Tarot's Kiss (Tarot Chronicles)

by Nichole Blackfinch

  “What was the artifact?” I asked Gavin.

  “Don’t know, and neither did my father. He told me about Nathaniel’s latest visit, although neither of us thought much of it. But two nights later, I came home in the early hours to find the worst sight of my life.”

  Gavin paused, taking a deep breath.

  “My dad was lying face down in his study. He’d been killed. The house was quite destroyed, everything had been opened, ripped apart, knocked down. My bedroom, the kitchen, everything,” he said.

  I closed my eyes, reminded of the horrible morning I’d found my grandmother.

  Gavin continued. “I called the police, and the whole incident was deemed a robbery that had gone wrong. I didn’t believe it, though, because there were rather too many valuables that weren’t missing. No thieves would have ransacked the house like that without taking something. Whoever broke in was looking for something.”

  “And you’re thinking it was this artifact, right?” I asked.

  “I’m assuming so, yes,” he replied, “And if it was Guild property that Nathaniel believes someone else was going to come looking for, I want to track down other Guild members. I’ve reason to believe that one of them killed my dad, and that person will pay.

  “So that’s why you have been tracking down tarot readers?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, “It’s a shaky connection, I know, but I had to start somewhere. I’ve looked for tarot readers who may have been in the Guild, which is why I stuck around when you told me that your dad and your grandmother both were readers.

  “Well, you already know my situation,” I said. “My grandparents are dead, so they weren’t the ones who came after your dad,” I stood up, brushing the grass from my shorts and scratching at the red design the lawn had imprinted on my bare legs. “Let’s go inside to finish this talk.”

  “So you’ve decided that I’m not here to ‘rip you off’ as you eloquently put it,” he said.

  “That would be a pretty elaborate story for a thief,” I said as we walked back inside my house and sat down. “Besides, I already told you that I had heard of the Guild before, so your story makes me curious.”

  “It’s your turn, then, Lucy,” he said. “How did you hear of the Divinatory Guild of Savannah?”

  “So that’s their full name, huh?” I went to the desk drawer and pulled a file folder that contained all four letters I’d found. I handed them to Gavin, and then went to the kitchen to get drinks for each of us while he read.

  I returned from the kitchen and handed him a soda. He finished the letters and put them back in the folder.

  “Did you see the watermark on the pages?” I asked.

  He re-opened the folder and held a page to the light.

  “Oh, yes, that’s the Guild’s logo,” he said.

  “Yeah, I figured that,” I replied, “Seeing the cup and the sword in the watermark is what made me search online, which led me to the tarot. But I didn’t know what the Guild was that they were talking about in the letter.”

  “Clever work,”Gavin said. He glanced at the letters. “It appears your grandparents didn’t get on well with Nathaniel.”

  “I know. I get the impression that they were really suspicious of him. Speaking of which, how do you know that Nathaniel isn’t the guy who killed your dad? He doesn’t sound like a great guy. Maybe it was him coming after the artifact and not some other guild member.”

  “Lucy, I’ve known Nathaniel my whole life. He was my grandfather’s best friend. He watched my dad grow up—he was like a second grandfather to me. It isn’t possible. Also, he’d have no need of a valuable artifact. No financial need, anyway.”

  “But why can’t you just get the names of the Guild members from him then?” I protested. “If he was such a great friend of the family, it seems like he’d be a little more interested in helping you.”

  “I asked him,” Gavin said, “And he said he’d already begun the search for the other Guild members and asked me not to get involved, not to put myself at risk. They must have had some nasty characters involved. But of course, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, hence the past year that I’ve spent searching.”

  “So what makes you assume that I’m in danger?” I asked.

  “If I found you so easily, so could the person who killed my father. And if a former Guild member somehow threatened Nathaniel, and then came after my grandfather’s alleged artifact, it’s reasonable to think that they’re coming after other former Guild members. You said an intruder’s already been to your house, perhaps they’re thinking that another of the Guild artifacts is here. What’s to stop them from coming back again?”

