“VIP tickets?” I studied the bracelet and arched a brow at him.

He just smiled, giving me all the tingles, as he put his own on.

“What does Loa mean?” I asked, noting the word in eerie script on the bracelet.

Our heads were bent, me looking at my bracelet, him snapping his on. “Loa means spirit in the Voodoo religion. The one you call upon for special requests.” His voice was low and husky as he peered at me from his lowered head. The melting brown flared with a shock of gold beneath his lashes. “So if you have any requests, tonight is the night to ask.” He took my hand and led us inside.

Yet again, I weighed the two options, friends or temporary lovers, wondering if it was worth crossing that line. Then he laced his fingers with mine and aimed his beaming smile at me, tugging me toward a row of tented booths set up in the park.

No way. I’d miss this. I wasn’t sure how, but Mateo had become essential to my life. I liked having him around every day. I’d miss him if he wasn’t. And that shocked the hell out of me.

“Wow, I’ve never seen all this before.” We meandered past tents with all kinds of artwork, most of them shutting things down for the night.

“Check that out.” He pointed to a giant screen with some kind of live feed of an unbelievably beautiful beach with crystal waters and silvery fish swimming around. The view kept swiveling from a focus on the water then to the land. I noticed a petite girl standing to the side with a virtual reality headset on.

The vendor stood behind a control panel. He punched something and the beach disappeared, now a dark castle in a thunderstorm looming ahead. The girl wearing the headset walked forward, the castle’s door drawing closer. When it opened on its own, a gruesome ghost popped out.

Everyone watching, including myself, jumped. The girl with the headset screamed and pressed hands over her laughing mouth. The crowd laughed, too. She reached out to the air. On the large screen, the gruesome ghost evaporated into mist. She froze, staring at a set of rickety stairs.

“Do it!” yelled a slim guy next to her. “Come on, Lacey. Don’t be a chicken.”

She swatted the air beside her but her friend jumped out of reach.

“Come on, Lace,” said another girl. “Go see what’s up there.”

Mateo smiled at me and tugged me on. There were other cool booths that seemed to be just opening up while the arts and crafts booths were closing down. We passed a video game simulator with live action and a giant screen in front of the two players. They stood in front of some sort of video monitor that tracked their movements as they aimed kicks and punches in the air. On the jumbo television screen, two muscle-bound opponents were mimicking their actions as they fought each other.

“I’m going to kill you, dude,” said the player wearing a backward hat.

“In your dreams, bro.”

We moved on as their friends and the crowd cheered them on. The atmosphere was fun and festive, the bands cranking up on the three separate stages in the distance.

“I didn’t see any of this last time. Violet and I just came for the bands.”

I noticed he was holding my hand again, but very casually, like we did this all the time. Somehow, it felt like we did, even if I was cognizant of every time he squeezed me tighter, moving us through the crowd. His constant small touches tonight kept spiking my adrenaline, my heart steadily beating faster than normal.

“There are all kinds of vendors in the music and video industry who show off their new tech here. Come check this out.”

He stopped at a tent marked Loa VIP Lounge. We scanned our bracelets and then entered. There were plush chairs and sofas spread around, a cash bar in the corner with specials for VIPers, free water and soda station, even some snacks set out. In one corner, there was a Tarot card reader bent low over her cards, only the scarf wrapping the top of her head visible. A few people stood around, partially blocking my view as they watched her give a blond girl a reading.

“You want a reading?” he asked with a smirk.

I shook my head on a laugh. “If I wanted one, I’d get Violet to do it. She’s far more accurate.”

“You’re a Tarot reader snob.” He poked me in the belly. Rather than tickle, it only heightened my awareness of him, of his hands on me.

I rubbed the spot and batted his hand away. “No. But—okay, well, maybe I am.”

“So you don’t believe in readings?”

“Of course, I do. They’re completely legit. With the right witch or human psychic anyway.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering where I still had my palm flattened to my stomach. That heightened awareness shot into the cosmos, his gaze raking my body, my face, settling heavily on my eyes.

His looks were like a tangible caress, sweeping over me. But rather than satisfy, it was the kind of phantom touch I could become addicted to. His heavy looks made me wonder what his talented hands would feel like if they traced where his eyes tracked over me. My pulse pounded harder, drumming in my throat. Suddenly, the cool night air wasn’t enough to keep the sweat from dampening my neck.

