“I don’t want the spell!” Leo protested.
“It’s too late,” Arachne snapped. “You made a decision to be involved, and now I have to make sure you make it out alive. I’m responsible for your life.” She stepped forward and squeezed her hand over the pentagram. Her blood soaked into the sand and the image glowed red. Eshe completed the spell, and the pentagram burst into flames and quickly dissipated.
Leo was freed, but he refused to move. He felt a light aura enveloping him. He crossed his arms over his chest and bit his tongue, a fury burning deep inside.
“I know you’re upset.” Arachne wiped the blade off with a kerchief. “But it’s for the best.”
‘Upset’ was not the word Leo would have used to describe the rage boiling in his blood. For every inch of autonomy he fought for, he was met with miles of constraints. He let Arachne tell him where to go and what to do, for the most part. He supported Arachne’s horrible plan to seek power instead of diplomacy in the face of her past demons. He let her patronize him for being a weak, young human in the face of a near goddess in ancient power and beauty.
But he couldn’t let her sacrifice herself for his safety.
“You should go home and rest,” Arachne suggested. “You haven’t slept for nearly two days.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Leo growled.
Arachne was taken aback. Her eyebrows raised and her lips parted as if she could say anything to quiet the storm now raging in him.
“I’m getting real sick and tired of being treated like second class,” he spat.
“Well, you are . . .” Keres started. Arachne shot her a look and Keres snapped her mouth shut.
“I had to do this. I told you not to go out last night, and you did. You nearly got yourself killed!” Arachne sighed deeply. “You endangered not only your own life, but also your sister’s life with your daring antics.”
Tears stung his eyes. “I’m trying to be supportive. But you’ve met me at every turn with cold pride. You are arrogant.”
Arachne’s teeth gritted together as she held back a hiss. Keres put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Don’t worry, I’m headed out.” Leo straightened his tufted bomber jacket and strode toward the door.
He let the door close quietly behind him and marched across the courtyard, toward home. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion as he threw himself in bed. Sleep came swiftly. Regret seeped in much more slowly.
As Leo went through his morning routine the next day, he had the distinct feeling of being watched. It felt like the first day he moved into the apartment, after seeing Arachne’s strange house guests. After scanning his living room and kitchen, he found a spider which had spun a web on the upper corner of a window. It sat there in the middle of its web, peering down at him innocently.
But Leo knew it wasn’t innocent. He recognized the spider as the one in Arachne’s hair the day he invited her in. He stared up at the spider and its intricate web with incredulity.
“Are you spying on me?” he asked the spider. It did not answer, only scurried up further into the corner out of reach. “You can tell Arachne to mind her own fucking business!”
He huffed out of the apartment. He couldn’t tear down the web in good conscience, and there was no point lingering in a home where he had no privacy. What had he come to—yelling at spiders? He walked where his feet took him, and it so happened they brought him to the side street where Saint-Germain’s shop hid. Without thinking, Leo wandered into the shop, the bell ringing above the door.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
He looked around at the shelves curiously. Then, after a few seconds of consideration, he began rummaging around in the drawers and shelves, searching for anything. Maybe there was a clue here . . . Leo sneezed.
“À tes souhaits.” Leo jumped and whirled around to find Saint-Germain. “Young Leo?”
“Hey .” Leo scratched the back of his head. He shouldn’t be here, not without Arachne . . . But that’s why he was there, because he knew she wouldn’t want him to be. The Count slowly stepped forward a few paces. Leo felt sweat running down his back. He was backed up against the wall.
Leo sneezed again.
“À tes amours!”
“Thanks,” Leo sniffed. “I think it’s the dust in here.”
“It is quite dusty,” Saint-Germain agreed. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Arachne put a protective spell on me,” Leo explained. He swallowed, his throat dry as he decided to ask the question. “Do you know anything about magic?”
“Do I?” Saint-Germain seemed offended. “Of course I do!”