  I shivered. I thought of the dark-haired man I’d seen running away from the house on the morning my grandma died. What had he been searching for? What if he came back?

  “Any clues at all on what the artifact looks like?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gavin said. “And Nathaniel wouldn’t give me any details.”

  “So what should we do now?” I asked Gavin.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, “And I think our next step is for both of us to talk to Nathaniel again. You should tell him what happened on the morning your grandmother died. Nathaniel knows more than he’s telling me; maybe he’ll tell us more when he sees that other members were targeted. I think it’s time for us to fly to Savannah. It’s time for me to go home.”

  Chapter 15. Interlude, 1864.

  Atlanta was no more. General Sherman was carving a swath of destruction in his march to the sea, and Dominique didn’t doubt that Savannah would soon join the ranks of those other fine Southern cities that were now nothing more than so much scorched earth.

  She hadn’t initially thought of this as a war that concerned her. It was an American war, this conflict between the states, and she’d still considered herself to be a Frenchwoman, then.

  Over time, though, Dominique had come to view Savannah as her home, had fallen in love with its well-tended squares and courteous charms. And so, each year, she’d made an excuse to keep herself in town instead of fleeing to the North. Besides, she was able to support herself here, no small feat for a young woman on her own.

  Dominique looked at the box of cards on her bed, the cards that were extra income for her and entertainment for the other local women, used mostly to ferret out the petty grievances and infidelities to be found in any town. In other words, the sort of readings she could have done with any deck or with no deck at all. These cards, however, were powerful, their capabilities far beyond any reading for which she used them and they magnified her already-considerable talent. She could perhaps interfere, save her pretty new town. But did she feel comfortable using them to alter fate in such a large way?

  She looked at her young son, asleep in his tiny cot. This was the only city he’d ever known as home—he’d been just an infant when she’d fled France, leaving behind her husband and his dark trickery. Christmas was coming soon, and a town in flames was not the holiday she wished for her child.

  And so she was resolved. She spread the cards across her uneven wood table, their images distorted in the flickering candlelight. Weaving the story from the reading, she sighed as she saw that the city’s only hope was surrender. She also saw from the cards that the General Harding would be receptive to the message; even hardened military officials could be charmed by Savannah. It could be arranged, the destruction could be averted. Dominique laid her plans for convincing the city’s leadership. The cards assured her of her success.

  And so it was that on December 20, 1864, Savannah’s soldiers escaped the city on a hastily constructed pontoon bridge. The following morning, Mayor Arnold rode forward to announce Savannah’s surrender.

  It was a humiliation for her proud Savannah, Dominique thought, but it was also survival.

  She was rewarded handsomely for her guidance.

  Chapter 16. Down to Georgia.

  AS OUR PLANE TOUCHED DOWN IN SAVANNAH, I couldn’t
help but be excited. It was a new city for me, and Gavin had spent our plane ride telling me about how beautiful the city was, with its historic buildings and the ancient oaks dripping with Spanish moss.

  As I sat in the back of the cab, I was mesmerized by how different the city was from anything in Colorado. Much warmer, for one thing, and so humid it felt as though I just opened a city-sized dishwasher.

  “The air feels soggy,” I told Gavin, pulling my long hair back into a ponytail.

  “Only to a mountain girl like you. Savannah has pretty mild humidity compared to some of the cities down here,” he pointed out.

  We drove through several commercial areas and a few neighborhoods and I was struck by how pretty so many of the buildings were. A pretty blue-green color seemed to be prevalent on many of the doors and windowsills of the homes we passed. I pointed it out to Gavin.

  “Haint blue,” he said. “Traditionally, it was supposed ward off evil spirits and prevent them from entering the home.”

  “Did it work?” I laughed.

  “Couldn’t hurt, I guess,” Gavin replied.

  Paint to keep the ghosts away…a secret society that read tarot cards, I wondered what other secrets were simmering beneath the surface of Savannah. Even the light was different here, a more mellow hypnotic shade of sunlight that cast unusual shadows across the ornate architecture of the beautiful old homes and serene parks.

