“Okay.” Seymour blinked. “What does it mean?”
“That you’re alone,” Marsha replied. “You don’t form lasting attachments, you’ve lost the ones you had, or both. This is a signof the solitary path you’ve lived in the past, but that doesn’t have to be your fate.”
Seymour flinched, initially surprised by the accuracy, but he wagered that could apply to anyone.
Not that impressive.
The second card was a leering man in a big robe surrounded by herbs, books, and ancient laboratory equipment.
“This is the Wicked Alchemist!” Marsha giggled. “Yes, you’ve been lonely, but this indicates you are experiencing some very intense reactions now. Unexpected connections, new passions where you may not have thought to find them, and with someone with whom you have great chemistry.”
Okay, that was something.
Marsha flipped the next card.
It was a hooded person with a comically giant sack strapped to their back. The weight must have been great because their legs had snapped and were bent back in the wrong direction.
“The Broken Collector.” Marsha nodded along as if she was listening to something. “You are searching for something. Hmm, no, maybe it is asomeoneor perhaps something that belonged to this person. You need it desperately, and this need is controlling your current path.”
Well, goddammit.
“Bard’s Lute.” Marsha tapped the new card, this one of a funny looking acoustic guitar. “An instrument of fate is in your possession that will either help or hinder your journey. This could be a lucky coin, a piece of information, or?—”
A talking cat girl who eats people.
“—whatever! This is yourdeux ex machina, so treat it with respect.”
Marsha turned over another card.
It was an anthropomorphic wolf sitting on a throne of bones with a crown.
“Yes, it is very clear now.” Marsha tapped the card. “This is the Wolf King. A very powerful force is guiding you. It is a person of authority, a person who is very firm and will not bend or offer compromise, and you don’t want to displease them, as doing so would affect your future goals.”
Like not being turned into a damn flower arrangement.
That was a good goal.
The next card was a naked woman curled up in the curve of a crescent moon.
“The Moon Queen.” Marsha grinned. “She is ever changing yet predictable, the embodiment of contradiction within nature’s beauty. She is in total opposition to the Wolf King, and seeing the two of them together like this means that great forces are set to collide with either harmonious or disastrous results.”
Marsha flipped the last card over.
It was a drawing of a butterfly—no, amoth. It was one of those big fuzzy ones with the marking on their butt that looked like a skull.
“Let me guess,” Seymour ventured as the lyrics of a certain Q Lazzarus tune rolled through his head. “Means I should watch more serial killer movies?”
“No.” Marsha giggled again.
“Well. What is it?”
“That you’re going to die.”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Die?” Seymour snapped.