Leo nodded nervously, trying to coax himself to keep talking. He didn’t like being alone with a vampire he wasn’t sure he could trust.
“However, I do not know the intricacies of every spell. For that, you will need to seek the assistance of a knowledgeable witch.” Saint-Germain motioned to his cashier desk. With a flourish, he pulled out parchment, dipped a feathered pen into ink, and scrawled an address onto it in elegant cursive.
“Of course, you want to break the spell,” Saint-Germain quirked an eyebrow at Leo.
“How did you—”
“Humans are so predictable.” He shook his head and handed him the parchment. “Madame Serafine can help you. She owns a magic shop a few blocks from here. I have no doubt she will be useful to your plight.”
“Th-thank you,” Leo stuttered, and then turned to leave. He sneezed once more.
“Oh, and Leo,” Saint-Germain called after him. “I won’t tell Arachne, but do take care of yourself. À ta santé. To your health.”
Madame Serafine’s shop was called Little Mystic’s, and faced out toward Bourbon Street. When Leo walked in, he wondered if this was really the right store. Tourists ogled tarot cards, jeweled necklaces, and spell books on the shelves. He shuffled to the front counter and waited for a customer to finish paying.
“How can I help you?” The young woman behind the counter smiled. She wore large hoop earrings and dark purple lipstick.
“I’m looking for Madame Serafine.” Leo showed her the parchment paper. “A friend of mine said she could help me with a . . . uh . . .” He lowered his voice. “. . . a spell.”
The cashier nodded toward the side hallway. “My grandma takes consultations. You can find her in the room at the end of the hall. She’s been expecting you.”
Leo’s mouth was dry, but he thanked her and paced down the hallway. He was about to knock on the door when a voice called out from inside.
“Come in!”
Leo opened the door. It was dark with low red light emanating from a salt lamp. Incense hung heavily in the air. Leo felt like sneezing again, but held it together. A woman sat behind a round table and greeted him as he closed the door behind him. She wore a sunburst ribbon tying back her thick black dreadlocks. Deep wrinkles lined her eyes like a perpetual smile.
“I’ve been expecting you.” She looked up from a deck of tarot cards at her fingertips.
“So I’ve been told.” Leo sat down at the table.
“Though I knew you were coming, I do not know why,” she said. Leo watched her nobbled fingers, decorated with gaudy rings, as she shuffled the deck of tarot cards.
“Madame Serafine . . .” Leo thought for a moment. “What do you know about protective spells?”
“Ah,” she hummed. “Protection spells are powerful when performed properly. They tie the life essence of one to another to lend the protected one strength in the hopes of keeping them safe. I also know you are the recipient of such a spell.”
Leo opened his mouth, but she cut him off by raising a finger.
“I can see . . . I can feel the aura around you,” she explained.
“How do I get rid of the spell?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. “Do you really think that’s wise, child?”
“I know it’s not wise,” Leo grumbled
. “But it’s the right thing to do.”
She sighed deeply, meeting his amber eyes with her warm walnut brown eyes.
“Very well; I see you’re set in your intention. There are two ways a protective spell can be broken. The first, of course, is if the protector dies. The second is if the spell caster lifts the spell themselves, by uttering the words to do so.”
“You can’t break the spell?” Leo’s heart sank.
She shook her head. “Only the spellcaster can break or transfer the spell.”
“Shit.” Leo slapped his hand to his forehead.
“Honey, there’s no cursing in my shop.” Madame Serafine gave him a look.
“Sorry ma’am,” Leo ducked his head. “And, thank you.”
“You’re most certainly welcome. But first,” she stopped him as he stood to leave. He slowly sat back down. “I would like to give you a tarot card reading.”
Leo’s stomach churned at the thought. He wasn’t sure if he could trust magic, or her. Saint-Germain had told him she was a powerful witch.
