Ancient Forces Collection

by Bill Myers

  What would his dad think?

  Philip had parked under a tall oak tree several doors down and across the street from Madame Theo’s Palace. From where he was positioned, he had a clear view of the front door and was surprised not to see anybody going in or coming out.

  Maybe he needed an appointment.

  Maybe she was closed on Mondays.

  Maybe she was at a late lunch.

  Maybe I should just leave and get my head examined, he thought. One thing was certain. No way did he want to be seen going inside by a friend, especially not Krissi. As much as he liked her, he knew Krissi sometimes had a tough time keeping her mouth shut. If word got around school that he went to have his cards read, his friends would dog him for days, maybe the rest of the year — if not his entire life.

  After all, Philip was the brain of the bunch. Under most circumstances he relied on logic, on reason, and on his intellect to sort things out. How could he explain that he went to some palm-reading, fortune-telling, card-dealing woman for answers? Even he found that notion hard to believe. Then again, last night, this woman seemed so caring, so in touch with something she had called “the cosmic reality.”

  He had come this far, why not go for it?

  He slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses.

  With a squint, he read the sign on the door: Open. Walk-Ins Welcome. He checked his rearview mirror before cracking open the door. The coast was clear. It was now or never. With his heart in overdrive, he gulped a quick breath, jumped out, and then darted across the street.

  His steps slowed as he approached the doorway. With a glance over his shoulder, he reached out, turned the knob, and slipped inside. As the door opened, a little cowbell sounded, announcing his arrival. He removed his sunglasses. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  As the room came into focus, he noticed it wasn’t much bigger than his bedroom and was lit by candles mounted on metal stands. A card table and two chairs were in the middle. Thick, red curtains hung from the walls, and a velvet black cloth, like dark clouds, hovered overhead covering the ceiling. He felt as if he had stepped into another world.

  He had hardly taken a step forward when the odor of strong, cinnamon incense filled his lungs. To his left, he observed the source: an incense pot puffing away. Directly across the room, he noticed an open doorway covered with strings of beads. He couldn’t see beyond that to the next room.

  Puzzled, he waited a moment. Now what?

  As if in answer to his unspoken question, Madame Theo parted the beads and glided into the room. “Welcome,” she said. With a wave of her hand, she motioned toward the chair closest to him. “Please have a seat. I can sense you are troubled in spirit.”

  Philip’s heart jumped into his throat. How did she know that?

  Catching himself from leaping to conclusions, he figured she probably said the same thing to everyone who came in. Why else would they be here if they weren’t troubled? Most folks wouldn’t come to her for a tea party, right?

  “I . . . I saw you last night,” Philip said, his voice almost break ing. “On TV, that is. I thought you might be able to help me with . . . um . . . the future and stuff.” He pulled the chair out and sat down. His eyes darted around studying her every move.

  Madame Theo smiled as she eased into the other chair. Her turban, like a massive bandage, was wrapped tightly around her head. She wore a floral-printed muumuu. The one-piece gown floated around her as she moved as if caught in a gentle breeze. She placed her hands on the edge of the table like a dealer at a casino waiting for the players to place a bet.

  When she didn’t immediately start to speak, Philip said, “This is the first time I — ”

  She brought a finger to her lips. “Please, not a word. Before we begin, I must focus on the energy you brought into the room.”

  Philip swallowed. Was she serious? What energy? He wasn’t aware that he had brought anything with him besides his pounding heart. He crossed his arms and waited. The silence that followed was almost as thick as the incense.

  After what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “Tell me your first name.” She closed her eyes in anticipation.

  “It’s Philip.”

  She nodded as if he had uttered something profound. She opened her eyes and gave him a penetrating look. “I sense that you are impatient, Philip. Do you know anything about the gift of the tarot cards?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “But you believe in their power?”

  “I . . . well, let’s just say I’m open to learning more.” No way would he let on about his skeptical nature. She had a lot to prove if she was going to sway his thinking.

  Another nod. “It’s a start,” she said softly. “The tarot cards allow us to tap into the well of our inner wisdom.”

  “Cool.” Philip forced a smile.

  She raised an eyebrow. “It would be best if you didn’t interrupt the process.”

  “Sorry.” He dropped his hands into his lap.

  “You must understand, Philip, that this is a sacred moment,” she said, lowering her voice. “Tarot cards are not a game. They are connected to, and take us to, the cosmic treasury of knowledge passed down from before time itself.”

  Whatever that means, he thought, but didn’t say it.

  “Each of us is on a journey,” she said, placing the deck of cards in front of her. “Tarot cards reveal the energies and life forces which are in motion at the time we conduct a reading.”

  Philip nodded, as if this made sense to him.

  Madame Theo laid a hand on top of the deck as if touching a holy relic. “There are seventy-eight tarot cards divided into three groups: the major arcana, of which there are twenty-two. You might look at them as trump cards.”

  Trump card. At last, something he understood.

  “The minor arcana, with sixteen cards, appear much like the king, queen, knight, and page cards in a regular deck. The third grouping is the forty pip cards.”

