Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,9

thinking? How long had she been working with him? Goddess, what did she even want out of the deal? I mean, of course she wouldn’t come to the Academy without an agenda—that’s obvious. I just never thought her vileness ran so deep. But… you know. Whatever.”

Carly tries to shrug it off, but her energy doesn’t lie. Deep down, some part of her hoped her mother took the Academy job in order to be closer to her. To protect her, as a mother should, from whatever evil had befallen us.

Unfortunately, Janelle seems incapable of being a mother. Carly and Baz are both a testament to that. Not only did she fail to protect her daughter from the evil—she perpetuated it. She’s still perpetuating it.

“We believe she was after the Arcana artifacts, at the very least,” Doc says. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Sure, Mom and every other magickal Lara Croft wannabe. She’s been babbling about those legends my whole life. That’s how she knew Baz’s parents—they were all after the same prize. And look where it got them. Look where it got us.”

“We don’t know the extent of her plans,” Doc says, though I can feel the doubt in his voice. He may be trying to soften the blow for Carly, but I won’t forget the flashes of triumph that sparked through his energy every time the woman in the basement screamed. “Perhaps she was just taking advantage of an opportunity.”

“Or she was trying to strip a bunch of innocents of their magick and murder a few more in the process.” Carly shrugs. “Either way, she picked her side the moment she buddied up with the sick asshole who tortured Stevie. As far as I’m concerned, she deserves to suffer, and I’ve got nothing more to say about that.”

I look up just in time to catch Nat and Isla’s wide-eyed expressions across the room.

Did Carly just stick up for me?

“What about Blue and Emory?” I ask, shifting gears before my brain explodes. “Have you been in touch with them tonight?”

“No,” Carly says. “I don’t think they’re in immediate danger. They weren’t really on Trello’s radar. None of us were—not since Phaines lost interest in our psychic abilities and pulled his disappearing act.”

“If that changes,” Doc says, “we’ll bring them here. But for now, I think it’s best we keep the group as small as possible. To borrow a phrase from our former headmistress, we don’t want to cause mass panic. Right now, the fewer people who know about any of this—Phaines, Trello’s involvement, what happened with Casey and Janelle, the Dark Arcana, Ani’s situation—the better.”

All of us agree to that.

And, since no world-ending, crisis-management session is complete without a plethora of snacks, alcohol, caffeine, or some combination thereof, the whole group shuffles back into the kitchen like cattle.

We’ve just finished setting out bowls of tortilla chips, salsa, sour cream, and melted cheese when Doc clears his throat, his energy shifting back into dark mode.

“Carly, Stevie,” he says, and I brace myself for what I know is coming next. “Now that Ani’s stable, I was hoping you could tell us more about what you witnessed tonight in the library.”

Carly and I exchange a glance, my stomach bubbling as images from Phaines’s chamber of horrors flash through my mind.

I give her hand a quick squeeze, then let out a sigh. “Guess I’d better put the kettle back on.”

Six

STEVIE

It’s not every night we discover a secret lair and unmask an evil minion posing as headmistress, so to commemorate the occasion, I invent a new brew—Mocha Minty Mwah-Ha-Ha. It’s a rich, deceptively dark blend of spearmint and peppermint leaves, dark chocolate, melted butter, espresso beans, and a dash of amethyst elixir to boost our intuition, all topped with a dollop of whipped cream that’s perfect for frothing up your villain 'stache.

Isla’s my taste-tester, and her first sip unleashes a near-orgasmic moan. “Girl, what? If I could drink this every day, I’d never need to have sex again.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Nat teases, already reaching for a mug of her own.

I hand one over, trying not to get a big head about it, but my tea game is on fire lately. If I keep banging out custom blends of this caliber—during a rapidly-approaching apocalypse, no less—I’ll be famous in no time.

Assuming the world doesn’t implode first.

Satisfied with the new blend, I prepare a frothy, steaming mug for everyone while Doc shares the news about our disappearing APOA agent. We all agree that lying low in