Serafine grasped the tarot cards with her rough and wrinkled hands. She handed him the deck and instructed him to shuffle it three times. He hesitated for a moment, but did as she asked and handed the deck back to her. She deftly sprawled the cards out before him.
“Choose ten cards,” she said. “Hand them each to me, and I will lay them on the table.”
Leo carefully picked up cards and handed them each in turn to Serafine, until all ten were laid out in a pattern like a cross on the table before him.
“This is a Celtic Cross,” Serafine explained. “These cards in the middle show you, as well as your past, present and future.” She pointed to the six cards resembling a cross. Then she referred to the four cards on the right. “These cards represent a deeper reflection of you, your hopes and fears, and your potential future. Let’s consult the cards . . .” She sat back and gazed at the cards on the table for a long minute. “Hmm . . . curious.”
Serafine pointed to the center of the cross. Two cards overlapped one another. The one on the bottom depicted a sun, and the overlaying card, a woman blowing a horn.
“We’ll start here. This bottom card represents you, and the card on top is the crossing issue. You are represented by The Sun.” She smiled warmly. “You are an optimist, and make the best of your situation no matter where you find yourself. And it appears that lately, you have not found yourself in the easiest of circumstances. Here we have the crossing issue, or conflict . . . Judgment. You’ve been called to action. You are accountable or responsible for something . . . however . . .”
Serafine pointed to the card at the bottom of the cross. It depicted a heart struck through with three swords. “The root of this conflict lies in communication breaking down. There has been some sort of misunderstanding, and a subsequent separation from pursuing your calling. You are suffering pain inflicted by words, actions, and intent on the emotional and physical self. It appears you’ve gone through quite the ordeal.”
Leo frowned, peering from the cards and back up to Serafine, then back down to the cards. The left card in the cross had ten swords stabbing the back of a man. The top middle card showed an elegant queen wielding a wand. And the card to the right showed a woman in a chariot being pulled by two sphinx guardians.
“In your immediate past, something long established ended, as indicated by Ten of Swords. But a new beginning was imminent. You are now focused on someone represented by the Queen of Wands . . . they are ambitious, confident, and may be temperamental. This person, whom you are both captivated by and are quarreling with, is in touch with her shadow self . . . the darker, lesser-known side of her being. You have detected this darkness and are struggling to connect with her. In your near future, according to The Chariot, you will be called on to the next chapter of your journey, which will require determination to achieve your goals. You will gather the resources you need to forge ahead.”
Serafine next referred to the bottom right. The card showed a noble king holding a golden coin. “This represents you as you see yourself. You value yourself as a self-made man, as the King of Pentacles does. You love the finer things in life—good food and entertainment—and you enjoy the fruits of your labor when you are successful. You pride yourself on your talents.”
The next card above depicted a woman with a lion by her side. “This represents how others see you—as someone with inner strength and patience. You are compassionate to those in need. People trust you. Like the Strength arcane, you are led by your resilient spirit.”
The third card up was intricate: a small crawfish sat at the bottom, and above it, a dog and wolf howled at the moon hanging in the sky. “Now . . . this card reveals your hopes and fears. The Moon represents confusion, deception, losing your way, and distorted perception. You cannot use logic to overcome the fear of the unknown, child. Only your intuition can guide you through fear and illusions. Listen to yourself. Trust yourself. The Moon is a complicated card, and I think it represents something deeper in your life.”
Leo caught her eye as she gave him a knowing look. He nodded tentatively and then peered at the last card at the top right corner, which depicted people falling down from a tower, struck with lightning. Flames erupted from the windows and the crown at the top of the tower was tipped over.
“The final card shows a potential fate.” Serafine paused as she gazed down at the card, fighting trepidation from wrinkling around her eyes. “I preface this part of the reading by saying, this is only one potential outcome. If everything stays on track, this may occur. But our lives are filled with choices. You can always change the course of action.”
“What is it?” Leo murmured, captivated by the ominous illustration.
