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I shrug. “It’s been a while, but I think it’s a portrait of Jesus.”
“And do you remember what Jesus is holding?”
“I…” I rub my lips together, struggling to summon the image. “One of his hands is…raised?”
“And the other?” Arthur nods for me to hurry and get to the good stuff.
I close my eyes. High school art class feels like a lifetime ago. “A crystal—like, a crystal orb, maybe?”
“And what does that orb remind you of?” he asks. “What does it resemble?”
A flash of memory streaks through my head, and I watch as my dad stands before me, cupping a small crystal ball in his hand.Tell me about the eighteenth card, he said.
“The moon.” The answer slips past my lips, and when I open my eyes, I find Arthur standing before me, much like my dad in the vision. Except Arthur is grinning, where my dad veered much closer to sad.
“Something to think about,” Arthur says, dangling the prospect like catnip. “But please, no mention of this to anyone. For now, get some rest. You’ve earned that as well.”
