Page 32 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Shuffle the deck and split it into three piles,” I instructed.
I watched as indecision danced across her face, clear regret painted in every motion. She hesitated, picking up the cards gingerly, like they might burn her. Religious trauma, maybe?
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she muttered, shuffling with stiff movements. “I’m a facts person. I appreciate reality. This isn’t that. I wasn’t trying to yuck your yum out there. I just wanted a candle.”
I didn’t respond. There was no point. Most of the time, it was easier to let nonbelievers scoff and rationalize, to let them feel superior and above it all. Nothing I said would change her mind. Only the cards could do that.
She made three uneven piles in the center of the table. Once again, the candles flickered, and I pursed my lips.
Where was the draft coming from?
“Good,” I said as she glanced up. “Now put them all back together.”
The flat look she leveled at me had me suppressing a smirk.
“What was the point in splitting them?”
I didn’t bother answering her again, and the small huff that escaped her filled me with a sick sense of satisfaction.
“Right,” she muttered, stacking the cards again and sliding them toward me.
The wind chime that hung over the desk in the corner gently tinkled, and I frowned. My back straightened instinctively, and I didn’t miss the way Ellis’s eyes widened at the change in my posture.
I could understand flickering candles, there had to be a draft somewhere. But the wind chime? There was no air in here strong enough to move those heavy wooden pipes.
A prickling sensation crept up the back of my neck. I licked my dry lips and shifted my gaze back to Ellis, ignoring the feeling.
“Is there anything troubling you right now?” I asked, collecting the deck in my hands and marveling at its familiar softness. “Anything you want to know?”
She hesitated, just enough for me to catch the crack in her carefully constructed armor of superiority. What I saw in that moment nearly floored me. Something raw flickered in her eyes, something close to panic or grief. It glowed like a flame and then sputtered out so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“No,” she said smoothly, folding her arms again. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I breathed, trying to bury my own curiosity about that wild look in her eyes. I tapped the top of the deck once before I began to shuffle, the cards whispering in my hands as they slid against each other.
The cards will talk to anyone willing to listen, Dove, Margaret had always told me, her voice wispy and her eyes wise.
I glanced at Ellis, who was watching me shuffle. Was she willing to listen?
Not likely. She thought this was all bullshit. And yet… there was something in her expression now. Was it hope?
She schooled her features quickly, and I blinked, quietly in awe.
Ellis Langley was clearly a layered individual. And despite her rudeness, I found her intriguing.
A card jumped, sliding out mid-shuffle and fluttering down to the table, landing faceup between us.
The Tower.
I gazed down at the card, staring hard at the jagged bolt of lightning tearing through the stone walls, flames leaping from its windows as tiny figures dropped from the building like fallenstars. It was dramatic imagery, and it always made me catch my breath, no matter who I pulled it for.
Because The Tower wasn’t a card that whispered.
Itscreamed.
I expected a scoff from Ellis at the very least—maybe an eye roll or a muttered insult—but when I looked up, I found her gaze locked on the card, as if she couldn’t look away. Her brow was furrowed.
“The Tower,” I said softly, clearing my throat. “It’s disruption. Upheaval. The foundations of your life cracking beneath you. Sudden change. Transformation that’s painful, but necessary.”
