“Flip the card, Beryl.”

When she lifted her palm, the card flipped itself, her magic so attuned to the cards that they did what they were supposed to whether she used telekinesis or not. Something told me the cards were in charge right now, not her. Or Spirit was. Especially when she flipped over the card of—

“Death,” murmured Beryl.

The brunette and her friend gasped, round-eyed. But I didn’t freak out. I knew this card had more than one meaning besides the obvious. Beryl knew I did, too, but she had to keep putting on her show for the bystanders.

“Death isn’t just about endings. It’s about beginnings as well. It can mean birth and rebirth. Change and transformation. Could there be a new beginning or a change coming in your life, dear?”

“Maybe,” I whispered, and yet my gaze was hooked on the skeleton in knight’s regalia, riding a white horse and carrying the five-pedaled white flower.

Could it mean my part to play in Mateo’s transformation? Could it be a new beginning in my secret dream I kept close to my heart and was still too afraid to chase? I didn’t know. All were possibilities, but then all I could focus on was the skeleton head, my breath coming faster as a coldness swept over me, like being kissed by a dark angel. This card wasn’t presented as a lofty interpretation of renewal. It was a message directly from the skeleton knight riding on the card.

In a fleeting blur, the knight moved, the horse galloping in place, the flag of the white flower billowing in a non-existent breeze. The skeleton knight turned his skull’s head toward me, his mouth opening into a soundless scream. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Then suddenly, the card was still, snapped back to the unmoving original design, the knight in profile. When I looked back up at Beryl, I realized she’d seen it, too. We must’ve been the only ones. What did it mean?

“Eveleen,” she whispered, but then I felt him.

Mateo’s heated presence at my back sent prickles of awareness along my skin. My body just knew when he was near, craving him to come closer. Beryl had her palms flat on the table. The deck shuffled itself, the cards floating high into the air. The watchers gasped. But I held my gaze on the cards, fluttering back down into a ridiculously even stack. Like a knife shooting from an assassin’s grip, a card flew out of the deck, flipped, and landed below the card of Death. I closed my eyes at the sight of it, sucking in a deep breath.

“Lovers,” said Beryl, her frown smoothing into an accusing look.

I stared at the card with a naked man and woman reaching their arms out to each other.

“Beware of the Lovers card, dear,” she said, eyeing the man I knew was at my back. “The Lovers card can hint that you are at a crossroads. One cannot take both paths,” said Beryl, her gaze only on Mateo standing right behind me. “Study your options and make the wisest choice.” Finally, she looked at me, a flicker of—what was it—fear crossed her face? “Bear in mind, the Spirit gave you two cards at once for a reason.”

I couldn’t say, Oh, Beryl. This is ridiculous. Because for a Seer, Spirit wasn’t silly. It was the guiding force that gave her true messages from the metaphysical world. I nodded. “Thank you, Madame Beryl.”

I went to pull a bill from my back pocket, but she shook her head. “Go, dear. I can take nothing for that reading, and you know it.”

Beryl worked as a Tarot reader for tourists for money, yes. But when Spirit took control, she said she couldn’t accept money for the message. It must be freely given and accepted.

With a stiff nod, I stood and turned to Mateo whose grim expression was hard and fixed on the table.

“Let’s go,” I murmured, taking one of the Abita Purple Haze longnecks from him.

“Eveleen,” came the softer voice of Beryl. When I looked over my shoulder, she said, “Be careful.”

It was no surprise her gaze landed on Mateo yet again. It couldn’t be any clearer, Don’t fuck the werewolf! Danger, danger! Like, was I going to actually die if I did? Was that the message? That’s the only thing about Tarot readings. I always had more questions than answers afterward. I preferred Violet’s divining pool of hardcore images.

Mateo followed me out of the tent where I stopped to guzzle a third of my beer.

“You know her?”

I dabbed the back of my hand on my lips where a drop of beer dribbled. “She’s one of my mom’s best friends. Known her forever.”

He grunted and swigged his beer, too, looking back at the tent. I expected him to comment on the cards on the table or say something else about Beryl, but he said nothing at all. His deep frown told me his wheels were spinning, though.

“Come on.” He gestured toward a row of exhibit booths.

I walked alongside him, both of us drinking down our beers pretty damn fast in silence as we went. I couldn’t even take in much around me, still absorbing whatever the hell that was back with Beryl, until we stopped in front of a twelve by twelve tent. Missy was wrapping a familiar charcoal drawing matted in deep red. One of Scott’s works.