“The Tower represents change, upheaval, chaos . . . revelation.” Serafine’s lip trembled. “The Tower is a stronghold, but because it was built on shaky foundations, one bolt of lightning can bring it down. Your ambitions and goals were built on false premises. You see . . . the lightning represents insight, a sudden revelation of truth. It strikes the top of the tower, knocking off the crown. The people are desperate to escape the burning tower, not knowing what awaits them as they fall. Yet even in times of disaster, there is always divine intervention; we need only keep our hearts open to it.”
Leo took a deep breath. “Everything we’re working for is going to fail?”
“No . . . not necessarily. Not exactly.” Serafine softly touched The Tower card. “Only, things aren’t as they seem. The future reality is more complex than we can imagine.”
“Can you help me understand how this will go down?” Leo urged.
Serafine motioned toward the unused cards sprawled out face-down. “Choose another to answer your question.”
Leo carefully chose a card and placed it face-up on the table. It depicted a young man holding a wand with flaming salamanders at his feet.
“Page of Wands represents exploration of possibilities. Someone young on the cusp of an adventure with ideas and enthusiasm,” Serafine explained. “Does this resonate with you?”
Leo spoke slowly, “I feel that way about what I got myself into . . . but I’m not sure that makes sense in the context of The Tower.”
“Hmm . . .” Serafine pursed her lips. “Curious.”
“Madame Serafine?” Leo questioned. She blinked slowly at him. “Do you really believe that tarot cards can read the future?”
“Some believe tarot cards are magically tied to the fates and do in fact reveal our future,” Serafine mused. “But at the very least, the cards are a reflection . . . a mirror of ourselves, our virtues, and our flaws as people.”
Leo took another deep breath and then bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said before he stood from the table.
“Oh, and Leo?” Serafine gazed up at him expectantly. “I’m not going to charge you anything for this, except for a favor in return.”
“What kind of favor?”
“You will know when
the time is right,” she said. “Have a lovely morning.”
He tentatively thanked her once more and headed down the hall. Madame Serafine’s granddaughter smiled pleasantly and waved as he exited the shop. Leo stopped just outside and questioned how Madame Serafine knew his name. Had he introduced himself?
He shook his head in confusion and paced back down the street.
Chapter 10
Mardi Gras was fast approaching, and Leo hadn’t seen or spoken to Arachne in weeks. He couldn’t get to Eshe without going through Arachne, and that just wasn’t going to happen as far as Leo could tell.
But Leo was too busy to think too hard about it. Tourist season had started, and the bar was booming. Olivier, Joey, and Leo were the only bartenders in addition to their manager, Marguerite, and they rotated through their shifts like circus clowns, trying their best to prevent clopenings and sleep deprivation from working back to back shifts morning to evening.
“You want to do what now?” Marguerite asked incredulously.
“I need to leave early on Mardi Gras.”
“Don’t we all, honey.” Marguerite's eyebrow raised. “I can’t afford to let you off.”
“Joey and Oli will be fine without me,” Leo insisted. “I asked them already.”
“Mm-mm, no way.” Marguerite shook her head and walked away in frustration.
Leo rested his fist on his cheek, leaning heavily on the bar. Maybe Mardi Gras wasn’t meant to be, anyway. The front door opened and closed. He looked up but didn’t see anyone, so he turned around to put some clean glasses away.
“Leo,” a small voice called. He whirled around on the spot, but still didn’t see anything. “Leo?”
“Who’s there?” He looked back and forth.
“Down here!” the voice said.
Leo hesitantly leaned over the bar to find Eshe peeking from behind a bar stool.
“You can’t be here, Eshe,” he scolded. “You’re not old enough.”
“I am, too!” she protested. “Anyway, it’s only for a moment. This is a Mardi Gras gift for you and Ari.” She pulled a small box from the pocket of her pink peacoat, stepping on her tiptoes as she placed it on the bar.
Blood Moon (A Louisiana Demontale): Book 1 of the Crescent Crown Saga Page 8