Queen of Water: Arcana, #1

By Kristi Elliot

You can't run from fate…

Twelve years have passed since Julian Sinclair was killed in a freak accident at work, leaving his wife Meredith alone with their young daughter Ava. Her life isn't perfect, but she's happy with the life they've built together.

After a troubling tarot reading with her daughter, Meredith receives signs everywhere of a terrifying threat and a knock on her door from the police.

A murder investigation, a questionable psychic, and upheaval all await as Meredith's once happy life stands in the balance. The future she desperately tries to avoid comes full circle in a series of events that stretch through generations.

~*~

Detective Isaac Boyd has seen his share of messed up cases, but a brutal occult murder leaves him horrified and stumped. Under pressure from a terrible boss and a troubled past, he seeks the girl's killer to give her family closure.

What he does not expect is an attractive single mother and her connection to the paranormal world. "The ghost made me do it" won't hold up in any American court, and much as he fights the truth, he can no longer ignore the signs after clues and evidence point to something darker.

With the help of his partner and best friend, Isaac sheds his old life while transitioning into the unknown that will either destroy him or provide answers to the case and his past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Jun 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957228259

Book preview

Queen of Water

Arcana, 1

KRISTI ELLIOT

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

Queen of Water

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

712 SE Winchell Drive, Depoe Bay OR 97341 U.S.A.

~~~

First Edition 2023

eISBN: 978-1-957228-25-9

Copyright © 2023 Kristi Elliot All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Rosana Mitreska

Champagne Book Group supports copyright which encourages creativity and diverse voices, creates a rich culture, and promotes free speech. Thank you for complying by not scanning, uploading, and distributing this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher. Your purchase of an authorized electronic edition supports the author’s rights and hard work and allows Champagne Book Group to continue to bring readers fiction at its finest.

www.champagnebooks.com

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For Stephanie and my parents.

Queen of Water:

One of the most powerful Minor Arcana cards, the Queen is loving, nurturing, and perceptive. She represents love both in self and others while encouraging trust in oneself and their intuition. Emotions, like water, are fluid and in constant flux, but with self-care, patience, and acceptance, relationships and creativity will ascend to the next level.

In Reverse, the Queen warns the Querent not to ignore the signs around them; to accept self and others, and to approach relationships with caution. Consider your situation and whether you are making the right decisions or if your choices will harm those around you.

Prologue

Detective Isaac Boyd was no stranger to violent crime—he’d seen and done shit, but the scene before him was next level fucked up. Though the rain had washed much of the trace evidence away when police arrived at the scene, the corpse itself had been staged and left in the open for anyone to view.

A teenaged girl lay on her back, staring at the sky through lifeless eyes. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her pale skin. A discolored line circled her neck and deep gashes marred her wrists. A pair of metal stakes driven through her palms pinned her hands to the muddy ground.

The most notable detail consisted of a carvel symbol in her forearm. An eye sat in the middle of another pattern resembling an upside-down star. More perplexing was the tarot card left behind: A woman sat on a throne and held a cup with a caption below: Queen of Water.

Written across the face of the card in capitalized red letters was REVENGE.

Whoever had done this wanted the police to find the body, and they didn’t seem to care about leaving an evidence trail. The crime appeared occult in nature, but Isaac wouldn’t speculate until his team established a profile.

The only thing he knew beyond any doubt was the poor girl spent her final moments in terror. Her death had been brutal, designed to torture and humiliate before her attacker slashed her throat.

Careful not to contaminate the evidence while the forensics team worked, Isaac kneeled to better examine the markings.

Hey, Jay, come look at this, he called, snapping photos of the symbols.

His partner and best friend responded by hurling into a nearby bush.

Isaac didn’t blame him. Nausea churned inside his own stomach at the sight, threatening to send his stale coffee and lunch out the way it came, and he’d been in the Homicide Division a hot minute. His department wasn’t for the weak yet managed to break even the most hardcore officers.

This poor girl had been a living, breathing person. Somewhere, her family missed her, and she wouldn’t come home outside of a wooden box. All her potential for a bright future had been ripped away by an evil, faceless monster who’d savagely murdered her and mutilated the corpse.

