Not in the Cards

by Amy Cissell

  “What are you looking at?” Andy asked. He tapped his fingers against the table until he realized what he was doing, then pulled them down quickly and hid them in his lap.

  “Don’t worry. I can’t tell your future by looking into your soul. If you want me to look forward, you’ll need to stop by my house and let me cast the bones for you. The only one who’d be able to do something right here, right now is Misty, but you’d have to let her touch you, and she has no control over what she sees.”

  “Do any of you?”

  “To a certain extent. The more we know, the more we can focus. Tell me more about the storm.”

  “Then none of you know what’s coming?”

  “We’ve been rather preoccupied,” Jezebel said. “The immediate future of Oracle Bay was in danger. I can’t tell the future of a town, though. Only a person. I don’t have a birthdate to help me build a star chart.”

  Ceri grabbed the water glass that was in front of Morgana and the bottom plate shielding the table from the nachos and set them in front of her. She spilled a little water on the plate, placed her hands on either side, and stared.

  Sandy had never seen anyone else but Misty ply their trade, and she shivered as Ceri’s face went blank.

  The plate started shaking in her hands. “There’s too much. I can’t. There’s too much.”

  Morgana reached over and yanked the plate away, dumping the water on the table. She put an arm around Ceri, whispered something into her ear, and then pushed her beer closer.

  “What did you see?” Andy asked, leaning forward and jostling the table with his eagerness.

  “Give her a moment,” Morgana snapped.

  Drew drained his beer, looked around, and announced, “I’m getting another round. Andy, why don’t you and Jezebel help me do that? By the time we’re back, Ceri should be good to go.”

  Andy grumbled but followed him out into the main part of the bar.

  “Are you okay?” Misty asked.

  “He’s right,” Ceri whispered. “A storm is coming. But before it hits, there will be nothing but trouble. The almost-sale of Oracle Bay was just the beginning.” She leaned back, picked up her beer, and drank. She refused to say another word about what she’d seen until everyone was back. “I’m not going over it twice. I can’t.” Tears traced a path down her cheeks and disappeared into her collar.

  When the new round was distributed, and everyone was situated, Ceri opened her eyes and looked at Andy. “I know what you are, even if I don’t know who. What’s coming is terrible, and there will be casualties. It’s happening because of you. It’s happening here because this is where you are.”

  Andy blanched and hunched in on himself. “I know. I mean, I suspected. I’ll have to go.”

  “It’s too late for that. The wheels are turning. We haven’t an angel’s chance in hell of avoiding this.” She stared at him, and he fidgeted under her attention. “You have to stay. The only way this town can be saved is if you’re here to save it. This time, you can’t run away.”

  “How much did you see?”

  “Too much. So much. Centuries. Millennia. It’s all in the forefront of your mind and is irrevocably tied to the storm you referenced. I won’t share your secrets, but they won’t be secrets much longer.”

  “I’ll keep them as long as I can.”

  “Don’t keep them too long; a lot of pain can be avoided if you trust in others. Pride goeth before the fall, if you remember.”

  Andy nodded and pulled back into himself. His eyes, usually twinkling and jovial, were now grim and haunted.

  “There’s more, though,” Ceri said, looking around the table. “Misty and Drew—I’m not sure what the next couple months will bring, but it won’t be easy for either of you. When the time comes, don’t hide. The advice I gave Andy goes for both of you. Don’t keep secrets for the sake of keeping them.”

  “Sharing is caring, eh?” Drew quipped.

  “Pain shared is pain halved, my friend. You don’t have to be an island.”

  “This is taking a turn for the crappy,” Drew said. “We are here to commiserate with Sandy about her not-divorce, not get horrific flashes of the future that come with dire warnings for everyone.”

  Misty steeled herself. “What did you see about me?”

  “Nothing specific. Something is going to happen in the next few weeks that will affect you and Drew. I can’t tell if it’s the same event, or if two different things are going to happen. Most of the vision was tied to Andy. That will affect us all on a larger scale. Not that your stuff isn’t important, it is, but…”

  “It’s okay,” Morgana said. “There’s a lot to process, and no one thinks you’re downplaying anything by being worried about the storm.” She turned to Andy. “I echo Ceridwen’s advice. Do not wait too long to tell us what’s going on and how we can help. The best allies are those that know what they’re getting into.”

  “I don’t think any of you can help at all.”

  “Don’t discount us. While it’s true that some of us are young, there are those here that have—if not as many years as you—more years than would be assumed by any regular human. And all of us are strong. If I were you, I’d take advantage of the collected power you currently have access to. Between us, we can offer not only looks into probable futures but advice on the best ways to deal with what’s coming. Sandy is the best tarot reader I’ve ever encountered. She’s been reading for less than two months, and being in the same room while she reads is like standing too close to a lightning storm on a hill.”

  Andy stood up, shoved his fingers through his hair, and said, “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I don’t want to put any of you in danger—”

  “Too late,” Ceri said, a trace of her regular humor returning.

