Tarot's Kiss (Tarot Chronicles)

by Nichole Blackfinch

  “Let me have my fantasies,” he’d replied.

  But now, our takeout food finished and the best of our gossip already discussed, we were relaxed as we listened to each girl’s readings. A late-summer storm was raging outside, the occasional boom of thunder interrupting the sounds of our chatter.

  “What’s your question, Jana?”

  Her green eyes were wide. “How can I actually pick a good guy to date?”

  This was a good question for Jana. During our junior year, she’d gotten involved with a college guy who’d beat her up so badly she’d been hospitalized and during our senior year she’d dated a guy who, unbeknownst to her, hid a large bag of weed in the trunk of her car, which was discovered by her father when he went to change her tire one unlucky afternoon. She shuffled the cards and I laid them out for a love spread.

  I’d just begun to explain her cards but was cut off as a bright flash of lightning seared the stormy night sky. Suddenly the room went black as the storm cut the power. A momentary hush fell across the room and then several bright spots appeared as a few of us held up our cell phones to illuminate the room.

  “Do you have any candles?” Angie asked.

  “I’ll go grab some,” I replied. “It’ll make for a better atmosphere for reading, anyway.” Carrying my phone ahead of me to light the way, I headed to the kitchen. I knew there were several candles at the back of the pantry. I glanced out a back window to see if my neighbor’s lights were out as well, or if it was just my house. As far as I could tell, their power was out, too, though at this time of night they may have just been asleep. The candles located, I returned to the dark living room with my arms full.

  The storm was intensifying; rain slapped against the house and the wind knocked a tree branch against the side window pane with a loud thwack. Startled, I looked over, but the window was fine. I turned away and then instantly back again.

  Something outside wasn’t right. I stared into the blackness, but saw nothing unexpected. I nearly looked away, but a spark of brightness caught my eye. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but I was certain I’d seen something. A tiny glowing light of some sort. Probably just a neighbor, I told myself, but uneasiness crept over me nonetheless. It had struck me as off, though I couldn’t say why.

  I yanked the curtains shut and began lighting candles, placing them throughout the room to provide light.

  “How dramatic. Nice and spooky,” Angie giggled. I agreed that it was spooky, but I didn’t think there was anything nice about it. Not nice at all, I thought as I rubbed at the goose bumps that had risen on my arms.

  WE ALL WOKE LATE THE NEXT MORNING. The storm had broken and the day dawned bright and clear. Most of my friends headed home, but a few of us opted to have breakfast together. We drowsily packed our bed-headed selves into my car and made our way to the waffle house.

  After breakfast, I dropped everyone off but Angie, who’d agree to help me clean up the mess from the night before. We got back to my house and Angie beat me to the front door while I checked the mailbox.

  “Hey, Lucy, you got a package,” she said, holding up a brown padded business envelope. “It was on your doorstep.”

  “Who’s it from?” I asked, taking the envelope from her.

  “Didn’t say, but it feels like a dvd or something.”

  We went inside and I tore the envelope open. A clear jewel case containing a silver disc was all that rested inside. There wasn’t a note or a return address.

  “That’s weird. I wonder what that’s all about.” Angie flipped open the case. “Huh, it is a dvd. Should we watch?”

  “It’s probably something Matt dropped off. Let’s check it out.” I took the disc from her and walked to the dvd player. I loaded the disc and we sat down to watch.

  At first the screen was black, and then there was a blur of action, as if the person filming was fumbling with the camera. The picture then righted itself and came into focus and I recognized the scene. It was my house.

  The camera cut to black and then to another shot of my house, this one taken from the side. The view zoomed in until the frame was filled with the image of my living room. There was no sound on the video, but I could see that it had been filmed the night before. This explained the light I’d glimpsed outside, I realized. Someone had been filming the party through the window.

  There was me, bringing in sodas for my friends. There was Angie, laughing at something Stella was saying. Since we’d been sitting on the floor, you couldn’t see anyone unless they stood up, and everyone had been fully dressed, but still, it felt like a gross invasion of privacy. The video ended abruptly after a few minutes.