  Philip watched as she shuffled the cards. For all he knew, the cards were marked.

  “Let us begin,” she said. “May the spirit guide move into position the order of the cards.” Madame Theo placed the deck in the center of the table. She continued to speak after a brief pause. “There’s one more thing, Philip, before we proceed further.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you know what divination means?”

  “You mean, as in the occult?” He hoped his voice didn’t betray the panic he felt at the word. He had seen the effects of the occult before when Krissi fooled around with channeling and wanted nothing to do with it.

  She nodded. “Again, I sense your apprehension. Please, Philip, the word only means ‘hidden.’ There is nothing to fear here. Tarot cards are a systematic form of divination that allow us to divine the future course of our lives. You do want to know about your life, don’t you?”

  He swallowed hard. Maybe yes, maybe no. Certainly not if he ended up possessed by some crazy spirit, thrashing around the room like Krissi. But Madame Theo said there was nothing to fear, so why not? He managed a nod.

  “I will conduct a basic three-card spread this afternoon.” She peeled off the top card, followed by the second and third cards, laying each in a row, face up.

  Philip leaned forward. As far as he could tell, the first card looked like a bunch of stars. The next card had a picture of people leaping from a building that had been struck by lightning. The image bothered him. He felt the overwhelming impression to leave. At the sight of the third card, a skeleton in a suit of armor riding on a horse, a little voice at the back of his mind told him to leave.

  Madame Theo pointed a long, thin finger at the first card. “This represents your immediate future,” she said. Shifting her finger to the second card, she said, “this points to your near future. And this,” she added, lowering her voice just above a whisper, “represents your distant future . . . unless circumstances change.”

  Philip scratched the side
of his head. “So . . . what do they mean?”

  The pupils of her eyes narrowed to the size of a pea. “Let me just say I rarely see three trump cards in a row. That means you are a special person.”

  He liked the sound of that. Maybe there was something in the cards for him after all.

  “The first card,” she said, resting a finger on it, “is the star. Your star is on the rise. You will be successful sometime very soon.”

  Philip smiled. “In the immediate future. Cool.”

  “This second card is the tower,” she said. “Although it may appear frightening, it actually means in the near future you must make some drastic changes.”

  “Like, what kind of change?”

  “Maybe in a friendship or relationship or situation.” She leaned forward. “Does anything come to mind?”

  Philip searched his thoughts. Maybe it meant he needed to break up with Krissi. Or maybe he needed to avoid Scott. Or perhaps he was supposed to move out of his house and away from his dad. He shrugged. “I guess there are several things I can think of.”

  Madame Theo brought a hand to her chin. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Keep in touch with your inner voice. Allow the forces of the universe to speak to you. You’ll know what to do at the right time.”

  “All right,” Philip said, growing a little weirded out by the whole experience, yet somehow he was drawn to know more. “But what does this last card mean?”

  Madame Theo hesitated. She adjusted her turban and then rested her hands in front of her. “That, Philip, is the death card.”

  His heart spiked.

  She raised a finger. “I can tell by the look on your face that you are filled with fear.”

  Yeah, and I can hardly breathe, he thought. “What does — ”

  “Don’t let it disturb you, son. While it may suggest that death awaits you in the distant future,” she said, reaching across the table to touch the back of his hand, “it also points to the need for transformation.”

  Philip’s heart almost exploded inside his chest. “But it could mean I’ll die . . .”

  “Young man, just remember, the death card was dealt last. That’s a good sign.”

  “How so?”

  “Death is not, shall we say, inevitable. There’s still time to change your course.”

  “But how?”

  “By heeding the warning of the tower,” she said, pointing to the center card with a single tap. “Change the relationships that are holding you back, that prevent you from growing. Then, and only then, will you avoid the consequences of the death card.”

  Philip wanted to run as fast as he could from this place, this woman, these cards, and that awful incense. He wanted to make whatever changes he needed to avoid the death sentence. For some reason, he couldn’t move. He remained helplessly frozen in place. He felt as if an anchor had been tied around his waist and he had been tossed into the bottom of the sea.

  4

  So where’s your brother, Becka?” Ryan Riordan asked, tapping his ring against the steering wheel of his Mustang.

  “I thought he’d be here by now. I wanted to see how they did in debate class.” She scanned the parking lot, hoping for a glimpse of Scott.

  They sat in Ryan’s car parked against the back wall of the school parking lot where the seniors always parked. Although the spaces weren’t reserved for the seniors, the juniors knew better than to park there. It was just one of those unwritten rules of high school life.

  “Nothing personal, but I’ve got stuff I’ve got to do on my project,” he said, checking his watch. “I think the library closes early on Tuesday, right?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Becka said, looking at her boyfriend. She could tell he wasn’t upset, just pressured to get to work on his senior project. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll just catch up with Scott at home,” Becka said, finding it hard to stop gazing into his eyes.

  “In that case, I say we hit the road.” Ryan reached over to the ignition and, with a wink, fired up the engine.

