Eyes of the Tarot

by Bruce Coville

  The string resisted, then yielded, and she heard a familiar click. Looking up at the door above her, which was set flat into the ceiling, she saw a rectangle of light around its edges.

  She climbed the stairs and pushed the door, lifting it into the attic. She climbed a few more steps and peered over the edge of the floor.

  It was spooky up here, no question about it. The forty watt bulb in the center of the room did little to light the far corners, and the place was a jumble of oddly shaped shadows. At one end of the attic a small window let in the moonlight. It fell on the floor in a cold, distorted rectangle. One leg of a discarded doll projected into the moonlit square. The rest of the doll was eerily invisible in the darkness.

  Bonnie shivered and considered going back for a flashlight. She rejected the idea, afraid she would wake her grandmother. She thought about going back downstairs and forgetting the expedition altogether. But her bus left at ten o’clock in the morning. So it was now or never—or at least now or next year, which was as good as never as far as she was concerned.

  Stepping into the attic, she carefully lowered the door behind her.

  Her grandfather’s sea chest looked oddly beautiful in the dim light, like something from another time, perhaps even another world.

  Bonnie knelt cautiously beside it and began to unpack it. Without realizing it, she again followed the order she had established so long before. With Pirate Jenny’s booty spread about her, she searched the bottom of the trunk for the ridge. She found it and fumbled for the spot that would release the false bottom.

  Click!

  The panel moved up. Bonnie took out the leather-wrapped cards. In the shadowy gloom she accidentally grabbed the bone, too. She gasped and dropped it. It struck the floor, bouncing once.

  Huddling in front of the trunk, Bonnie unwrapped the cards. She let out a sigh. The artwork was wonderful. The artist had to have been a genius to make the eyes seem so real. It just wasn’t right for something that special, that beautiful, to be locked away so no one could ever see it.

  Bonnie spread the cards in front of her and examined each one closely. She touched them gently, naming each suit—wands, swords, cups, and pentacles—as she did. She wouldn’t have known their names, but she had looked up the tarot in her grandmother’s encyclopedia the night before.

  She lost all track of time. A gentle rain began to fall, pattering against the roof that sloped over her head. When she glanced up, she saw with a start that the night was beginning to slip away and a touch of morning gray was already coloring the sky.

  She had to get back downstairs.

  She rewrapped the cards in the leather. Then, seized by an impulse she could neither understand nor resist, Bonnie slipped the deck—and, more strangely, the bone—into the pocket of her robe.

  She packed the trunk, latched it, and left the attic quickly, the forbidden tarot pressed reassuringly against her side.

  #

  “Hello, dear. Welcome home.”

  That was her mother. She was sincere.

  “Hello, dear. Welcome home.”

  That was her little brother. He wasn’t.

  “Hi, Mom. Hello, Randolph.”

  Mrs. McBurnie winced, and Randy scowled. The small crowd at the bus station swirled around them.

  “Did you bring me a present, Bonstance?” asked Randy.

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Then don’t call me Randolph!”

  “Randolph is your name. Besides, its so preppy. I love it.”

  “All right, all right!” snapped Mrs. McBurnie, cutting off Randy’s retort. “Do you two have to start immediately?”

  Bonnie blushed. She knew it wasn’t fair to her mother to have to listen to their constant bickering. But she couldn’t help it. Randy had an uncanny ability to get under her skin, and she found herself snapping back at him, no matter how firmly she resolved to try to keep the peace. Her mother claimed it was the five-year difference in their ages that caused the trouble between them. Bonnie thought it was more likely that the trouble was rooted in the fact that Randy was an obnoxious little beast.

  “Actually, I did bring you something,” she said, relenting. She fumbled in her purse. “Here. It’s got a picture of the state capitol on it.”

  Randy accepted the wallet Bonnie had bought for him. “Gee, thanks,” he said unenthusiastically.

  Bonnie sighed. She had had a feeling he wouldn’t like it. But what could she get for an eleven-year-old-boy? Food, probably. But it seemed foolish to her to bring him food when he had all he wanted at home.

  Not that it did him any good. Pale, scrawny, and bespectacled, Randy looked for all the world like an anemic professor. In truth, he ate like a horse and preferred basketball to books. But Bonnie’s mother was constantly fretting that people were going to think she was starving him.

  “How nice of you, Bonnie,” said her mother. Her voice held a note that said: I appreciate you trying, even if you didn’t score. Bonnie felt a little better.

  #

  The ride home was oddly uncomfortable. Her mother peppered her with questions about how her grandmother was feeling. But Bonnie was not inclined to chat, preferring to stare out the window at the passing scenery and think.

  The stolen tarot and finger bone were in her backpack, and they weighed on her thoughts, guilt and pleasure battling for dominance in her mind.

  “Did you get to go up in the attic, dear”

  Bonnie’s head snapped around. “What?”

  “I said, did you get to go up in the attic?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Mrs. McBurnie shrugged. “I just remember how much you used to enjoy it when you were little. You had a game called Pirate Jenny. You would go through your grandfather’s sea trunk and spread out everything that was in it and—”

  “Yes, I went up there. But it wasn’t as much fun as it used to be. You know how things change.”

