Tarot Witch

by Jamie Hawke

  Tarot Witch

  A Rift Wars: Origins Short Story

  Jamie Hawke

  Contents

  Welcome

  Tarot Witch: A Short Story

  Bracket Time!

  About the Author

  Read Next

  Welcome

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  WARNING: This book contains gratuitous violence and sexual content.

  Thank you for taking a chance on my books. I hope you love reading them as much as I loved writing them!

  Jamie Hawke

  https://www.facebook.com/JamieHawkeAuthor

  Tarot Witch: A Short Story

  “Maybe she’s racist,” my friend Tosh said, sitting across from me at our favorite tiki bar, this small joint in Los Feliz, California.

  “Shut the fuck up, dude, she’s not racist.” I laughed, throwing back my way-too-sweet coconut something or other. It wasn’t that I liked the drink, more the idea of it. The thought hit me, and I set the drink down. “Shit, maybe she is… Or not racist, but—what do you call it when you date a black guy because you like the idea of dating a black guy?”

  “Hell if I know, man, but you’ve gotta have a talk with her. Two years and you still ‘don’t use labels,’ and that’s her call? No way. I’d have wrapped that shit up.”

  I motioned for the check, frowning as I considered it. The girl I’d been seeing, a real beauty named Leena with a body to kill for, just didn’t like the idea of labels. Every time I brought it up, she’d laugh, wave me off, and change the subject. It was getting annoying, but talking to Tosh wasn’t exactly helping.

  “Anyway, man,” Tosh said, standing and not even bothering to offer to pay for his drink. As always. “I gotta bounce, but you keep me updated, yeah?”

  He took off, giving me a wave and the old dude by the door in a Marine Corps hat a fist bump—the guy was always there, always sipping a rum, never saying a word.

  I considered the old Marine, nodded when he caught me staring, and then turned back to pay my bill and call up Leena to see if we were still on. Was it sad that I felt the need to have a drink before building up the courage to ask her if she’d be willing to move in? Forget labels and all that, just… share a bed?

  I’d never lived with anyone before, although I couldn’t count the number of girlfriends I’d had. So in a way, it felt like skipping a pretty big step. Straight from girl I fuck five times a week for two years straight, to girl I live with. No labels.

  I sighed, paid and left a hefty tip, then made for the door.

  “Ask me, don’t stress it,” a gravelly voice said. To my surprise, it was the old Marine.

  “Yeah?” I turned to him, seeing if he’d say more.

  He took a sip from his rum, glanced around, and then leaned in. “You ask me, there’re far more crazy things to be worried about than whether your girl wants to call you her boyfriend. Fuck, get this—I swear I saw my dead wife looking down from the ceiling at me last night when I was sleeping. Fucking swear it. And…” He scowled, looked like I’d just punched him, and then glanced down at his drink. He put it down, waved to the bartender, and said, “I’ve had too many of these,” and then stumbled off to the bathroom, not even giving another glance my way.

  Crazy old Marine. I chuckled to myself, still amazed he’d even talked for once, and made my way to the car.

  “Hellloooo,” a distant voice said. I glanced down at my phone and cursed.

  “Shit, Leena, sorry—forgot I’d called you.”

  “Are you for real?” she laughed. “I was starting to think you’d butt dialed me.”

  “We meeting? I’m here at—”

  “Ohhh, sorry.”

  “Sorry as in… no?”

  “No! Sorry as in, can you meet me at my job?” A long pause. “I can make it up to you.”

  “Dammit, you know I don’t like going there. It gives me the willies.”

  “Don’t say ‘the willies.’” She laughed. “It makes you sound like you’re ten years old.”

  “Around that death stuff, I just don’t feel comfortable.” I turned out toward the main road, debating which way to get there in L.A. traffic on a Friday evening.

  “It’s…” She sighed. “Johnny, I read tarot cards for a living, kinda. The medium stuff is just on the side, for people who really need it. Please don’t judge my fucking life.”

  Damn, this was not how it was supposed to be going. I was supposed to be buttering her up, reminding her how much she loved me. Cared for me, at least? And then raise the question, offer her a key to my place or see if she wanted to find a place together.

  “I’m sorry.” I made it to my car, one of the older models. It still hovered, at least. God, I wouldn’t be caught dead with anything that had tires still. “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Cool?”

  “Yeah, cool. See you soon.”

  She did not sound thrilled. As I hopped in and swiped my hand over the dash to get her purring, I considered how this would go.

  The mood didn’t improve when I met her at the tarot card place. Only, she was getting out of a cab.

  She turned, saw me, and mouthed, “Fuck.”

  I blinked, confused, and looked at her little shack, stuck between two office buildings. No lights on. The door was probably locked.

  “Care to… explain?” I asked.

  “I had to go to a client’s home. Thought I’d be back before you got here.” She came over, gave me a hug, then a kiss. But I was cold, too confused to make it count.

  “I help people who are grieving, okay? Over a loss. You have to realize it’s not your everyday job.”

  “And reading tarot cards does that?”