  A smile ghosted over his lips, and he continued, “I’ll probably need to talk to someone again to nail down the timeline.”

  “Christmas. The storm will break on Christmas Day.”

  “As long as it’s after the Yule Ball,” Misty said. “And the Bazaar. Those are our biggest events.” She looked at Andy and pointed one ungloved finger at him. “Don’t mess up my parties.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, a bit of the smooth bartender persona returning.

  “Shake on it?” She offered her hand.

  “Not today. You all already know too much.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much knowledge,” Sandy said, finally finding her voice.

  “You say that now…tell me if you still feel that way on New Year’s Day.” He turned and started to walk out of the small alcove. Before he got too far away, he turned back. “Drinks are on me, tonight. Sorry your divorce isn’t final yet, Sandy. When it is, come back, and I’ll see if I can make you a French 75.”

  Sandy was exhausted. After Andy’d left the night before, everyone else had stayed out way too long trying to get Ceri to reveal more secrets. Finally, she claimed a headache—and from the pinched look on her face, it was nothing but truth—and left the rest to speculate on Drew’s and Misty’s upcoming trials and tribulations. Andy kept everyone in beer, and Sandy lost track of how much she’d had to drink. She woke up with a raging headache, the worst cottonmouth she’d ever had, and a desire for a fried egg sandwich and the largest latte known to humankind.

  After a shower, she headed to Caffiend Dreams to take care of the coffee craving. Oracle Bay was experiencing one of those rare November days with a perfectly blue sky and the brightest damn sun that had ever shone in the Pacific Northwest.

  “It’s supposed to be overcast,” she growled as she stomped through the door. It was blessedly empty—another rarity.

  “Rough morning?” Bill asked.

  “Ugh.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Latte?”

  “Thank you,” she said, hanging a modicum of grace.

  “No problem. We’ve all been there. Did I see you at The Pour House last night?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t see
you?”

  “I stopped in for a drink with Joe, but we didn’t stay.”

  “A wise decision and one I wish I’d made. I stayed too long, and Andy sent over too many drinks.”

  “I have a ham and cheese croissant…”

  “Oooh. I was craving a fried egg sandwich, but that sounds just as good.”

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll warm it up for you. Do you want your coffee first?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She sipped her coffee as Bill slipped into the back. The chimes rang above the door. Her face screwed up in anticipatory dread. There was no way the person who just walked in was going to be someone she wanted to see. She steeled herself and turned around.

  “Aaron.”

  “Hey, babe. You’re looking a bit rough this morning.”

  “What do you want?”

  “My lawyer said you’re requesting more financials. Don’t you think it’s a bit late in the game to get greedy?”

  “If you have questions, please have your lawyer talk to mine. And maybe if you’d actually showed up yesterday, this would all be over by now.”

  “You and me will never be over. Babe.” He punctuated the last word with an angry jab towards her chest.

  “Why do you even care? You don’t love me. You don’t want me. I don’t even think you like me very much. Why are you still holding on?”

  “No one leaves Aaron Bell. No one.”

  Sandy felt the words forming, knew they were just going to piss him off even more, and said them anyway. “To be honest, it sounds like a lot of people leave Aaron Bell. Do you think it’s because he refers to himself in the third person?”

  His arm swung back, and she flinched. Before the blow could land, a hand reached out and enclosed Aaron’s fist. “I have called the cops. Everything that just happened was recorded by my security system. You are not leaving until the police arrive. I don’t know if they’ll hold you or charge you with anything since I prevented you from committing the crime you were on your way to committing, but if I ever see you in my store again, you will regret it.”

  “You can’t keep me out. It’s a free country. I know my rights.”

  “I don’t think you do, but neither of us has the time needed to educate you right now.”

  A police car pulled into one of the spots in front of the store, and two officers walked in. They tipped their hats. “Bill, ma’am. What seems to be the problem here?”

  Bill let go of Aaron and outlined what he’d seen. “If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve hit her.”

  “Ma’am? Is that your version of events as well?”

  “Please, call me Sandy.”

  “Wait, are you Sandy the psychic? I’ve been meaning to stop in. You read cards for my wife not too long ago.”

  “That’s me.”

  “I don’t know what you told her—she says it’s protected under psychic-client privilege—but thank you. You changed our lives. My name’s Roger Webster, and this is my partner David King.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Roger. And you’re welcome.”

  “This is bullshit,” Aaron exploded.

  “We’ll get your story in a moment,” Roger said. “Sandy, do you have anything to add to Mr. Walters’s account?”

  “I’m not sure if you know, but he is my ex-husband. Almost ex-husband. I was surprised to see him since he missed our divorce court date yesterday.”

  “And did you believe he was going to hit you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Has he ever struck you before?”

  “He’s never hit me. On occasion, he would trap me against a wall and yell, or shake me.” Her breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened to the point where she was afraid she was going to hyperventilate. She’d never said those words out loud before. “He’s also been showing up wherever I am a lot more than should be allowed by the rules of coincidence, lately.”

