Page 11 of Soothsayer

“Ah.” I would have paid to have heard that conversation. “She say anything interesting?”

“Just that this was a necessary step for you. I asked her ‘how is your baby being shot a necessary thing, huh?’ She didn’t answer, of course. I love your mama, Cillian, but I swear she makes me want to rip out my hair sometimes.”

“Try living with her,” I joked.

Marisol sighed as she tied a knot in the plastic. “I know howIwould feel in her shoes. I’d want to know my baby was safe. I’d do everything I could to keep him that way.” She paused. “You’re sure, aren’t you? About Tavo?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I see his face beside your bed on the last day of your life.” It was a truth so twisted I was surprised the words even made it out of my mouth, but technically it was true. Marisol had a good bullshit detector, but in this case, I knew she wouldn’t call me on it. She wanted to be fooled.

She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Cillian.” She smiled and then stood. “Phin’s making breakfast downstairs. You’d better hurry if you want to get any of it.”

I stared at her. “Why is Phin here?”

“Because I asked him to stay last night.” She took in my expression and began to laugh, evilly, almost a cackle. “What, you didn’t know he’s my booty call? My man on the side? My—”

“Stop. Leave, go?I don’t need to hear anything else. I really don’t.”

“Oh, you’re such a wimp.” Marisol grabbed the plastic and left, and I got on with my neglected shower.

The warmth was incredibly relaxing, and despite everything I might have been tempted to get off that morning except, of course, I was right-handed. It was hard enough to open the shampoo bottle with my left hand, much less resurrect my erection.

I showered thoroughly, getting the flecks of blood and the patina of sweat and alcohol off me, and also, maybe, prolonging things so Phin would be gone by the time I got downstairs. I got dressed, another bitch of a thing to do with an arm injury, and took a second to mourn the loss of my nice gray suit pants before I finally went downstairs.

Phin was still there, of course, wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a clean white undershirt. He was sipping a cup of coffee and reading the paper with the help of a pair of spectacles I’d never seen on him before.

“Eggs and sausage are on the stove,” he told me as I came into the kitchen.

“Since when have you worn glasses?” I asked as I fetched my breakfast.

“They’re just reading glasses. I keep a spare pair here.”

“You’re over often enough to keep spare things here?”

“We all have needs,” Marisol informed me from where she sat shuffling the tarot deck. “It’s not a sin. Come on now, sit, eat. We can do a spread.”

I sighed. “Can we not? Yesterday’s was kind of inconclusive.”

“All the more reason to try again today,” she coaxed. “It might give you some clarity.”

“Fine.” I was such a sucker. I awkwardly stabbed a few puffs of scrambled egg and ate while she shuffled a few more times. The painkiller was kicking in, and the sweet coffee helped take care of my headache. Everything would have been fine if not for the fact that I felt like I was forgetting something.

“Here.” She handed me the deck. “Cut.” I cut it once, again, and then a third time before handing it back since I couldn’t shuffle on my own. Marisol fanned the cards out. “Now pull three.”

“My lucky number,” I muttered, but I obediently pulled three cards and laid them facedown on the table. She held a hand over the first one and then slowly turned it over.

“The Eight of Wands, reversed.” She frowned at it. “Something important is going to happen today. You’re going to want to jump into it quickly, but be careful about that. It could lead to frustration and mistakes.”

“Sounds like me,” I agreed.

“Don’t be flippant, Cillian, this is serious. I thought you were planning on staying here another week.”

“I am. Where would I go, especially with this?” I gestured with my good arm at the bandaged one.

“Somewhere, if this card is to be believed.” Marisol shook her head a little. “Ah, well. Let’s see what’s next.” She turned it. “Oh. Death.”

“He’s coming for revenge since I cheated him yesterday.”

“No, that’s not what it means and you know it,” she chided me. “Death is a sudden and unexpected change, a transition, a?it’s the beginning of a whole new phase in your life.” Marisol looked at me, her concern clear in the furrow of her brow and the downturn of her mouth. “What’s goingonwith you today, Cillian?”

---