  “Well, it’s sure good to know that we have a pervert on the loose,” Angie remarked as I pulled the disk from my player.

  “No kidding. I just wonder who would have been out there.”

  “Do you think Matt would have done it as a joke?” Angie asked.

  “I can’t really see him being that stupid, but I’ll ask him when we’re out tonight,” I said. I felt sick to my stomach; I couldn’t see Matt doing anything as weird as filming us. But if he hadn’t, who had?

  Chapter 25. The Ten of Swords.

  The next morning assaulted me with a pounding headache and a phone that was ringing nonstop. I’d spent the evening at an outdoor concert that had featured Last Chance for Zombies and several other local bands, and then I’d gone to a party with Matt and his friends. We’d been out most of the night and I was exhausted. I glared at the phone, mentally willing it to stop ringing. But no, the caller would simply hang up and call back.

  I stumbled to the hateful phone and answered, “Yeah, hello?”

  “Well good morning, Miss Lucy.”

  “Nathaniel, it’s like,” I squinted at my clock, “It’s like 7:45. I was asleep.”

  “Ah, well, I am a forgetful old man,” he gave a fake chuckle. “It slipped my mind that of course it’s later here in Savannah.”

  “Urgh,” I grunted. Where was my aspirin?

  “Now Lucy, tell me my dear, have you had any more luck finding our missing Empress?”

  I groaned internally. “Nathaniel,” I said, “I know you really, really, want that card. And seriously, I want to give it to you. But you don’t need to call all the time. I swear that the very nanosecond I find it, I will call you. Better yet, I will hop on a plane and carry it to you on a freaking silver platter.”

  “I’m not so sure you’re taking this seriously, Lucy.”

  “What else exactly do you think I should be doing?”

  “Just keep looking, my dear. I’m worried about your safety. Maybe spend less time giggling at slumber parties and more time dedicated to helping the Guild.”

  My blood froze. “How did you know I had a party?”

  “Lucky guess, lucky guess. That’s what the girls these days do, now isn’t it?”

  “Did you tape us? Last night? Because if so, it’s not funny. Actually, it’s totally inappropriate and probably illegal.”

  “Well now,” he replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do just want to make sure that you are properly motivated, Miss Lucy. That’s all. And are you properly motivated?”

  “Yes, fine, I’m properly motivated. Bye Nathaniel. I will call you if there is news. But stop bugging me.”

  I disconnected the call and threw the phone carelessly on the ground. I walked to the base and yanked the cord from the wall. A girl needed her sleep.

  I climbed back under the duvet and pulled the pillow over my head. No more disruptions. I felt as though I had just gone to sleep when I heard my cell ring again. I hate people, I muttered to myself as I picked it up to answer it.

  “Hello,” I snarled.

  “Well good morning to you, too, Lucy-puff,” Angie said. “Sounds like you’re in a great mood.”

  “It’s early and I’m tired,” I said.

  “Um, it’s eleven o’clock,” Angie replied.

  “Oh. Well, I thought it was ea
rlier.”

  “Obviously. So, I was going to ask if you wanted to head to the pool with me and Stella at noon, but it sounds like you’re in more of an Eeyore state of mind.”

  “No, that sounds fun. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  Angie was leaving for school in New York in less than two weeks, so I wanted to spend some time with her. I rolled out of bed and hunted for my bikini and a beach towel and a bag, anticipating the pleasure of a lazy afternoon with friends.

  THAT EVENING, FEELING SLIGHTLY SUNBURNED but happy, I came home and decided to spend the evening playing video games. I turned on my computer and after a few hours had just gotten my elf to level eighty-eight when I heard a knock at the door. I looked at my phone—it was forty-five minutes past midnight. Who would be at my house so late?

  I took off my headphones and opened the front door, puzzled to see Angie’s dad standing there.

  “Lucy, I’m so sorry to bother you so late, but I couldn’t find your phone number,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine, I was up anyway. Is everything ok?” I asked, ushering him inside.