  Her mother sighed. “Yes, I know. But you shouldn’t. Not at your age. You sound so worldly wise.”

  “I am sixteen, Mom.”

  “Yeah, and it shows,” said Randy. “I think you’re starting to wrinkle around your eyes.”

  Bonnie shot him an icy glance. Turning back to her mother, she asked, “Is the library open tonight?”

  “Yes, it’s open every night. Why?”

  “I have to get some schoolwork done.”

  “I thought you had your work all done before you left on the trip!”

  “Well, I did. I don’t actually have to get this done. I just thought it would be a good idea to get a head start on a term paper I know I have coming up this month.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Bonnie was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “Mom, do you know anything about ESP?”

  There was a pause. “Not much. Why?”

  “I thought I might do my term paper on it.”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It seems so silly. You’d probably be better off sticking with something that has to do with the real world.”

  Mrs. McBurnie’s voice was light and cheerful. But Bonnie noticed her hands were clenching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

  She looked at her mother more closely. Her eyes were glued to the road as if she didn’t dare face her daughter.

  Chapter Three

  It was raining. As Bonnie walked toward the library she felt herself falling into a heavy melancholy. Gray days and rainy nights sometimes did that to her.

  In the distance she could hear the sea pounding against the sand, and the deep, eerie bellow of the foghorn.

  “I feel like a piece of driftwood,” she said softly to herself.

  The tarot cards were hidden in her purse. The purse was waterproof. The rest of her was not. Her umbrella afforded some shelter, but the water that was collecting in the broken sidewalk splashed over her boots. And an occasional passing car threw up a spray to soak her jeans.

  She felt relieved wh
en she finally saw the glow of light from the library door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Feeny,” said Bonnie as she walked in. “How are you?”

  “I’m just fine, Bonnie. Did you have a nice visit with your grandmother?”

  “Yes, very.

  “I suppose you’re here for another ‘spooker.’ You’ve got a good night for it. The mood is certainly right. I might actually take one home myself this evening, even though I don’t usually like them. How can you stand to read so many of the things?”

  Bonnie smiled. “Just a matter of taste, I guess. Like brussels sprouts. Either you like them or you don’t. But I’m not here for a novel tonight. I want to do some research.”

  “Be my guest,” said Mrs. Feeny, gesturing to the library as if she were making a gift of it to Bonnie. “If you need any help, let me know.”

  “Thanks,” said Bonnie. She crossed to the search computer and began typing in key words.

  The library had three books on the tarot. Finding the right section of the shelves, Bonnie located two of them: The Tarot, Symbol and Significance, by C. Addams, and The Royal Path—You and the Tarot, by Edmund Singh. The third book, A Brief History of the Tarot, seemed to be missing. Taking her haul to a secluded corner of the library, Bonnie sat down to read.

  Outside the rain continued to fall. Bonnie became oblivious to it as she read about the mysteries surrounding the origin of the ancient cards. Were they from Egypt, as some claimed? Or India? Or Italy? Did they first appear five hundred years ago, or was it more like three thousand? She began to feel a sense of their ancientness, a sense of past tied to the present tied to the future.

  Yet the history was not really what she was after. She wanted to know how to use the deck. Flipping ahead, she came to a section on readings.

  Bonnie took the deck from her purse. She unwrapped the leather and felt a tingle in her spine as she looked at the haunting faces again. The deck really was too beautiful to be locked away.

  Following the instructions in the book, she carefully shuffled the cards three times. Then she began to spread them in a horseshoe formation in front of her.

  The first card in the layout was number VI—the Lovers. She smiled. That seemed to be a good omen for her relationship with Alan.

  “What’s the matter? Couldn’t you bother to let me know you were home?”

  Bonnie jumped and scattered the cards across the table.

  “Hey! What’s the matter? I was just kidding.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alan. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing you might as well have snuck up and yelled ‘Boo!’”

  “I considered it. But I thought I’d give you a break.”

  His blue eyes were dancing. Bonnie smiled.

  “Say, what is this stuff, anyway?” asked Alan, looking at the cards. “Don’t tell me you believe in all this New Age garbage, Bonnie.”

  Hastily she gathered the cards. “Of course not. But I… found these at my grandmothers, and I think they’re interesting. I just want to find out how to use them.”

  Alan had picked up one of the cards. Bonnie reached for it. “This is pretty interesting,” he said, drawing it away from her. “The Hanged Man. Look at the expression on his face. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been hung. Maybe that’s because he’s hanging by his foot instead of his neck. I suppose if you had a choice, that would be the way to go. Even so, it’s kind of creepy.”

  “Well, then, give it back to me.”

  “Hey, don’t be so touchy. Come on. Pack those up and we’ll go over to Cosmo’s for a pizza. Eileen and everyone are going to be there.”

  “How did you know I was here?” asked Bonnie as she wrapped up the cards.

  “I called your house. Your mother told me—but only after your brother told me that you had been kidnapped by aliens, and might never be seen again.”

  “God, I do so long to be an only child,” said Bonnie. “Did Mom also tell you that I tried to call you today?”

  “Yeah. My mom told me, too. I was out helping Dad with the boat.”

