“Bookended by two mafias, that’s not bad,” she agrees grudgingly.
“So, you think this is a good idea?” I drink straight from the bottle. Why dirty a glass?
“Of course not. It’s reprehensible. It’s outrageous that he lured you into marrying him with threats and intimidation, the manipulative prick.”
I want to defend Wallace, point out that he hasn’t asked for anything fromme.
“However, he’s right,” she sighs. “You can’t run fast or far enough if the Kholodov Bratva is after you, too.” There’s silence for a moment, and I hear the clatter of her bone tiles as she throws them across her tabletop.
“Divination? You must be worried,” I joke weakly.
“Ah, it’s all chaos right now,” she frets, sorting through the tiles. “What else has happened?”
“Right before I said ‘I do,’ I made Wallace promise me something.”
“Really? This should be good.”
“He promised to find out what really happened to-” I stop, choking down a sob. The memory of my father’s bloody face, blank-eyed as I clung to him, begging him to stay with me… “To Dad. That he’d find proof so I would know who took out the hit on us.”
“I hate to say this because you are there and I am not with you, but this is the best thing,” she says fervently. “If anyone could find out what reallyhappened, it’s the MacTavishes. Now, I cast the tiles, do you want to know what I see?”
After taking another swig of the champagne, I sneeze and say, “Hit me.”
“The Moon is first…” I can picture it so vividly, Morgan at her velvet-covered table in the corner of the spellshop, her long, black fingernails tapping on the tiles. A bolt of homesickness hits me and I take two huge swallows. “Hidden information - no shit, Sherlock - secrets meant to be shared. From youtoo, by the way. You and Wallace both have some stories to tell each other.”
My back itches and throbs. “What’s next?”
“Ah, The Rings, partnership, harmony. This is a good omen, your union was made at the right time. Wallace was smart not to wait.”
“Why?” I eye the bottle and set it down on the bedside table. Getting hammered seems like a bad idea right now, as much as I’d like to.
“Because the next tile is The Black Wave. This is a bad one. Overwhelming force, cruelty, greed, deception. They’re already looking for you.”
“How do you know? Wait.” My heart skips in my chest. “They haven’t harassed you, have they?”
“Please,” Morgan snorts. “They sent Steve, that pretentious little douchebag. He strutted around the shop, saying that theyknewyou’d been hereand demanding to know where you’ve gone.”
“I amsosorry-”
“Stop,” she says sternly. “If they really thought that I’d helped you, Kyle would have come stomping in with his beef-brain guards, waving his gun around like an asshole. It was just a fishing expedition. There was one creeper though…”
“A creeper? What happened?”
“This guy came into the shop last night,” she says. “He looked normal, you know? A good suit, standard white guy. But he was creepy as fuck. He kept touching everything, fondling the voodoo dolls… a real charmer.”
“Did he threaten you?” I lift the bottle to my lips and take two huge swallows.
“No. He said that we had a mutual acquaintance who shops here, so he waseagerto explore the shop. Something about the way he said ‘acquaintance’ made me want to light the mother of all sage sticks and cleanse the store. And my ears.
“He didn’t say anything after that, thank the Goddess. You know how customers get when they’re nervous and they start chattering, he just smiled and touched things. I finally told him it was closing time and he bought three of the voodoo fetish dolls and left. You know nothingunnerves me, but… he left a spiritual blight behind. I had to use three bundles of rosemary and my entire supply of mugwort to clear the place out.”
"Morgan honey, I’m worried about having you there alone if there’s fallout.”
She laughs heartlessly. “You know I’m the last person you need to be worried about. I cast a jock itch spell on Steve before he left. He’ll be scratching his balls right now like a hound dog covered in mites.”
“Why am I both happy about that and also vaguely nauseous right now?” I ask.
“Because I paint such a vivid picture,” she cackles. “Now, let me finish the reading. Daggers, parallel, each threatening the other. You have protection and strength on your side…” She’s silent for a moment. “The Reaper tile.”