  “I hope so,” he said. “But I was wondering if you’d heard from Angie. She was supposed to meet me and her grandmother for dinner at eight, but she never showed up. I’ve called her phone and she hasn’t answered.”

  “That’s weird. I was with her at the pool and then we went for ice cream and she was telling me that she needed to get home and change so she could meet up with you guys. I know she was planning on it. Let me try calling her from my phone,” I said.

  I called Angie twice from my cell and sent her a text message. She didn’t reply.

  “Is she dating someone new that I don’t know about?” her dad asked.

  “No,” I said. “Unless it’s someone she hasn’t told me about. I think she isn’t really interested in anyone right now, since she’s leaving so soon and everything.”

  “Yes, that’s what she’d told me as well,” he said. “I’m getting worried about her. This really isn’t like her.”

  I offered to call our mutual friends to see if anyone had heard from Angie. Her dad thanked me and said he’d have her call me if he heard from her. After he left my house, I called everyone I could think of who might have seen Angie, but no one seemed to know where she was.

  Worry was building in my every nerve by the minute; Angie had been my closest friend since we were kids. I couldn’t see her having some secret rendezvous and not telling me. Nor could I see her rudely blowing off a dinner with her dad and grandmother. Then again, Angie did love a good party. It was possible she’d met up with someone new and had found plans for the evening.

  I couldn’t think of what else to do, and sleeping was out of the question, so I flopped on the sofa to watch an old movie. My cards were on the coffee table, so I picked them up and begin to shuffle them absentmindedly as I watched the show.

  Where is Angie? Where is Angie? The concern looped in the back of my mind as the movie droned on. Suddenly, I lost my grip on the deck and a card came flipping out from the center, landing face up on the floor. I set the rest of the cards on the coffee table and bent to pick up the card that had fallen.

  I held the card close to me, so that the light from the tv would illuminate the image. My heart stopped. It was the Ten of Swords…a woman lay bleeding on the ground, possibly dead, her back pierced by ten sharp swords, rivulets of blood trailing from each wound. I had been wondering about Angie, and this is the card that had leapt from the deck. Angie was in trouble, she was hurt.

  Rapid jags of breath shook me as I dialed Angie’s home phone number. Her dad picked just after the small, anxious eternity that stretched between the first and second ring.

  “It’s Lucy,” I said. The acid metallic taste of panic was thick in my mouth, sludge against my tongue. “Angie’s hurt, I know from the cards because the Ten of Swords came out.”

  “I don’t understand, Lucy. Did you see Angie? Did she call you?”

  “No! Just call the police now. Angie’s hurt. Say what you have to say to convince them because even though you probably think it’s stupid, I know my tarot cards and I know what I saw. I’m going to go look for her now.”

  Still in my pajamas and slippers, I ran to my car, and began to haphazardly search the streets of Boulder. My car seemed to operate independently, as if it, too, was consumed by anxiety over Angie’s whereabouts.

  I passed Blake’s house, Stella’s house, my mom’s house, any house I could think of where Angie had spent time in the past. I drove to the ice cream parlor where we’d eaten earlier that day, but it was long-closed by now, with dead, dark windows and a lightless sign. I drove to the pool where only twelve hours before Angie had spread out her beach towel next to mine. I drove to our former high school, pulling into the student parking lot that I’d been sure I’d never need to use again.

  The shoe in the gutter was what I saw first. My headlights flashed across it as I pulled into back half of the student lot. A lone, yellow platform heel. An expensive, stylish shoe. Angie’s shoe. I stopped the car.

  I bit my fist and braced myself. I killed my engine but left the lights on, picking up the shoe and walking along the sickly path the headlights cast on the dark ground. I stepped from the asphalt to the grassy strip separating the parking lot from the back of the bleachers, the wet grass soaking my slippers. The towering bleachers lured me forward; some small bump lay at the base. That bump—it was sporting equipment, right? It was a napping bum, it was landscaping gear left there by a forgetful maintenance crew, it was anything in the world. Please, I whispered mentally, let it be anything else in the world.

