Page 26 of The Witch’s Daughter

My stunned wolf just nodded.

She might’ve been a ghost. An omen.

The back room of the tent held crates and packed boxes. I pushed past a fabric flap that served as a divider, sure I’d lost her and this was about to be a wild goose chase.

“There you are.” An old woman smiled.

The bangles on her wrist were gaudier, crusted with jewels, and the beads on her hair were brighter gold than I remembered. The eyes that looked at me from across the tent were deep brown, like mine. The color I’d gotten from my mother. Not the glacier blue of Cerberus blood that Lisa had.

The old woman who was decidedly not my great-grandmother shuffled a deck of tarot cards on her table. “Sit, child. I’ve been expecting you.”

Not Gram, but her aura is familiar. My wolf sniffed as I glanced around the darkened tent with light filtering in through the worn fabric and the scarves that hung as backdrops.

She’s a seer, like Gram and Calla.

Numbly, I moved to take the chair opposite the old woman while my wolf growled at hearing Calla’s name.

The old woman arched a white eyebrow. “No one is forcing you to sit. You can leave if you want.”

I sat. “Sorry. My wolf is all riled up. We thought…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what I was thinking.

“You thought I was your grandmother.” The woman kept shuffling the cards.

I blew out a breath, relaxing for the first time today as I remembered how easy it was to ask Gram questions when she always seemed to know the answers. “So, you’re legit?”

“Of course I am. You think they’d let me here if I wasn’t?” She smirked. “But it doesn’t take a psychic to hear you calling me Gram.”

My cheeks flushed a little, but I brushed it off. You didn’t become the embarrassment of Cerberus pack without learning to roll with the punches.

“Will you read for me?” I watched as she shuffled the cards faster than seemed possible for her aged hands. They weren’t my gram’s tea leaves, but the vibe was the same.

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” She abruptly stopped.

I didn’t bother pointing out it was coincidence I’d entered this tent. If I’d learned one thing from Gram, it was that fate loved to play games.

“Cut the deck.” She slid the cards to me.

I studied the face-down purple cards with knotted silver border before lifting what felt like half and letting a few flutter back to the deck. Then I passed the top portion to her.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Frances.” Her fingers drummed against the table, eager to snatch the deck back up, but she waited. “What’s your question, Tisiphone?”

I didn’t let her knowledge of my name unnerve me. Any Seer worth their salt was bound to have a disarming trick or two up their sleeve. Gram knew things too. And if she was still alive, there was one burning question I would ask.

“Will I ever get my magic back?”

A breeze ruffled the scarves hanging on the wall of the tent. Frances grabbed the deck, frowning. “What do you mean? Your magic never left.”

“Just look at the cards.” I rested my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples with my thumbs. “It’s hard to explain what happened.”

She didn’t ask for more details as she laid out four cards face-down and I was grateful for it. I’d told my story way too many times without solving anything. Honestly, I was getting sick of my own trauma.

Over the years, we’d spoken to a bunch of witches, but no one really understood how my magic had been so powerful one day, and then went haywire the next. Mom had tried every potion and spell and piece of advice she’d been given. Nothing could bring me back to normal. I could still work little common spells without life-altering disaster. Like my hair. But bigger things, and anytime I tried to use my innate skills, it blew up in my face or didn’t do anything at all.

I wasn’t sure what was worse.

Frances was still frowning as she flipped over the first card. The Devil stared back at me.