The Fortune Teller

by Gwendolyn Womack

  Semele couldn’t believe she had been working in the devil’s den—Mikhail had reported directly to Viktor and must have known Viktor’s intentions and tried to protect her. Cabe had lost his life because of them, and before him, her father and Marcel.

  She thought of Raina.

  Raina had known Viktor wanted the manuscript, but she hadn’t known his whole plan. Yet she must have wondered at his obsession with Semele, even felt threatened by it.

  Semele wanted to believe that Raina had nothing to do with Cabe’s death, that she was innocent. But she couldn’t explain away her fury. Raina had Evanoff’s and Viktor’s blood in her veins. Maybe one day she would meet her cousin and know the truth.

  * * *

  On their second evening back, Semele and Theo were alone in Theo’s suite. He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms.

  “So,” she asked point-blank, “do you have your grandmother’s ability?”

  A gleam entered his eyes. “You’re not the only one who inherited something.” He had the audacity to smile.

  Semele could only gape at him. “You’re telling me you can see through walls?”

  “It’s called remote viewing,” he said, as if that made it any more normal. “Basically, I can focus my mind and leave my body to travel to other places.”

  “What kinds of places?” Her eyebrows shot up. “How far?”

  He considered the question. “Over land, pretty far. Oceans, not so much.”

  Oceans? A giggle welled up inside her. His mind could fly like Superman, and she could see the future and the past. Now weren’t they the perfect couple?

  “It’s easier if I have a specific place—or person—I’m trying to connect with.” He looked away, as if he was divulging an embarrassing secret. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn’t find the right time.”

  She wondered if he had tried to “connect” with her at the château, and she realized that the day she had seen him meditating, he had actually been doing something else.

  “When I was working in your father’s gallery, you were watching me, weren’t you?”

  “Who wouldn’t watch you?” He kissed the tip of her nose playfully.

  All that time she had thought he was indifferent to her, when the opposite had been true. “That’s how you knew the maid was in there?”

  He nodded, looking pleased with himself. Semele began to get the full picture. “And do you normally sit on your bed shirtless?”

  “Only when I know you’re snooping around my house.”

  “I wasn’t snooping!” She swatted his chest. “I was coming up to the library to see the Orbis Sensualium Pictus. Is it really an original?”

  His lips found hers again. “Come to Switzerland with me and find out.”

  She kissed him back. “I could do that.”

  “The gallery and the collection are yours.”

  At first she didn’t think she had heard him right. “But the collection’s gone.”

  “I canceled the auction after the theft. Fritz”—he said the name with relish—“had to ship everything back.”

  She shook her head in amazement. “You were never planning to sell anything, were you?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. This entire time he’d been jeopardizing his collection just so she would read the manuscript.

  “You realize you put priceless manuscripts at risk just by shipping them.” She didn’t know whether to throttle him or kiss him.

  “Good thing they’re back.” A wicked light entered Theo’s eyes. “The gallery does have my favorite table in the house.”

  She laughed as her hands trailed under his shirt and up his back, delighting as he shivered at her touch. “I happen to be partial to that table too.”

  “Semele.” The way he said her name undid her.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed. They made love, holding hands, their bodies like two flames wrapping around each other. Together they were The Lovers, two halves made one, personified in the cards and in the stars forever.

  Queen of Cups

  Theo had left the manuscript’s missing pages on the table in the den for her to read when she was ready.

  She sat down and stared at the parchment. How was it possible to feel so much joy and sadness at the same time? Here was the last of the manuscript, the only remaining imprint of Ionna left in the world. Semele only had these few parchment leaves and one card, but at least she had something.

  She picked up the surviving card—The World. There was a miniature painting of a naked woman dancing in the center of the world holding a wand in each hand. She traced her fingers over the paint; the Syrian artist whom Ariston had commissioned was a master.

  She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and leaned forward to read the last of the manuscript. Her name was written across the top of the parchment in beautiful flowing script:

  Semele

  I can feel your eyes upon me as I write these last pages.

