“I don’t know, I think it’s all of them,” she laughed, her mortification over the initial card draw dissipating. She should’ve known better. This was one of the only places in the world where she didn’t need to mask her true self, for the shadows never seemed to care.
“It may well be. But I think it’s useful to be aware of each. You will always have your happy memories, my sweet one, but you cannot live in the past. Others may be disappointed in the path you forge for yourself, but you must remember that their disappointment belongs to them and them alone. It is not yours to manage. And perhaps you may even find a way to incorporate those passed-on traditions into your future, but it cannot be someone else who dictates it.”
“And the Seven? The future card?” Her voice was cautious, and Harper bit her lip, anticipating what they would say.
“The most auspicious card of all, sweet. You see the different paths spilling from each cup? Those are the possibilities before you. It is good to be a dreamer, but one must remember that action is required to achieve those dreams. All in all, this is quite a well-threaded spread.”
Harper’s eye was drawn back to the past card, something invisible catching her attention, a ripple she saw from the corner of her eye, even though nothing was there.
“Unhappiness and grief. Trapped in a cycle of misery. Unable to move forward. And that is in the past now.”
The same ripple of the air, and her eyes moved to the center card. Harper liked to think that she was following their hand.
“Homecoming and memories. The knowledge that what others want for you may not be what you need to do for yourself. Only you can pick the road before you. And here — all of the possibilities for that road.”
She thought of all of her imagined futures, all of the jobs she might take and places she might live.Action is required to achieve those dreams.
“I find this to be a most optimistic spread. You are ruled by your emotional center in your heart, my sweet one. That is not something to be ashamed of. It would have been far stranger to find a spread of pentacles before you. Now, for your book . . . Nonfiction, I think, for today. If you go over to the astrological chart table in the front corner, you’ll find a pinned blue morpho butterfly. Ethically sourced, of course. On the small shelf beside it, you will find a series of textbooks, all numbered on the spine. I believe number three is the one we want.”
Harper grinned as she pulled the textbook from the shelf, as directed.Emotional Display, Regulation, and Burnout: Understanding the Suit of Cups.
“Good girl. We’re going to turn you into a prognosticator yet. I’m going to start your tea. Happy reading.”
She bit her lip again at the endearment, letting her thighs drop open a fraction beneath the table. If a shadow moved between her open legs to tickle at the front of her panties, she would’ve had no complaints.Fuck me and call me a good girl. I’m a simple girl with simple needs.
Harper had never understood how anyone could be attracted to a collection of parts first and the person operating them second. It didn’t matter how attractive society told her someone was — until she got to know them, a tumbleweed had a better chance of falling out of her dress than her libido kicking into overdrive because of someone’s abs.
She had seen her sister’s big dicked lacrosse crush on social media, Morgan taking her through a series of photos, and Harper could objectively agree that the young man was handsome in the way conventionally attractive people always were. He had arms and legs and an eighteen-year-old’s washboard stomach, a nice smile, and — as her sister pointed out in a multitude of photos — a prominent bulge at his groin.A collection of parts. She had made all of the appropriate noises and agreements until Morgan was mollified, as a good sister should. She still didn’t understand it though.He has a very upright skeleton! She has a complete set of teeth! They have the correct number of fingers, well done!
Attraction to parts didn’t make any sense to her brain, but attraction tothissinuous, curling voice? Their kindness and knowledge? Their ability to brew a perfect cup of tea? She didn’t know if they possessed arms or wings or tentacles, if they walked upright on two legs, or if they had legs at all.
Harper had no idea what parts they possessed, but whatever they were, she was certain they could make her scream in pleasure, for she was already crushing hard.
When the tea cart rolled out, it made several stops around the room, attending to each of the patrons who’d come in since her tarot reading. None of them, she could tell, were spoken to.
“An earthy yerba mate, enhanced with fragrant pink strawberries, dark cocoa nibs, and pink peppercorn for a bit of heat through the sweetness. Grounded, with brightness to counter the dark and spice to counter the sweet. Balance in all things, sweet one. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Harper whispered, arching in her seat like a cat at the phantom weight of a hand at the back of her neck.
Attraction parts seemed like a silly thing, but attraction tothis? It made perfect sense to her.And if someone doesn’t understand, that’s not your problem to manage either.
OOTD:Unstructuredmaxidresswith moth-wing shawl, flats that are probably going to only be comfortable for three minutes, jeweled ear cuff.
They moved exclusively through the shadows. The shop’s windows were long and high, and the stacks of books and cases of curiosities were placed in a way that allowed the light to bounce off them all across the shop, casting long shadows for the shadowy host to traverse. She didn’t knowwhatthey were, but the shadows were a necessity.
The first time she’d realized they needed the shadows to move had been the afternoon a section of the dining room was closed off. What had started off as a dreary late morning when she’d left the house had swelled into a monsoon by the mid-afternoon, thunder shaking the building as the rain pelted down, the sky a uniform wall of dark grey cumulonimbus botting out any hope the sun might yet make an appearance that day. Hope for other people, of course. She was thrilled with the unexpected deluge, content to sit in her little nook and drink tea while the thunder rumbled all afternoon.
“Why do I get the impression this weather suits you,” they’d accused, sliding up to her table after the tea cart had made its mysterious circuit of the room, depositing plates and steaming pots to the handful of other patrons.
She grinned at the corner. A half shade darker, likely imperceptible to most people, but when your entire wardrobe was black, the differences betweencoalandravenandtarwere unmistakable. “You’re not wrong,” she’d agreed with a laugh. “I love weather like this. Perfect for reading.”
Several candelabras had been lit around the bulk of the dining room, but the back of the room, where it opened into the glassed-roof solarium, was cordoned off. The flickering candle flames cast bouncing shadows all around the room, but the back of the room was uniform in its dimness.Shadows. They don’t need darkness. Only shadows.
Now she knew where to look. Harper liked to imagine that they were sitting across from her, enjoying savories and scones, sipping hot tea instead of leaving her alone . . . until she realized she knew nothing about them.How rude. They ask after you all the time. They know about your home life and mental state, your degree; they know you’re a witch. You don’t even know what they are!
She got her opportunity the very next day. Storms were in the forecast once more, and she arrived to find even more of the dining room cordoned off.
“Do you ever close on days like this?” she asked once they slid up to her table. “If there’s not enough light for the shadows?”