If this had been his sister, Isaac would have been beside himself in grief and rage. He’d incinerate everything in his path until the killer was brought to justice. Whether by his hand or the law, it didn’t matter. No one deserved to die like this.

The worst part was anticipating the reactions from the victim’s family. They would have questions on top of their emotions, and though telling them to have faith in the system came with the job, he understood better than anyone the trauma of losing someone to a horrific crime.

Tilting his head, Isaac motioned for one of the crime scene investigators to join him. Hey, Kelsie, come here.

A woman in her thirties—all sharp angles with sandy blonde hair wrapped into a bun, approached. What do you see?

He pointed a gloved hand at the victim’s arm. What are these markings?

Nikon in hand, Kelsie squatted beside him and fiddled with the settings. The shutter clicked with each image taken at various angles until she lowered the camera and frowned. I could be wrong, but these look like someone combined two dark occult markings.

Any idea what they mean?

She paused and chewed her lip. Her eyebrows knotted together as she squinted in the rain. I’m not well-versed in this, but the all-seeing eye is used to cause injury or death, she said, pointing at the carvings. Behind that is an inverted pentagram. You see it in Satanism, but a lot of people also use it in dark rituals.

Repressing a slew of profanities, Isaac closed his eyes and counted to five. Great. Just what we need; an occult murder.

Kelsie watched him with an emotionless mask, a telltale sign she’d been at her job for a long time. People are sick. Always have been.

Isaac sighed and cursed the incoming new year. Within hours, people would pop off fireworks, get into brawls, and engage in the usual debauchery. He, on the other hand, would start his festivities with a murder guaranteed to haunt him for the next several weeks.

Happy fucking New Year.

Chapter One

Meredith Sinclair eyed the rain incredulously from her office window. The downpour showed no indication of clearing, promising to be a wet New Year when the ball dropped on TV tonight. Rumors of snow popped into her newsfeed, showing pictures of cars sliding off the freeway.

She laughed to herself. Hell hath truly frozen over. The Phoenix metropolitan area, known for sunny weather and mild winters, was officially colder than the northern half of the country. At least, that’s what the weather reports had claimed. Happy New Year indeed.

Her phone alarm pinged five o’clock, and she threw on the one warm coat she owned. She didn’t carry an umbrella into work, so she’d have to make a run for her car. The bank door opened, sending a gust of frigid air into her face. Her breath hitched as the wind seized her lungs, and she shivered.

At thirty-five degrees, this was cold. Had she lived up north, this would probably be perfect weather for shorts and t-shirts, but here, the weather had gone on strike in favor of a real winter.

The rain had somewhat eased, now drizzling instead of pouring. She waited for a break between the water dripping through the eaves before stepping onto the asphalt and making a beeline to her car in the back, careful not to trip. The uneven surface wasn’t kind to heels, and she wasn’t the most athletic person.

Once she was inside her vehicle, she started the ignition and blasted the heater, trembling while she waited for the temperature to rise. Droplets from the rain slid down her neck and back, soaking her blouse beneath her wool coat. She sat for a minute, shaking her hair loose from its messy bun, waiting for it to dry.

When she was reasonably warm, she synched her phone to the built-in Bluetooth system and opened the contacts list to her daughter’s number.

It rang twice before Ava answered, chipper and upbeat. Hey! All done for the day?

Flicking on the wiper blades, Meredith backed out of her spot and pulled onto the road. Rain streaked across the window in streams, and the sound of the blades over the window relaxed her mind, lulling her into autopilot mode. She tried to pay attention to traffic as she absently answered her daughter. Yeah, baby. I’m coming home now. Do you want me to cook, or would you prefer takeout?

Ava giggled, and Meredith imagined the eye roll on the other end of the call. All the restaurants have a one-to two-hour wait time.

Home-cooked it is, Meredith said. Her stomach rumbled in agreement, ravenous after several hours in front of a digital screen.

Don’t forget the black-eyed peas, cabbage, and cornbread. I couldn’t find anything but boxed cornbread in the cupboards. You don’t wanna jinx us, do you?

Meredith smiled. Peas were for pennies, cabbage was for dollars, and cornbread was for gold. The meal was an old Southern dish she’d gotten Ava and her long-deceased husband, Julian, hooked on. Before her daughter was born, Julian had scoffed at the suggestion, but he’d grown to appreciate it. It was meant to be placed in the refrigerator to eat as the first meal to kick off the new year, and Meredith made it annually, her tribute to him after his fatal accident nearly twelve years ago. Though it hurt to spend every holiday without him, this was her way of keeping Julian’s memory alive.

