Page 31 of Death Card

I crane my neck to read the sign hanging above the door—Crescent Moon Books. Tendrils of ivy crawl along the edges of the sign, highlighting the intricately designed crescent-moon shape. In the window, a stack of recent bestsellers is displayed with a sign that advertisesNew and Vintage Books.

Once upon a time, I would’ve prided myself on knowing every single bookstore in the city, but I swear I’ve never seen it before. Which makes sense if I was never meant to discover this place. From the number of customers milling around inside the store, Crescent Moon is a very successful bookstore. The Hightowers have been operating under our noses for years. It was only a twist of fate that brought me straight to their doorstep.

Aria is still inside, but she could leave at any moment. I need someone with a car so I can follow her.

I send Malik a quick text and hope that he isn’t partying with Orion.

Twenty minutes later,Malik’s silver Camry pulls into an open parking space down the street. As I slide into the back seat, Malik and Lizzie both turn to peer at me.

“Are you all right?” Lizzie asks.

“We were leaving Chris’s place when you texted,” Malik adds.

I wave away their concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. Do you remember the meeting a couple days ago? The warning that Gramps gave?”

They both nod.

I point toward Crescent Moon. “Well, one of the people who might be responsible is in that bookstore right now, and I want to follow her.”

Lizzie scrunches her forehead and glances back and forth between me and the store. “Wait, rewind. How did you find this place, and why have I never seen it before in my life?”

I quickly explain the broken ward and the Council’s theory that the Hightowers might be responsible for the illness.

Malik whistles. “You got lucky, cuz. No one’s seen one of those witches in years.”

“Maybe too lucky,” Lizzie muses. “What if this is a trap?”

“I’ve already thought of that.” I reach forward to pat their shoulders. “That’s why I’ve got the two of you.” There’s a flash of movement as Aria steps out of the bookstore. “That’s her!”

She isn’t alone this time. There’s a tall, lanky white guy at her side with greasy dark hair slicked back into a bun. They slip into a black SUV with tinted windows and pull away from the curb.

“Let’s go.”

My stomach flips itself into knots as Malik tails them, keeping at least one car in between to avoid suspicion. We follow them over the bridge to Algiers. As we pass over the vast expanse of the Mississippi River, I can’t help but feel small.

There’s so much of the world I haven’t seen yet. I’ve barely left Louisiana, unless you count all the places I’ve traveled within the pages of books. On nights when I’d sit at the kitchen table doing homework, Gran would sometimes watch over my shoulder and kiss the top of my head.You’re so smart, you can go anywhere you want, she’d say.They’ll be throwing scholarships at your feet.

A sharp pang of longing hits my chest. If she knew I didn’t apply for a single scholarship, she’d lose her mind. But how was I supposed to leave when all of my memories of her are swirling through New Orleans? Besides, I can’t leave the coven now even if I wanted to. I know it’s why Gramps hasn’t said anything about college.

My life is here, and it seems my death will be, too.

Unlike the larger-than-life homes in my neighborhood, the street Malik turns onto is filled with traditional two-story redbrick houses. It looks more befitting of a nondescript suburb in a Midwestern town. I find it hard to believe that the Hightowers are really hiding out here, but I suppose if they want to stay under the radar, then this is appropriate.

The SUV pulls into the driveway of a massive house with arched windows and narrow sculpted shrubs on either side of the front door. Three other cars are parked at the end of the driveway.

“Don’t stop in front of the house,” Lizzie scolds, smacking Malik’s arm. “Pull forward and turn around so we’re not sitting ducks.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Malik gives her a mock salute and drives past the house.

I glance out of the window and make eye contact with a white woman watering her flowers in a neighboring yard. “One of you should shield the car from view,” I say, leaning between the front seats. “Otherwise, some nosy neighbor is going to call the cops.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Malik swears. “Doesn’t Uncle Zeke know some white people he can hire for a stakeout?”

“Not any he would trust with coven business.”

“Why don’t you shield the car yourself?” Lizzie asks.

“Shield a whole car? I, uh, don’t think I’m that good at it.”