“More to the—what story? Who are you talking about?”
She hesitates, glancing down at the spread. “The cards show that this person has a hidden side, one that they may not even be aware of. You must be vigilant and watch for any signs of deception.”
Normally, I’d blow this whole thing off. But what she said about the monster and the blood tide has me on edge. What if she actually knows something? Worse still, what if she’s talking about Donovan? “How am I supposed to watch for deception if I have no idea who you’re talking about?” I snap.
I half-expect her to stand and tell me this session is over. That I’ve paid my ten bucks and she’s not here to be yelled at by the person who rammed into her and knocked a full bag of apples into the street. But instead she says, “Does this mean anything to you, Rune?” Scooping up a pen and paper from the table, she sketches something, then turns it to face me.
All the blood leaves my head so abruptly, I’m afraid I might faint. Because on Hot Yoga Grandma’s little yellow legal pad, sketched in clear, solid lines, is an all-too-familiar scroll-and-dagger.
I snatch the pad from her, holding it tightly, like it might vanish if I let go. “How do you know this symbol? Have you seen it somewhere before?”
She shrugs, her eyes wide and guileless. “I wish I could tell you more. But it’s like I said before. The cards reveal what they will. It’s up to you to interpret their meaning.”
Dear God. It’s like talking to a Zen koan. “But what should I do?” I ask, abandoning all pretense that this reading means nothing to me. “How can I keep myself and the people I care about safe?”
She leans in, her eyes filled with concern. “You must confront the truth, no matter how painful it may be. Only then can you find the strength to face the darkness and protect those you love.”
I start to ask her,what truth?But then I know.
My whole life, I’ve never had the courage to dig into how I wound up in foster care. I was afraid of what I’d discover—that my parents didn’t want me, that they’d been living in Sapphire Springs the whole time, happy as clams, while I was shuttled from one abusive, neglectful home to another. But if what she just told me is true, my parents are dead, and their deaths weren’t accidental. Just maybe, they were murdered. Andif that’s the case, I have to bring the killer to justice—especially because, from what it sounds like, I might be next.
Someone—or something—is behind my premonitions about the blood tide and Donovan’s death. I need to face my fears and uncover the truth about my family and my curse, even if it means risking everything.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
I emergefrom the tent into bright sunlight, half-expecting to step into another world entirely. But no: the Ferris wheel’s still revolving in the distance, the tinny music of the carousel’s still tinkling, and across the lawn, Mrs. Fontaine’s still puttering with the novels on the bookmobile’s outdoor rack. Nothing has changed—except everything is different.
Clutching the sheet of paper I ripped off the legal pad, I take another funnel-cake-laced breath. But this one does nothing to settle me. The festive sounds of the fair fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of my heart.
You must confront the truth, no matter how painful it may be.
Let’s say my curse has something to do with the way my parents died. How would I even go about searching for them, to figure out how everything went so horribly wrong? I guess I could try to find the social worker who initially placed me, or the one who handled my case for years. Maybe she would know? If I discovered who my parents were, then I could ask around, maybe try to find people who knew them way back when. I could look in the library’s archives, at old newspapers. A couple beingmurdered, leaving an infant behind, was surely big news. But what if whoever did it covered it up? Or what if I wasn’t born here, in Sapphire Springs?
The magnitude of everything that’s happened since I tackled Officer Cooper descends on me all at once, so overwhelming that dizziness sweeps me. Wrapping my arms tight around myself, I make a mammoth effort to pull myself together. I’m at the fair with Charlotte’s sweet daughters. I can’t be preoccupied with this whole mess, not now. It’ll show on my face, and Charlotte knows me way too well. I don’t want to bring any part of this to her, not until I have a plan. Because how would I ever explain?
The Seer of Sapphire Springs is real, and she told me my parents didn’t die a natural death. She said a person close to me had something to do with it.Even if by a miracle, Charlotte believed that part, my curse would prevent her from believing the rest. And if she didn’t believe my premonitions were real, there’d be no reason for her to have faith that Hot Yoga Grandma had validated them. She’d dismiss the whole thing as quackery brought on by monster-associated trauma, and doubtless be so worried about me, she’d suggest I seek help. In her shoes, I’d probably do the same thing.
Maybe I could just tell her that now that the monster’s dead, I want to find out more about where I came from. That it’s my first step toward starting over. She’d support me, I know she would. I bet she could even help me find the best way to go about my search. But that’s just one part of this disaster. What about the rest?
I see darkness surrounding someone you work with.Could sweet, shy, hot Donovan really have something to do with whatever happened to my parents? I don’t know exactly how old he is, but he looks close to my own age, thirty-two. He would’ve been a baby when they died. Still, what if it’s not him, but hisfamily, that’s responsible for the loss of my family and my curse? What if he’s heir to a legacy of blood and death?
The idea that the man I kissed last night might have a direct connection to the most painful part of my past sends a shiver down my spine. As I make my way back toward the bookmobile, I replay every conversation I’ve had with him, searching for any signs of darkness they might’ve concealed and coming up blank. Sure, he can be cold and reserved, even grumpy. But when I woke up to him stroking my hair back from my face, when he told me about Cooper, when he kissed me like he did—I could’ve sworn that was the real him. Vulnerable and tender and commanding, all at once. That his Ice Man persona is a protective mechanism for the awkward, caring guy beneath, who just doesn’t want to get hurt again.
What if I’m wrong, though? What if he’s playing me, and the Ice Man is who he really is, through and through? What if the way he thawed for me was just a calculated act, designed to make me open up to him and trust him? What if beneath his gorgeous surface lurks nothing but darkness—the same darkness that haunts my visions, the one behind the ocean of blood?
The cards show that this person has a hidden side,Ella said.One that they might not even be aware of themselves.Is it possible that Donovan has no idea he’s doomed to ruin me—and in the process, bring about his own death?
I stuff the torn paper into my pocket and weave between families pushing strollers, barely paying attention to where I’m going. I’m so out of it, in fact, that I don’t realize I’ve made it back to the bookmobile until I bump right into the rack of novels that Mrs. Fontaine’s tidying, sending a chunk of the paranormal section spilling into the grass. Fitting.
Steadying the rack, Mrs. Fontaine gives me the evil eye. I feel like I’m fourteen all over again, caught drinking chai in the stacks. “I’m so sorry!” I blurt, and kneel to gather the books up:Kelley Armstrong, Faith Hunter, and Kim Harrison. Some of my favorites. Normally, I’d be excited to browse through them, but right now, I couldn’t care less.
Perceptive as ever, Mrs. Fontaine cocks her head as she reshelves them, brushing them free of debris. “You seem a little distracted, Rune. Well, a little more than usual. Did you find the answers you were after?”
She’s turned away, messing with the books, like my reply doesn’t matter much to her. But after my conversation with Hot Yoga Grandma, I find myself wondering if anything—and anyone—is really what they seem. “I found…something,” I say slowly, watching her profile for a response. But as best as I can tell, her expression doesn’t change.
“Did you really?” She tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear, her tone neutral. “Ella can be quite intuitive. I’ve always thought so.”