  In the final days of my life, I am happy knowing these words have become our shared dream, tunneling us through the past and future so that we might meet in the middle.

  Do not mourn the loss of the cards or my words. All things must return to the chasm. It is the symbols that will carry our stories, for they are the infinite doorways that can hold lifetimes.

  Wadjet tasked me with teaching you. That was the riddle I had to solve. She is both of our grandmothers, and these pages are the leaves of our family tree.

  The key I found in my mother’s jewelry box was meant for me, passed down by ancestors who came before me. It is a key I will take to my grave. All the doors have been unlocked, and now your journey begins as mine is ending.

  I will die giving birth to my daughter in a few weeks’ time. I have seen her life go on without me, as I have seen my descendents walk their path to you. Ariston cried like a child when I told him, but he had to be prepared. I convinced him to abide by my wishes after I’m gone. He too had read the Oracle’s scroll and knew what she had asked of me.

  When I die Ariston will commission the best artist in Syria to replicate the cards using paint created with my blood. With so many years between you and me, and time waging its war to keep us apart, the truth of my body will be the only way to ensure you recognize who you are.

  Now that you have accessed your power, you will need to learn to make sense of your abilities, or the visions will become as fleeting as the dreams we have in sleep. Always remember the answers come not from the rock, the teacup, the shell, or the cards. The answers come from you.

  You may not believe me now, but you will become a greater seer than me. You will see farther into the future than I ever could. When the day comes, you will decide what words to leave behind. You will find your reader and you will love her as I do.

  I have seen nature in its vast expanse. I have seen civilizations crumble, heard the reverberations of history as time folded and unfolded again. I have seen shooting stars rain down from heaven, watched war and destruction blacken the earth, and I have seen love revive us. I have peered through time and past its many veils to find you.

  One of my cards, The World, was left behind for a reason. It is the symbol of the soul becoming conscious of the divine. Now let the world embrace you.

  Author’s Thanks

  This story could not have been told without a childhood adventure that I must thank my parents for letting me take—a seventh grade summer school trip to France with my French teacher (and her tarot cards). Thank you, Mom and Dad, for letting me go, and to Mme Hobson, wherever you may be! Also loving thanks to Emma Ferguson for years later trying to show a very inquisitive teenage me how to read tarot.

  If cards were to represent people, then my agent, Brianne Johnson, at Writers House would be The High Priestess. Bri, thank you for your passion for this story from the get-go, for your insights and for steering the ship yet again. My editor at Picador, Elizabeth Bruce, would have to be The Magician. Elizabeth, thank you for taking on this
story and being such a vital partner in the creative journey—how I have loved working at your table again.

  My deepest gratitude to Stephen Morrison and the talented people behind the curtain at Picador: managing editor Kolt Beringer; production team Lauren Hougen and Vincent Stanley; copyeditors Kate Davis and NaNá Stoelzle; VP of Marketing and Sales Darin Keesler; and Shannon Donnelly and Molly Fessenden in marketing; executive director of Publicity James Meader and my publicist, Isabella Alimonti; Devon Mazzone and Amber Hoover for handling subsidiary rights, assisted by Naoise McGee; interior designer Jonathan Bennett; and LeeAnn Falciani for designing the book’s cover.

  A very special thanks to Laura Chasen for her line edit; tarot consultant Bakara Wintner for providing invaluable insight for the story and the cards; my sister, Alexandria, and my brother Bart and his wife, Kelsi, for the brainstorming session before I began writing; and many thanks to Simon Goltsman, Julia Burke, Farah Bullara, Monika Telszewska, Sue Ebrahim, Charlotte Schillaci, Robin Wilson, Bruce Brenner, Paul O’Brien, and Nadine Nettman for the research assistance and encouragement along the way.

