Eyes of the Tarot

by Bruce Coville

  Alan reached out and turned the card over.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Of course. Of course I am.”

  “Then why didn’t you answer me?”

  “What?”

  “Bonnie, I called your name five times. You’ve been staring at that card forever!”

  Chapter Seven

  Alone in her room, Bonnie sat with the cards in front of her. She did not believe the tarot was evil, as Alan had tried to convince her. According to Madame LePanto the cards were simply a guide to life—a method of understanding spiritual growth and a way to think about the problems you would encounter as you traveled your assigned path.

  If they did have the power to foretell the future it was only a potential future—one that could be made better or worse by the way in which a person reacted to the events the cards predicted.

  Whatever power for evil the tarot might possess had to do with what Madame LePanto called self-fulfilling prophecies. That meant that what was told to a person through the cards could influence the way he or she acted. The old woman had told Bonnie of an extreme case in which a prediction of death had caused a man to worry himself into an early grave. It was a strange circle: his belief in the cards had made what the cards said come true.

  Bonnie shuddered at the idea. She would have to be sure to continue impressing on Alan that the cards he had drawn could mean any number of things besides a prediction of his death.

  She was beginning to see all too clearly what Madame LePanto had meant when she talked about the responsibility that went along with reading the cards for others.

  But then, she hadn’t been trying to read for Alan. She had simply wanted to show him the remarkable thing that had happened, the uncanny knowledge of the cards that she had developed. She could hardly believe it herself, even though she had experienced it.

  She began shuffling the deck. Perhaps it was time to do a reading for herself. But at the very idea a coldness crept down her spine. No, she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. She shook her head, wondering why she was so certain.

  Well, she had another session with Madame LePanto coming up on Wednesday. Maybe she would read the cards for her. Bonnie bit her lip. Now that she thought about it, Madame LePanto had skillfully avoided actually reading for her during today’s session.

  The downstairs clock struck two. Bonnie sighed. Another night when she was up too late for her own good. If she wasn’t careful, the cards were going to get her in big trouble.

  She spread them in front of her and almost jumped. The Magician was on top. Nothing that unusual, except that of the seventy-eight cards in the deck it was the exact one she was looking for.

  She picked it up. “Did you know I was going to choose you tonight?” she asked. She knew the question would sound stupid to anyone who heard it. She also knew that it wasn’t.

  The Magician stared at her.

  “Well, come on,” she said. “It’s your turn tonight. Under the pillow with you, just like it says in the book.”

  She turned out the light on her desk. The moonlight streaming through the window made it easy to see in the room. Bonnie slipped out of her jeans and sweater, then pulled on a blue flannel nightgown and climbed wearily into bed. She tucked the Magician under her pillow, and was asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

  #

  “You should have chosen me first.”

  Bonnie looked up. The Magician was standing over her. Just as on the card, he was dressed in a white tunic. His dark hair was bound with a strip of red cloth. His tunic was encircled by a belt designed to look like a snake with its tail tucked into its mouth, as if it were devouring itself.

  Bonnie felt a ripple of disgust when she realized that the belt was moving. It was a real snake!

  Above the Magician’s head floated the symbol for infinity, looking like a halo twisted in the middle to form two elongated rings. It glowed softly, casting a gentle light about his face.

  Though he had a benign smile the fire in his eyes made it seem false.

  “I said: You should have chosen me first.”

  “Why?” Bonnie spoke the word softly. Her lips were dry, and her throat felt as if an apple were stuck in it.

  “Because the cards are mine.”

  “What?”

  The Magician smiled, but his eyes grew darker. “The cards are mine. I am the master of the deck, and you should have chosen me first, not the Fool.” The Magician paused, and a bitter look crossed his face. “He is a fool, you know. You must realize that. He can ruin everything if you listen to him.”

  Bonnie felt her heart thumping wildly. The Magician had made no move to harm her, said nothing to frighten her; nevertheless, she was in mortal terror. She tried to speak, but her throat seemed swollen shut.

  “Do you understand? asked the Magician. His voice was soft and mellow. “You must not listen to the message of the Fool. We have waited too long for the right time, the right person. Now that you’re here, you must not let us down. Do you understand?”

  He looked into her eyes, and Bonnie saw in his own eyes such a deep sorrow—such a longing and such a loss—that she suddenly felt she would do anything to ease his pain.

  She tried to speak, found she could not, and nodded a silent yes.

  He smiled, and this time it was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. He was beautiful, and Bonnie found her fear and pity changing to desire. She wanted to know him, be his friend. She wanted to protect him, to know that he would protect her. More than anything in the world, she wanted him to take her in his arms.

  “That’s right,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You’re safe. Remember that. You’re safe with me.”

  With a sudden crack of thunder he was gone.

  #

  Bonnie cried out and sat up in her bed. The room was empty, the night quiet. Surely her family had heard that horrendous noise.

