His eyes slid away as if searching for a far-away place and he rocked bath and forth on his feet. “Danger.” He stated it flatly in his monotone way. “Herbs help.”
Skye opened the bag an inch, sniffed the pungent aroma, and sneezed violently. “What did you put in here?” She slid open the pouch’s drawstring, emptying the contents into one palm. There were several rusty nails, a thimble sized silver bell, herbs and twigs. Her eyes watered from the fumes and her hand itched and burned.
“Foxglove,” said Kyle. “Birch, nettles.”
The ingredients for protection and exorcism, and the nails, with their iron content, a proven fairy allergen. Which explained her severe reaction to Kyle’s gift.
Fairy repellant. Skye hastily scooped the contents back in the bag and stuffed it in a pocket.
The shop door rang and a perky thirty-something woman, with black, bobbed hair, waved in their direction. “Ready to head home, Kyle?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the coffee shop. “All done,” he said.
“Thanks for coming in, Kyle,” Skye said. “You did a good job today. Mama D will be proud of you.”
He nodded and spoke again. “Count cards.”
Startled, she gazed at his profile, not sure if he was talking to her or Melissa who had come to drive him back to his group home. “Count what cards, Kyle?” But he was several feet away, walking toward his ride.
“Bye-bye,” he called out to Skye without looking back. So much for getting Kyle and Kheelan together tonight. She watched as several of the others made to leave, Glenna at the head of the line. Good riddance.
“Psycho,” Glenna called out before slamming the door shut.
Sighing with relief, Skye locked herself in and took the money into Claribel’s office to put up in the overnight safe.
Count cards. She tapped her lips with her fingers, trying to understand Kyle’s message. Usually when people said ‘count cards,’ it meant cheating at poker. The autistic character in Rainman, counting cards at a Vegas casino, flashed in her mind. The only cards Skye had any familiarity with were the tarot deck.
Bingo – the tarot cards. She had once remarked to Glenna that some cards in the shop deck must be missing since Glenna kept picking the same depressing ones all the time. Had Kyle been around that day? She couldn’t remember. But it was the only clue she could grasp from his cryptic words.
The tarot deck was in its customary place, wrapped in purple silk behind the register. Skye set up a mini altar with white candles anointed with frankincense and cinnamon oils. After lighting the candles, she rubbed her palms together to raise energy and chanted:
Cards of insight, meaning and power
Reveal to me this day, this hour
Glimpses of knowledge and prophesy
As I will, so mote it be.
She flipped cards, first separating out a pile for the major arcana. All accounted for. She took the remaining cards of the minor arcana and made a pile for each of the suits: wands, cups, swords and pentacles. Only one card was unaccounted for: the Queen of Swords.
An odd card to be missing. Not a particularly important one. Truthfully, if all of the sword cards went AWOL from a deck Skye wouldn’t complain. Swords represented conflict, challenges, and the winter season when death, hardship and struggle reigned. No one wanted cards like that. Unfortunately, Skye drew those quite a bit. Which is why she hardly ever did tarot spreads anymore. Life had enough conflicts and challenges without the reminder.
Skye gathered the cards in a single file and shuffled the deck, trying to figure out the significance of the missing card. Court cards, like the queen, often represented real people in your life. The Queen of Swords was traditionally an assertive, commanding woman with bold ideals shown symbolically through the upraised sword in her firm grip. A woman who ruled with an iron fist . . . Skye drew in her breath sharply . . . Mom?
She certainly fit the profile. She had high expectations of others, especially her children, and kept a vigilant eye for any perceived wrongs or slights. A woman with a strong sense of dignity and purpose. Not to mention highly critical.
Why was it missing? Maybe it meant she was supposed to call Mom. Skye had been meaning to call her, really, but kept finding an excuse to put it off. The thought of Mom having a fairy fling . . . gross.
Don’t be a wuss. Just call her. Skye took out her cell phone, started to dial, then snapped it shut. She would do a reading first, sort of a preparation.
She selected three cards and laid them face down on the counter. The first card she turned over represented her past.
Four of Pentacles. Skye thought of it as the three ‘i’s card – isolation, insecurity and incompleteness. All fit. Being Rowena Watters’ child was no cakewalk. Skye knew she was a constant source of disappointment to Mom. There was nothing talented or special about her. The muscles in the back of her spine twitched and her wings beat in a futile attempt to escape the binding. Well, she did have one thing special about her now.