Page 2 of Death

Dina slaps my back. “I brought a fresh one for you.”

I lean away. “Uh... no. Thank you.”

“Oh, come on, Tannis!”

“I don’t want—”

Dina grips my shoulders, refusing to let me back up any farther and gives me a little push.

“I thought we came here for you,” I murmur under my breath.

“We did,” Dina says. “But... you first.”

“But I don’t believe in this stuff. No offense,” I add quickly as Cassandra’s smile deepens.

“You don’t have to,” Dina says. “Just have fun.”

Cassandra holds the curtain open and Dina shoves me through it. My eyes adjust to the sudden plunge into darkness, locking onto the lone lamp sitting on the edge of a small table. A square black velvet cloth sits in the center with a stack of cards on it.

I roll my eyes.

They’re tarot cards.

At least I don’t have to look into a crystal ball.

“Sit down,” Cassandra says as she takes her own seat across the table. “Tannis, yes?”

“That’s my name,” I say.

With a quiet smirk, she slides the cards in my direction. This constant grimace of hers is starting to get on my nerves. Either she knows something I don’t or she’s just really, really desperate to get us to buy something.

“You’ve never been read before,” she says, not asking.

“How’d you guess?” I quip.

“It’s not exact, of course,” she says, dropping a bit of realism into her tone. “Nothing ever is but there’s no shame in giving it a chance.”

“So, what do I have to do?”

“Pick up the deck. Shuffle it three times.”

I do as she says. The deck itself feels heavier than I thought it would. The cards are old and worn, the edges soft but not torn. I mix them up once, twice, and again, before setting them back down on the velvet square.

“What would you like to know about yourself?” she asks me. “Are you dreading an upcoming decision? Have you or a family member suffered a health scare?”

“Love!” Dina shouts from behind me. “Give her a love reading!”

I cringe. “Do we have to?”

Riley chuckles as he absently scans his phone.

“Yes!” Dina says. “Please, Cassandra. Please get this girl a boyfriend.”

“She’s not a matchmaker, Dina,” I say.

“You’re right. I’m not,” Cassandra says. “But in order for one to find love, one must be open to the possibility.”

“I am,” I say. “I’m plenty open, I’m just not...” I swallow. “It’s my parents. They’ve always been a little... strict.”