“You want a drink?” His voice—gruff and husky—pumped my blood even faster. “Water? Beer?”

A tight nod. “A cold beer sounds good.” A little alcohol to take off the edge would do me good right now.

“Preference?”

“Anything Abita if they have it.”

He nodded and headed to the bar. I wandered over to the Tarot reader, unable to help myself. The closer I got, I sensed the sizzle of magic in the air.

Oh. She was a real witch. Not just a human psychic. This, I had to see. As I maneuvered through the crowd, I recognized the sharp features of Beryl. Her dreadlocks were tamed back with a purple scarf wrapped around the top of her head, the ends streaming down one shoulder. I couldn’t help but smile when her amber eyes caught mine. She held my gaze for a second, then went back to finish her reading.

Beryl had been my Mom’s closest friend for ages. There wasn’t a time I don’t remember her being in our lives, popping in to spend time with my mom in her study, which was now Jules’s study. Beryl was the one who taught us girls the best herbs in making our own smudge sticks. I can still hear her sharp instructions on wrapping the lavender and bayberry together, the cedar and sage, the sweetgrass and myrrh.

We rarely saw her these days unless Mom was in town. Keeping to her professional persona, she pretended not to know me as I approached. The Chariot card was upturned in front of the girl.

“So hold fast to the opportunity. When it comes, go. You’re meant to take this journey.”

“It will be like a real journey? Like a vacation?” the wide-eyed girl asked.

I pinched my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh. Beryl was restraining from calling her a fool. This was a paying customer, so she had to show more restraint than she would with me or my sisters.

“Possibly. Keep your eyes open,” Beryl told her.

Then she swept the card back into the deck, mixing them with supernatural speed. I noticed some cards shuffling between others of their own accord. Beryl was a Seer like Violet, but her magic poured out through cards more than the divination bowl like it did for my sister.

“That is so cool,” one of the blonde’s friends murmured as they watched Beryl shuffle. “It’s like magic or something.”

“It totally is,” said another friend.

“Y’all are full of crap. All sleight of hand and shit,” said the guy with glasses waiting for them. “Let’s get to the stage.”

He made me want to laugh most of all because it was totally real like her friend said. That girl had a journey coming. Beryl never missed.

The group meandered off. A brunette hopped in the chair but Beryl held up a palm, the bangles around her wrist jangling. “Not yet, my dear. First, that one.” She pointed to me.

“But I was here first,” the brunette pouted.

Beryl aimed a withering look at the girl. “When Spirit speaks, we must listen. Spirit wants to message her.”

The small gathering of about five swiveled heads to me. I think the last time Beryl read the cards for me, she’d pulled the Major Arcana card, The Fool. This was right before I started dating Derek. I didn’t heed her warning, and look where that had gotten me. A year of mediocre sex and a hard kick to my self-esteem.

“I’m not here for a reading, Madame Beryl,” I said, smiling at a woman who’d had dinner at our house a hundred times.

“I’m not asking.” She snapped a finger, her bracelets jangling again. “The Spirit demands. You must listen.”

With resignation and a roll of my eyes, I settled into the chair. I knew she needed my hand on the table, so I faced my right palm down, fingers spread like she’d instruct if I didn’t do it. She narrowed a maternal look at me, feeling my sass through my body posture and movements.

Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath to release my anxiety, I let her know I was opening up for her. Otherwise, she’d cause a scene by telling too many secrets about how the Spirit thought I was willful and disobedient like she typically told me.

“Both palms, dear,” she commanded.

“Oh, come on, Beryl.”

“Both,” she snapped.

I ignored the whispers of those watching and pressed both palms to the table. She wanted to be sure I was open. Fine. I was open now. See, I seemed to say with a jerk of my eyebrows up, crinkling my forehead.

She began to shuffle the cards again in her tawny, long-fingered hands. The cards moved faster, many shifting without her touch, floating in between each other with frightening speed. With a resounding thunk, she flattened the deck to the table with her palm, jarring the tea light candles on the table.

The brunette waiting beside me squeaked, clinging to her friend. That’s when my breathing became labored, too loud in my head, everything else too quiet, like sound sucked into a vacuum. Beryl wouldn’t move her palm, her sharp eyes on the downturned deck, a frown pinching her brow together. Oh, hell. This wasn’t good.