“Oh, hey!” She beamed her sweet smile at Mateo. “I was just wrapping things up. Kyle already packed yours in the van.”

The table was nearly clean with only a few easels standing empty. I eased over to the last one still propped up. It was a brightly colored abstract with hard black contour lines. At first it looked like a burst of jagged sunbeams, like broken glass, but on closer look, I noticed the subtle shades of blue among the fiery reds and golds. The blues together formed a woman’s face, though the pieces of color were spread out. It was sort of an optical illusion.

“Wow, this is cool.”

“Thanks, pretty lady.”

I turned and almost jumped out of my skin. A tall, lanky guy stood behind me, his face painted like a Voodoo king, the skeleton features bright white against the black. His look was complete with a tall black top hat and a red velvet coat with tails. His eyes were electric-green, almost glowing in the shadowy light around the tent, obviously contacts. Though he looked supernatural, there was no hint of real magic emanating from him.

“Jesus, Kyle,” said Mateo, standing closer to me, his hand once more at the small of my back. Without a thought, I leaned into him. He rubbed a small circle with the flat of his palm. “What the hell is this getup?”

He laughed, his big white smile gleaming against the black painted on and around his lips.

“I’m the doorman at the haunted house.” He motioned with a jerk of his head. “We’ve got a mini-version of the Seventh Circle Haunted House to advertise for the big one downtown. Who’s your girl?”

“This is Evie. Evie, this is Kyle Montgomery.” Mateo didn’t bother to protest that I wasn’t his girl this time, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

He extended a long-fingered hand, which looked super creepy with skeleton bones painted intricately on the back. “Nice to meet you, Evie.” He grinned. “Pretty creepy, huh?”

I laughed on an exhale of breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Yeah. You look legit, though. Like a real Voodoo priest.”

“Just call me Papa Legba.”

He winked before turning back to Missy who’d been watching us and packing at the same time. She’d already cleared the whole table except for the painting of Kyle’s I’d just been admiring.

“You okay with the last of it?” he asked Missy.

“Yep. All good. You got my keys?”

He passed them over. “The cop at the gate said it would be fine, but don’t take too long.”

“No worries. The cart has wheels. I’ll take care of it.”

“You sure?” Mateo asked her.

“Y’all act like I can’t take care of things. Haven’t I always taken care of everything for you, Mateo?” She seemed a little exasperated, aiming him a sharp look.

“If you’re sure.”

“Go. I promise I’ve got it.” She waved them off, sliding Kyle’s painting into a portfolio carry-case. She heaved it onto her shoulder and took hold of the cart on wheels. “Go have fun.” She gave me a tight smile and headed out.

“She’s bossy,” said Kyle.

“Missy?” Mateo sounded shocked. “She’s never bossy.”

“You don’t know the Missy I know then.” He shook off whatever he was thinking and turned back to us. “Hey, why don’t you two come check out our haunted house?”

“We were getting ready to head over to the stage.”

“Aw, come on, man. Unless you’re scared.”

Mateo rolled his eyes, which made him look adorable. I’d never seen him make a face like me before. He dipped his head lower to mine. “What do you think?” The weight of his hand on my hip shocked me stupid for a second.

“Yeah.” I grinned up at Kyle, unable to meet Mateo’s eyes right now. “I love haunted houses.”

Chapter 18

~EVIE~

Kyle had left us at the entrance and disappeared inside for a few minutes before returning. His grin looked more sinister with the skeleton face-paint, and I was getting too many eerie vibes from the repeated imagery of skeletons tonight. I was suddenly rethinking going through the haunted house, but I wasn’t about to admit how freaked out I was. And I really did love haunted houses. So why was I so on edge?

“You guys can go in,” said Kyle, pointing our way with a gold-tipped cane in his hand. “Don’t piss yourself, Cruz.”

Mateo gave him a rough shove that knocked Kyle back a step. He just belted out a loud laugh.

“You have really interesting business partners.”

“Keeps things from getting dull.” He smiled down at me while pushing me ahead of him with a hand on my waist.

“Oh, so I’m going first?”

He smirked. “Ladies always go first.”

“Oh, my God. Mateo, are you really scared?”

He laughed, but it was sort of breathless, as we were now about a yard from the dark entrance. “It isn’t that I’m afraid. It’s just—”