Ava’s irritated voice came through the speaker, bringing Meredith back to reality. Mo-om, are you paying attention?

Meredith sighed, and the wet, empty roads came back into focus. She was distracted, her eyes on the road and her mind not on the conversation. Turning on her blinker, she merged onto the I-10 freeway, heading toward her house in Ahwatukee. The area was technically an annexation of Phoenix, but everyone called it by its name to distinguish it from the rest of the city. Cars zoomed through puddles, sending waves onto the shoulder and behind, splashing her windshield. Yes, sorry. I’ll run by the store on the way home and get what we need. Do you want bacon in your peas too?

Duh!

She laughed. Religion and allergies aside, who didn’t love bacon? It was right up there with cheese for comfort food. Okay. Give me half an hour. I love you, sweetheart.

Love you too, Mom.

The moment Meredith came home, Ava launched herself into her mother’s arms. Meredith set her bags on the counter and enveloped her daughter in a warm hug, soaking in her affection.

Ava had always been her good baby—she was involved in softball and maintained an active social life, always chatting with someone or going somewhere with her friends. She seemed to have missed the rebellious stage, and at fourteen, she came to her mother for everything, including boy talk. Meredith never felt as if she couldn’t trust her to make good decisions, and she wished wholeheartedly Julian could have seen the wonderful young woman she’d become.

Working together, they unloaded and prepped the food. Forgetting to go to the store the day prior, Meredith had been forced to go with black-eyed peas in a can. Though fresh food was preferable, the can would do in a pinch. Meredith and Ava were happy just to spend time together between their busy schedules. Peas in a can were trivial.

While Meredith cooked, Ava set the table, placing floral plates for each of them, dishes that had been a wedding gift from her mother. Gold napkins were next, rolled inside black rings. When the food was ready, she helped bring the dishes to the table, where they both sat, offering each other wide, happy smiles.

Throughout dinner, they talked about Meredith’s day, whom Ava FaceTimed with, friends, and what they planned to do for the new year. Meredith listened as Ava chattered, gesturing with her hands when she was excited. She was so like her dad, oblivious to the meaning of the word stranger.

She could start a conversation with anyone, either on the street or at school, making friends within minutes. The entire world fascinated her, and she forgot to breathe between sentences. Sometimes, it was exhausting, but every moment spent with her daughter was precious. Losing Julian had taught her never to take anything—or anyone–for granted.

At the mention of the new year, Ava’s russet eyes brightened. Hey, could we do a reading?

Meredith chuckled. She owned several tarot decks and used them as a fun diversion. There was one set in particular Ava gravitated toward, an Oracle set with natural elements—Earth, Water, Fire, and Air, replacing traditional suits. Angels and bright colors adorned the surface, a welcome change from the more ominous older images.

All right. We’ll each do one, but we need to clean up first. These leftovers won’t put themselves away.

Groaning, Ava helped her put the food into plastic containers and loaded the dishwasher. The New Year’s dish on the warming rack came next with Meredith carefully placing it on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. They tossed napkins into the hamper, then scrubbed the dishes to dry in the rack. Meredith swept the floor and wiped the counters. Once the kitchen was tidy, Ava produced her favorite deck and placed it on the table.

Grinning, she bounced in her chair, chattering away as Meredith opened the box. Should we light some candles or incense too? Oh! We could use gemstones. You can’t go wrong with quartz or amethyst.

Meredith arched an eyebrow and smirked. You spend too much time on the internet. Next, you’re going to suggest I wear a scarf and giant hooped earrings.

Ava snorted. That’s so cliché. Aromatherapy is for your wellbeing and the stones are used to set your intention. Quartz is an amplifier, and you need amethyst for spirituality and focusing your third eye.

That child lived and breathed the internet; anything Google said had to be true. Meredith humored her daughter. Go pick something out.

As the teen darted away, Meredith cleared and consecrated the deck, smiling as she worked. Her movements were natural, something she’d been doing since a young age. She might have grown up in conservative East Texas, but her grandmother believed psychic abilities ran in the family and that Meredith showed a strong connection to the spiritual world.

Against her son’s wishes, Nana had taught her everything, encouraging her to develop her gift and channel her purported premonitions.