  She shook her head. Of course they hadn’t heard it. It was only a dream. She took the Magician from beneath her pillow. She knew she wouldn’t get any more sleep as long as he was there.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said to herself in disgust. “It’s only a card.”

  Even so, she decided she wanted to get the card away from her. She threw back her covers, then hesitated. Suddenly her bed seemed very safe, possibly the only safe place in the room. She sensed another presence in the dark—brooding, waiting, strong and strange and powerful.

  Something else had been bothering Bonnie from the moment she opened her eyes, something other than the dream itself. Suddenly she realized what it was: her room was filled with a strange odor. No, two odors. She concentrated, and was able to pick out first the smell of sulphur, and then the scent of roses. The odors seemed to be fighting each other for dominance.

  She lay as if paralyzed. She wanted to get rid of the card, but was terrified of getting out of bed, crossing the room, placing the Magician back in the deck. She told herself her fear was stupid, that nothing in the room could harm her.

  Even so, she couldn’t make herself get out of bed.

  Finally she muttered fiercely, “Oh, grow up, Bonnie.” She counted to ten and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  The floor was so cold it made her gasp. Walking on tiptoe, she hurried to her desk and tucked the Magician into the center of the deck. She started back for her bed, then turned again and opened one of the desk’s drawers. In it, beneath a stack of papers, lay the bone she had taken from Grandmother McBurnie’s attic. She slid the cards in next to it, then closed the drawer.

  She hesitated, then locked the drawer for good measure. This action made her feel better, if a little foolish.

  As she lay back down she had an eerie sensation of someone watching her, the feeling that somewhere in the room a pair of eyes was following her every move.

  “Go away!” she cried. “Leave me alone!”

  She pulled the covers around her neck, and finally over her head. Drawing her knees to her ches
t, she huddled into a ball. It was a long time before she finally fell back to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Bonnie tossed her books into her locker, then began groping on the upper shelf for her lunch. As she did she scowled at the picture of Alan she had taped inside the door.

  “You think you’re so smart,” she said angrily. “But you don’t know everything. Just because you got scared is no reason for me to get rid of my cards. There’s a lot I can learn from them. Madame LePanto said so.”

  Oh, sure—she’d had a little scare herself the night before. But it was only her imagination. Nothing to take seriously.

  That morning on the way to school Alan had tried to convince her of his position. “Look at you. You’re a mess! You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, you’re obviously not sleeping well, and you keep zoning out. You’ve got to get rid of those cards, Bonnie.”

  She bit her lip at the memory of her childish response. “I won’t. You’re just jealous because I have them. You’re afraid of the magician!”

  Alan’s face had been puzzled, astonished—and worried. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  It was a good question. She didn’t know herself. She slammed her locker shut. She hated fighting with Alan.

  As she turned to head for the lunchroom Maria Quinones caught up with her. “Hey, Bonnie—why didn’t you tell me you had a deck of tarot cards?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be interested,” Bonnie replied truthfully.

  “Oh, I’m fascinated by them! I have an aunt who uses them. She’s an excellent reader. But she went back to Puerto Rico two years ago. Will you do a reading for me?”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. We can eat our lunches in Mrs. MacReady’s room. She won’t mind. We have plenty of time before the next period.”

  Bonnie hesitated. “I don’t know. I haven’t had them that long… “

  Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. You can practice on me. I promise not to take it too seriously.”

  “Well, okay.” Secretly Bonnie was delighted. She had been dying to use the cards since her session with Madame LePanto. But she had too been embarrassed to ask anyone to let her do a reading; too afraid they would laugh at her.

  Maria’s enthusiasm took care of that problem!

  “How did you find out I have them?” she asked as they entered Mrs. MacReady’s classroom.

  Maria smiled. “Julie told me.”

  “I thought you weren’t speaking to her.”

  Maria made a face and gestured as if shaking away something distasteful. “Oh, she made me very mad the other night. But then she apologized. So I stopped being mad.”

  Bonnie smiled. “That’s good. It upsets me when any of us fight.”

  “Conflict is the essence of life,” replied Maria, quoting their history teacher.

  Both girls laughed. They crossed the room and set their things on the table in front of the windows.

  “Here, help me pull this out,” said Bonnie. “Then we can sit across from each other.”

  They moved the table and Maria sat down behind it, facing the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for Mr. Monroe,” she said. “That way you can concentrate on the cards.”

  Wilbur Monroe, vice principal of Rider-Waite High School, stalked the halls during lunchtime to make sure everyone was staying out of trouble. Since he had once banned chess playing on the grounds that it might lead to gambling, Bonnie thought it was a safe bet that he would not consider reading tarot cards an “appropriate use of free time.”

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she took the cards from her purse and unwrapped them. She looked through the deck until she found the card she wanted. She pulled it out and placed on the table in front of her.

  “This is the page of pentacles,” she said. “It will be your significator.”

  “My significant other?”

  “No, your significator. That means it signifies you for this reading.”

