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Joy.
But at least I don’t seem to have any broken bones. Goddamn lucky.
To my left I see the lights of the highway. I head toward them and splash to the shore. I’m shaking with the piercing cold and can’t seem to stop as I drag my feet through the mud, struggling to climb out of the pond.
I almost don’t make it up the damn bank. I keep sliding back into the water, my muscles like jelly, my joints like rubber. Finally I flop on the shore, in the cold mud, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Fucking hell. And now?
I guess I should call the cops. Call someone, anyone, if my cell still works. With a heartfelt curse, I fumble in the pocket of my dripping jacket, unzip it and pull the phone out, wrapped up in its little Ziploc bag.
I shake my head at myself. Even for someone who doesn’t believe in luck or fate, this is kinda crazy.
Snorting, I sign in, typing over the plastic as it’s still raining, my wet hands shaking so badly I almost drop the cell twice. The screen lights up. I should call Seth, maybe. Or Micah. Hell, maybe Rafe or Zane, if those two don’t answer.
Or a cab?
Can’t think straight. Doesn’t help that a text message pops up before I make up my mind.
It’s from Kayla.
It reads, “Come back home.”
My breath catches. Kayla. Home. The two words fit like the long lost pieces of a puzzle, and my eyes sting.
I press call before I realize.
Chapter Eleven
Kayla
Death.
The card of Death keeps coming up.
Frowning, sitting cross-legged on my carpet like always, I stare at the painting of a skeleton in a knight’s armor and tell myself to leave it be, gather the cards and, I don’t know, throw them out of the window. Or into the trash can. Anywhere where I won’t be able to see them and obsess with what they’re telling me.
What I’m telling myself.
Death doesn’t really mean death, I remind myself for the hundredth time. It’s about endings, and resolutions, and change.
And yet. Seeing that grinning skull chills my blood.
Death isn’t always a negative card. Change is a good thing. Endings lead to beginnings.
Though the card was inversed. Which gives it a negative meaning. Possibly. Maybe? And why the hell does it keep coming up?
“Death,” I whisper, “and Eight of Wands for travel and speed, and the Five of Swords to signify conflict and loss and defeat. And betrayal.”
“Kay, are you seriously playing with your cards while I’m pouring my heart out to you?” my sister demands indignantly, her voice tinny yet sharp over the phone. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You pour your heart out to me twice a week. It’s hardly an emergency.”
Loss. Betrayal. Speed. Endings. What does it mean?
“You’re a little bitch,” Allie declares dramatically.
“No.” I sigh. “I’m your sister. I love you. But it doesn’t matter what I tell you, because you never listen to me. Look.” I close my eyes. “I know I’m younger than you. I know I’m the weird one, and the rebel without cause. But I’m still your family.”