  “It can.” She frowned. “All that other stuff, it’s just… side stuff.”

  “That requires you to get dropped off by a cab—hold up.” I blinked, staring at the license plate as the car drove off. “That—that was government. Not a cab at all.”

  “Yeah…”

  I took her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. “Leena, please make me understand this.”

  She squirmed, breaking free, and going toward the shop. “Let’s talk inside.” Sure enough, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. I followed her in, waiting.

  The lights came on, her creepy room with its curtains and tarot table all making this much worse, in my opinion.

  “Explain,” I said, because I was starting to think she was running around with some government employee, or maybe a diplomat or something.

  Her eyes went wide at my tone, and she laughed. Well, scoffed, more like it. “Johnny, stick with me, okay? Don’t get all weird. Listen, I’m doing something, I don’t know… real, for once in my life.”

  “Which is?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I frowned, shaking my head. “Not good enough.”

  “Goddess, why am I defending myself to you?” She turned, going to her table and taking a seat on the opposite side. “I can’t talk about it. NDA.”

  “What the fuck’s an NDA?” I frowned, shook my head. “Non-disclosure agreement. Of course, I know that. But, come on, how long have we been dating?” At the look in her eyes, I held up my hands. “Don’t answer that, I know the answer, I mean. Two years. Two years, and you’re telling me you can’t even let me know where you go off to late hours?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And if I think you’re cheating on me, if I’m ready to—”

  She leaned in, eyes boring into me. “Don’t you fucking finish that sentence.”

  Shit, she looked hot when she was angry.

  “I was going to… I mean, before this. I wanted to ask what
you thought about the idea of moving in together.”

  She stared at me, completely caught off guard. “What?”

  “You know. I know you’re not into the whole ‘relationship’ by traditional standards thing, but… Maybe it’s a different type of commitment? One where we can spend more time together, but still not have labels.”

  She laughed, but luckily it wasn’t a ‘laugh-in-my-face’ type of laugh. It was a cute, adorable laugh. A pleased laugh, I noted, as she leaned in. I followed the cue, taking her hands. “What do you say?”

  She bit her lip. Nodded. “Okay. Yes. Sure.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s try it.”

  I frowned, motioning to her table with the cards. “Why’d you looked so surprised? Aren’t you supposed to be able to read the future or something?”

  She laughed, frowned, and then laughed again. “Shut up and get over here, I want you to kiss me before you say anything else that’s liable to piss me off.”

  A smart man knows when to kiss a woman, and I was happy to oblige. And when her tongue met mine, sweet like the cherry gum she’d been chewing, I couldn’t help but lean in, hands moving for her pants. Her hand ran up my thigh, caressing the edge of my bulge, but then she paused, pulled back. Looked around.

  “Let’s go to your place.”

  I glanced around too, very much ready to go, but totally agreeing. Not here. The dark tones, the creepy cards… it all reminded me of the Marine talking about seeing his dead wife. It even bothered me that she took her cards with her. Like they’d be watching us or something.

  “I’ll drive,” I said, and we were off in a jiffy, all of our arguing forgotten about.

  The whole drive back we didn’t talk about her work situation once. As soon as we were in my place, tossing aside coats and keys, she led me to the shower to make it all up to me. Clothes on the floor, steaming water caressing nude skin, she stuck out her ass and put her hands on the wall.

  I was ready, running my cock along her ass, slapping her with it, and then teasing her asshole.

  She pulled away, yelping. “Wrong hole!”

  “Oh, I thought that was an invitation—”

  With a laugh, she reached down and led me to her pussy, so that I was doing her from behind, able to reach around and grab her slick breasts and kiss her neck. Her orgasm came soon, her fists pounding the tiled wall. Soon she was turned around, cleaning my cock with soap and then rinsing it, grinning at me with anticipation. She knelt out of the shower stream, taking me full in her mouth and going at it until I tensed up, barely able to stand, and let loose all over her. The convenience of going at it in the shower—she was immediately able to rinse herself, and soon we were pressed together, kissing, all problems forgotten. For the moment, anyway.

  Days passed, and she kept coming home late. Still coming in at crazy times, even going to work on Saturdays! At one point I was sitting there watching Gladiator for the hundredth time—having discovered it when going through a list of the classics—when I heard the door click.

  “Finally,” I called out, standing and quickly picking up the Pringles I’d spilled and been too enthralled to bother with. “I was thinking, I kinda skipped dinner so maybe we should order pizza?”

  No response.

  I put the Pringles on the little table by the window, heading to the hallway to see what was up. We hadn’t had a fight since that night when I’d asked her to move in, and while she hadn’t technically moved in yet, she’d spent every night over at my place since then. But there was no sign of her. Looking left, I wondered if she’d snuck past me and made it to the bedroom already, so I started back that way. The wood floor creaked as it always did, my voice going higher than I meant it to when I called out for her again. Still nothing.

