He looked to me.
“I’ll be okay,” I said, nodding. “Go.”
Once they were gone, the fortune-teller gestured to a plastic folding chair beside a round card table that was swathed in cheap fabric. I sat. There was a deck of cards in front of me. Tarot, I presumed.
“Money first,” she said, and held out her hand.
Of course. I reached into my pocket and withdrew her fee. She tucked the cash into the folds of her skirt and then stared at me for a beat, like she was expecting something else.
I had no idea what. When she didn’t stop staring, I said, “So do I cut the deck, Miss . . .”
“Madam.”
“Madam . . . what?”
“Madam Rose.”
“Madam Rose,” I said with mock seriousness. I glanced up at a crystal ball sitting on a shelf. “Is the pseudonym thing a requirement too?”
Her expression was grave. “There is power in a name.”
The words filled my heart with ice. They echoed in my mind but in someone else’s voice. I blinked, and shook my head to clear it.
“Do you have a question?” she asked, breaking the silence.
I swallowed and refocused on Madam Rose. “What do you mean?”
“A question you seek an answer to.”
A bitter smile twisted my lips. I had tons of questions. All I had were questions. What’s happening to me? What am I? “I have lots of questions,” I finally said.
“Think carefully,” she warned. “If you ask the wrong questions, you will get the wrong answers.” Then she nodded at the deck.
I reached for it but paused before my fingers made contact. My heart thundered against my ribs.
Madam Rose noticed my hesitation and dipped her head, catching my eyes. “I can do a different type of reading, if you like.”
“Different how?”
“Give me your hands,” she said. I reluctantly placed mine in hers, palm up. She shook her head and her earrings swung with the movement; she flipped my hands over, palm down. Then she rolled her neck, her long hair draping her face like a veil. She said nothing. The silence stretched on uncomfortably.
“How long—”
“Hush,” she hissed. The fortune-teller drew her head up and examined my hands. She studied them for a few moments, then closed her heavily shadowed eyes.
I sat there while she held my hands and waited—for what, I didn’t know. After another length of time, I don’t know how long, her red lips parted. Her eyelids twitched. She tilted her head slightly up and to the left, her forehead creased in concentration. Her fingers twitched around mine and then tightened. I was getting freaked out and I nearly pulled away, but before I could, her eyes flew open.
“You must leave him.” Her words cut the air.
A few seconds passed before I found my voice. “What are you talking about?”
“The boy with the gray eyes. The one outside.”
“Why?” I asked warily.
“The boy is destined for greatness, but with you, he is in danger. You are linked, the two of you. You must leave him. This is what I have seen.”
I grew frustrated. “Is he in danger because of me?”
“He will die before his time with you by his side, unless you let him go. Fate or chance? Coincidence or destiny? I cannot say.” Her voice had turned soft.
Soft and sad.
A fist closed around my heart. I tried to let him go once before. It didn’t work.
“I can’t,” was all I said to her, and quietly.
“Then you will love him to ruins,” she said, and let my hands go.
39
SHE WITHDREW THE CASH FROM HER POCKET AND offered it back to me. “I cannot take this from you, and you must not tell him what I said.”
“That’s convenient,” I muttered under my breath.
“If you leave him, tell him,” she said with a shrug, “by all means. But only if you let him go. If he knows of his destiny and the two of you remain together, it will seal his fate.” She gestured to the door.
I didn’t move. “That’s it?”
“I cannot help you further,” she said.
My nostrils flared. “You didn’t help at all.” My voice was sharp, but then it thinned. “Isn’t there something I can do?”
She crossed the small space and stood by the door. “Yes. There is something you can do. You can let him go. If you truly love him, you will let him go.”
My throat tightened as I looked at her. Then I marched out of the tent.
Noah was waiting outside and matched my pace as I stomped down the dirt path.
“Bad news?” he asked, clearly amused.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and kept walking.
“Wait,” he said, reaching for my hand and spinning me around. “Are you crying?”
I pulled away. “No.”
“Stop,” Noah said, and stood in the path. I hurried along and increased my pace to a jog. Before I knew it I was running.
We were nearly back by the Hall of Mirrors when Noah caught up with me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and whirled around.