  Like Mr. McBurnie, Alan’s father operated a large fishing boat that sailed the North Atlantic.

  “Are you sure you weren’t out with Tiffany Perkins?”

  Alan looked directly into her eyes. “Bonnie, if I wanted to go out with Tiffany, I wouldn’t have bothered to slog through this downpour to fetch you from this book bin. As a matter of fact, I did go out with Tiffany a couple of times while you were gone… “

  Bonnie felt her stomach twist.

  “We double-dated with Mark and Eileen. I figured that way you could get a report from them and be satisfied that everything was on the up and up.”

  She looked at him.

  “Well what was I supposed to do? Sit around and pick fleas off the cat for a week and a half while you were gone?”

  She took his arm. “I’m sorry, Alan. I told you on the phone I was sorry I had decided to go. But I hadn’t had a real visit with Gran in so long—”

  “No, it was okay. I wanted you to go. You just have to believe that I wasn’t fooling around while you were gone. That’s why I’m being upfront with you now. So you’ll understand I have nothing to hide.”

  She smiled. “You’re a sweetheart,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Yeah, and my liver’s cute, too. Now how about that pizza?”

  Bonnie gathered her books and took them to the checkout desk.

  #

  It was almost nine by the time they entered Cosmo’s. Bonnie smiled and waved when she saw her friends, suddenly realizing how much she had missed them.

  “Hey, Bonnie’s back!” yelled Mark. “Come on over you guys.”

  Mark Neher was Alan’s best friend, and the most good-natured person Bonnie had ever met. He was going out with Bonnie’s cousin, Eileen Walton, and the two couples liked to do things together.

  Bonnie had very mixed feelings about Alan having gone out with Tiffany while she was gone, especially with Mark and Eileen. They were her group. On the other hand, she knew Mark and Eileen would do anything to keep her from being hurt. She took a deep breath and squeezed Alan’s arm. She would just have to trust him.

  Eileen was sitting next to Mark, her pretty face framed by red curls—her coloring had been inherited from her mother, who was a McBurnie through and through. While Bonnie and Eileen were hardly carbon copies of each other, they looked enough alike that they were often assumed to be sisters. The big difference was in their eyes: Eileen’s were deep blue, and sparkled with laughter, while Bonnie’s were dark and brooding. Alan claimed that they held great secrets, and that he intended to find out what they were.

  “Did you have a good trip?” asked Alice Hastings. She had been one of Bonnie’s closest friends ever since they met in second grade.

  Bonnie looked at her and smiled warmly. “It was super. Thanks for asking.”

  Alice smiled back, her dark skin lustrous in the subdued light of Cosmo’s.

  “Who cares if she had a good trip? What did you bring me?” asked Julie Pagano.

  Bonnie smiled. What did you bring me? was an old game in her group. It was only appropriate that Julie should be the one to ask, since the game had as a gentle mockery of the fact that she had continued to plague her father with that question long after the rest of them had realized you didn’t get something every time someone went away. Julie always seemed so disappointed if she didn’t get a souvenir that Bonnie’s group made sure to bring her something, no matter how tiny or ridiculous, after every trip. In fact, the tinier and more ridiculous, the better.

  “Julie,” she cried. “I’m so glad you asked! I just happen to have something for you right here.”

  She rummaged in her purse, making an elaborate show of removing her lipstick, compact, and mascara. “Here they are! Fresh from our state’s capital and guaranteed to bring you success in school or business.”

  She flourished a white paper bag, then upended it over Julie’s waiting hand. Out tumbled
four small erasers, each stamped with a picture of the state capitol.

  “Oh, darling!” cried Julie in mock ecstasy. “They are just too mahvelous for words. I shall treasure mine always!”

  “Do you want pink or orange?” asked Bonnie, attempting to sound serious.

  Julie closed her eyes, and pretended to think deeply. “Orange, I think,” she said at last. “It will go better with the color scheme in my locker.”

  “Of course,” said Bonnie. She removed the four erasers from Julie’s hand, then put an orange one back in. Next she held out her hand to Eileen and Alice, so they could each choose one.

  “Where’s Maria?” she asked, when the two girls had made their choices.

  Maria Quinones was the fifth member of their group. Though she was intensely loyal to them she was also was quick- tempered and frequently got angry and went off somewhere to sulk.

  “Oh, she’s in a snit because I made some wisecrack about Puerto Rico,” said Julie. She tried to sound unconcerned, but Bonnie was familiar with the tone. Julie used it to mask her feelings when she knew she had gone too far and didn’t know how to make up for it.

  “She’ll be over it by tomorrow,” said Alice. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Hey, Bonnie,” broke in Alan. “Why don’t you show everyone what else you have in your purse?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Bonnie, hoping Alan would take the hint.

  “You know—those weird cards you picked up at your grandmother’s house.”

  Bonnie hadn’t really wanted anyone else to know about the cards, at least, not yet. Trying to keep her voice level, she said lightly, “I don’t think anyone would be interested in an old deck of cards.”

  “Of course they would! At least, a deck like that!”

  Bonnie resisted an urge to kick Alan under the table. Why wouldn’t he let it drop?