Page 22 of A Match Made in Coven
“Welcome, welcome,” Myron chittered, gesturing with his paws for them to follow. “Madame Glenda is expecting you in the parlor.”
Sarah Michelle and Lorcan exchanged a glance before stepping inside. The interior of Chiron Manor was just as whimsical as its exterior. It had an old-world charm that felt timeless. Antique furniture, magical trinkets everywhere, and shelves overflowing with books on every conceivable witchy subject lined the walls. The air was fragrant with the scent of burning herbs and the faint hum of protective enchantments.
Myron led them through a dimly lit hallway, where vivid portraits seemed to follow them with their eyes as they passed.
The raccoon gestured grandly to a sitting room where the seer awaited them.
Glenda’s silver hair was loose, and she was wearing witchy robes in a blend of deep purples and blues adorned with intricate embroidery that sparkled in the flickering candlelight. Her fathomless obsidian eyes held a knowing glint as she appraised Sarah Michelle and Lorcan.
“Thank you for seeing us so early, Mrs. King.” Sarah Michelle greeted her politely to keep on the good side of the formidable witch. “We appreciate your help with our investigation.”
“Please call me Glenda.” The seer waved her hand dismissively, her bracelets jingling. “And think nothing of it, dear. It’s my witchly duty to help justice be served. Although, I must admit, even with all my divination powers, I couldn’t guess why you’d need to talk to me about the murder of a man I’ve never met.”
Sarah Michelle glanced at Lorcan, expecting him to jump in with his usual machismo, but to her surprise, he remained silent, allowing her to take the lead. She focused her attention back on Glenda. “Can you tell us about the eight-point morning star on your turret? What’s its meaning? It may be connected to the murder.”
“Mmm… you’re asking the wrong questions, my dears. What you need is a tarot reading to guide you on your path.”
Lorcan finally spoke up, his tone tinged with impatience. “With all due respect, Mrs. K—Glenda, we’re interested in uncovering the past, not finding out about our futures.”
But Chief King’s mother was undeterred. “Ah, but to truly understand the past, you must first glimpse the future.” She stood up. “Come, let me show you.”
Despite their protests, Sarah Michelle and Lorcan followed Glenda to a small table draped in a rich, velvet cloth. The seer produced a silver chest, its surface adorned with intricate carvings. Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, lay a deck of tarot cards, their edges worn from years of use.
As Glenda shuffled the tarots, curiosity and skepticism warred within Sarah Michelle. She had never put much stock in divination, preferring to rely on cold, hard facts. But something about Glenda’s confidence made her wonder if the tarots hid more than mere superstition.
Glenda handed the deck to Sarah Michelle and Lorcan, instructing them to each choose three cards. Sarah Michelle’s fingers tingled with unfamiliar energy as if the tarots themselves were alive with magic—they probably were. Glenda then chose three cards of her own, laying them out on the table with a flourish.
Sarah Michelle leaned forward, her eyes scanning the intricate illustrations on the back of the tarots to make sense of their meaning. Lorcan seemed equally perplexed.
As Glenda turned each card, her raccoon familiar, Myron, made exaggerated “ooh” and “ahh” sounds, as if he understood the deep, mystical secrets being revealed. Sarah Michelle stared at the creature skeptically, thinking he was full of dragon droppings and couldn’t read anything into the spread without his witch’s help. At least, that’s what her cop’s instincts told her.
Glenda studied the cards intently, and then sighed, looking up at Sarah Michelle and Lorcan. “Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Salem, where we lay our scene,” she quoted, a slight variation of the opening line fromRomeo and Juliet.
A shiver ran down Sarah’s spine as Glenda pierced them with her stare. “A Callidora and a Black,” the seer mused, her tone laced with intrigue. “Interesting.”
Lorcan shifted impatiently in his seat, his jaw clenched. “Did the cards tell you something we didn’t already know?”
His innate arrogance finally surfaced.
Sometimes, even Sarah Michelle forgot he was a Black, but moments like these served as a stark reminder. Glenda stared him down, letting the silence stretch between them. Sarah Michelle enjoyed the suspenseful pause, relishing in Lorcan’s discomfort. He lowered his gaze first. Ah-ha!
Glenda finally spoke. “To solve Elijah’s murder, you must follow the money. That’s what the tarots say.”
“Do the cards point to anything specific?” Sarah Michelle asked.
Now it was her turn to find herself under the unwavering stare of the seer. “About your case? No. Divination is not an exact science, unfortunately.”
“Not exact, but reliable?” Sarah Michelle specified, uncertain.
The witch looked at the pair of them with a pleased smirk. “For certain things more than others.”
They thanked the seer for her time and made to leave the parlor, once again escorted by Myron.
Just as Sarah Michelle was about to exit the room, Glenda’s hand shot out, gripping her arm with surprising strength. “You might have to follow the money to solve the case,” the seer said, her eyes boring into Sarah Michelle’s, “but your biggest challenge will be to follow your heart. When the time comes for hard decisions, trust in it.”
Sarah opened her mouth to ask for clarification, but the seer had already released her arm and turned away, busying herself with tidying up the tarot cards.
As they stepped out of Chiron Manor, the cold air hit Sarah Michelle’s face, grounding her back in reality.
