Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,40

mouth, down his chin, staining his shirt. His eyes remain fixed on mine, glassy and dark and lifeless.

It’s precisely how I found him, shot dead by his own hand.

Driven to it by mine.

Decades collapse in a heartbeat. The bones in my body are no longer capable of holding my weight. I fall to my knees, mud soaking through my pants, as thick and wet as the blood I knelt in the night my baby brother took his final breath in my arms.

“Xavier…” The pain in my voice is so raw, so close, I barely recognize it.

“Why did you do it?” he asks plainly, blood bubbling out between his lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry.” I say it again and again, a dozen times, a hundred, but I can’t alter this outcome now any more than I could twenty years ago, bargaining my own soul away on the bloody garage floor.

I’m sinking into the earth, letting it swallow me. Consume me. Mud, blood, guilt, memory, I can no longer tell the difference. My body shudders uncontrollably, the sharp bite of copper filling my senses and making me retch.

Xavier crouches before me, his blood soaking the earth between us. All around us, black dahlias bloom, a cruel reminder of my betrayal, my worst crime, my darkest shame.

With a trembling hand I reach for his face, stopping just short of touching his cheek. “I’m—”

“Sorry, I know,” he says. “You’re always sorry.”

“I… I don’t know what else to… If I could bring you back, I…”

“I don’t want to come back.”

Behind him, a massive white shape takes form, descending onto a rocky perch. I blink rapidly, trying to focus, trying to remember the word for such a magnificent creature…

Owl. It’s a snowy owl.

“Stevie,” I whisper, my eyes drifting closed. The sweet scent of honeysuckle floats on the night air, tugging at another memory, more recent, more real…

Doc, come back to me…

I hold my breath, trying to zero in on the sound. Is it the breeze? The soft rush of the river? My own pulse thudding in my ears?

Doc, listen to me… It isn’t real… He’s twisting your memories…

“It isn’t real,” I repeat, clinging to the idea like a life raft. “He’s twisting them… he’s twisting them…”

“But he isn’t, that’s the thing,” Xavier whispers. “You should’ve told her the rest of it, Cass.”

Shame burns through me, and I open my eyes, searching for Xavier’s in the darkness. He frowns at me, and once again, I watch helplessly as the life drains from his eyes.

I reach for him again, but just as my fingers brush his blood-soaked shirt, he slips away and falls into the river, the current carrying him faster and farther than I could ever hope to follow, taking my heart with him.

Just like before.

Kneeling in the cold red mud, I stare at the space he vacated for a long time. Hours? Days? Again, time is lost on me. My eyes fixate on the Chalice, the bone a pale slash against the ruddy earth. I reach for it, but I don’t dare touch it.

I can’t. Not now. It’s his. It should’ve been his. I shouldn’t even be here.

We need to leave… We could end up trapped here…

The wind shifts, and a shadow falls over my face. A swath of bright red fabric caresses my hands, still hovering over the Chalice.

“Stevie,” I gasp, memories slamming into me, chasing away the confusion.

Dream realm. Twisted memories. We need to leave.

I look up, eager to see her smile, to see those wild curls blowing around her face.

But when I tilt my face up toward the moonlight, I don’t find the woman I love, standing in her red vampire princess gown.

It’s our enemy, Dark Judgment, towering over me in his blood-stained robes, the Wand burning like a smoldering branch in his hand.

“Did you and Xavier enjoy your visit?” he asks. “I know you must miss him terribly after all these years.”

My chest burns, the bare flesh over my heart glowing with his double-X brand. But this time, I don’t even flinch. I’m numb. Broken. Empty.

“There is no pain you can inflict that I haven’t already inflicted upon myself,” I say. “So do your worst, Dark Druid. I’m well beyond aching at your cruel command.”

He laughs, a sound as dark and bitter as a primordial wind. “Oh, Cassius. You make this too easy.”

He steps aside, revealing a silent figure kneeling obediently behind him.

She’s dressed in nothing but a sky-blue men’s dress shirt, matted curls hanging loose around her