“Is that a fox?” I asked, stopping on the other side of the surface to look at the small animal dozing on her counter.
The woman took her time, finishing her page before marking it and laying the book down beside the cash register.
One long-nailed hand ran over the fox’s ears and she smiled. “His name is Zahir.”
The fox opened his eyes at her voice and I searched its gaze for anything preternatural.
Perhaps it really was just a fox.
“I’m just exploring,” I told the woman as I finally looked up to meet her eyes. She was taller than me, standing probably almost six feet, with deep brown skin and dark eyes to match. Her hair fell in a shiny black curtain to her waist and she wore a white blouse tucked into jeans. She was older than me, though witches hovered around maturity until they were in their fourth century. Seeing as this woman’s human age looked to be around forty, I was willing to bet she had hit her fourth century some time recently.
“I know.” She smiled. “Welcome to my shop. Unfortunately, if you’re looking for New Orleans witch swag, you’ll have to go somewhere else.”
“I’m not.” I found a basket of crystals on her counter and pushed one around thoughtfully with my knuckle. I didn’t need any supplies, but my last few days had been very magical.
A thought occurred to me and I looked up.
“Are you part of the New Orleans Coven?” It came out more accusatory than I wanted it to, but I didn’t take it back.
The woman held my gaze, letting the silence fall between us. “Do you ask out of curiosity, or because if I was, then perhaps I would not be so fond of the witch who threatened Collette Villere and threatened to destroy the entire coven?”
My face fell in shock and finally her own expression changed as she laughed in amusement.
“How did you-“
“All the witches know. If you wanted to stay under her radar, perhaps you shouldn’t have threatened her coven so blatantly.” She beamed, eyes sparkling. “As it is, I’m not part of it. I practice my own magic and keep my own council.” Her hand resumed stroking the fox’s ears. “So you are safe from insult in my shop.”
“Don’t you find it strange to be so close to a voodoo shop?” I inquired, curious more than anything. “Don’t most witches prefer to not be so close to it?”
“So long as I find no gris-gris in my shop without prior warning, I like sharing a street. Nathaniel brings me coffee and I sometimes make us lunch, plus he is one of the few who Zahir doesn’t mind.” Her eyes searched mine. “Is that all you want to ask me?”
My eyebrows knit and I dropped my hand to my side. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for help?” I ventured, half sarcastically.
“Perhaps. But once again, I think something heavier weighs on your soul that you could speak to me of.”
While witches fell into specializations-elementalists, summoners, healers, and more, there was no set list of powers a witch could have. Prophecy, mind reading, empathy…the list went on and on.
I had no idea what I was dealing with in this woman, but it was enough to set my teeth on edge with how easily she could read me.
“Do you know much about fortune telling?” I inquired. While summoners were the only true fortune tellers of the witch world, supposedly, other witches dabbled in tarot and oracle readings as well. My mother was much better at telling fortunes than I was, for instance, even though she was not a born summoner like me.
“Enough,” the woman allowed. “Come.” She strode away from the register and I followed. The door at the front of the shop creaked closed, making me jump. Still I walked behind her into an alcove in the back where a round table sat with two chairs facing each other from either side.
The woman waved me to the closest seat, and then sank down across from me. “You may call me Marin,” she said expectantly. As if Zahir sensed that his owner had moved, the drowsy fox sprung up from his comfortable position, jumping to the low shelf that hung right behind the witch. Behind Marin, as she’d said her name was.
“George,” I replied. “Georgette Levasseur.”
Her eyes widened, showing shock for the first time at my name. “A Levasseur speaking to me of fortunes? I should feel honored, even if your family is no longer what they once were.”
“Not true.” I pressed my hand to the table, my magic swelling between my fingers. Under my hand, my three cards of power materialized from sparks of magic. I lifted my hand, spreading them in a line.
She stared at them, though did not try to touch them.
“Then I think my honor may be edged with surprise, George. Why does a summoner need another witch’s help in divining any fortune, let alone her own?”
“Because I’m twenty-four and frankly, not great at it,” I answered tersely. “I know how to read cards, and I’ve been reading them for myself for years. Big things and little things–what to have for breakfast, what to put on my algebra exam last year...” She looked at me disparagingly and I hurried onward. “I tried to read my fortune today but it was as if I couldn’t. Like the cards had a mind of their own. Not to mention…”
I swept my palm over my three Major Arcana and they vanished in a swirl of light. Then I took my favorite deck from my bag, shuffled, and without looking drew a card.
I didn’t need to look, but I did anyway.
The Tower.
“No matter what I try to read, this always comes up. Love life, daily life…I’m pretty sure I could read my ‘what’s for dinner’ fortune right now and still get the Tower.” As I spoke I shuffled again, redrawing
