coincidence, as Troy suggested.”
“I understand your need to act and to discover the truth,” Sybil replied. “But please, be careful.”
“Yeah, Troy told me to watch my ass, too.”
She handed him a deerskin pouch about the size of a cigarette lighter, hung on a leather cord. Strange symbols drawn in beadwork decorated the pouch. “This is for protection.”
“Wouldn’t a .45 be more useful?” Eli teased. He fingered the pouch, trying to distinguish the objects secreted inside. “What’s in it?”
“Magic,” she smiled. “It’s your personal amulet. Wear it at all times. And don’t open it.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Eli slipped the cord around his neck, wondering how a beaded leather bag could possibly protect him from assailants bent on destroying him. But Sybil knew things he didn’t, and right now he needed all the good luck he could get.
He zipped the backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“Are you sure you want to ride in a bus all the way to Santa Fe?” she asked as they drove into town.
“It just seems safer,” he explained. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but renting a car or flying would leave a trail for someone who wanted to track me.”
“I could rent the car in my name.”
“No, Sybil, I don’t want to drag you into this any deeper. You’ve already done so much for me. Besides, this is cheaper and I’ll have a chance to see parts of the country I’ve never been to before.”
He paid cash for his ticket as the Greyhound roared into the station. When the driver called “All aboard,” Eli hugged Sybil hard.
“Give my best to Miranda,” she said.
“I will, and don’t worry. I promise to stay in touch.”
“I’ll be following your progress in the scrying pond.”
He laughed. “I hope you won’t watch
Miranda got into Santa Fe two days ahead of Eli. The time she’d spent painting with Lee Golden had jump- started her creativity; now she worked her way hungrily through the city’s smorgasbord of art galleries and museums. Strolling down Canyon Road, she saw Native American baskets and handwoven shawls, fine silver jewelry and painted silk scarves, sculpture, furniture, pottery, and pictures of all kinds. She even splurged on a pair of custom-made cowgirl boots decorated with yellow butterflies and red flowers.
The morning Eli was due to arrive, she was sitting at the communal table in Cafe Pasqual’s eating a chorizo burrito when a blond woman next to her pulled out a deck of cards. As she began shuffling them, Miranda saw the cards were illustrated with colorful pictures.
The woman noticed her and asked, “Shall I tell your fortune?”
“I don’t think I want to know what my future holds. I like surprises,” Miranda answered. “But those cards are beautiful. May I see them?”
The woman handed over the deck and Miranda thumbed through the cards. “Oh my,” she exclaimed when she turned up one called, “The Lovers.” On it, a voluptuous woman with long, dark hair wearing a skimpy bikini stood in a lake with her head thrown back in ecstasy; a muscular man knelt before her, holding her in a passionate embrace.
The woman laughed, took the card from Miranda, and laid it on the table between them. “She looks like you.”
Miranda blushed and a card slipped from the deck. It fell face up, showing eight double-pronged staves soaring through the sky.
“Well, well,” the blond woman said.
“What?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know your future.”
“Not if it’s bad.”
“So far it looks pretty interesting.”
Miranda fanned the cards on the table and studied them. One that depicted a knight riding a horse draped in russet livery caught her eye. She reached for it and placed it beside the other two cards.
“Okay, what do they mean?”
The blonde smiled at Miranda. “I’d say your prince is about to come.”
The double entendre made Miranda blush again, then she dissolved into giggles.
The blonde joined in.
“How did you know?” Miranda asked when they’d both stopped laughing.
The woman tapped The Lovers card. “This one’s pretty obvious. And the Eight of Wands,” she said, indicating the card that had dropped from the deck, “suggests passion, excitement, things happening quickly. The Knight of Wands shows a man traveling. I’d say you’re in for a hot time in the old town tonight.”
Miranda grinned and glanced at her watch. “Sooner than that, I hope. His bus gets here in a half-hour.”
“Have fun,” the blonde said as she scooped up the cards and slid them back into a black velvet pouch.
“I intend to. And thanks for the reading.”
“You’re welcome.” She handed Miranda a business card. “If you ever want to know more, call me.”
They barely made it into the room Miranda had booked in a B&B near the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum. Halfway up the stairway, Eli backed her to wall, rubbing his erection against her, and she almost begged him to take her right there on the landing.
“I really missed you,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck.
“I can tell.”
He kissed her and slid his hand under her shirt, slipping his fingers inside her red lace bra. Miranda sighed into his open mouth. When he lifted her breast out of the underwire cup and bent to suck her nipple, she moaned softly.
Footsteps on the stairs below sent them scurrying into Miranda’s second-floor room. As she flipped the lock, he pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra.
Her breasts sprang free, her hard nipples straining toward him for attention. The crotch of her jeans was already soaked by the time he pulled them down around her ankles.
“Feels like you missed me, too,” he said, running a finger inside her panties.
His fingertip brushed her clit ever so lightly, urging it to swell like a flower in time-lapse photography. Miranda arched toward him and pressed against his fingers, trying to suck them inside her. Eli obliged, inserting two while continuing to flick her clit with his thumb.
“Help me get these boots off,” she said impatiently.
Kneeling before her, he tugged off her new cowgirl boots while she gripped his shoulder for support. Then he pressed his face to her pussy and inhaled her scent.
Miranda threw her head back, crying out as Eli licked along the edge of her panties and gently nibbled her through the silky fabric.
Her orgasm swept aside Eli’s tenderness. He yanked off her panties and practically tore away his own clothing. He picked her up, tossed her on the bed, and rolled on a condom.
Diving onto the bed, he rammed his cock into her so hard, she gasped. Again and again, he plunged. Miranda opened wider, inviting him to plumb her depths. Like flint on steel, each thrust sent sparks flying until flames burst inside her again. She felt his cock pulsing as he came. As if he’d thrown gasoline on her fire, his throbbing ignited a conflagration and she came twice more in rapid succession.
Lying in his arms afterward, she first noticed the deerskin amulet he wore around his neck. “Where did you
