Page 113 of Savior
“That was a gift.” She says, nodding her head towards it.
“My Ol’ Lady… I mean, my fiancé, she gave it to me. A few months ago.”
Her eyes drift to the patches on my cut, before her eyes meet mine again. Though this time, something that looks a bit like suspicion, is peering back at me. “A Savior?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m not one of the bad guys. At least, I try not to be.” I joke, feeling more awkward by the minute.
She places a card down on the table. “You wouldn’t have come in here, if you were.”
“That brick dust really works, huh?” Another uncomfortable joke. I immediately wish I hadn’t said that. Fuck. I clear my throat. “I’m way out of my element here.”
She quirks a brow at me, flipping over the card, a knowing type of smile on her face as she taps it with a painted fingernail that matches her lipstick.
I glance down at it. “Well, ain’t that some shit.”
“So… you’re the Knight of Wands.” Her tone sounds as though she’s feeling validated in some way, and I realize, this is the Voodoo woman Vanna told me about.
I lean back in the chair, cocking my head slightly to the side as I grin back at her. “And you’re the reason I spent a summer in emotional Hell.”
She laughs at me now, picking up the Knight of Wands card and shuffling it back into the deck. “How is our little witch? I’ve been waiting to hear from her. She owes me a debt, you know.”
“Whatever she owes you, I’ll gladly pay it. Actually, she’s the main reason I’m here tonight.”
Marie Delai looks at me curiously now, waiting for me to elaborate.
“It’s been brought to my attention that my enemy is working some kind of magic on her. At least, it appears that there’s an attempt to do so.”
I watch as she cuts the deck into three piles, taking the top card off each and lays them down on the table.
“I’d ask her, or her boss about the specifics, but I don’t want her to know.”
“Why not?”
“Undo stress, for one thing. She’s pregnant.”
“Blessings on you both and on the child.”
“Thank you… I also know enough to know, that her awareness of this…. magic, I suppose… might give what he’s trying to do, some influence.” I try to explain. “That if she knew about it, she’d think about it… And often.” I reach up to grip the back of my neck again as I lean back in the chair. I feel awkward as hell talking about this shit. Hearing my own words out loud, it all sounds crazy. “Is that how it works?”
Marie Delai studies the cards. Cards that don’t seem to be depicting anything in the way of cheerful news in their dark artwork.
“You do have an enemy.” She says. “Though I don’t believe he has intentions to harm her...” She flips over another card. “He’s very conflicted… or, is about to become so.”
“What does he want with her?”
“He has feelings for her.” She says the words contemplatively, her brows pulling together. “Though, he doesn’t want to.”
That low simmering jealousy rolls inside of me again, stirring from her words. It’s been a constant nagging feeling since that morning Vanna and I argued. I shove it back down.
“There was something left at our home. Was it him?”
“That’s hard to say. What was left?”
“A doll of some sort. Made of twigs and wax. It had a potbelly made of molded wax. Crushed… caved in, to reveal what appeared to be a red powder inside. A spice. Cayenne pepper, maybe.”
She flips over another card. “You seem to have quite a few enemies, Dean Keegan… And according to the cards… they’re working to converge upon you.”
I watch as she throws down a few more, her brows furrowing deeper as she pairs them up with others.