  “Are you afraid for your safety?” The way Roger framed the question seemed important, and Sandy tried to claw her way past her panic and figure out what he meant.

  “Yes,” she said simply. “While the part of me that was married to him wants to believe he’d never hurt me, the part of me that’s been lied to, stalked, and threatened over the past weeks is afraid.”

  “If you watch the tape,” Bill said gruffly, “you’ll see the fear. And I’ve already kicked him out once for harassing Sandy and her new and improved beau.”

  “Please place your hands behind your back,” David said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

  “You can’t arrest me.”

  “Sir, do you understand your rights?”

  “Of course I understand them. Are you calling me stupid?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Listen, she’s lying. About everything. Everyone knows that Sandy is a liar. That’s why I’m leaving her.”

  “David, when you watch the tape, you’ll see him explode over the idea of her leaving him. That’s what instigated the violence.”

  “We’ll take him down to the station and see what we can do with him. Ma’am—I mean, Sandy—we’ll be in touch with you. You should stop by the courthouse and file a restraining order, though. That way, next time he shows up unexpectedly, we’ll have a reason to arrest him even if he doesn’t try to get violent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Any time. I’ll be by for that reading soon.”

  “On the house,” she said.

  “You can’t buy the cops off like that!” Aaron howled.

  “I wouldn’t dream of accepting a free reading,” Roger said. “Let’s go, sir.” Roger and David led Aaron out of Caffiend Dreams and into the waiting cop car.

  “Holy crap,” Sandy whispered.

  “I think your croissant might be cold.”

  Sandy laughed until she cried. “Thank you.”

  “Any time. Here’s my number. Call if you ever need anything.” He handed her a card. “Now, let’s see about a fresh cup of coffee and a warm croissant.”

  Sandy sat at her small table in the middle of her shop and hoped that no one else would walk through her door. After the spectacularly weird morning at Caffiend Dreams, she’d dealt with a stream of customers and the energy draw that went with a reading. She dropped her face into her hands, took a deep breath, and tried to find her second wind.

  The door creaked open; she stood, plastered a smile on her face that she hoped was reflected in her eyes, and waited for her latest client to walk in far enough for her to see.

  “Sandy?”

  They always had trouble seeing her when they first walked in.

  “I’m here,” she said, walking forward to greet her client. “How can I help you?”

  There was a dull flash and then the loudest sound Sandy’d ever heard. Searing pain pierced her shoulder dropping her to her knees.

  “Shit. I missed,” the voice said.

  She still couldn’t make him out. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing personal,” he responded. Then, under his breath, “the lighting in here is shit.”

  The door banged open again, the screech lost to the sound of the new voice. “Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head.”

  The figure in front of her spun around, gun still up, and that’s the last thing she saw before the blackness overtook her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sandy woke up slowly. Bright lights the wrong color for her shop pierced her eyelids and brought tears to her eyes. Her mouth was dry and cottony, just like it’d been when she’d woken up slightly hungover that morning. She reached her hand up to shield her eyes and realized that she was attached to something.

  “Wha—?”

  “Sandy! You’re awake!”
>
  She recognized Vincent’s voice but didn’t understand the excitement and worry and relief behind it.

  “She’s awake?” someone else asked. It sounded like Jezebel, but Sandy didn’t know her as well as the others and wasn’t positive.

  A door opened and closed. Sandy blinked, trying to bring the room into focus. “Where?” she crooked.

  “You’re at the Ocean Beach Hospital,” a new voice said. “You have a lot of painkillers in your system right now, but they’ll start wearing off pretty soon. My name is Gabrielle, and I’m your nurse. Try not to move too much for a minute here. You’re a little tangled up, and you don’t want to pull your IV out.”

  Sandy sat still and looked around as things started to become recognizable. Vincent was on one side of her hospital bed, looking more worried than she’d ever seen him. Crowded into one corner of the room were Jezebel, Drew, and Ceri.

  “What happened?” she whispered. “Can I have some water?”

  “I’ll get you a cup of water,” Gabrielle said. “Take it slowly, though.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Vincent asked, leaning over the bed. Gabrielle shooed him back and pushed some buttons to raise Sandy into a half-reclined position. She winced as she shifted her upper body in an attempt to scratch the itch between her shoulder blades. The nurse handed her a glass of water, and she took it, sipping gratefully.

  “It was such a busy morning. I was taking a break from readings and hoping that no one else would show up before you got back to town.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with the fingers of her right hand. “Someone came in, but it was dark, and…” she paused. This is where everything got a little weird. “Did he…shoot me? Was I shot? Why would someone shoot me?”

  “The police will be in in a couple minutes to take your statement,” Gabrielle said. “In the meantime, your friends didn’t feel safe leaving you alone. Do you think you’re ready to answer some questions?”

  “Who did it? Who shot me?”