Meredith’s belief in the paranormal was split between finding it fanciful and acknowledging that there were some strange things science or logic couldn’t explain. While alive, Nana swore she could accurately predict the future, but Meredith didn’t quite buy it.

Her grandmother had been imaginative and loved to tell stories. Dad, on the other hand, disapproved, admonishing it as consorting with the devil. Though he was a pastor, his attitude made Meredith wonder if there was more to Nana’s stories than fanciful tales.

Ava returned, setting an incense tray on the table and lit a sage stick, sending wisps of smoke swirling around the table as she ignited a pink candle. It represented unconditional love, friendship, and faith, all things her heart aspired to attain. Placing quartz and amethyst gemstones in the center, she took her seat across from Meredith and watched in fascination. Unlike her mother, Ava was a firm believer in the paranormal and took these sessions seriously.

They locked gazes and Meredith asked, Have you considered a question?

She nodded eagerly. Yep. How can I make the person I lost proud?

Meredith’s breath hitched, and her hands froze on the cards, her eyes burning with emotion. Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure Julian is proud of you. You’ve always been the best part of our lives.

Ava widened her eyes and she shrugged, chewing on her bottom lip. After a moment of silence, she said, It’s silly, but I’d like to ask, anyway. The whole point of divination is to get clarity, right?

Of course. As Meredith shuffled, one card slid face-down onto the table. She placed it to the side and continued. She let her mind drift, listening to the repetition of hard paper slapping against each other. After a minute, she stopped, cut the deck, and set it between them.

We’re going to do a basic spread, okay?

Ava nodded without a word. Meredith took the stray card and laid it out first. Queen of Water, non-reversed. You hold deep affection for others, you’re patient, perceptive, and unconditionally loving. That’s your past.

Taking the next card, she turned it over and continued. The High Priestess, also non-reversed. She represents sound judgment, wisdom, and intuition. She regarded the image. This marked the second time instinct was being suggested, as if they should be aware of something ominous to come. Reminding herself these sessions meant nothing, she brushed the thought away, adding, You should weigh your present actions before jumping into anything.

Hands trembling, she wondered what the third image would be as she drew again. Nothing could have prepared her for this outcome, and this was despite not giving this serious credence. She stared at the picture in front of her, deciding how best to spin this in a positive way.

Ava tilted her head and raised her dark eyebrows. What is it?

Meredith cleared her throat and dismissively shrugged her shoulders. Wheel of Fortune, reversed. It means bad luck.

She didn’t mention that even in the upright position, it was a powerful omen, representing destiny and a twist of fate.

Ava’s eyes doubled in size and her posture became rigid as she perched on the edge of the chair. Is something bad going to happen to me? What does this have to do with my question?

Crap. Meredith forced a relaxed smile onto her face and reached for her daughter’s hand. "Ava, this is a potential outcome. When it comes to the future, nothing is set in stone. This could be a gentle warning not to ignore outside influences. If you make good choices, you can avoid the result. The reading doesn’t mean something bad will happen; rather, it could be something you do that you fear would upset Julian."

Ava’s eyebrows furrowed, and she seemed to consider her mother’s words. After a minute, she replied. Okay, so according to you, I should rely on my intuition and reflect on my choices. Then I can prevent anything that would make Dad disappointed. Sounds easy enough.

That went better than I expected. Meredith gathered the cards together and placed them back in the deck. Drained, she wasn’t sure if she was up for her own reading now. The beginnings of a headache settled into the base of her neck, and her head buzzed.

Ava’s voice extracted Meredith from her stray musings. Mom, are you gonna shuffle?

Sure, she said, dismissing her overactive imagination.

What are you going to ask?

At a loss, Meredith shrugged. Her life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad either. If anyone were to ask if she had any regrets, she’d be honest and say she was content. I don’t know.

May I make a suggestion?

Of course.

Ava curled her lips into a sly smile. You should ask what obstacles you need to overcome to find love again.

Meredith chuckled. Only Ava would try to find her a match after all these years, unlike many teenagers who wanted to keep their single parents to themselves. Her little girl’s desire to see her mother happy was endearing. What if I’m content with the way things are?

Her daughter rolled her eyes. Puh-lease. I won’t live here forever, and you deserve to find love again.

