Nancy Drew’s ears perked up.
“Poor old dog. You can’t understand any of this, can you?” Erin kneeled and gave Nancy a dog biscuit and a gentle scratch on the head. “Everyone is a friend to you. But not to me.”
Erin debated her options.
Raya would have told her to raise both middle fingers to the answering machine and delete the message. Andy would have suggested letting the air out of all four of the tires on Genevieve’s car. Her mother, on the other hand, would probably advise Erin to take the high road—while Joyce secretly did the dirty work of spreading juicy gossip about Genevieve.
Her emotions couldn’t possibly be any more confused. Outside, rain began to pour, making a cacophonous yet soothing sound on the roof.
She picked up the phone, tossed it from hand to hand, then dropped it back in the cradle and walked to the bedroom, where she picked up the pile of tarot cards and the matching booklet from her bedside table.
Cards in hand, she sat down on the living room floor.
Nancy Drew sat down next to her, pressing her furry body against Erin’s leg.
Erin spread out the cards on the coffee table, searching for the ones the girl had drawn at the magic shop. She picked up the Tower, the Star, and the Wheel of Fortune and laid them in a row. Erin touched the Tower card with one finger, then turned to its page in the booklet and read aloud. “Destruction. Change. Liberation.” Inspired, she jumped up and ran to the kitchen, where she retrieved the wedding album from under the counter. She brought the album to the living room and placed it on the coffee table with the Tower card on top of it.
“The Star,” she murmured, turning her attention to the second card. She found herself touching the crystal hanging from her necklace. She found the relevant page in the booklet and read aloud. “Spiritual inspiration. Renewal. Hope.” Erin considered for a moment, then unclasped the necklace and laid it on the card.
“The Wheel of Fortune.” This one was more complicated. Erin considered the card as she slowly rotated it on the surface of the table. When it completed a full revolution, she picked it up and held it in her cupped hands. She closed her eyes and sought inspiration within. A long-ago lesson returned to mind, and she spoke it aloud over the card. “When men are cast down, then thou shalt say, There is lifting up; and he shall save the humble person.”
Erin chuckled. God must have a sense of humor. Why else would she recall an obscure Bible verse from the Book of Job in the middle of seeking spiritual inspiration for conjuring a friendly demon? Where she had expected to find conflict between two different systems of belief, she found only a sense of completion, like a key fitting into a lock—possibly sacrilegious, but satisfying all the same.
She looked around the room. Her gaze landed on one of the markers Andy had so enthusiastically used to plot revenge. She picked it up and held it in both hands. What he had written was proof he had been here. Erin laid the marker on the Wheel of Fortune card, patting it for good measure, then gathered the rest of the deck and shuffled the cards.
“If a kid can do it, so can I,” she said. “Right, Nancy?”
Nancy’s tail thumped the floor.
“One card,” she said. “For guidance.” Erin tapped the top of the deck and drew one card, laying it face up on the coffee table, separate from the Tower, the Star, and the Wheel of Fortune. “The Nine of Wands. What’s that?” She flipped through the booklet and scanned the page for the Nine of Wands, picking out the salient words. “Battle fatigue. Standing up for yourself. Persistence. Close to success. How about that, Nancy?”
Nancy scratched herself with a back paw.
Erin returned to the bedroom and collected the assortment of crystals from her bedside table. She piled all of them on the Nine of Wands, then dusted her hands. “I’m all in.”
Nancy stood up and poked her head over the coffee table, sniffing hopefully at the stones.
Erin stared at the array on the coffee table. She touched each card one more time—the Tower, the Star, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Nine of Wands—before walking into the kitchen.
She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. She dialed a familiar number.
“Genevieve? It’s me, Erin.”
19
The coffee shop had been Erin and Genevieve’s favorite meeting place. Now a painful reminder of betrayal and loss, Erin had avoided the cozy cafe ever since she found out Mark was cheating on her. She’d visited it only in dreams—and even then, not by choice. Genevieve’s suggestion that they meet in person to talk brought to the surface a flood of emotions Erin would have preferred to stay buried.
When Erin ducked out of the rain and into the coffee shop, she almost expected to see Andy waiting for her, wearing his red suit, with his wings unfurled. Erin smiled at the memory of when he accompanied her into her own dreams. What a shock it would be to the coffee shop patrons to look up and see a demon over their rainy afternoon coffees.
If only he were really there.
Erin sighed and ordered a coffee from the counter. After the barista handed her the mug, Erin looked around for her former best friend.
Genevieve sat at a corner cafe table. She was without coffee of any kind, which was unusual. She wore little make-up, and her hair hung at half-mast in a ponytail that almost looked messy, and not in an artfully disarrayed fashion, either.
Erin slid into a chair facing Genevieve. “Hi.”
“Hi,” said Genevieve.
