mom,” Lily says, her voice low and melodic. “I can’t believe this day has finally come. We’re so happy to have you all here.”
Introductions are made as Lily gives each of us a hug, smelling of lavender and jasmine. She seems to linger when hugging Cleo—long enough that Cleo steps back, seeming justifiably uncomfortable. What was that about?
“Now that Lily has arrived, we can begin,” Lady Azure says. “Carson was sick for months before he died, so he had time to plan. He made us promise to help facilitate the discovery of his missing Cups royal when this day inevitably arrived. Carson always said Lily was our very own Princess of Cups, so he decided she alone must be the one to guide you to the missing masterpiece. Now knowing he drew us as the royal Cups in his final deck, this instruction makes even more sense.”
“I was pretty young when Uncle Carson passed away,” Lily picks up, “but I remember him promising that whoever came with his final deck would be special. And that they’d be worthy of passing the tests to unearth his final Princess.”
Lily then pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect, but also because a particularly large wave batters the island’s rocky shoreline nearby.
“So shall we?” Lily asks. “Into Perilli’s Hall of Cups?”
I’m tempted to ask what kind of tests we’ll face, but Lily simply strides forward. Lady Azure gestures for us to follow, a longing look occupying her face as we leave her behind.
Entering Coupled Cottage, the lights turn on, but it remains to be seen if anyone is truly home. Entering the quaint living room, which looks plucked right out of the English countryside, nothing feels haunted or abandoned about this house. It feels more like a museum, eerily clean and preserved—and somewhat generic, actually.
“First, we’re supposed to visit Uncle Carson’s studio space,” Lily says, leading the way deeper into the house. “He left instructions locked away for you there.”
“And all these years, none of you ever tried to unlock them?” Cleo asks.
“No, we didn’t,” Lily says. “Uncle Carson made us swear not to when he was alive, and then… in other ways since. Besides, Mom and I know we wouldn’t get very far without the final deck. All the important clues are embedded in there, as you probably already know.”
“So is Perilli here now?” Cleo asks. “I doubt he’d want to miss this.”
“Do you mind if I ask your birthday?” Lily replies instead, ignoring Cleo’s sarcasm. “Yours too, Amelia and Anwar.”
Hearing our names spoken together like this somehow flushes me with a warm feeling. Amelia and Anwar. It does have a nice ring to it—but there will be time for that thought later. Instead, I answer Lily first, giving Cleo and Anwar the green light to follow with their own birthdays. I know this is probably part of Lily’s medium routine, but I’m also pretty sure I know exactly what information she can pull from the tarot using our birthdays.
Lily then leads us through the back of the house to a great room. I quickly forget everything else as I take in this space. It’s as if we’ve entered a tarot fever dream, one with charts and maps and diagrams everywhere. Volumes of tarot histories line the many bookshelves, along with dozens of different decks and guidebooks. Hand-painted artwork by Perilli hangs on every wall, and spiral sketchbooks sit piled all over the floor. Crystals and keychains and charms hang from the ceiling, all in the recognizable shapes of tarot symbolism. Now, this space definitely screams den of tarot occult masterpieces.
“Welcome to Perilli’s Workshop,” Lily begins. “Uncle Carson, please meet Cleo The High Priestess, Anwar The Hanged Man, and, of course, Amelia The Empress.”
Just then, the lights in the workshop dim as another gust of wind barrels around the cottage. It only lasts a moment, but it’s hard not to note the timing. I look to Cleo and Anwar for reactions, but find completely opposite expressions on their faces. Anwar looks freaked out and awed, while Cleo’s skepticism seems to have boiled over into… something else.
“Actually, I don’t really do the whole Priestess thing,” Cleo says. “I don’t buy into how the tarot is built to be so binary.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lily replies. “What pronouns do you prefer?”
“She and her are fine,” Cleo answers. “I just don’t like being put into boxes.”
“I could tell that about you from the moment we met,” Lily says. “So if you don’t mind my asking, why not use less binary pronouns?”