  I checked the bedroom and then the bathroom, frowned, and then looked back at the door. I could’ve sworn I’d heard it click, but now that I thought about it, maybe it had been a neighbor? The doors were loud, and sound carried in this old building. I was about to give up and go back to the couch in the other room when I saw a light on in the en suite bathroom. A moment ago, I could’ve sworn I hadn’t seen a light, but I frowned, rubbed my eyes, and walked over. Clearly I was more tired than I’d realized.

  “Leena, this isn’t funny.” Another click, then the sound of sobbing. Light, distant. I stepped up and opened the door, or tried to—it didn’t budge. The doorknob was cold, slippery.

  When I stepped back in shock, the light went out.

  “Fuck…” I muttered, then slammed my fist on the door. “Open up! This isn’t funny!”

  A shadow moved behind me and I spun, hating the way my heart was thudding, sending blood coursing around my skull. The room suddenly smelled like burning candles and… sage?

  I took a step back, stumbled, and BAM! Hit my head, everything going red and dark, and then Leena was there, at my side, the light on.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Shit, you had me scared.”

  When I didn’t reply, she pulled out her phone, starting to dial 9-1-1.

  “No,” I mumbled, reaching out and moving her phone away from her ear. “I’m—I’m fine. I think.”

  “Jonny…”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked, pushing myself up, all of what happened coming back to me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Playing like that, of course I’m gonna get hurt.”

  She stared at me, then at her phone. “I think we need to get you to a hospital. You hit your head and—”

  “Stop. Just… don’t do it again.”

  “Jonny, I came home late and found you on the floor groaning just now.” She helped me up, then over to the bed.

  I stared at her, trying to decide if I believed what she was saying. Finally, I shook my head. “Someone was here.”

  “You’re sure?” Her eyes took on that distant look they had when she was holding something back from me. And now that I was focused on her, it was clear there was something going on. Her light pink hair, usually so well-kept—short and just below her shoulders—had a wild frizz going on, and there were bags under her eyes. Focusing on her eyes, it was hard not to notice how bloodshot they were.

  “Work again?” I asked, focusing on what she’d said. “You need to tell them to fuck off.”

  “Jonny.” She shook her head, frowning. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Look at you!” I stood up, pausing to put a hand on the wall for balance before gesturing at myself. “For that matter, look at me. At us. This—this is what that place is doing to us, and I don’t even know what that place is.”

  She buried her face in her hands, letting out a frustrated growl. “Dammit, I’m telling you, this is bigger than us. This is huge.”

  “Bigger than… us?” Now I was leaning against the wall for emotional as well as physical support. “You’re saying if I put my foot down? If I said it was me or this new job, what? You’d break up with me?”

  Her eyes met mine, cold. “We can’t break up, if…”

  “Oh, fuck you.” I stormed out of the room, not ready to hear the rest of it. She was going to say ‘if we’re not a couple to begin with.’ Her and her hatred of labels.

  I don’t even know where I meant to go, but ended up plopping down in front of the television, where Gladiator was still paused. Only, it was the scene where Russell Crowe’s character finally dies (spoiler!), and I noticed someone in the reflection—short, in a strange little outfit. Like a Bavarian maid? Turning around, I was almost not surprised to see nobody there. I turned back to the television, but the reflection was gone.

  Maybe Leena was right, maybe I needed to go to the hospital. But when I stood up to tell her to call, an eerie chanting from the other room made me pause. Creeping toward the room, I paused at the doorway to look in and saw her with hands outstretched, muttering some sort of incantation.

  I shook my head, wondering if I was imagining things, because I could’ve sworn there were little lights moving
around her head, almost like jellyfish.

  Fuck it, maybe I just needed sleep. Instead of bothering with any of this, I stumbled back to the couch, laid down, and promptly drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, as she put on her elaborate fortune telling outfit—Chinese inspired and cute, but showing more cleavage than I was okay with, she mentioned meeting her aunt for dinner that evening. Of course, she had to go to work again. I was about to lose it, but then just waved a hand, realizing I was starting to really not give a shit. If she didn’t want to be around me, we’d figure it out. Ironically, since she’d moved in our sex life had gone downhill fast. Maybe it was the arguments, or the fact that she was always completely exhausted.

  Either way, I took matters into my own hands after she left, ate a bowl of granola with raisins, and then laid back down to take a nap.

  For a few minutes I lay there with my eyes closed, trying not to think about it all. There was no denying I was bitter, but I’d determined it was time to get over it. Or maybe I was starting to think back on the idea that she might be cheating on me. My mind flip-flopped, not sure where to land. NDAs were one thing, but this was too much, I thought as I drifted off to sleep again.

  My dreams took me to an even worse place, images of her going down on me only for me to suddenly be in the room, some other guy in my place. Me banging on a glass wall that made no sound.

  Then I was up with a startled, confused jolt.

  A hand was on my mouth. My eyes adjusted to see Leena hovering over me, a finger to her lips, her eyes wide.

  “I fucked up,” she whispered.

  I moved her hand aside, starting to prop myself up. “If this is your idea of an apology—”

  She knocked me back, hand on my mouth again. “Shh, shhhhh.”