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?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me,” she said. “And your mother would die anyway, and in addition to your sorrow, you would be saddled with guilt for ignoring what I told you.”
“I might have believed you.”
“You don’t believe me now. Why would you then?”
“Okay, forget that,” Nora said. “What about the fire? Burning innocent people? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“The closer events are, the easier they are to see. The further out, the harder. I can see the titles of the books on the shelves near me. I can’t read the titles on your books across the room. The future is the same. But I think it’s getting closer.”
“Could you be any vaguer?”
“You don’t know. Why should I? It’s your choice, not mine.”
“I would never hurt innocent people.”
“I don’t think you would…not on purpose. But even if pain is unintentional, it still hurts, doesn’t it?”
Nora had no answer to that. It was true. Couldn’t argue with the truth.
Mercedes slipped her book into her bag and stood up.
“Are you leaving?” Nora asked.
“I have to be at the shop at ten for deliveries. Thank you for the wine.”
Mercedes rose to her feet and Nora had no choice but to walk her to the door, like she was some normal houseguest.
Nora opened the door and Mercedes looked at it, didn’t leave. Apparently, Mercedes still had something to say to her.
“This is between women,” Mercedes said. “About women. For women. Men will only make it more complicated than it already is. Men will only make it worse.”
“I trust the men in my life.”
“You got to learn to trust the women, too. You’ve got to. Even the silence of a woman is wiser than the words of a man.”
“Then let’s be wise, shall we?”
Both of Mercedes’s elegant eyebrows went up at that. But she playfully ran her fingers over her lips to zip them. She nodded, and Nora opened the door again.
Mercedes slipped on her shoes, turned to leave. She stepped onto the porch, but before Nora closed the door, she had to ask one more question.
“I saw you cover up a paragraph when you were reading to me. What was it?”
“You ask me that like you believe it’s real.”
“Pascal’s Wager,” Nora said. “Ever heard of it?”
Mercedes nodded. “We wager our souls when we choose to believe or not believe in God. Smart souls believe in God because if God does exist, God will reward them with eternal happiness. If God doesn’t exist, the person has lost nothing. But if God exists and the person doesn’t believe, he’s lost eternity.”
“So might as well believe,” Nora said. “Just in case.”
“You don’t lose anything by asking me, you mean? And you might gain something?”
“Seems a safe bet.” Nora paused. “Did you? See anything about me, I mean?”
“The Hierophant,” she said. “The High Priest. He was in the present position reversed, but not the future.”
“What does that mean? A priest I know is going to die?”
A priest did die.
“No,” Mercedes said. “Three of Staves came next. I saw you taking a journey. A journey that will take you away from The High Priest.”
“I went on that journey. I came back.”
Mercedes shook her head.
“No. On this journey, you don’t come back. You walk away and keep walking.”
Nora stood up straighter. Her jaw clenched.
“This is why we don’t tell people what they don’t want to hear.” Mercedes smiled apologetically.
“Now I know you’re a fraud,” Nora said.
“What is he to you? The High Priest?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not good for you.”
Nora felt a jolt at those words. Her anger—dammed by her curiosity—finally broke through. She was done.
“Why don’t you just go and cast a spell to make sure I do what you want me to do?” Nora demanded, her tone mocking.
“You’re suggesting I go to a sacred temple by night, light a candle, and speak magic words?”
“That’ll work.”
“Like when you go to St. Mary’s at night, light altar candles and pray?”
Nora narrowed her eyes at Mercedes.
“You have been following me.”
“I walk the Garden District every night, as you do. I saw you out with only your dog, later than usual. I was curious.”
“Stop following me.”
Mercedes gave her a Mona Lisa smile. “Yes, Mistress.”
Nora shut the door behind Mercedes, locked it and rested her forehead on the cool surface. She breathed, breathed again.
Stupid. So fucking stupid. She didn’t believe in this garbage. It was all a hoax, a hustle, a con. A long con, at that. And Nora was done with it. She undid the lock. She was going to tell Mercedes that if she ever stepped foot on her property again, there would be a restraining order waiting with her name on it.
Nora threw the door open. Mercedes was long gone, but swinging from her doorknob was a string of silver Mardi Gras beads.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cyrus got home to his apartment a few minutes after midnight. He had eyes for nothing or no one but his bed. He had his shirt unbuttoned and halfway off when he felt his phone buzzing in his pants.
A text from Nora. Soon as he read it, he called her.
“Cyrus,” she breathed. “I’m so glad you’re still awake.”
“Just got home. She was at your house?”
“Yeah. She just knocked on my door.”
“And you opened it?”
“Gmork didn’t bark. He barks at men, not women. I just saw a woman and opened the door.”