Meredith shook her head and reshuffled. Tarot didn’t dictate her fate or love life. Julian had been her soulmate. They’d been one of those once-in-a-lifetime fairytale couples. To have that again would be unlikely. All right. Love it is.

Releasing a small breath, she began. Ten of Earth, non-reversed. My past shows a happy family and financial security. Sounds about right. She had been happy, and Julian’s job provided more than enough for them.

On the second card, her body tensed, forming knots in her shoulders. If fortune telling was real, she’d be in a lot of trouble. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Clearing her throat, she tried to keep her voice steady. Life Experience, also known as the Tower, upright. This foretells an abrupt change and chaos. Not to mention shaken beliefs.

Ava scrunched her nose and frowned. You hate change.

Truth. Meredith snatched the third card and did a double take. Queen of Water, reversed. Opposite of a virtuous woman, this is telling me my life will be filled with deteriorating relationships.

Ava blew a raspberry. You have to find a man first. Were you even concentrating?

The point of tarot was not to concentrate; to focus long enough on the question and intent before letting the mind drift as the cards determined one’s destiny. If this was her fate, she didn’t want it.

Besides, she was boring. By her age, most people had received at least one ticket in their lifetimes, shoplifted, or swore daily. She’d never been pulled over, watched an R-rated movie, or stolen anything, including candy as a child. Her idea of wild was going five miles above the speed limit.

She was perfectly fine in her comfort zone, and she didn’t need anyone, or anything, telling her she needed excitement.

Meredith scooped the cards together and placed them back in the box. Pretending to be stern with her daughter, she said, Alright, young lady. Just because I don’t have a man doesn’t mean I can’t have a good time.

Ava snickered. Yeah, okay. You go to bed at eight-thirty and haven’t been on a date in years. Your idea of fun is a bubble bath and a book. I don’t think you’ve ever touched a Kindle or use social media.

Meredith grinned, pushing the bizarre reading out of her mind, though the residual buzz from earlier remained. She glanced at her phone, noting the time. Only eight-forty-five? Goodness, she was getting old if she needed to sleep this early. Proving Ava’s point, a yawn escaped, and she pressed her fingertips to her lips. Keeping her eyes open was a struggle. Do you mind if I go to bed? You can stay up until midnight and watch TV, but I’m ready to fall asleep here in my chair.

With the grace of a cat, Ava rose and bounded to the other side of the table, throwing her arms around her. Sure, Mom. Want me to get you a walker with tennis balls attached too?

You cheeky little brat!

"I’m your cheeky little brat, though, and you love me."

You’re right, Meredith concurred, squeezing her into a tight hug and kissing the top of her head. Goodnight, sweet girl.

’Night.

She plodded to her room, her body heavy with exhaustion. She’d kill for Ava’s energy again. Her head continued to swim and lying down did nothing to ease her dizziness. When she closed her eyes, scenes from the reading played across her mind on a loop, taunting her with all the possibilities.

You’re tired—you’ve been awake since six and you didn’t eat until dinner. You’re seeing what you fear. The session meant nothing.

She told herself these things repeatedly until she convinced herself her mind was playing tricks as a result of anxiety and fatigue.

Over the years, there were loads of times where the outcome didn’t make sense. Nothing ever came of them. Sometimes, she’d have a dream that came true, but they were usually small things, like running late or being reminded of something she forgot.

People saw what they wanted in the cards, perceiving futures from a colorful illustration on a piece of paper. Divination was nothing more than a fanciful hobby, and provided Meredith remained positive, nothing bad would happen to herself or Ava.

Like the remnants of a bad dream, her thoughts followed her into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Two

Darkness surrounded Meredith. Lead weighed down her limbs, and any attempt to move or blink yielded the same results: blindness and paralysis.

Hello?

The void engulfed her whispered inquiry as a breeze swept across her skin. Goosebumps erupted on her bare arms, her hair stood on end, and anxiety twisted her stomach like a pretzel, placing her on high alert.

Turning was a monumental effort; her body refused to move as a sinister voice rasped behind her, Meredith…

Who’s there? she breathed, trembling at the unseen presence.

Silence greeted her as invisible tendrils encircled her in their poisonous embrace.

Mer.

This speaker was different and familiar, a sound Meredith yearned to hear for over a decade. Deep affection laced his tone, but also a tinge of fear.

Jules? What’s happening?

The malevolent force behind her chuckled. Warm breath on her back and neck froze her in place, quickening her heart rate.

You and Ava are not safe, Julian said through their mental link. "The cards don’t lie. Trust your intuition and see the signs around you."

