Page 31 of The Sin Eater
“Yeah,” Damon says, his voice soft, his lips brushing my ear. “What are you afraid of?”
I’m afraid you’ll figure out what I am even though I can’t say the words myself, and I’m not ready for you to give me thatyou’re repulsivelook. Still, they’re both waiting for me to answer, so I finally sigh and rock my head against his shoulder. “All right. Read his cards and then you can look in your crystal ball and make some shit up.” I admit I wince inside at my snotty tone. She’s been perfectly nice and I’m being an asshole. The words hang there for longer than I’d like before she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a deck of cards.
It’s a Tarot deck, the edges worn, the colors deep and jewel-toned. She shuffles them with practiced hands, her rings sparkling. For a moment she closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, it’s as if a new spirit has inhabited her. Nothing has changed, not her hair, her eye color, or her skin tone, but someone older watches us. Older and, if not world-weary, then a soul who has seen a whole lot of bullshit and can somehow find compassion.
I blink and she’s back to being her ordinary self, assuming anyone in this place is ordinary. Damon keeps saying we’re in a kind of AI art installation, and while he could be right, I’mleaning more toward some magical bullshit straight out of a romantasy novel.
“I’m going to use a three card spread, okay? The card on the left will reflect your past, the center will reflect your present, and the right will be the future.”
“That’s cool.”
Damon’s standing close enough that his voice vibrates against my back, which feels way better than it should. He has a deep voice, lush with a touch of sexy. I like it as much as I like the rest of him, and if I had the sense god gave a dog—another of Grandma’s favorites—I’d step away from him and let him face his fate alone.
I don’t, of course. He feels too good.
She makes three piles of cards, then asks Damon to turn over the top on the pile to her left. “Nine of Wands,” Amelia murmurs. “Now the center.”
He does. “The Knight of Cups.” Somehow that makes her smile. “And the last.”
Before reaching for the last card, he presses his lips against my ear. “For luck,” he whispers, and he turns over the last card.
“The Page of Swords. An interesting spread.” Running her fingertip along the polished wood at the edge of the cards, she hums tunelessly. “How old are you?”
Damon clears his throat. “Twenty-seven.”
Tension creeps into his body, which amps up the tension in mine. He’s clearly nervous about what she’s going to say.
“At least you didn’t get the fucking hermit card.” My attempt at relieving the tension is too jovial to really work.
She gives me another of thoseI can see right through youlooks. “The cards have their own plan.”
“You’re the expert.” I shrug, half tempted to escape before things get ugly. I’m just curious enough to stay.
“So, the Nine of Wands is a card that shows you’ve overcome significant challenges. You had a difficult childhood, maybe?”
He waits a beat before answering, and when he does, his voice is rough. “Yeah.”
“Mm.” There’s sympathy in the sound. “The Knight of Cups shows you’re a romantic at heart.” She flicks a grin at me. “You’re a lucky man.”
I’ve got no sassy come-back for that one.
“The final card, the Page of Swords, is about new beginnings, a new project, of finding a place for new ideas.”
“Does a new romance count?” Damon chuckles like he’s not taking this seriously. His body is hard against mine, the tension at odds with his laughter, like he wants to hide how much he cares about her answer.
Or maybe I’m being overly optimistic.
“Could be,” Amelia says, though she sounds doubtful. “The cards say you’ve overcome quite a bit and kept your heart intact. Maybe it’s time to dream a little and do the thing you’ve always wanted to.”
He’s so still I can’t tell if he’s breathing until he speaks. “Don’t suppose there’s a card that’ll tell me what that is.”
Her eyes go dark. “I think you already know.” Her voice has an extra resonance and then she blinks. “Now, since you brought the subject up, turn one more card.” She holds the deck where he can reach it and, going slow, he takes a card.
“Look, the Two of Cups!” Her smile is full of joy. “I can’t make promises, but the card speaks to compatibility and harmony, so... “
He exhales, some of the tension leaving his body. “That’s all great. You’ve, uh, given me a lot to think about,” he says with a laugh, and reaches into his pocket. “Here.” He slides a bill across the desk. “Gotta cross the fortune teller’s palm.”
She’s got that bill tucked away faster than I can see the denomination. I’m ready to move along when she says, “Wait,” and lifts a goddamn crystal ball from the depths somewhere. It’s about the size of a large orange, perfectly clear, and seated on a gold base studded with rubies and tiny diamonds. “Do you have a question for the globe?”