Page 63 of Bound By Fury

“Okay,” I say, ready for something a bit happier. “What’s next?”

Her breath releases in a slow stream before her hand hovers above the cards once more. She draws one out.

A ghostly man, levitating, legs folded beneath him as he is surrounded by ten splintered, jagged guitar necks.

Her eyes are depthless as she regards me. “Ten of Wands.”

Silence.

Why isn’t she explaining what the card means?

“Daisy?”

When she speaks, her voice is distant. “The worst is yet to come.”

Sam’s hand covers mine, and they squeeze. “W-what does that mean?”

“You’ve felt the grief of heartbreak and betrayal, but it will not be the end. There is more to come. Your destiny does not belong to you, and you will pay the price for that.” She adjusts in her chair. Taps the cards against the table anxiously.

“When the end comes, only you will be able to make it right.”

We’re silent as her words take shape. As apprehension blooms in my chest.

Her eyes glitter with fear. Or hope? “But that’s good, right? Because once you hit bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.”

An unnatural breeze sweeps through the room, and the cards flutter almost imperceptibly. I shiver, turning to meet the gaze that’s been lingering on me, but he isn’t there.

Facing the cards, I rub the engraving on my necklace until it grows warm. “I—” I can appreciate her optimism, but I’m overwhelmed. “So, two bad cards so far. This next one better be good.”

Once again Daisy’s hands hover. But this time she waits, her head tipping to the side as if she can hear something we can’t. Her eyes drift closed, and it’s like all the noise around us fades away. Sam and I are still, breath paused, as we watch Daisy slide a card from the edge of the table. It’s deliberate, like she was called to it.

Her eyes open, and slowly she turns it over.

Bones. Crisscrossed beneath a skull. Worms climbing from hollow eye sockets, rotted fruit and wilted flowers collaged in the background. At the bottom of the card is one word.

Death.

Sam’s hand slips from mine, a chill creeping beneath my skin in the absence of their warmth. My stomach is made of lead.

I’ve heard before that the Death card doesn’t mean you’re going to die. It usually just means the end of something significant. It signals great change. I try to ask Daisy what she thinks, but my words are buried beneath a booming voice.

“Ladies!” Lucas says, pulling a chair from the table and flipping it around. “And Sam,” he nods, before taking a seat.

My eyes slide back to Daisy as I ignore him and repeat my question. “What does it mean?”

Her hands work diligently to gather the cards. She smooths them out, a slight tremble in her fingers. She taps them against the table before wrapping them in a black velvet ribbon and placing them into her bag.

“You know what, I think I still need practice.” She doesn’t meet my eyes as she drops the bag underneath the table, giving it a light kick. “Because that reading was totally off. Forget everything I’ve said, honestly.”

When she raises her gaze to mine, there’s something there, beneath the oak and honey, something swirling. Something secret.

“Okayyy…,” I draw the word out.

“What are y’all talking about?” Lucas asks, oblivious to the tension. With the semester in full swing, we haven’t spoken much outside of class and the occasional shared treat from the café. “Oh, uh, nothing.” Daisy’s tone is a pitch too high. “I was practicing reading tarot.”

“Oh, cool,” Lucas says, an easy smile tilting up the corners of his mouth. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“See?” Sam says. “Finally someone reasonable.”