Page 71 of Rattle the Cage

36

CYRUS

I wasn’t sure why I’d bothered sitting down. What could I expect from the cards?

If the prophecy was wrong, I shouldn’t believe in anything they tell me.

But their pull was gravitational. I wanted answers, something to cling to while reason was failing me. And so I sat.

After exchanging a hesitant glance with Tess, who nodded, Nash got back to work. Readjusting her grip, she split the deck and bridged the cards, letting fate decide their order. The sound of paper slotting over paper was a balm: the first step in a ritual that had dictated the last decade.

My shoulders eased at the familiarity of it all, though the relief was at constant war with my growing doubt.

Once the cards were finally shuffled, Nash held the deck out to Tess. “Do you want to tell us your question?”

Nodding, Tess reached forward and tapped the desk. “I want to know more about my last reading. Now that we won’t be interrupted.”

The glare she shot me cut through my chest with startling acuity. I couldn’t hide the initial shock from my eyes, but I quickly set my jaw and returned her energy.

Things might not be right between us, but I’m not going to just let her walk all over me.

Brat’s still needed to be tamed, even if they were right on occasion.

As Blade shot me a warning glare from her position at Tess’s feet, Nash cut into the deck, shifting the top half down to the bottom before drawing the cards with her darkened middle finger.

I’d always believed she had a gift. But after everything that had happened, I was starting to suspect she was just more intuitive. She was sensitive and in touch with her emotions. It made reading people that much easier. She could read me pretty well.

And clearly, my people skills are lacking.

Maybe Blade was right the cards were nothing more than a game. Though it hurt my heart to admit it. I’d built my entire worldview around this tattered old deck, and to think it was all just chance?

But as soon as Nash flipped the situation card, my blood chilled. I leaned forward on my elbows, craning for a better look.

Tess flicked her eyes from me to Nash. “What is it?”

“Nine of wands, reversed. The booklet says it denotes obstacles, adversity… calamity.”

All around the room, candles flickered on that last word. A cold breeze gusted through the apartment, chilling all of us to the bone until Blade pointed to the door. “Forgot something?”

The door swung lazily on its hinges, riding the current of air.

I could have sworn I closed it…

But I didn’t voice the protest: just stood and locked it before taking a seat back on the couch.

The tension in the air wasn’t just about the wind. That card… no one wanted to say it, but I needed no reminder of its meaning. It was one of the first cards we’d pulled in the reading that had produced the Prophecy.

Nash wasn’t going there, though. “The man in the image is clinging to the staff in his hand, eyeing the eight that are behind him with a lot of suspicion. The bandage on his head indicates some sort of injury or conflict that he’s been through.

“Perhaps that’s what’s caused his suspicion: he’s looking behind himself, wary of his past, wary of another battle, ready to defend himself. But even though the wands are what he’s wary of, he still clings to the one in his hands for protection.”

Tess’ eyes flicked up to Nash, gauging her honesty. I knew she was telling the truth, though, if keeping the interpretation broad.

I remembered the shockwave that had settled over us the first time we pulled this card, the eerie certainty that it was referring to Tess. Ironic for her to have pulled the same card now. She must have asked about us.

Or maybe, it’s just all random fucking chance.

Once Tess nodded that she was satisfied with the interpretation, Nash reached for the second card. “The obstacle…”