Page 65 of Maid of Dishonor

The woman behind the counter sighs too. She is thoroughly done with this conversation. “I don’t know,” she says. “I guess the Tower card can often have a negative interpretation.”

Carter tilts his head, looking interested.

“What’s the interpretation?” I say, because I think he should be done talking now.

She shrugs. “It indicates a possible upheaval or trauma. A big change. Maybe some sort of awakening.”

Interesting. That could work. “What’s it look like?” I ask, curious.

“Like a tower,” she says flatly.

Hmm. I think we’ve worn out our welcome.

The woman pulls out a deck of cards from behind the counter, though, and starts flipping through them. After a few seconds she stops and holds one up.

It is, indeed, a tower, but it’s also on fire—it looks like it’s being struck by lightning, maybe?—and there are people jumping out of the windows.

“Ooh, creepy,” Carter says, grinning. He looks over at me. “What do you think?”

“I think it will work,” I say with a nod.

“Great.” He turns back to the woman. “In that case, I’m gonna need, like, five decks of cards. Where are they located?” he says, thumbing over his shoulder to the shop behind us.

The woman points to the far corner, so we nod our thanks and head over.

We weave through the aisles and tables, passing shelves of essential oils and bundles of herbs. When we get to the back corner, my eyes widen as I see just how many kinds of tarot decks there are.

“I didn’t realize there were so many different types,” I murmur, scanning the wall. But there are; some have brighter colors, others are more muted, and all boast different illustration styles.

“How much are these?” Carter says from beside me.

Oof. That’s a good question. I squint at the little yellow stickers, and—

“Holy cow. Twenty dollars.”

Carter winces. “Crap. All right. In that case, let’s grab…two decks?”

Yeah. Two decks suddenly sounds perfect. No way are we spending a hundred dollars on this. We grab the scariest-looking decks we can find—one with a bunch of skeletons and one with eerily stylized people—and then head up to the front to pay.

“New plan,” Carter says, turning to me and speaking quietly while the annoyed saleswoman rings him up. “We use only the Tower cards from these two decks and put them in prime locations. She’s going to wonder how they got there, so maybe fewer is better anyway.”

I nod slowly. “I agree,” I say. “Where should we put them, then? I was thinking one should go on her pillow in her bed.”

He drums his fingers on the counter and then nods when the woman hands him his bag. He walks like he’s eager to get out of the store, and sure enough, he breathes a sigh of relief when we’re back in the sunshine.

“I don’t see how incense doesn’t give people headaches all the time,” he says, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger. Sighing, he goes on, “Anyway. One on her pillow would be good, and maybe…one on the bathroom mirror?”

“Perfect,” I say, nodding. Freaky, definitely, but perfect.

“Good. Okay. So when should we take this stuff to Maya’s? And how are we going to explain to her how tarot cards ended up in her house if she mentions it?”

I snort. “No, no, no—wearen’t explaining anything.Youget to explain. This whole wedding sabotage thing was your idea.”

“Maybe,” he allows, “but the tarot cards were your idea.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Ditch the tarot cards if you’re going to make me come up with something.” I pause. Then, more seriously, I say, “You know, though, there is always the chance that she will find out what we’ve been doing. And if she does, she’ll probably blame us for breaking her and Chet up.” Which, you know, she would be right to do.

“I know,” Carter says grimly. We’ve reached his car by now, but we don’t get in yet. He goes on, “But haven’t you gotten the vibe that she’s basically looking for a way out of this wedding? Because I definitely have.”

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