Magic Island: What Happens In Venice: Book Three

by Diana Cachey

  A woman in an oversized fur coat and fur hat lingered on a bridge and beckoned Louisa over. Louisa hesitated. Another messenger in a fur? Another ghost? No way. She shook her head in disapproval.

  “Yes,” said the woman. “You will need a fur too. You already have the hat.”

  Shit. Another phantom.

  Louisa’s eyes darted about looking for an escape but the woman’s soft but forceful presence held her, immobilized, on the bridge. Pointing to a small window, she told Louisa that she needed a fur for her Cortina trip. She had a used one at that store.

  “What?”

  “A fur for Cortina, you need, I have one.”

  “I’m not going to Cortina, am I?” said Louisa. But she already knew the answer. Rather than going to south Italy on her escape from Venice and she’d planned, she’d just been detoured to the mountains by perhaps another ghost. To Cortina D’Ampezzo, also know as the Queen of the Dolomites, Regina di Dolomites.

  “Cortina, you need to go soon. I have the fur.”

  Rouge. Rouge might go with me, she hoped. Barbara was occupied with her Prada man.

  “Call her,” said the woman.

  “Call who?” said Louisa. Call Rouge, of course. But she wanted to hear the woman say it.

  “Stop asking questions when you know the answer. Go inside.”

  “I am confused. How do you know me? Who sent you here for me?”

  “I will give you answers to questions, but only about things you don’t know. You know the answers to almost everything now but need guidance before you leave. Call her, your friend. She wants guidance too. I wait.”

  Louisa did as told but not because she wanted to follow the woman’s directions. She called Rouge to tell her about what she found at the Arsenale. She’d drag her to Cortina. To ski.

  “No matter the reason, call her now, and tell her to come here,” said the woman.

  Rouge and Louisa soon found themselves in a dusty corner of the store. Louisa marveled at several used furs, which she did indeed want for the horrible weather Venice had experienced this winter.

  The store was full of costumes, wigs and masks, which Rouge set about sampling. She settled on a magenta bob that she said made her look like a Sixty’s groupie.

  The woman said nothing as she accepted their money but then said, “Your free gift with purchase?”

  “We love free,” said Rouge.

  The shop owner pointed to a varied array of tarot card decks. Both woman looked through the glass counter top sat an array of gorgeous cards and the woman reached under the glass and picked up the deck labelled Casanova Tarot.

  “Free tarot cards,” said Rouge clapping hands.

  “No.”

  “No?” said Rouge then curled her bottom lip over the top.

  “A reading,” said Louisa. “With those Casanova cards there?”

  The picture on the box showed a man in three-point hat, wearing a mask with plumage and dressed traditional Venetian costume of ruffled shirt, knickers, tights and shiny heeled shoes. The cards inside were full of nudity too.

  “You might as well ring up two Casanova decks for purchase. One for each of us,” said Rouge, “They’re steamy hot.”

  The woman glanced at the window where a mask costumer, looking very much like the cover of the deck, stood watching them. He surmised Rouge then Louisa, stuck out his tongue at each of them in turn, as if lapping up their beauty. He blew kisses then flung open his cape, cocked his head back and marched away.

  Louisa and Rouge were soon huddled with the woman around a small table behind a curtain in the store. The proprietor had closed the store with a simple turn of a card on the handle to read, “Chiuso -- cafe.” Gone for coffee break.

  “Free tarot card reading, my kinda gift,” said Rouge.

  “Not free. Nothing is free,” the store owner turned tarot reader corrected. “You buy the cards, I bring myself, you listen,” she commanded.

  A little too much like the Parisian courtesan had done with the Tiffany Glass, thought Louisa. Interesting. At least the cards didn’t set her back 200 euro like the Tiffany purchase.

  “One reading,” said the woman.

  “For each us?” said Louisa.

  “No, not for each. One reading will tell two women their truth. Both of you shuffle three times then each of you cut the same deck three times.”

  Typical Venetian scammer, thought Louisa as she took her turn to shuffle and cut. She would do only one reading for two people? She probably had to get home early for dinner.

  First Louisa shuffled three times and cut the deck three times, then Rouge picked up the deck, did likewise then set the deck in front of the reader.

  Before she laid out the cards, the shop owner grabbed their hands to form a circle of three around the deck.

  “One reading is enough.” She nodded back and forth to both woman.

  “Really?” Said Rouge.

  “Casanova cards are too powerful and we must not be greedy.”

  Louisa sighed, Rouge chuckled. Greed was the Venetian way. As was power. “Ask a silent question,” said the woman before she laid out the cards.

  Rouge asked about men. Louisa didn’t ask anything because if this woman really was a reader, she would know it.

  Next, the card reader set down each card and described what the positions meant as she went along. The first position told them about their concerns now, the second showed their force or motivation at present and so on until the reader laid out the last card, in the position of the resolution of the question asked. The tarot reader began to interpret the cards.

  Louisa knew how to read them herself and saw more in them than the woman described. Louisa peered into the cards and the room grew frigid.

  “First card,” the woman began, “concerns the Now.” She pointed to the Knight of Pentacles. It was the same costumed Casanova from the cover of the box like the costume of the man at the window.