  “Here we are,” Gavin said, as the cab pulled to a stop. I looked out the window and was speechless at the sight of Gavin’s home. I hadn’t given much thought to what his house would be like, but I hadn’t pictured this.

  The house faced a quaint square park with fountains and benches. It was white and looked to be at least three stories tall; each story was easily as large as my whole house. It was sandwiched between two equally impressive residences. There was a wide wrap-around porch not only on the main level, but on the upper floors as well. A wide curving stairway led to a stately front door flanked by thick pillars.

  I got out of the cab and took my bag from Gavin as he paid the cab fare, still trying not to gawk at the house. I saw a fair-haired woman peer out from one of the upper windows. Maybe this wasn’t actually one house. I realized that perhaps it was divided into condo units.

  “Which floor do you live on?” I asked Gavin as we climbed the stairs to the door.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, which unit is yours?” I asked.

  “Oh,” he said, “It’s all one house, Lucy.”

  I felt my cheeks flush red with embarrassment. “I just saw a lady upstairs so I thought maybe it was apartments or something.”

  “Long blond hair?” he asked. I nodded. “That’ll be Julia, then. She lives here, too.”

  Julia? Gavin hadn’t said anything about a girlfriend. I felt irritated for some reason; I hadn’t counted on another person tagging along.

  The front door burst open and the blonde sashayed outside.

  “Gavin!” she exclaimed, “You’re finally home. Why didn’t you tell me you were flying in today? I’d have had a nice dinner made.”

  Julia’s voice was honey and sunshine, sweet and warm with a Southern accent. She was wearing a linen sundress and heeled sandals, whereas I was again wearing my shaggy cutoffs, flip flops and a tee shirt.

  She turned her enormous blue eyes toward me and smiled graciously. “Gavin, you haven’t introduced this young lady. I’m Julia Oglethorpe,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Lucy Auburn,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m here visiting from Colorado.”

  “Well now, I thought I detected a western accent,” she replied, motioning for me to come inside. “Now set that bag down and I’ll get us some drinks. Sweet tea?”

  Gavin nodded. I did as well, though I wasn’t really sure what sweet tea would be. It didn’t sound bad, at any rate. Leaving our bags in the foyer, Gavin and I walked to a living room—well, maybe in this sort of house it would be parlor, I thought. I took a seat a comfortable chair across from Gavin.

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me, and noticing that my toe nail polish had chipped.

  “We’ll go meet with Nathaniel tomorrow morning. For now, let’s settle in, get some dinner and then come back here for the night.” We sat silently for a few minutes, gathering our thoughts.

  “Julia isn’t going to mind that I’m here, right?” I asked Gavin.

  “No, of course not.”

  As if on cue, Julia entered the room, carrying a pitcher and three glasses on a large tray. She handed me a glass and, true to its name, the tea was impossibly, deliciously sweet. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down. I noticed that she sat on one of the large chairs and not next to Gavin on the loveseat. Maybe their relationship wasn’t going so well, after all. Not that I cared, of course.

  “So what brings you to Savannah, Lucy?”

  “Guild business,” Gavin interjected, “Her grandmother was in the guild and I want her to meet with Nathaniel. We’re seeing him tomorrow, asking some questions.”

  “I see,” said Julia, pausing to sip daintily at her tea. “So Lucy, Gavin’s roped you into his theory, then? Big, bad conspiracies?”

  “Don’t start, Julia,” Gavin said, his jaw tightening.

  “Why, I’m not ‘starting’ anything, darling,” Julia said. “I just don’t think you should be pestering that man. He’s old and doesn’t need to be bothered.”

  “Hey, I’m not here to bother anyone,” I jumped in. “I’m just here to do a little research. I’m not going to be, uh, pestering people,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. Maybe I should have stayed in a hotel, I thought.