  Maria picked up the card. It showed a dark-haired young man holding a circle with a five pointed star inside it. “Why did you choose this one?”

  “Because of your looks. Pentacles are used for people with dark hair and dark eyes. And even though it’s a male, we take the page instead of the queen because it’s a closer match to your age.”

  Maria nodded, satisfied by this answer.

  “Okay,” said Bonnie. “Put the card down and shuffle the rest of the deck. But be careful! The cards are very old, and I’m afraid of tearing them.”

  Maria began shuffling.

  “Now, while you’re doing that, think of a question you want answered. Think it over and over, until you feel it has entered the deck.

  Maria closed her eyes for a moment.

  Bonnie watched her. Maria was a very pretty girl. Now, framed by the window and with a clear spring sky behind her, she seemed more beautiful than ever. Bonnie wondered what she was asking the cards.

  Maria opened her eyes.

  “Do you feel like you’ve presented the question seriously enough?” Bonnie asked.

  Maria paused, then nodded.

  “Good. Next I want you to cut the cards into three piles.”

  Maria did as directed.

  Bonnie gathered up the piles, then began to place the top cards on the table before her. “This is called the Celtic layout,” she said as she worked. “It’s very old. It only uses ten cards, but that’s probably all we have time for right now anyway.”

  Once the cards were in position, Bonnie examined the layout as Madame LePanto had shown her. She gave a little inward sigh of relief. Three of the cards were wands—a good sign. After the episode with Alan the night before, she had had a lingering fear that the cards might always show something bad.

  “Okay, so what does it all mean?” asked Maria impatiently.

  Bonnie shook her head. “Wait. Wait.”

  She studied the cards, trying to find some relationship between them. Something began to stir in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment. At once, as if in a dream, the cards danced before her, fell into a pattern, and showed her the connections. Without opening her eyes, she pointed to one of the cards and began to speak.

  “This is the six of wands, a very good card. It stands for the general atmosphere surrounding you and your question. It can have many shades of meaning. Here, I sense it to mean good news, maybe about advancement in the arts.

  Maria gave a little gasp.

  “Now here is the page of cups, another good card. It seems to mean a message will come to you, probably about the arts. Next to it is the eight of wands. That may indicate your news will come quickly.”

  “Bonnie, how did—”

  Bonnie, her eyes still closed, went on as if Maria had not spoken. “Now, this is the three of pentacles. It represents a part of your past.”

  “Bonnie, stop!”

  Bonnie heard Maria, but only as if she were speaking from a great distance. Something was working within her, working through her, a kind of power that responded to the cards, sensing their meaning and their messages. She felt like an empty glass being filled for the first time. Something new was pouring into her. It was frightening, but beautiful. She continued to speak of the other cards in the formation.

  “This is the chariot, reversed. It reveals your childhood, that you’ve had differences in the past, probably with a parent. Next, the Ace of Wands. This is a wonderful card, Maria. Aces mean beginnings. You will have a journey, an adventure, beginning in the near future.

  “The next card is the Star, which indicates you’re hoping for something important in your life. The eighth card shows the queen of swords. You must be having trouble at home with your mother.”

  Bonnie didn’t even pause for breath. Her eyes still closed, she moved on to the ninth card. “Now, the knight of wands is reversed, which tells me you’re afraid that if you’re granted your wish, something will keep you from truly enjoying it.

  “Finally, the last card tells the outcome of your que
stion.”

  Bonnie opened her eyes at last. “Oh, Maria! You couldn’t have a better reading. The nine of cups is the ‘wish card.’ When it turns up, it’s supposed to mean you will get your wish. Turning up in this last spot like this—well, it seems like it just has to mean success.”

  Maria was looking at her with wide eyes. The expression on her face was almost fearful. “How did you do that?” she whispered.

  “Do what?”

  “You did the whole reading with your eyes closed! You just glanced at the cards, then closed your eyes and told me what they all meant, without ever looking at them again. How did you do it?”

  Bonnie shrugged. “It just seemed to come to me. Did it make sense for your question?”

  “Make sense? Do you know what my question was?”

  “Of course not. What do you think I do? Read minds?”

  Maria looked at her uncertainly. “I wanted to know if I was going to get a scholarship to music camp this summer.”

  “Oh, that’s… that’s… “ Bonnie’s voice trailed off. The reading was so directly attuned to Maria’s question it was frightening.

  “My mother has said I can go, but she doesn’t really want me to. We’ve had some awful fights about it. She’s afraid to let me go because she’ll be alone. She did agree that if I win the scholarship I can take it. Only I’m afraid I won’t enjoy it, because I’ll be worrying about Mom. Bonnie, that reading was so accurate it gives me the creeps!”

  At that moment Julie came dashing into the room. “Oh, Maria! There you are! Mrs. Hartwell is looking all over for you. She just got word from the music camp.” She paused, then announced triumphantly, “You got the scholarship!”