  I read numerous nonfiction works in my research and I’d like to give a special mention to Dean Radin’s book Entangled Minds and Michael Dummett and Ronald Decker’s two books, A Wicked Pack of Cards: Origins of the Occult Tarot (with Thierry Depaulis) and A History of the Occult Tarot. They were an invaluable resource, as well as tarot scholar Mary K. Greer’s website. For a full list of the selected bibliography, please visit my Web site. (Any factual errors found within these pages are my own.)

  I also could not have written The Fortune Teller without first discovering a gem of a group, The Manuscript Society. I joined the society during my quest for research and they provided a wealth of information. Special thanks also goes to forensic specialist Gabrielle Weimer for her guidance; Mark Beaulieu for his ancient maps and logistical assistance; and Christine E. McCarthy and Raymond Clemens at the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library for graciously answering my questions.

  Since publication of my first book, The Memory Painter, I’ve been filled with such gratitude to all the booksellers, librarians, reviewers, bloggers, and fellow authors who have supported me, and I am forever grateful to authors M. J. Rose, Katherine Neville, Charlie Lovett, and Anne Fortier. Many thanks to my foreign publishers; the American Booksellers Association; the FF&P and LARA chapters of RWA, the ITW Debut Program, MWA, SWFA, and the Historical Novel Society; Terry Gilman at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore; as well as Julie Lawson Timmer, Alex Dolan, and Stacy Wise for their support. My continuing thanks to Lucy Stille, Judith Karfiol, web designers Jess Foster and Mike Ross, and JennKL Photography.

  To all my friends and family, my husband and son, Kurando and Kenzo, your love and encouragement keep my world spinning. To my readers, you have my infinite thanks. I wish you all a wonderful journey on the Wheel of Life.

  ALSO BY GWENDOLYN WOMACK

  The Memory Painter

  About the Author

  Originally from Houston, Texas, GWENDOLYN WOMACK studied theater at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. She holds an MFA in Directing Theatre, Video and Cinema from California Institute of the Arts. Her first novel, The Memory Painter, was an RWA PRISM Award winner in the Time Travel/Steampunk category and a finalist for Best First Novel. She now resides in Los Angeles with her husband and her son.

  Visit her online at www.gwendolynwomack.com, or sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Map

  The Fool

  The Magician

  Ace of Pentacles

  The High Priestess

  Knight of Swords

  The Empress

  The Emperor

  The Hierophant

  Five of Swords

  The Chariot

  King of Cups

  Queen of Swords

  Strength

  Eight of Swords

  The Hermit

  Wheel of Fortune

  Justice

  The Hanged Man

  Death

  Temperance

  Eight of Cups

  The Devil

  Ace of Cups

  King of Wands

  The Tower

  King of Pentacles

  The Star

  Queen of Wands

  The Moon

  The Sun

  Judgement

  Ten of Swords

  King of Swords

  Ace of Swords

  Page of Swords

  Queen of Pentacles

  Two of Cups

  Ace of Wands

  Ten of Wands

  The World

  The Lovers

  Queen of Cups

  Author’s Thanks

  Also by Gwendolyn Womack

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THE FORTUNE TELLER. Copyright © 2017 by Gwendolyn Womack. All rights reserved. For information, address Picador, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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  Cover design by LeeAnn Falciani

  Cover photographs: background texture © Toh Eng Chai/Shutterstock.com; background texture © Eky Studio/Shutterstock.com; floral frame © Nattle/Shutterstock.com; stars © Jurik Peter/Shutterstock.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Names: Womack, Gwendolyn, 1970– author.

  Title: The fortune teller: a novel / Gwendolyn Womack.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Picador, 2017.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016058286 (print) | LCCN 2017004551 (e-book) | ISBN 9781250099778 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781250099785 (e-book)

  Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Suspense. | FICTION / Visionary & Metaphysical. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Suspense fiction. | Occult fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3623.O597327 F67 2017 (print) | LCC PS3623.O597327 (e-book) | DDC 813'.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016058286

  e-ISBN 9781250099785

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  First Edition: June 2017