  Ryan’s thick, black hair framed his killer, sparkling blue eyes. As usual, Becka’s heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her, that smile with the little upward curl at the corners.

  No wonder Ryan was one of the most popular kids at school.

  And, while she always found him attractive, she was at a complete loss as to what Ryan saw in her. Take Krissi. She could double as the Miss Perfect Barbie doll. Or Julie Mitchell, her best friend on the track team, with her beautiful blonde hair.

  By comparison, Becka saw herself about as nondescript as a houseplant. What could be so attractive about her thin, mousy brown hair and equally thin, nearly nonexistent body?

  Whatever his reason, Ryan seemed to enjoy her company. A lot.

  And lately, Becka couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next year after he left for college. Would they still keep in touch? Would they go deeper in their relationship even though they’d be apart? Like her mom always said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  Or . . . to wander, Becka countered.

  What if he met some college girl with a million talents, who’d found a cure for cancer and whose dad was a wealthy president of some big company? Becka was afraid he’d forget all the great times they had had together and be married to Miss Wonderful his first semester at college.

  They drove a few minutes in silence. Ryan was the first to speak. “So what’s on your mind?”

  “Me?”

  He flashed a grin. “Do you see anybody else in the car?”

  Becka blushed. “I . . . I was just thinking . . .”

  “About?” He turned the car toward the Sonic several blocks from school, the drive-in burger-and-shake joint where the waitresses skated to the car with your order. “I missed lunch. Thought we’d grab a shake.”

  Becka was glad for the distraction. “Sounds great.”

  He pulled the car to a stop in one of the parking spaces next to a menu board. “What looks good?” he asked, scanning the colorful list of choices.

  “How about a strawberry slush for me,” Becka said.

  Ryan pushed the Call button.

  “May I take your order?” a cheery voice asked.

  “One medium strawberry slush and a number-two combo, please.” Ryan pulled out his wallet. He looked at Becka and said, “It’s my treat.”

  “We’ll have that right out,” the voice said. “Your total is $4.57.”

  “Thanks,” Ryan said. He turned to Becka. “So what were you saying?”

  Becka’s heart did a somersault. She wasn’t planning to talk about her feelings, at least not yet. She fidgeted with an earring as she struggled to find the right words. “I was just thinking, um, about . . . the future.”

  Ryan stretched. “I know what you mean.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened. She wondered if he was feeling the same thing she was feeling.

  “Yeah, kind of,” he said. “I mean, wouldn’t it be cool to know what will happen before it happens? Like, where we’ll go to college, who we’ll meet, what we’ll do with our life and stuff like that.”

  “Oh.” Becka was thinking more specifically about their future. “But don’t you ever think about — ”

  “Hold on,” Ryan said, reaching for his Bible in the backseat. He flipped through the well-worn pages. “I know what you’re about to say. It says in Matthew somewhere . . . here it is in Matthew 6.” He held the Bible between them.

  Becka leaned forward.

  Ryan pointed to verse 27. “Right here Jesus asks, ‘Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?’ ” Ryan paused as his eyes skimmed further down the text before he continued with verse 31. “ ‘So do not worry, saying ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ”

  Becka cleared her throat. “Actually, what I’m trying to say is that sometimes I worry about — ”

  “Hold on a sec, there’s more,” he said. “ ‘For the pagans run after these things, and yo
ur heavenly Father knows you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.’ ”

  Becka blew a short breath. Sometimes guys are just so dense, she thought. “Ryan, that’s great. And I believe it. But what I’m trying to say is . . . is that sometimes . . . well, honestly, I worry — ”

  “Did you hear what I just read?”

  “Okay, so it was a poor choice of words,” she said. Her heart danced wildly in her chest. She just had to get her feelings out in the open. “Sometimes I’m . . . concerned about, you know . . . us. About our future . . . together . . . do you know what I mean?”

  Ryan’s eyes met hers. Neither spoke for a long moment. Becka was sure he could hear her heart banging away. A big, melt-your-heart grin appeared on his face.

  “What?” Becka said, her forehead creasing. “What are you smiling about?”

  Before Ryan could answer, a teen on skates wearing a Sonic apron rolled to the edge of their car with a tray of food. “Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt. Here’s your order.”

  Philip was stunned. Even now, sitting in his car outside of a local gas station, a cold chill ran down his spine as he rehashed the events of the afternoon. He was exhausted from a fitful night’s sleep. His mind was distracted by pressure from his dad. Even Krissi kind of bugged him with her questions about their future together. And yet, against the odds, he had led his school to win the regional debate championship. In fact, he had clobbered schools with much better debate teams; teams who seemed to always win. Not today.

  Today, Philip blew away the competition.

  What’s more, the victory had come “in the near future” just as Madame Theo had predicted. But how did she know that his “star was on the rise”?

  Was it a coincidence? A fluke?

  Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a definite connection. Sure, at first he was skeptical about Madame Theo. But now, an hour after winning the trophy, he wasn’t so quick to dismiss the messages in the tarot cards.