  “What does it mean?” said Rouge.

  “Long-term condition, sudden change, real estate and property investment.”

  “Sudden change?” Rouge shrugged, she hated change, especially when it was sudden.

  The reader placed her hand on the knight, closed her eyes and whispered.

  “Pursuit of happiness, you want to enjoy simple things, peace, personal freedom but you seek it in strange lands.”

  Louisa looked keenly at the knight knowing it represented a dark man in her life. She now had two dark men, Matteo and Antonin.

  The woman opened her eyes and, with a slight nod, smiled at Louisa.

  The second card, the Three of Pentacles, held a position in the spread that represented the force or motivation behind the seeker’s questions. The Three of Pentacles in the Casanova deck pictured strutting masqueraders. They walked under a gas lamp down a dark Venetian street. The women in the picture wore only corsets and skirts with shawls pulled down to their elbows exposing bare breasts.

  “Totally hot,” said Rouge as she eyed the sexy scene in the card. If that was in her future, she liked the looks of things.

  “That card signifies your motivation, not your future,” the woman reminded to her.

  “Oh hell yea. Yep, that’s it.”

  “This next card represents your work and career goals,” said the card reader, “papers, plans and practical application.” Her eye lids fluttered. “Unexplained callers who will arrive bearing gifts and opportunities.”

  “King of Wands.” The woman said in a monotone chant.

  “What does that king mean?” Said Louisa, but she knew the answer, she was merely testing the woman’s tarot reading skills.

  “New home, you feel the need for someone to lean on, support you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You’ve been hurt by friends and associates who lied or played you falsely. Most likely, a man, a very handsome and intelligent man. He’s creative and cunning.”

  The card reader looked at her wrist watch, turned over some more car
ds but she hastened her pace.

  “Three of Wands.”

  “The king leads to the three.” Said Louisa.

  “When the heart speaks, listen,” explained the woman. “If something doesn’t serve you, drop it.” She frowned at Rouge. “If there’s something you can do, do it. If you cannot drop it, put energies into constructive ideas or cooperative partnerships that are aligned with what you want.”

  Louisa cocked her head.

  “You are afraid. Have more faith.” She said and smiled at Louisa.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Me too,” said Rouge who was leering at the sensual Casanova scenes.

  “You will leave your home in hopes of manifesting your desires or to meet someone who will help you attain them,” she said directly to Louisa, then she continued the reading.

  “Page of Pentacles. Be willing to listen to or act upon new ideas.” The woman grimaced and sighed in the direction of Rouge, who didn’t notice.

  “Six of Wands. Persevere in spite of trials.”

  “We will,” said Rouge.

  “Eight of cups. Trust. Still the whip. Put trust in God.”

  Rouge laughed. There would be no stilling the whip for Rouge tonight. Her men liked the whip. She didn’t believe in God either.

  The card reader ignored Rouge’s laugh, or so it seemed.

  “Five of Swords.”

  The card depicted Casanova wearing a white wig and, although he was fully clothed in a gold jacket and lace shirt, he was lying upon a lush bed with a naked woman, and he was kissing her shoulder from behind.

  “Oh I like that card,” said Rouge but the woman shook her head.

  “Slamming the door on happiness,” she said.

  The final card the tarot reader turned over was the Ace of Wands.

  “Seed of a new venture perhaps as yet unseen. An opportunity to be met with boldness, vigor, enthusiasm.”

  “Vigor, enthusiasm. Got it,” said Rouge.

  “When the universe gave her what she wanted,” said the woman to Rouge, “she gave the gift right back.”

  Rouge waived thumbs up to Louisa, jumped up and bolted out the door.

  “She doesn’t understand,” the tarot card reader said to Louisa.

  “She sees only what she wants to see in the cards, that is very common.”

  “Yet I cannot change the cards for her.”

  “What about Cortina?”

  “She will leave for Cortina tomorrow with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She will misread the meaning of the cards, act upon them incorrectly, then wish to flee.”

  “Si,” said Louisa. “I am wondering why I must go to Cortina. To flee?”

  “You must take seriously the possibility that the universe is cooperating with your new expanded plans.”

  “I’m not sure what those plans are right now?”

  “I think you know.”

  “All I know is that there is a big problem in this town.”

  “You must expose the problem.”

  “I don’t think I am brave enough.”

  “Perhaps you are brave enough to try but don’t want the universe to pay attention?”

  “I’m trying to listen to the universe,” said Louisa, “or the ghosts, or saints.”

  “If the saints are leading you then what are you afraid of?”

  “It feels like I am insane.”

  “Survival lies in sanity, sanity lies in paying attention.”

  “I’m paying attention but it feels like I’m sinking. I’m losing not surviving.”

  “You have survived losing many times, you will again.”

  “What I saw tonight, what the universe led me to, it is, it is frightening. I’m in danger, aren’t I?”

  “When people do not want to see something, they get mad at the one who shows them it. They prefer it all to stay hidden. They kill the messenger.”

  “Great.”

  “That is why the other messenger sends you things in secret.”

  “Secret?”

  “Yes, secret. You too must also be very sly and keep everything a secret too.”

