Cresent Prophecy by Axelle Chandler (sad books to read TXT) 📗

“So how does this tarot thing work?” she went on, thankfully changing the subject. “I’ve never had them done before.”

“Well, people think they’re for telling the future, but they’re more for guidance and intuition than anything. They can help you think about the situation you’re in and guide you toward making a decision. Life lessons.” I raised my eyebrows.

They’d given me plenty of ‘lessons’ in the past few months. The Tower heralded the destruction of my world’s order and the rebuilding of my life in Derrydun. The Star had followed, cropping up in multiple readings to remind me of renewed hope after I’d found out I was a witch. Since then, the cards had been random and confusing, and no reoccurring trends had cropped up. I suppose it meant I was in a period of normality. Which was a good thing for someone like me.

“Would you do me?” Lucy asked.

“What?” I pulled a face.

“A card, a card,” she exclaimed, flapping her hands about. “I’m not propositionin’ you! Oh, God, I did not just say that.”

I laughed and shook my head. “That’s nothing. You should’ve heard some of the things Mairead used to say.”

“Who?”

“The girl who worked here before you.” Placing the cards on the counter, I swept the deck along the surface, fanning out the black and gold rectangles. “Now think about what you would like the cards to reveal to you, then choose one from wherever.”

Lucy thought for a moment, then reached out and slid a card from the spread. Turning it over, she said, “Oh, this looks cool.”

Taking the card, I saw it was the Ace of Wands. Traditionally, this card had an image of a hand emerging from a cloud, grasping a wand that was still growing, its length covered in new shoots and flowers, signifying a blossoming development. In the background, there was usually a castle to represent the promise of what opportunities were possible in the future. In this deck, the image was different, but it still had the same representations. The wand was the center focus, its length also covered with leaves, but at the top was the flame of inspiration. In the foreground were flowers and rolling fields, lush with the promise of a prosperous future…if one was intuitive enough to reach out and take it.

“The Wands are a good suit,” I explained. “They are all about creativity, strength, and inspiration. The Ace is to do with inspiration, power, beginnings, and potential. It’s pretty much a sign that says, go for it.”

“That’s good.” Lucy blew out a breath, and her shoulders sank, losing some of the tension she’d been holding.

“It’s a really good card, to be honest. It’s saying that you’re inspired by a new project and to listen to your instincts. But…”

“Oh, there’s always a but.”

“That’s where the life lesson comes in,” I said with a chuckle. “The Ace is also reminding you that your inspiration is still only a seed. There’s still a long way to go, but if you nurture it, it could grow into something very good. Which is great for me, by the way.”

Lucy laughed, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever nervousness she’d been carrying seemed to have disappeared, and despite my fears she was a trickster fae in the service of Carman, I was really liking her. Dammit.

Our conversation petered out, and she turned back to the shop and made herself busy. Watching her, I shuffled the tarot cards and drew one for myself. Seeing the card, I groaned. Great, just great. Why couldn’t I get the Ace of bloody Wands?

The Three of Swords stared back at me, and I glared at the image of three blades piercing a heart with a teary eye in the center. Heartbreak, betrayal, grief, rejection, separation. Not good. Something was coming, but I knew it was. It was just a matter of when and if it had anything to do with the arrival of my new shop assistant.

Lucy had made herself busy by emptying out each little container of tumbled stones and dusting them out before placing all the colored crystals back. First was the citrine—which was a curious choice as citrine was for wealth and prosperity—then the amethyst, rose quartz, snowflake obsidian, and fluorite.

Seeing she was completely engrossed, I saw a chance at nabbing the final ingredient for my patchwork fae identification spell. Rounding the counter, I pretended to tidy the knickknacks on the counter—cheap bracelets, New Agey postcards, and Irish-themed trinkets—and worked my way closer. I just had to reach out and pluck a hair from her wild mane of strawberry-blonde waves, and it would do the trick. I just had to plonk it in the potion, and it would change color just like a drug test but without the pee in the jar.

Just as I was inches from my target, I caught sight of Boone through the window. He pointed at Lucy and mouthed, “Is that her?” Giving him a pointed look, I made a cutting motion across my neck. He was going to blow my cover.

Lucy turned and caught me gesturing at Boone, and her mouth dropped open. “Who’s that, and where can I get one?”

“That is my boyfriend,” I retorted, annoyed he’d shown up and ruined my chance at snapping up a strand of her hair.

Boone made a face and hurried away, likely knowing he would face my wrath later on. He wasn’t exactly on board with the whole fae test, which was mystifying as he was always the one to chastise me for fiddling with magic away from the hawthorns. I was desperate to have a house full of magically automated utensils to take over all the jobs I hated. Like drying the dishes, stirring pots on the stove, hanging out the washing, folding the washing, and so on. But I wasn’t allowed since, you know, the war for magic and the lingering threat of craglorns coming to suck out witches’ power and turning us into mummified