I know this miracle will not last forever, but for now, I lap it up every time.
“Nonna!” I bend down and give her tiny body a gentle squeeze. I kiss her on the top of her puff of white hair. She smells like she always does—rose water and my warmest memories of home.
“Hard day for your gran,” whispers one of the nurses. “She got one of her ‘visions.’ Why don’t you take her outside?”
I arrange a blanket on Nonna’s lap and push the heavy, creakywheelchair down the narrow hall and out onto the back patio. A horrible stench seems to cling to this whole place, indoors and out, even worse than any of Alan’s meal disasters. It’s like the smell of death and decay is baked into the walls. I lean forward and sniff Grandma’s head again, like she’s a newborn baby, and feel comforted. She may not be in the most beautiful facility, but she’s well taken care of. I think. I hope. Though I did see that nurse back there roll her eyes when she mentioned my nonna’s visions.
For the millionth time, I wish I had the money to give Nonna the comfort she deserves in her final years. I can’t imagine who I’d be without her always in my corner, cheering me on, reminding me I’m stronger than anyone else thinks.
Come to think of it, for all his flaws, and there aremany, Axe also looks at me in a similar way. Like I’m formidable. Not a pushover. Like I’m a force to be reckoned with. A worthy opponent to him and a worthy ally to Nonna.
“Nonna,” I say, taking a seat and reaching for her hands. I can’t wait to tell her my good news. She’s probably the only one who’ll be genuinely happy for me other than Honor. Nonna’s been telling me for years to move out of my mom’s house, though I always thought that was more about how she couldn’t stand my mother than her believing I needed independence. But maybe I got that wrong. “Guess what? I got a new job!”
But Nonna doesn’t smile.
“Cards,” she says, and so I dig out my deck from my bag.
Normally, I love a reading from Nonna, but I don’t want anything else to dampen my good mood. Before I know it, three cards are laid out before me, and my heart plummets.
“You’re in danger, Josie,” she whispers, her voice shaky but urgent as her fingers clamp around my wrists tight enough tomake the veins on the backs of her hands bulge. Her eyes are wide, full of a fear I haven’t seen in years. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glance around at the weed-choked garden and cracked patio tiles, anything not to stare at the cards.
“No, Nonna,” I say, brushing her off. “We’re misreading them. Everything is great. I got a new place, I’m getting paid—”
“Someone wants to harm you.” Nonna starts muttering in Italian, low and fast, and while I don’t know the words she’s saying, it’s disturbing. “You must do all the things I have taught you, my Josie. Burn sage. Tie a red ribbon. Watch your back—”
My grandmother is superstitious, and I’ve always heeded her warnings, even when they felt silly. But this is next-level. Sure, the cards…aren’t great, but there are plenty of other reasonable ways to interpret them. Dementia really is the worst.
“Nonna!” I cut in. “You’re scaring me.”
After her last MRI, the doctor showed me the dark spots on Nonna’s brain. Another sort of tarot altogether. The cards no one ever wants to be dealt.
“Trust your instincts,” she presses. “Promise me.”
“Of course I will. I promise. I always do.” A lie, of course. I haven’t always trusted my instincts (case in point: getting engaged to Bryan), but starting today, I’m working on a new policy.
“Are you reading your deck? Every day?” Nonna asks.
“ ’Course, Nonna,” I say, dodging the truth about my recent pulls. No need to fuel her paranoia. “Everything is good. I’m good.”
“You’re healthy, butterfly. You’re so strong and healthy,” she says, and a faint smile plays across her lips. I’ve heard this mantra a hundred times, and it always soothes me like a lullaby.
“I am. I am strong and healthy, Nonna,” I echo back, just like she used to make me do when I was little.
“Don’t drink the Devil’s brew,” she says, and though I feel asharp pang of trepidation at the mention of my recent pull—that damn Devil card, twice now—I have no idea what she means. What’s the Devil’s brew?
Nonna’s grip tightens around my hand, her eyes going wide and unblinking—like she’s seeing something just over my shoulder. Something I can’t.
Seventeen
Axe
I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Sunday in February than testing out my new snowboard on a double black diamond. Would be a hell of a lot better if I wasn’t stuck beside Niles von Grab, but what can you do? Hard to turn down a helicopter ride up north and a day at Nemacolin Woodlands Resort. Even if it means suffering his company.
A bit of bonding before we seal the deal, or whatever bollocks he thinks we’re doing.
“I don’t like handing over money until I understand who I’m handing it over to,” Niles said, and while I can’t stand the bastard, he’s got a point. And truth be told, I’m just as eager to suss him out as he is to size me up.
Strike couldn’t tag along—he had plans with Honor, which, of course, made me think of Josie, who I’ve decided I’m not allowed to think about unless it’s at the office and strictly about She’s the One. No imagining her in ski pants. No replaying the cringeworthy moment when I tried to explain haptic suits to her and ended up sounding like a gadget-happy bawbag.
