“Of course you can. It takes practice, concentration, and attention. All of which you’re capable of or you wouldn’t be able to make a living playing cards. What may be more problematic is both of us being capable of calling it up together, and narrowing in on one potential future event.”
She dug into her voluminous handbag again, and this time pulled out a deck of Tarot cards.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Tools,” she said, and began to shuffle the oversized cards with some skill. “I also have runes, several types of crystal balls, a scrying mirror. At one point in my life I studied witch-craft very seriously, looking for answers as to why I could foretell. But like any religion or organization there are a lot of rules. The rules began to crowd me, so after a while, I simply accepted I had this gift, and my studies spread out in wider circles.”
“When did you first know?”
“That I could foretell? I’m not altogether sure. It wasn’t like you, in a blinding flash. I’ve always had vivid dreams. I used to tell my parents about them, when I was a little girl. Or cry for them in the middle of the night if the dreams scared me. They often did. Or there would be what I’d have called déjà vu if I’d known the term as a child. My paternal grandmother, who had Romany blood, told me I had the sight. I did my best to learn how to refine it, control it. There were still dreams, some good, some bad. I often dreamt of fire. Of walking through it, of dying in it, of causing it.”
She did a quick spread. The colorful illustrations on the cards drew him closer to the table. “I think I dreamed of you,” she said, “long before I met you.”
“Think?”
“I never saw your face. Or if I did, I couldn’t keep it in my head when I woke. But in the dreams, or the visions, I knew someone was waiting for me. A lover, or so it seemed. I had my first orgasm at about fourteen during one of those dreams. I’d wake from those dreams, aroused or satisfied. Or quaking with terror. Because sometimes it wasn’t a lover-or not a human one-waiting for me. I never saw its face either, not even when it burned me alive.” She looked up at him now. “So I learned all I could, and I learned how to keep my mind and body centered with yoga, meditation, herbs, trances-any and everything to stave off the beast in the dreams. It works most of the time. Or did.”
“Harder to keep that center here in the Hollow?”
“Yes.”
He sat, waved a finger at the spread. “So, what does the future hold?”
“This? Just a little personal Q and A. As to the rest…” She scooped the cards together, shuffled again. “Let’s find out.”
She set them down, said, “Cut,” and when he did she fanned the deck facedown on the table. “Let’s try a simple pick-a-card. You first.”
Willing to play, he slid one out of the fan, and at her nod, turned it over. On the card, the couple was twined together, with her dark hair wound around their naked bodies.
“The Lovers,” Cybil announced. “Shows where your mind’s lodged.”
“They’re your cards, sugar.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She chose one for herself. “The Wheel of Fortune-more in your line, if we’re speaking literally. Symbolizing change, chance, for good or for ill. Take another.”
He turned over the Magician.
“Major Arcana, three for three.” The faintest of frowns marred her brows. “It’s actually one of my favorite cards, not only the art, but it stands for imagination, creativity, magic, of course. And in this case, we could say it stands for Giles Dent, your ancestor.” She drew out another card, slowly turned it over. “And mine. The Devil. Greed, destruction, obsession, tyranny. Go again.”
He drew the High Priestess. And without waiting, Cybil chose the Hanged Man.
“Our maternal ancestors, despite the male figure in mine. Understanding and wisdom in yours, martyrdom in mine. And still all Major Arcanas, all absolutely apt. Again.”
He slid out and turned the Tower, and she Death.
“Change, potential disaster, but with the other cards you’ve chosen, the possibility of change for the positive, the potential to rebuild. Mine, obviously an end, and not so sunny when viewed with my other picks. Though it rarely stands for literal death, it does symbolize an absolute end.”
She lifted her glass. “I need a refill.”
He rose before she did, took the glass. “I’ll get it. I saw how you made it.”
It would give her time to settle down, Gage thought as he stepped inside. However fascinating she found the process, the results of this particular experiment had shaken her. He knew something about Tarot himself-there was no area of the occult he hadn’t poked into for answers over the years. And if he’d been betting on the pulls, he wouldn’t have put money on two people drawing eight Major Arcana in a row out of a deck.
He fixed her drink, switched for his next round from coffee to water. When he went outside again, she stood at the rail looking out toward the woods.
“I reshuffled, recut. And I drew eight cards at random. Only two were Major Arcana, but oddly enough they were the Devil and Death again.” When she turned he noted she’d settled herself. “Interesting, isn’t it? You and I together pull the most powerful and pointed cards. Because we were meant to, or because we, without direct purpose, foresaw where those cards were in the fan, and instinctively chose them.”
“Why don’t we try another tool? Have you got your crystal ball in that duffel bag of yours?”
“No, and it happens to be Prada. Are you willing to try to look forward, to link our ability and see what happens?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Accepting and exploiting, hopefully, the connection. I’m better able to focus during or after meditation, but-”
“I know how to meditate.”
“With all that caffeine in your system?”
He only tipped back his water bottle. “We’d better take it back inside.”
“Actually, I was thinking of out here, on the grass. The gardens, the woods, the air.” She took off her sunglasses, set them down on the rail, then wandered down the steps. “What do you do to relax, body and mind?”
“I play cards. I have sex. We could play strip poker, and after you lose I’ll make sure we’re both relaxed.”
“Interesting, but I was thinking more of yoga.” She slid out of her shoes, and into Prayer Position. With fluid grace she moved into a basic Sun Sign.
“I’m not doing that,” Gage said as he followed her into the yard. “But I’ll watch you.”
“It’ll just take me a minute. And on your suggestion? We made a deal. We weren’t going to have sex.”
“The deal was I wouldn’t try to seduce you, not that we wouldn’t have sex.”
“Semantics.”
“Specifics.”
From the Down Dog position, she turned her head to look up at him. “I suppose you’re right. In any case.” She finished, then lowered to the grass to sit in the Lotus position.
“I’m not doing that either.” But he sat across from her.
Where normally she would have rested the back of her hands on her knees, she reached out to take his. “Can you clear your mind like this?”
“I can if you can.”
She smiled. “All right. Do whatever you do that works for you-other than cards and sex.”
He didn’t have any objections to sitting on the grass on a May afternoon with a beautiful woman. Not that he expected anything to happen. He expected her to close her eyes and float off on whatever mantra (the ohm symbol at the base of her spine, that intriguing symbol on flesh the color of gold dust, right at the subtle dip from smooth back to firm ass).
Don’t think about it, he warned himself. That wasn’t the way to relax.
In any case, she didn’t close her eyes, so he stared straight into them. A man couldn’t ask for a more appealing focal point than that rich velvet brown. He timed his breathing to hers-or she to his, he wasn’t sure. But in a matter of seconds they were in tune, perfectly in rhythm.