She sounded more scared now than she had when Pasadena had roughed her up on Bourbon Street.
“What did she say?”
“A lot. She said she’s been keeping an eye on me for three years. I don’t know why, but she’s the one who’s been putting the beads in my tree.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Cyrus grimaced. “I never should have gotten you into this.”
“It’s not your fault, Cy.”
“You need me to come over?” he asked. Where had that come from? Was that the old Cyrus talking or the new Cyrus? “I can sleep on your sofa. Paulina won’t mind.”
“I have to be honest, I’m kind of tempted to say ‘yes.’ But I don’t want to be a coward.”
“A woman came to your door in the middle of the night, told you she’d been watching you for three years. That she’s been beading your trees. I think you’re allowed to be scared shitless. Hell, I am.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration. Cyrus’s heart was pounding like a bass drum.
“I don’t want you alone,” he said. “Can you stay at Edge’s house tonight?”
Edge definitely seemed like the kind of man who could handle this kind of threat.
“King’s probably not home yet. And I’m sure Juliette’s already asleep. I’m not about to wake up a pregnant woman and scare the hell out of her.”
Cyrus couldn’t blame her for that. “Hotel? Søren’s place?”
“Yeah, no. When he finds out what happened, I’ll be off the case. I’ll just go sleep at my dungeon,” she said. “The building is alarmed and monitored.”
“Fine, but I’ll drive you,” Cyrus said. “She might still be watching your front door, so I’ll pick you up in front of Edge’s. You can head out back, through the alley into his gated yard. I’ll pull around front of his place and pick you up. Then we’ll hang at your—” and Cyrus could not believe he was saying this, “—dungeon until morning.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Gonna do it anyway. I got you into this. I’ll change clothes and be right there. Don’t leave your house until I text you I’m in front of Edge’s place, okay?”
“Got it. See you soon.” She paused. Then, “Cyrus?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem.”
Cyrus changed into jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn’t want to wake—or scare—Paulina with a text or a call. She always kept her phone on and by her bed in case of emergencies. Instead, he sent her a short email telling her the basics—that Nora had been threatened by a possible witness, and he was going to keep an eye on her tonight.
That late, Cyrus encountered no traffic. He pulled up in front of Edge’s house ten minutes after leaving his own. He texted Nora, and a minute later she came to the the front gate with her dog. She’d changed clothes, too. Jeans, white shirt, leather jacket, and boots.
Cyrus kept an eye on the street as the gate yawned opened and then closed behind her. He unlocked the car doors. Nora let her dog hop into the backseat, and then she slid into the front passenger seat next to Cyrus.
“Hi,” she said.
“Ready?”
“Definitely.”
He peeled away from the curb and headed in the direction of Nora’s Piety Street place. They drove for a few minutes in silence until Cyrus felt calm enough to talk.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I can’t tell if I’m over-reacting or under-reacting. Or in shock.”
“Same.” Cyrus glanced at her. “Town this size, you get a lot of kooks. Most are harmless. I’d say ninety-eight percent are harmless. The question is…is s
he in that ninety-eight?”
“Or the two,” Nora said, then sighed.
“Come on. Tell me everything she said.”
Cyrus listened to her story, then said, “She thinks you’re the dangerous one.”
Nora raised her hands, also baffled. “I admit, I’m no angel. I’ve broken laws and broken hearts.”
“And feet.”
“Broken feet. Noses. No, just one nose. Ribs. Two ribs, if I remember correctly. Busted my fair share of balls. Consensually and non. Though he was asking for it. And so was he. And him, too.”
“I get it.” Enough with the ball-busting talk already.
“But dangerous? And it wasn’t just, ‘You’re scary, and I don’t like you.’ She got specific. She said I was going to hurt innocent people. Kids, maybe.”
“I saw you with Edge’s little girl. You’re not dangerous to kids. This woman sounds nuts.” Cyrus shook his head again. “And could she be a little more specific? Like, help us out here, Gwenda.”
“Gwenda?”
“Wasn’t that the witch in Wizard of Oz?”
“Glinda.”
“Who the hell’s Gwenda then?”
“Ex-girlfriend?” Nora asked.
He shrugged. “Good guess with me.”
Nora laughed. Good to hear her laugh. Been a rough night for the lady.
“Can I ask you something weird?” Nora asked.
“Shoot.”
“You don’t believe in it, do you? Witchcraft and fortune-telling and stuff?”
Cyrus had to think about that, really think about it. “I don’t want to believe in it, but it scares me. Why would it scare me if I didn’t believe in it a little?”
“Good point.”
“Plus, ah…” he began.
“What?”
The Priest: An Original Sinners Novel Page 18