“I suppose I would,” she said. “But in this, I’m afraid I can’t help you. You see…”
Mercedes paused and opened her bag and took out a large book—black, leather-bound, with two skulls embossed on the cover. Mercedes set it in her lap and opened it carefully. Carefully because the book was full of odds and ends—scraps of paper, recipe cards, photographs, pressed flowers and leaves. The pages themselves were thick, soft cotton, covered in black, red, blue, and green ink. Some of the pages bore elaborate drawings of triangles within circles, circles within squares, animals, trees, moons, and stars.
Other pages bore only writing, nearly as ornate as calligraphy. Back, back, back, Mercedes turned in the book, and Nora saw some dates written on top of the pages. Journal entries. Back she went through this year, then last year, before reaching the November she’d been in New Orleans house-hunting. Two years and ten months ago.
Mercedes stopped at last and took from the book a small slightly-crinkled envelope. An ordinary envelope. She slipped her fingers under the flap and from inside pulled out a red rectangle, no bigger than the palm of her hand.
She held it out toward Nora, who took it with the slightest quiver in her stomach.
“This is my business card,” Nora breathed. “You kept it.”
“I did.”
“But…why?”
“I used it,” she said. “To cast a spell of protection.”
“Protection? I don’t need protection.” Søren, Nico, Kingsley, Gmork…the last thing she needed was more people trying to protect her.
“You misunderstand me, Mistress Nora. I wasn’t trying to protect you. The spell was for protection from you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nora’s doubt about this woman turned to fear. She clutched her wine glass harder in her hand, holding it against her chest so Mercedes couldn’t see it shaking.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nora asked.
Mercedes clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap on the pages of the open book.
“We have a rule,” Mercedes said. “An it harm none, do as ye will. It’s our only commandment. It comes with a warning—whatever harm we do will be visited upon us threefold. So I have no wish to harm you, Mistress.”
“Good. That makes two of us.”
Mercedes gave her a gentle smile.
“If I thought you would believe a word I said,” Mercedes continued, “I would explain what I mean. But you’re Catholic. To you, our Old Ways are party games and cons. You came to me for a reading because it’s what tourists do in the Quarter when it’s too early to drink, and you’ve already eaten all the beignets you can handle for the day.”
“I try to keep an open mind.”
“You should. But will you, if I tell you my truth? Or will you call it a lie or a hoax or a con?”
“Would you blame me if I did?”
“Would you blame me if I called your faith a hoax? If I called Catholicism a sham? If I told you that you’re enabling the patriarchal oppression of women every single time you walk through a Catholic church’s doors? Would you blame me if I reminded you that only men are allowed to become priests in your faith because they do not deem women worthy of holding holy office?”
Nora let that sink in a moment.
“No,” Nora said. “I might not appreciate the sentiment, but I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Then maybe this is a talk we can have. Woman to woman. Not enemies. Not rivals. If not friends, then allies.”
“We can try,” Nora said. “I think we’re on the same side. You have your commandment, I have mine. Hurt, but don’t harm.”
“A good rule,” she said, nodding. “If you will hear me, I’ll tell you.”
Nora couldn’t recall a time when she’d been in the presence of a woman with enough presence to intimidate her. But as Mercedes sat in the armchair, hands on her books, eyes on Nora’s eyes, she felt a chill run through her not unlike touching a live wire, like touching raw power.
Mercedes picked up her wine glass again and finished it off with a final swallow. She set it down and turned her attention back to her book.
“November ninth,” Mercedes read aloud. “Difficult reading today. A woman came to me for a half-hour read. I should have made up an excuse to say ‘no.’ The second I saw her, I knew she was dangerous. So much male energy, so much violence in her blood. I did it anyway. Always a sucker for a beautiful woman.”
Nora stared at Mercedes, eyes narrowed. Mercedes, however, wouldn’t meet her eyes. She continued:
She told me she was moving to New Orleans, here to buy a house. I used the Old Path deck, which I rarely use. I wasn’t sure why until I turned over the card for the High Priest in present position and her green eyes went wide as two jade moons. In other decks, he’s called the Hierophant. The card was in present position, reversed. Upright means conformity to the status quo. Reversed means departing from the status quo, the traditions and insinuations she’s been bound to her in her life. And the next card was the Three of Staves. A journey ahead.
She laid her hand on the page over a paragraph of writing. Nora started to ask her what else she’d written when Mercedes turned the page and began to read aloud again.
I told her the safe things I saw. That she would get her house. That she would have success in her twin careers.
Other things I didn’t tell her.
A death coming that couldn’t be prevented. Immediate family, I think.
A new lover, too. The Knight of Cups—a quiet and gentle lover who carries a cup of wine in his sword hand. Though there was opposition to the match.
I summed both up by saying there were challenges ahead, unavoidable, one good, one painful.
Then I saw the fire. The Tower burning. I knew it was the city. I knew this woman started the fire. If she makes the right choice, the fire will be a cleansing flame. If she makes the wrong choice, the innocent will burn.
I told her she would face a hard choice ahead. She asked me what it was. I couldn’t tell her. It’s too far down the line. Like trying to read words written in smoke. I don’t think she believed me.
Knowledge is power, the old philosophers said. They were wrong. Knowledge is responsibility. I’ll have to keep an eye on this woman and cast spells of protection. Hematite for protection. Beads for binding—purple for wisdom, silver for feminine power.
Mercedes closed her book, looked up, and waited in silence.
“I keep trying to figure out how you’re trying to scam me,” Nora said.
Mercedes held up her hands, palms up and empty.
“You see me asking for money? I’m not trying to sell you a thing.”
“A month after that reading, I met my boyfriend. A Frenchman who acts like a knight-protector. He’s calm and gentle and makes wine. My mother died of advanced lung cancer three months after that reading. Don’t pretend you knew all that months before it happened.”
“I didn’t know. The cards did.”
“If you really knew my mother was dying, why didn’t you tell me that?”