His parting words, “Don’t leave town,” had been a sobering reality check.
Her boss was furious with her, saying, “Gabby, these readings are supposed to be fun and positive. Nothing else. You don’t believe that stuff, do you?”
She just looked at him mutely.
“Stop them now,” he ordered. “Our business depends on the goodwill of the community. A bad reputation and ugly rumors will finish us. Your job is on the line over this.”
She immediately nodded because she needed the job. The cost of living in Aspen was brutal. She shared an apartment with four other girls, none of whom could afford to move.
Her friends knew about her tarot readings. She’d done several for them in the last few weeks. Had even done readings for them during breakfast this morning and hadn’t thought anything of it. When they’d asked her to pull a card for herself, that had been fine too. Until she pulled the one card that made them all gasp. The Death card.
She laughed and said, “Whatever,” then tucked it into the box, as they’d all looked at her in worry. She smiled and said, “The Death card doesn’t mean a literal death, as in I die. It could just mean the death of a relationship or a job even.” Although she hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Unconvinced, they all headed to the slopes. And now here she was, at the end of the day, happy that the dire card hadn’t proven to be a bad omen.
With a pleased smile at the beautiful sunny view of whitecapped mountains around her, Gabby rode the mountain, bent into the next corner, loving the power and the sense of control she had as her board bit into the icy surface.
Just then a hard push sent her careening forward. She cried out as her body instinctively bent and twisted to keep upright, even as she tried to see who’d pushed her. She struggled to brake. She was a good snowboarder, not racer material, but she’d have said better than average at least. Until now. Nothing she did brought her board back under her control. Or her speed. She dug the edge of the board in, her body almost scraping along the snow, but it wasn’t working. … An out-of-bounds marker flashed in warning up ahead.
Panic hit her, as the wind slashed her cheeks and as icy-cold tears stung her eyes. Still her out-of-control board propelled her forward, as if guided by unseen hands.
She hurtled toward the cliff’s edge, screaming at the top of her lungs in terror. Her friends hollered and waved at her, telling her to get back over.
In desperation she threw herself to the ground to try to stop. Snow and ice burned into her skin and eyes, as she hurtled downward into a snowball of board and limbs that never seemed to stop spinning.
Splat.
She slammed into a small jut of the cliff, sending a cloud of snow falling on top of her. Gasping for air, terrified to move, she couldn’t even see for the instant whiteout. When she finally realized that her world had stopped moving, she peeked through her lashes. The snow was no longer falling, and she could see the ski hill stretch high above her to the right as she laid on her back. That emboldened her to test out her limbs. She moved her fingers and toes, but no pain ripped through her. She sighed softly in relief, rolling her head to the left to see how close to the edge she was.
It. Was. Right. There.
The cliff dropped away at her cheek. Her bent left knee suspended over the edge into nothingness.
Oh, hell no. Too terrified to move, in case her small perch gave away, her heart slamming against her ribs, she froze on her tiny perch. It wasn’t much more than a tiny jut of rock keeping her from falling to her death below. Her mind couldn’t wrap around it. What the hell just happened?
Then she remembered the tarot card. Death.
No way was this about the Death card. Couldn’t be.
A voice whispered in her ear, Death comes to us all. Sometimes earlier than we want and sometimes by another hand. You live this time.
Shocked, she cried out, “Who are you? What do you want?”
The same voice chuckled, a sound of triumph and joy. You can call me Death. And what do I want? That’s easy. I want you.
And, with that, the voice disappeared.
Terrified, still in shock at how close she came to flying off a cliff, she lay pinned against the mountainside, afraid to move.
Calls behind her had her raising her hand to let those racing toward her know she was okay. But was she really? She didn’t dare check, too paralyzed with fear and cold.
Minutes later Wendy finally reached her, her face red and puffy from exertion. She stood a safe distance back and above her, calling out, “Oh, my God. Are you okay? What happened to you? Ski patrol is on their way. Don’t move.”
Gabby had no plans to move ever. In fact, the longer she lay here, the more rigid and panicked she became at the thought.
“What happened, and did I hear you yelling at someone earlier?” her friend asked hesitantly.
Gabby rolled her head to look at her best friend in confusion. “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought somebody just spoke to me.” She couldn’t very well tell Wendy about the message. She wouldn’t believe Gabby. No one would.
“It’s all right,” Wendy said. “Take it easy. You probably just hit your head.”
In truth, Gabby felt fine, which she shouldn’t have because that was a hell of a tumble. She could have—should have, in fact—broken several bones. Even her board was still attached to her bindings, her feet still locked into place.
Just then the ski patrol arrived. Thank God. The first man unclipped his skis and made his way down to her.
At her side, he stopped and stared. “You.”
She bolstered her courage to smile at the
