I duck into the row beside them and peer through the shelves, catching sight of Janelle and Carly. Carly’s crying, her eyes red and puffy, her shoulders slumped. Janelle, as poised and polished as ever, looms over her, glaring at Carly as if she were no more than a nuisance, a piece of gum on the bottom of her Jimmy Choos.
“You disgust me,” Janelle says. Then, out of nowhere, she slaps Carly hard across the face, the crack echoing down the row. “I never should’ve trusted you. You’re no better than—”
“Carly, hey.” I pop up at the end of the row, plastering on a smile. “We’ve been waiting for you over in the Tarot Interpretation section.”
Carly turns to face me, her energy a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and relief.
“I know it sucks you got stuck helping me,” I say, “but I really need it. Maddox will fail me if I don’t nail the next paper.”
Carly forces a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears before she turns back to look at her mother. “I’ll talk to you later,Mother. I need to take care of this.”
Janelle says nothing—just smiles her fake plastic smile, that awful red lipstick blaring out like a traffic light, her perfume nearly making me gag.
I walk with Carly toward the Tarot Interpretation section, as fast and far away from her mother as we can get.
“Thanks,” Carly says. “Guess we’re even now, Twink.”
And with that, she turns toward the exit and disappears down the stairs.
* * *
“I’ve been thinking,” Kirin says.
“And this is news because…?”
He smiles, nudging me with his knee. “Hear me out.”
We’re sitting side by side on the floor in the Dream Interpretation section, trying to locate information that might help us translate the dream grimoire Kelly Maddox gave me, hoping against the odds it’ll help us recreate the spells we need to locate the Arcana objects. We’ve been doing some form of this dance all week—sitting between the stacks, pulling random books of the shelves, skimming and flipping, taking notes, desperate for a lead—any lead—that could bring us one step closer.
So far, we haven’t made all that much progress.
But at least the company is good.
“I get what you’re saying about the wand,” Kirin continues. “But if your dreams are any indicator, I still believe the sword was meant for you. Therefore, I think we should focus on finding the sword first.”
“But if Dark Judgment gets his hands on the wand—”
“He may already have it, Stevie. In your dreams, he uses it to raise the dead, and you’re wielding the sword.”
“Sometimes. I’msometimeswielding the sword. Other times, I’m wielding a bouquet of dead flowers or a holly branch or a rabbit.”
“Sometimeswith the sword is plenty enough to go on right now.” Kirin slides a book back into place on the shelf above his head, then looks at me, his eyes pleading. “We need to find the objects. All of them. But if there’s even the slightest chance you can use that sword, we need to make that the priority. Then at least you won’t be totally defenseless.”
I want to argue, but there’s logic to his reasoning.
“Tell you what,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Give me one more week. If we don’t make any progress by next Friday, we’ll regroup and focus on the wand instead.”
“Throw in a few more lattes, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” I hold out my hand, and Kirin grabs it for a shake, giving it an extra squeeze before letting go.
“So, believe it or not, I’ve been thinking, too.” I lean across him and grab one of the books I’d been working with earlier, flipping to the section I last read on Dreams and Divination.
But this time, when I turn the page, The Moon card falls out.
I laugh, picking it up for a closer look.
“Yes, Mom,” I tease. “I know. I’m getting to that part.”
Kirin, used to my randomly appearing Tarot messages by now, shakes his head and smiles. “I take it this has something to do with dreams?”