  I came closer, shoe still in hand, as the bump became clear in the moonlight. It was a body. In a sick parody of the card I’d drawn earlier, the body was face down, the length of the back blood-soaked. And all that blond hair, Angie’s beautiful hair, was sticky, dark and matted.

  I touched her arm, brushed her hair off the side of her face. “Angie? Please, it’s Lucy.”

  There was no response in her body at all. I held her hand, too shocked to cry. It couldn’t be. Angie was supposed to go to college. She was supposed to be a designer. She was the brave one, the one who went first and figured things out for the rest of us. It couldn’t be her body, but how else to explain the matching yellow shoe on just one of her feet? I held her to me.

  In a daze, and for the second time in less than six months, I called 911 from my cell phone. The Boulder police arrived nearly instantly, along with an ambulance. I didn’t see Angie’s dad. I was given a blanket by a kind officer and taken away from the school to answer questions.

  No, I hadn’t seen anyone.

  No, I didn’t know of anyone who would do this to my friend.

  It was only later, in the bathroom at the police station, that I saw the rusty smears of blood that stained my face and pajamas and was startled when the girl in the mirror began to sob loudly until someone helped her to a seat. Somehow my mom was suddenly there, hugging me close, blood and all, and taking me back to her house, letting me collapse.

  MOST OF OUR GRADUATING CLASS CAME TO THE FUNERAL, the fresh shocked still scrawled across our faces. I found myself thinking of how Angie would have laughed at some of the floral arrangements, particularly those adorned with glittery sayings. I imagined the silly, catty comments she might have made about some of the mourner’s outfits and longed to have her with me, whispering and giggling.

  Angie’s death was front page news, such a painful and random act of violence in a peaceful neighborhood. They used her senior picture in the article, a picture of a gorgeous smiling blond; no one could look less deceased. The police were investigating her death, but it appeared she had been kidnapped, shot and then dropped at the school. No one knew why, and her car still hadn’t been found. I gave the police Nathaniel’s name, but I could tell the detective found the story unlikely. I thought of how scared Angie must have been, and how alone. I missed her every moment. Why hadn’t I stayed with
her after swimming?

  Angie’s dad dipped his head, sobbing deeply at the sight of Angie in her casket, while his girlfriend beside him stood rubbing his back. My mom and Matt stood beside me, and Matt wrapped his arm over my shoulders, holding me tightly. My mom was holding my hand; they were doing their best to shield me from the day, but didn’t they know it couldn’t be done? The sadness, the rage, the grief, it would always find a way in.

  Suddenly I needed to be alone. I hadn’t been alone since the night I found her. I told Matt I’d be right back and headed for the restroom. I washed my hands and was splashing water on my puffy tear-stained face when Alyson and two other girls from school came in.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” the short redhead told me, “I know you guys were good friends.”

  “Thanks,” I said without looking away from the mirror. I didn’t want to get into a conversation.

  “You were the one who found her, weren’t you?” The redhead pushed on.

  “Yes.”’

  “I heard that you also found your grandma dead. Like before you got her house,” the other girl added. I didn’t reply, but took my bag from the counter and turned to exit the bathroom.

  Alyson motioned to the other girls and stood in front of me. “It sounds like to me that the cops really should be looking at you. I mean, you’re the one who keeps ‘happening’ to find dead people. And I always thought you seemed kind of weird, anyway,” she laughed.

  Something inside me snapped. I rushed forward at Alyson, swinging my bag upward to knock her in the face twice. She teetered on her heels and rolled her ankle, toppling to the tile floor of the bathroom. She shrieked in pain and the look on her face was hateful.

  “What’re you going to do Lucy? Murder me too?” she hissed from behind her clenched teeth.

  I kicked her stomach, hard, and was pulled back by the two other girls. One of the girls pulled my sleeve so hard that it ripped and the redhead slapped me. Alyson stood back up. I was pleased to see that I’d bloodied her nose and that one of her hair extensions had come loose.