grab a knife from the block on the counter and slice open the packaging tape. There are messily wrapped presents inside the box, with bits of what looks like cat fur stuck to the tape. The presents for Harrison are always wrapped in green paper, and mine are in yellow. I set his aside and grab the smallest yellow package, ripping it open and revealing a deck of well-used tarot cards. In the middle of the cards, between the Three of Wands and The Lovers is a handwritten note. I have to hold it close to my face to be able to discern what Aunt Estelle wrote. I have no idea how anyone is able to write so small.
Anora-
Put these under your pillow on the first night of the full moon phase. Leave them there for seven days. Then they’ll be yours.
That’s a little strange and might be uncomfortable, but I plan to do it anyway. I set the cards on the counter and reach into the box, pulling out the next present, which is a pretty jewelry box. Like the cards, it’s old and worn. Stars and swirls are engraved in the dark wood, smoothed from years of being opened and closed. This just might be the most practical thing Aunt Estelle has ever given me. I open the box to see if the tarot cards will fit.
There’s a necklace inside, with a round silver pendant hanging off a delicate silver chain. A triple-moon is engraved into the middle of the pendant, and some sort of foreign language is etched around it. The symbol is familiar, though I have no idea why.
I stare at it for another moment, trying to place where I’ve seen this before. Giving up, I put the necklace on, tucking the pendant into my shirt and reach into the box, taking out the last present wrapped in yellow paper. I tear it open and tip my head. What the heck? It’s a Mason jar full of white powder. There’s no way this is a jar full of cocaine…right? Maybe it’s baking soda or powdered sugar, and I’ll find a recipe in the bottom of the box.
Carefully, I unscrew the lid and smell the powder. Definitely not sugar. It has a salty smell, which confuses me even more. I have no idea what cocaine smells like, and I’m not sure if I can trust a Google search to tell me one way or another.
“Whatever,” I mumble and screw the lid back on the jar. I set it on the counter and peer into the large box, looking at the last gift. It’s not wrapped in yellow paper, yet somehow I know it’s for me. I pick up whatever it is and slowly unwrap it from a shimmery blue scarf.
“The fuck?” I whisper, when the scarf falls to the ground and I’m left holding a dagger. Swallowing hard, I slowly pull the dagger from it’s sheath. Something that looks mysteriously like blood is splattered along the tip of the blade, and the same triple-moon symbol that’s on the pendent is etched into the blade right below the handle, which is plain, with a single Tiger’s Eye gemstone set into the pommel. I wrap my fingers around the hilt and turn the dagger over.
I hold my hand out, watching the sunlight flash across the shiny metal. I can’t explain it, but holding the dagger feels right. Inhaling, I turn it back over, staring at the triple-moon symbol engraved into the blade. Why is this so familiar? And why do I feel confident in wielding this thing? I can hardly cut an avocado in half without risking all five of my fingers. And speaking of fingers…I put one against the tip of the dagger, testing out just how sharp it really is. It would take little effort to break the skin.
The garage door that leads into the mudroom right off the kitchen opens, startling me. I feel the blade slice open my skin as I turn and see my brother walk into the kitchen. I bring my hand back, curling my finger into my palm to hide the blood. Harrison stops in his tracks, looking at the weapon in my hand. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, and then takes his shoes off and comes inside.
“I won’t ask,” he says and immediately goes to the fridge.
I bring my hand forward to inspect the damage. There’s no blood. No wound. I thought for sure I cut myself.