Page 8 of Wicked Flavors

“I—I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

What on earth was he talking about?

“You’re here for something, are you not?”

“Well, yes—”

“Then, let’s begin.”

Before Gwendolyn could voice any more of her confusion, the man pulled something from within his suit jacket. A card deck of some kind, with an obsidian backing and metallic teal-blue design obscured by his large hands. Silver rings glinted around long fingers as he extended the cards toward Gwendolyn, looking at her expectantly.

She was caught off guard by the glimpse of black ink on the back of his hand. A tattoo? Gwendolyn wasn’t certain as she accepted the deck of cards, holding them gingerly.

“Shuffle them as many times as you like, then give them back to me.”

Instructions easy enough to follow, Gwendolyn noted the curious design on the card backing. A crescent moon inside a smaller circle nestled within a web of sharp points that extended out toward a larger circle. Gwendolyn didn’trecognize the design, but the elements felt familiar in a way she couldn’t place.

She couldn’t explain why she was indulging the man, either. It was almost as if she had lost the will to argue. Whatever questions had barely begun to form in her mind vanished at the brush of his fingers against hers. A sharp pain ricocheted through her hand, causing her to wince as he slid the cards from her hold.

A small quirk to his mouth, “Shocked a bit, were you?”

“Amazing how static electricity works that way,” she grumbled, then immediately tensed at her slip up.

Surprisingly, the man appeared amused. “You’ll find I do things a little differently here in comparison to most antique shops.”

With a flick of his wrist, the cards in his hand fanned out. The move was so seamless, Gwendolyn had to wonder if he moonlit as some kind of eccentric magician on the weekends. His smile widened, revealing a near perfect smile, save for the prominent canines that glinted in the light. For a moment, Gwendolyn questioned if he had read her thoughts before dismissing it. More irrational ramblings from her sleep depraved mind.

“People come to my Antiquarium with no idea what they’re looking for,” he explained as he raised the cards high enough to hide his mouth. “Aimless, really. I take a bit of the guesswork out of their decision making by helping them narrow it down a little.”

Gwendolyn raised a brow. “With a parlor trick?”

The man’s laugh was low and frustratingly charming. “No, no, this is less about … theatrics and more aboutintuition.”

Sounds like new age horseshit,Gwendolyn thought.Besides, I know what I want.

It was doubt that stayed her hand, but it was his dark gaze that enticed her. A strange sensation—no, anticipation—that she couldn’t explain. The sound of her wrist watch ticking so loudly in the quiet antique store eventually broke her from the strange pull.

“I just pick a card?”

He nodded.

Gwendolyn ignored the way her heart shook, reaching forward and snagging the first card her eye locked onto. Better to pull a thorn out right away than slowly draw it out, right? Gwendolyn flipped the card over and immediately frowned at the image. Displayed on the card was a toy jester. It had a sad painted face, and it sat alone in a sea of darkness. The teal ornaments bracketed the image within the confines—like a cage. At the bottom were two words.

Confused, she flipped the card back to show him, “The Doll?”

“Ah, you picked a good one,” the man lowered the card, revealing teeth. “That card is very special.”

“How so?”

“The Doll represents creativity. You’re an artist. You’re looking for something to inspire you…” the man tilted his head, thoughtful—no,appraising. “Perhaps something small? Like—well, a doll?”

This was all … highly suspect. Gwendolyn could maybe accept eccentric antique store owners, but one that knew she was an artist? Furthermore, one that knew she was after a very specific item? Had Mrs. Han told him about her? But that didn’t make sense, since the elderly woman said the shop had been closed, so how could he possibly know?

Furthermore, why am I humoring this nonsense?

“I’mlooking for a very specific doll,” Gwendolyn explained, eyeing the card in her hand. There was something … strange about the drawing that she couldn’t place, either. “Ah—it would be a lot newer than this doll. It would be unique as the doll is entirely pink—”

“Lot 145. A 2011Miss Moxie Doll: Maddie Moxiein Millennial pink,” he lifted his cane, pointing it just over Gwendolyn’s shoulder.

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