  “No, I’m sure you’re not, darling—I’m sorry to even suggest such a thing,” Julia said smoothly. “I would just hope that Gavin would be a gentleman and not involve you in any sort of troubles.”

  “Julia, Lucy’s an adult. She can choose what to be involved in.” Gavin stood up, setting his glass on a coaster. “Lucy, let me show you to your room so you can freshen up.”

  Gavin led me up a wide flight of stairs to a second floor guest bedroom. The room was immaculate and spacious, papered in a pink toile print with French doors opening to a balcony. I dropped my backpack on the large four post bed and turned to face Gavin. He told me to meet him downstairs in an hour and left the room abruptly, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  My room had an attached private bathroom. I placed my toiletry bag on the sink and suddenly I wanted nothing more than a long, cool shower. I stripped off my grubby clothes and showered and changed, and, thinking of Julia, paid extra attention to styling my hair and applying my makeup.

  I glanced at my cell phone and realized it was time to meet Gavin. As I was heading toward the stairs, I stopped short as I heard voices arguing beneath me.

  “—already said, she’s an adult,” I heard Gavin say, exasperated.

  “She’s a child, Gavin, and you’ve dragged her across the country for this…obsession.’

  “Julia, she thinks her grandmother was murdered. She has every right to look for answers, too.”

  “Fine, then. Fine. Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, Gavin, that you are right and someone’s hunting down some Guild thing or another, then what? Then you’ve put this little girl in the path of danger.”

  “Not any more than she would’ve been in. I’m finished with this conversation, Julia. You’re welcome to join us for dinner; I’m going to see if Lucy is ready.”

  I quickly turned back to my back to them and returned to my room. A few minutes later, Gavin knocked on my door, asking me if I was ready for dinner. I saw that Julia was at the base of the stairs waiting for us, her car keys in hand.

  “I hope I didn’t cause a problem with you and your girlfriend,” I whispered to Gavin.

  “Girlfriend?” Gavin replied distractedly. “Oh, Julia. She’s my cousin. She’ll be fine.”

  Cousin. Aha. I felt a relieved smile spread across m
y face.

  EVEN THE MORNINGS FELT DIFFERENT IN SAVANNAH. Boulder greeted the morning with a bowl of granola and a long run; Savannah with a lazy wink and a cool mimosa.

  I hummed to myself as I climbed into the hot airlessness of Gavin’s Land Rover and buckled my seat belt. I’d soon be meeting Nathaniel and piecing together the scraps of my family history and my own future. I’d done a reading early that morning and my reading had confirmed that by the end of the day, I would have some additional answers to dispel the fog of mystery surrounding me.

  Gavin started the car and I reached forward to find some music. I always liked to see what I could find out about a person from their music choices, so I clicked through the preset buttons of his radio. Random static and half-mumbled voices warbled from the speakers.

  “I think your radio’s broken, Gavin.”

  Gavin glanced over. “Looks fine,” he said.

  “Yeah, well here’s the thing: it might look fine but it doesn’t sound fine, and sound is kind of like the main consideration with audio accessories,” I said.

  “It’s a new car and I haven’t had time to set the stations yet,” Gavin said. “Besides, I’m not much of a music person.”

  “You’re an artist, I thought artists were, you know, into the arts and music and being passionate.”

  “Who says I’m not passionate?” he replied, trying to be straight-faced, but I saw his giveaway quirked lip.

  “I saw that,” I said. Gavin didn’t reply, but reached out his arm to change the station, turning it up loud enough, presumably, to drown me out.

  We drove through Savannah and toward a more rural area. The oaks were thick and draped heavily with thick tangled curls of Spanish moss. Coming to a small intersection, I saw an old man at a table with a large pot sitting on it. A cardboard sign propped against the pot advertised ham hock boiled peanuts for sale. The man looked haggard and exhausted, and I wondered how he’d manage to sell many peanuts on this empty stretch of road. I made a mental note to ask Gavin to stop on the way back. I had never heard of boiled peanuts, but maybe they’d taste like peanut butter. I’d take a pass on the ham hock, whatever that was.