“Really, Twink?” Carly’s gaze flicks over my hair as I head to her table at Jumpin’ Jack’s Java, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Would it kill you to put in some highlights?”
“Probably not,” I say, tossing my curls over my shoulder and shaking them out. “But Baz is always going on about how much helovesmy hair, so I’m not changing a thing.”
Goddess, she really brings out the bitch in me. It’s a wonder I can maintain any composure in her presence at all.
Still, she did agree to meet me tonight, despite the short notice and my complete vagueness on the phone. All I said was that it was about Baz, it was important, and could we please go somewhere to talk?
I didn’t have to ask twice.
I still can’t believe how quickly our perfect Harvest Eve unravelled. I left Doc’s in a hurry, not wanting to miss what could be my last chance to get Carly on my side. Baz is still MIA, not returning anyone’s texts. And now I’m worried about Ani too. He escorted me to the café, but he was strangely quiet on the walk over. Just before we parted ways, he asked if he could wait for me at my place—said he had to talk to me about something. When I pressed for details, he refused to budge.
“Later,” he promised. That and a quick kiss on the forehead was all I got from him before he walked away.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related to his little white lie about the crystal homework. Something is definitely going on with him… I just hope he’s not still upset about our dream realm argument. I really thought we’d gotten past it.
But… one crisis at a time.
After grabbing my honey vanilla cinnamon latte from the counter, I settle into the chair across from Carly, trying to figure out where to start this conversation. I’m about to ask her if she’s heard from Baz tonight when she blurts out, “Hierophant!”
“What?Where?” My heart jumps up into my throat so fast I nearly choke on my latte. I whip my head around, scanning the tiny café.
After a minute, realization dawns. She isn’t talking about Professor Phaines.
She has no idea what the H-word means to me.
I force out a laugh, hoping to convince her it was just a bad joke.
“Anyway.” She rolls her eyes, stirring another sugar packet into her cappuccino. “When you sat down, the card popped into my head. That’s all.”
“What does it mean?”
“That’s up to you to decipher. As aclairvoyant witch, I’m just the messenger.” She saysclairvoyant witchlike you’d expect someone to saylord of the mannerorbillionaire heiress. “So,whydid I leave my Vampire Diaries rewatch marathon for this?”
She continues to stir her drink, spoon clanking angrily against the mug, and a twinge of sadness works its way into my heart. She was spending Harvest Eve alone watching Netflix… and her mother is currently our prisoner, magickally restrained in a basement in Red Sands Canyon.
But now is not the time to get sentimental about Carly Kirkpatrick.
“Like I said on the phone, it’s Baz,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Just saying his name out loud nearly breaks me. “He’s just… something’s wrong with him, Carly.”
She practically snorts. “Obviously. I mean, look at the company he’s keeping.”
I close my eyes and sip the latte, forcing my inner bitch back into her cage before trying again. “What I mean is… he’s gotten really distant lately, and now he’s having these extreme mood swings. Sometimes he won’t even answer his door—not even for his best friends.”
Genuine worry flashes through her energy, but she shrugs like it’s no surprise.
“Listen, Twink. You’re on your own with this one. He’s not returning my calls, either—that’s just what he does.” She digs into her shoulder bag and pulls out a shoebox, sliding it across the table. “The only reason I agreed to meet was so I could give you this.”
“What is it?”
“What does it look like?”
“Um.” I lift the lid, peering inside. “A faded gray T-shirt that probably used to be black, a few glamor shots of someone’s Barbie dolls, and an old cell phone with a Pokemon sticker on the back?”
“It’s abreakupbox,” she explains, enunciating every word like I’m a toddler who just can’t grasp the concept. “So the next time you see that man, you tell him we’re over. And I mean it this time, so he better not come crawling back to me when he gets tired of you. And don’tyoucome crawling back to me either, saying I didn’t warn you. Baz isnotthe boyfriend type.”
I replace the lid on thebreakupbox and grab my latte, taking a deep, energizing gulp. Then I look at her and go, “Listen, it’s clear you need to get laid and possibly find a good therapist, maybe even kill both birds with the same stone, who am I to judge? But do youhonestlythink I’d call you out on Harvest Eve for relationship advice? With Baz? For fuck’s sake, Carly, I’m here because this is fuckingserious, and you’re the only person I could think of who might possibly—and that’s a small possibility by the looks of things—be able to help him.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but then thinks better of it, taking a sip of her drink instead.