  “So how do I expose the problem without letting the secret out?”

  “Don’t be the messenger. Don’t kill the golden goose, Louisa.”

  “Who is the golden goose?”

  “You are.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, but only for a short time. You don’t have to say a thing because they know.”

  “How?”

  “Your emotions are strong and they can read you.”

  Louisa thought about her new clairvoyant power to communicate with Barbara. She thought about Massimo’s ability to read Barbara’s mind. She thought about Matteo’s connection to her psyche.

  “They can read me, of course.”

  “Soon you will be safe again but only if you are careful now.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Go to Cortina with your friend. Your sister will join you.”

  “Then what?”

  “Wait for a sign. It will come if you pay attention,” she said as she led Louisa to the door.

  “Cortina,” mumbled Louisa.

  “Put this on.” She gestured at Louisa’s new fur coat. “Now, go.”

  Louisa obeyed.

  When Rouge saw the cards and heard the reading, she knew what to do. Rouge had an opportunity. An opportunity to be met with boldness, vigor, enthusiasm.

  Angry at Tom, whom she thought she maybe liked too much, she’d planned to be out when he arrived later at her apartment. A man she met at the Carnival party was coming by and she didn’t want to juggle the two.

  But after she heard the Tarot reading, she changed her mind.

  Take seriously the possibility that the universe might be cooperating with your new expanded plans.

  She rushed to her apartment before Tom, the first of tonight’s men, arrived.

  Be willing to listen to or act upon new ideas.

  Her new idea? Play more than one man.

  Persevere in spite of trials.

  How to do it? Keep each one hidden from the others.

  An opportunity to be met with boldness, vigor, enthusiasm.

  Was she brave enough to try? She must be brave. She could, she must. She’d juggle them.

  Unexplained callers will arrive bearing gifts and opportunities.

  Rouge recalled only cards that encouraged her plan. She ignored the most important card. It foretold the difference in her destiny. The Three of Pentacles - unexplained callers.

  Rouge would have Tom and her new acquaintance to juggle, but also a few unexplained callers as well. Rouge would soon have too many men.

  Very soon.

  Thick air scattered across the ground and blew papers about the cobblestones. Some Carnival confetti leftover from last night’s revelry settled into cracks between the stones.

  His head felt like the fog. Not only his thoughts but his physical skull. It felt like it hung, stuck, in a clogged uneasy filter. Cold water clung to tree branches that pushed up through white vapor and reached out in the same way Massimo stretched his arms. He attempted to piece together a picture of his faded past.

  Impatience and anxiety ached within him and he strolled along helpless to his longing. He clutched his chest in the mist and with shortened breaths picked up the pace. Click, click, his heals echoed about him as he moved, sensing location, direction. His limited vision, further blocked by buildings, clouded his awareness in the weight of the air. The wetness of the breeze trembled through him. The wind sounded, the hard pavement clear. He could not answer the wind back.

  With deep breaths, he walked. He imagined the panorama on the other side of the low row of brick houses, over where the sun shone. Heat in an instant, he slowed as he reached it. He stopped and picked at the dust on his coat. He dropped his glance.

  The pavement is near enough to perceive, he thought.

  He regretted this fact. He didn’t wan
t to see it. Seeing anything hurt him. He wanted to be like toes in his soft leather shoes on this chilly day, secure and unfeeling, cramped but safe inside. He stood in silhouette, a still outline with water melting below him on the sidewalk. Distorted memories circled inside his mind as fog swirled and clung to his sides. He barely knew anything was there with him. But the air chilled further.

  Fantasma. A ghost.

  Perhaps the spirit of his grandfather, his nonno?

  More likely, Barbara’s haunted friend, the one who followed the two of them around. The ghost who nodded to Massimo as if to give his approval of their liaison. Sometimes the haunted presence interrupted them. Had the phantom become too jealous or protective of her?

  If the spirit here tonight was Barbara’s friend then he probably wouldn’t like the turmoil in Massimo’s head or how it affected Barbara. The stranger ghost would be quite disturbed indeed.

  “Go away,” Massimo ordered, knowing it did no good. Phantoms never listened to him. Whether nonno or Barbara’s protector, they did as they pleased, with no regard to Massimo’s directions.

  Only Barbara seemed to have some control over the ghost without her even knowing it. Often this spirit who protected Barbara listened to her, but she rarely sensed his presence. When she did feel it near her, she ignored, discounted or explained it away. In Barbara’s mind, her friend in life and now her ghost protector in death, was simply dead. Gone forever. A bag of bones in the ground or more accurately, floating ashes on the canal.

  Massimo knew better.

  Alone, mulling things over, peering through the fog, he scurried. A meticulous planner, Massimo needed to choose the perfect words to say to Barbara. Never self-conscious before, he now found that taking a step forward with their love terrified him.

  He must remain aloof.

  Why is it my turn again to reach out? Too risky.

  A poem.

  I cannot find the words.

  His mind knew not why, but he wanted to construct a poem.

  That poem, if ever completed, would be depressing, thought Massimo.

  “Unless the poem simply told her what you wanted, nothing fancy,” Massimo heard someone say.