Marcy smiled faintly and fanned the deck into an arch. “Pick a card.”
I studied them carefully, trying to determine which one would give me the best reading. The last thing I needed to do was draw The Death card. With my luck, the reading would say:The unlucky witch traveled home on a forced vacation to stop her weather curse. She learned to accept herself. And then, she died.
“That one.” I tapped a card in the middle and slid it out of the spread.
Marcy flipped it over and studied the card. Candles flickered, casting shadows over her face. Her brow creased, and foreboding trickled through my senses. Was there a card worse than death?
“This is The Moon card. It’s the card of secrets, illusions, and emotions buried beneath the surface. You'll need to trust your instincts even though everything you've seen before makes you question the truth.”
Marcy gripped my hand and her lips parted as a tremor of something undefinable passed between us. “A storm is coming, and you can’t run from it.”
Her words sent an icy chill down my back. It was the same thing Delia’s fortune teller said before the agency party.
I exhaled a shaky laugh. “Have you looked outside lately? The storm’s already here.”
Marcy squeezed my fingers, then let go, and swept the cards back into a full deck. “The snow doesn’t mean you harm. It’s trying to lead. What you do with the revelations when you get there is up to you.”
Chapter 15
Sage
“This is it, folks!Merry Christmas Eve. Get ready to hunker down because this storm is shaping up to be a snowmageddon. Expect blizzard-like conditions later today. Stay tuned for the full holiday forecast.”
I groaned as the radio announcer’s voice blared from the alarm clock next to my bed. Who set that thing for seven a.m.? A better question—who set it all? I flopped onto my back, glaring at the blond band leader on my ceiling.
“If I find out it was you, the poster's coming down,” I threatened as I kicked off the covers and shuffled toward the window.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, promising the snowpocalypse and the wind whistled through the barren trees. The neighbor across the street was already out salting his porch steps, and a snowplow barreled through, leaving a heavy stream of road salt in its wake.
“Talk about a white Christmas. This is overkill,” I grumbled, puttering into the bathroom for a quick shower. AfterI dried my hair, I wriggled into a pair of black leggings and threw on an oversized cranberry-red sweater before heading downstairs.
A pot of coffee greeted me, but no one else did. The house was eerily quiet. A note on the fridge revealed my parents were next door in the tea shop, and they’d be back soon.
I needed a distraction. Marcy’s tarot reading from the other night still rattled in my mind, and I couldn’t help but glance outside as the snow started to fall and wonder if this was the ‘storm’ in question. The radio announcer certainly made it seem like this was the end of days, and if my weather curse was supposed to lead me somewhere, it had better hustle before they shut down the roads.
The presents were wrapped, and the stockings were hung. There wasn’t much left to do, so I settled for a little pre-holiday baking. If we lost power, I wanted an army of gingerbread men to keep me company through the dark and stormy night. Waking up single and alone on Christmas morning wouldn’t be so bad with a man made of sugar by my side.
My phone jingled, and I licked icing from my fingers before checking the message. It was an email from the agency, informing me Delia had completed her first case. I read through the report, my eyebrows lifting from the unusual mix-up. But Delia had pulled through and earned her promotion—and a little holiday romance on the side. Lucky girl, she’d cut down two Christmas trees with one saw.
“Way to go, Del!” I fist-pumped the air, then tossed a green gumdrop into my mouth in celebration. While the last batch of cookies cooled, I forwarded her the memo, along with myown congratulations. At least Delia’s story had a happy ending. Mine had rapidly deteriorated like the weather conditions wreaking havoc outside.
I had finished cleaning the kitchen when my phone jingled again. Tossing the dishrag over the edge of the sink, I grabbed a cookie, excited for Delia’s reply.
A scowl formed as I read the message.
Valerie:Hey Sage, Leo wants his trophy back. Can you swing it by the lodge before the storm hits?
I scoffed and typed a reply.
Sage:Tell Mr. Grayson, he can eat snow.
My phone jingled at Valerie’s quick reply.
Valerie:He’s very insistent.
Sage:I’ll leave it in the mailbox. If he wants it that bad, he can come get it himself.
My teeth ground together as I pushed off the kitchen stool and stomped up the stairs to my bedroom. That man was unbelievable. I should toss his trophy out the window and let him go scavenger hunting for it in the snowdrifts. Better yet, mail the stupid thing to the North Pole and send him a vague map.
