Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,66
shooting Doc a warning glare. “Hope, Doc. Remember? That’s the theme tonight. Try to keep up.”
Doc grunts out a meager laugh, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t share his concern. The silence of the forest is so all-encompassing, it almost feels like a movie set. No crickets, no night birds, no ground creatures scuttling about. Even the breeze seems to have evaporated, leaving us in a strange sort of in-between that feels neither natural nor safe.
The doom-vibes only intensify as we make our way to the inner cave, a deep chill running down my spine. Its icy fingers refuse to lessen their grip, even when we reach the stone altar inside.
“The energy is off.” I finally succumb to the urge to rub my arms. “I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about this doesn’t feel right.”
“Everything about this doesn’t feel right,” Doc says, retrieving the Book of Reckoning from its hiding place. “Let’s just get it over with and get back to Red Sands.”
We perform the now-familiar Keepers of the Grave ritual, slicing our palms over the altar and calling on the King of Swords for guidance and clarity, our deeds recorded in the book for posterity. Opening rites complete, we proceed to the antechamber, calling on our blood once again—this time spilling it on the ground where we bound the first two Arcana objects. Doc adds the vial of Ani’s blood, and together, we recite the short opening spell:
Blood that binds, blood that shields
At our command, the magick yields
At first, nothing happens. We repeat the spell two more times, squeezing a little more blood into the mix, those icy fingers of dread digging deeper into my chest.
Even with my healing magick, my hand is throbbing, and the sight of the blood makes me uncharacteristically queasy.
Everything about this night is conspiring to push me off-balance.
“Stevie?” Doc glances my way. “Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”
Nausea rolls through my gut, hot and fast, and a low hum vibrates across the ground, a gentle purr that quickly builds into a rumble.
“It’s working,” Kirin whispers. “Thank the goddess.”
Doc comes to stand at my side, his arm strong and comforting around my waist, but the nausea is only getting worse. I feel like I’m on a boat, the ground swaying beneath my feet.
Before us, the dome rises like a bubble in a cauldron, our blood streaming down the sides in thick, red strips. It looks like a candy apple, bright and glossy, the sight stirring up long-buried memories of carnivals and hell-hot summers, the taste of cinnamon and sugar, the crisp bite of a tart apple, my sticky hand reaching for my father’s as the Ferris wheel spins us to the very top of the world…
“Stevie? Cass, she doesn’t look so hot.” Kirin’s light touch on the small of my back brings me out of the memory, and I blink rapidly, taking in a big gulp of air as Kirin and Doc scrutinize my face. Beneath my ribcage, my heart bangs a desperate beat.
Remember your life, child. Cherish it. For it will end before the sun rises…
The voice echoes in my mind, faint and disembodied, the words fading before I can even make sense of them.
“I’m… I’m good,” I assure them. “Just need a little space.” I take a step backward, stomping my feet to dissipate the last of the weird energy. I’ve already forgotten the strange message; all that’s left now is a vague sense of dread at the bottom of my stomach.
Doc scans my face, brow furrowed. “You sure?”
“Guess I just got a little woozy from the vibrations in the ground. I think it passed.”
Before us, the magick bubble ripples once more, then vanishes, revealing the objects we spelled on our last visit: the Pentacle of Iron and Bone and the Sword of Breath and Blade, surrounded at the cardinal points by the four Princes of the Tarot.
“Get the Chalice from Stevie’s bag,” Doc orders Kirin. “We need to finish this.”
I drop the bag from my shoulder and Kirin retrieves the skull, setting it in the dirt between the other two sacred objects. All three pulse with renewed magick, as if their very nearness gives them enhanced strength—a deep, unwavering sense of destiny and purpose that emanates outward in a million tiny shockwaves, each one making my hands tingle, my fingers desperately reaching for the sword…
I grasp it tightly, pointing it at my opponent as I prepare to make my last stand.
“We will end you, Little