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I glance back at her—-
Shit!
Her eyes are blood-red, and I fall on my ass in shock.
Did I really just see that?
I look around me, but even though no one else seems to have seen it, tiny cramps of fear still squeeze my stomach as I slowly look back at her.
"The train bound for Night Bloom has departed. The next one will arrive in ten minutes."
There goes my train, but on the upside, the eerily red sclera of the woman's eyes is all gone, too. Maybe I just imagined it?
"Choose a card," the old woman repeats as she finally lets go of my hand.
Her grip has left reddened marks around my arm, but while the sight makes me wince, I forget all about it when she seemingly conjures a pack of cards out of thin air.
"Choose."
I look at her suspiciously. "You're not human, are you?" The question would've sounded crazy a couple of years back, but since That Day happened, it's totally become the norm. It's just like asking someone if they're vegan or not, married or ready to mingle, vanilla or not vanilla.
"Choose a card," the old woman insists with a toothless cackle, and the sight is as creepy as it's weirdly adorable. The fear inside of me gradually subsides, and since it's going to be another eight minutes before the next train arrives...
"Okay, I'll choose." My lips purse as I study the deck of cards partially spread out between her hands. Most cards these days are made of plastic, but these ones look like they're made of thick, aged paper.
I reach out and let my fingers drift over them, and my eyes widen. "They're textured."
"Yes." Pride shines in her eyes, which I'm glad to see are still a normal shade of gray. She holds the cards out towards me. "Now choose."
I randomly pick a card, and she snatches it out of my hand before I can flip it over.
"The one who reads," she censures, "is the one who should reveal."
"Oh, um, sor—-"
She turns the card face up before I can finish apologizing.
"The Priestess," the old woman mutters under her breath.
The image on the card looks hand-painted, the background detailed and ornate, and the woman at the center (the Priestess, I'm guessing?) is holding a scroll labeledTora.
"Bad or good?" I ask curiously while taking a photo of the card. If anything, it should make an interesting photo on my Instagram Stories at least.
"Neither."
"Oh?" And here I thought tarot cards were only 'yes' or 'no' with nothing in between.
"What you have been waiting for will come to be, butyouwill be no more."
I'm torn between horror and chagrin. "Not cool!" Did she just predict mydeath?
"Secrets shall be revealed," she chants, "but beware you must the most of the one who watches."
And now she's saying I'm being stalked, but not without telling me 'who' or 'why'. Isn't that a little too convenient...or is this her way of getting me to pickanothercard, but this time for a price?
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next train to arrive is bound for Night Bloom."
I jump to my feet as soon as I hear the announcement.Thistrain, I definitely can't afford to miss. "Thank you for the..." My voice trails off when I look back at where the old woman is seated, and all I find is empty space.
