Page 17 of Death Card

I nod. My throat squeezes, cutting off all words.

“I’ll see you around.” And with that, she’s gone.

I slump against the bookshelf as my vision narrows in on the cards still laid out on the table. After sucking in a deep breath, I walk over and touch the last card. The same vision reappears as strong as before.

Usually, when someone pulls a Death card, my visions are of a major change in that person’s life, like the start of a new relationship or a new job.

This time is different. Wildly different.

Joelle is going to kill me beneath a full moon, and I don’t know why she would want to hurt me or how I’m going to stop her.

As I sink into my chair, Orion appears at the door. “Hey, sis, that girl filled out a job application after she paid for her reading. I scanned it and sent it to Gramps.”

“What? Why would you do that?” The floor drops out from underneath me as my stomach performs an entire gymnastics routine. I’m going to be sick. “W-why would she want a job here?”

Orion frowns, caught off guard by my reaction. “I dunno, but you know we can always use the help,” he says. “Did you know she’s going to Tulane in the fall?”

Any sanity I had left fractures into a million pieces. I rest my head on the table and exhale all the air from my lungs.

“We need to close the shop early,” I moan. “I have to talk to Gramps.”

8

“Wait, hold up,what are you talking about?” Orion struggles to catch my attention as I stumble around the room, packing up my things. “Mikaela! What happened?” he asks.

“I need to talk to Gramps!” I shout as he grabs my arm. “I’m going to die!”

Orion’s eyes grow as big as saucers as he takes a step back. I stuff the cards into my leather flip-top backpack along with my phone and race from the room. Orion’s right at my heels.

“Take a breath, sis. You can’t leave now,” he says. “We don’t have anyone to cover for us.”

There’s no way in hell I can work the rest of my shift with the vision replaying on a loop in my head.

I can still feel the scrape of the blade as it grazed my ribs. A knife straight to the heart isn’t a survivable wound. I don’t need supernatural intuition to know that. If I’m looking for a silver lining to my impending death, at least I can rest assured that no one will ever bother me about college again. I won’t have to worry about becoming Witch Queen, either. I no longerhavea future to think about.

Orion grabs my arm and pins me in place. Two middle-aged women I hadn’t noticed shopping take one look at us and scuttleinto the next aisle. “I’m not sure what you saw,” Orion whispers. “But stay calm. Let’s talk about it.”

I stab a finger at his chest. “If you had seen what I did, there’s no way you would be calm right now.” I spot a flash of movement in my peripheral vision as another customer peers at our crystals. We’re too exposed for this conversation right now, so I tap into Orion’s mind and speak through our bond. Most witches prefer not to allow others into their heads, but as twins, Orion and I have been linked together our entire lives.

“That girl—the one who’s maybe going to be working here now—is going to kill me. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I know we can’t close the shop, but I can’t stay here a minute longer.”

Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I rush from the store and onto the street. I’ll carry the expression on his face with me forever. It was one of sheer confusion and panic.

Orion and Gramps already lost Gran. Losing me too would completely shatter their broken spirits.

I don’t know what to do, but Gramps will.

The sidewalks are busier than they were earlier as the day picks up. Heat waves shimmer off the pavement as the sounds of music and chatter fill the streets. I shove through the crowds of slow-moving tourists and head for the streetcar stop.

Someone tries to flag me down, but I ignore them. I glance over my shoulder and spot a regular of mine who has a near religious obsession with her daily readings. I don’t have time to speak to her or the energy to worry about whether I’ll lose her business.

Instead, I quicken my pace. The muggy air leaves a sheen of sweat over my skin. I hike up my skirt to get some air movement on my ankles and walk as fast as I can.

The streetcar arrives at the stop only a second after I do. I scan the pass on my phone and slide into a seat near the back.

As it slowly rolls away, I lean my forehead against the glass and shut my eyes. I’ve taken this route so many times that it’s seared into my muscle memory, and so I let my mind go blank.

Fifteen minutes later, I get off the streetcar and race home, pain shooting up my leg. The soles of my sandals are so thin, I can practically feel the sidewalk beneath my feet. The Cadillac is parked in its usual spot in front of the house, thank goodness. I throw open the front door and yell out for Gramps.