“Because pronouns don’t define her,” I say, feeling instantly defensive. It was only this past year Cleo started exploring her most authentic identity, experimenting with a more androgynous and evolving presentation of her gender. Sometimes I worry Cleo keeps female pronouns because it’s easier than correcting everyone all the time, but I’d never presume to push her on this the way Lily just did.
“It’s okay, Amelia,” Cleo says, turning to Lily. “Pronouns might not define me, but I respect every individual’s right to choose identifications that feel right.”
Lily pauses before responding. “I totally understand. I’m a trans woman myself, so female pronouns mean everything to me. I sometimes forget my experience doesn’t translate to everyone else’s.”
Cleo looks like she wants to respond but doesn’t know what to say. We’ve had a few conversations about how she hasn’t really had the opportunity to connect with anyone else who identifies outside the binary gender poles, at least not in person this way. We might be getting a little sidetracked here, but I know this is too important to Cleo to brush aside. Anwar must also sense this, because he begins to wander off, pretending to look at the compiled objects to give us some space.
“Still, The High Priestess might suit you more than you think,” Lily says. “She embodies the truth that, to make personal progress, we must reconcile oppositions within ourselves—including the spectrum between the masculine and feminine pillars of the tarot. But The Priestess’s reversal is failing to make proper use of her knowledge, blinded by the privilege of possessing it.”
Lily says all this with a melodic lilt in her voice, almost as if singing. As she does, the entire house creaks from the wind, the walls themselves seeming to groan. The lights do not dim this time, however—a detail I note while paying close attention to Cleo. I know she can handle this on her own, but I want her to know I have her back. Always.
“I’m still not sure what you’re trying to insinuate, but while we’re imparting unsolicited wisdom,” Cleo begins, “I just think it’s human nature to box things in, because we think it makes them more reliable. But when we accept that everything eventually changes, that’s when we learn to rely only on ourselves instead of any labels.”
“Yes, the tarot captures this fluidity beautifully, just as you do,” Lily replies. “That’s all I meant to say. Forgive me if I overstepped. I tend to do that. Often.”
“Well, thanks for the apology,” Cleo responds. She looks at me next and I can tell she’s very ready for this conversation to end.
“My grandma had a mantra,” I jump in. “Flowing will get you places forcing never could. It fit because her name was Florence and everyone called her Flo, but it also encapsulated
her outlook on life. And her outlook on reading the tarot.”
“Your grandma sounds like she was a smart woman,” Lily says, taking the hint. “Anyway, I suppose that brings us to our first moment of truth.”
Lily points to a small chest in the center of the studio and moves toward it. I turn to Cleo before following, but she just takes a deep breath and nods at me again.
“This chest holds the instructions on how to use the deck to find the missing card,” Lily explains. “Before you open it, I’m told there’s something you must know.”
Lily clears her throat, closing her eyes for a moment. It’s almost like she listens to the wind whining around the house, but maybe she’s just gathering her thoughts? Either way, the sight reminds me distinctly of Lady Azure.
“Are you listening to your Uncle Carson?” Anwar asks.
“I can’t always tell,” Lily sighs. “Uncle Carson understood how this felt. He didn’t like to talk about his gift either, because of how it made him sound. But he said he began having visions later in life. He described them as flashes, glimpses into a deeper world of the tarot. He believed that this world might be coming—and he began painting his decks to capture these visions.”
Suddenly I think of Cain the Wanderer, who believed in baptismal rituals and perilous tidings. Do the Coupled believe the same about Perilli’s decks?
“What Uncle Carson meant by this new world is a matter of debate among the Perillian Corners,” Lily continues. “But most agree there could be answers in his final deck and their missing cards. Many also believe these will somehow identify The Arcere, the one meant to follow in Uncle Carson’s footsteps.”
I tense. As if the perceived value of this deck wasn’t enough, now it’s also the key to decoding some lost Perillian prophecy? I look over at Cleo once again to ground myself. Sure enough, she still looks completely skeptical, believing this to be a rehearsed act. Meanwhile, Anwar looks like he hangs on Lily’s every word.
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