Meredith gasped. The reading had hinted the same thing, but that was a reading she’d done for fun. It didn’t mean anything.

The chuckle behind her morphed into a growl. I am coming for you, Queen, and I shall have my vengeance.

A taloned hand gripped her arm—half human, half demonic—and slowly turned her around.

Meredith dug her heels into the ground and closed her eyes, but her actions were no longer her own as her body acted against her will. In the suffocating darkness, a pair of crimson eyes stared back, illuminating his unnaturally white, pointed teeth…

Meredith bolted upright, struggling to breathe. Her heart rate spiked, each beat stabbing her chest. Perspiration plastered her thick hair to her neck; her nightgown was drenched. The blanket had tangled between her legs, and her pillows had fallen to the floor.

She inhaled a deep breath through her nose and counted to eight, filling her lungs with air before releasing it to a slower beat of ten. She repeated the process until the tightness eased, assessing her condition. There was no migraine or pain in her left arm. Though she had other symptoms—cold sweats, dizziness, and disorientation.

She hadn’t experienced panic attacks since Julian died. At the time, she’d woken most nights, crying, pleading for him to come back. She worried something would happen to Ava too, leaving Meredith utterly devastated and alone. She’d been unable to eat or function, and dragging herself out of bed was a struggle. Her doctor told her it was a side effect of severe anxiety and heightened levels of stress. At the time, they’d placed her on medications to relieve the symptoms, but she hadn’t taken them in years.

No one had ever mentioned nightmares. Between grieving and raising Ava alone, Meredith’s sleep was often broken halfway through her REM cycle. She almost never remembered her dreams, and none of them had been this vivid or disturbing.

It’s okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s all in your head.

The mental pep talk did little to dispel her anxiety, but it was better than indulging in something that held no substance. Her imagination had run wild between the tarot reading and thinking of Julian. Nothing more.

Retrieving her pillows and plumping them, she wrapped her comforter around her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes, focusing on cheerful things, like Ava’s smile or cat videos on YouTube. She recalled Julian’s laugh and clung to his memory. Though time wore away the sharp contrast of his features, she could hear him clearly as if he were standing in the room beside her.

Tears dripped onto the pillow as she curled into the fetal position. If her husband were alive, he’d lie behind her and hold her close, assuring her everything would be okay. Though if Julian was here instead of a lonely coffin, buried beneath layers of dirt and grass, she doubted she’d suffer anxiety at all. He’d been her rock, a steady anchor to keep her grounded.

Now she was alone, and nothing would ever change that.

Her pulse now steady, she sighed, releasing the memory like a paper kite in the wind. Her fears and the dream melted away, coalescing with other shapes and sounds preceding slumber.

Your anxiety doesn’t control you. She chanted this to herself, and within moments, she was asleep.

When she woke up for breakfast, the house was quiet. Wearing fuzzy slippers and a fluffy robe, she treaded into the dark hallway. A peek in Ava’s room showed her daughter sprawled on the bed, her face pressed into her pillow and her purple blankets shoved to the footboard. Light filtered through the partially closed curtain, illuminating her face and tangled hair in a soft halo.

She tiptoed through the house and opened all the blinds, letting the morning glow spill into the open rooms. She then went into the kitchen and switched on the small TV mounted in a corner near the refrigerator. A psychic show came on, and Meredith laughed. These charlatans extorted people with phony readings. These mediums were performers, putting on a grand show for people only too willing to devour their lies. A car salesman could read body language too, convincing people they’d received a good deal. A true psychic didn’t need to put on a show or ask questions. They received messages in bits and pieces, but never a deceased’s full life story.

She put the volume on low and opened the refrigerator, grabbing the dish she’d prepared the night before. As she heated the food, she listened in amusement as someone named Marie asked about her deceased sister. The man on stage closed his eyes and touched his temple, as if he had all the answers.

He was polished, dressed in a crisp gray suit, his dark hair tied into a short, clean man-bun. His baritone voice was rich and confident, delivering answers as if someone from the other side really was communicating through him.

He’s good, I’ll give him that.

When the timer dinged, Meredith flipped off the TV with a scoff. Entertaining or not, the psychic was a charlatan. She brought her food to the table and sat, finally noticing the cards from the night before.

The reading came flooding back to her, particularly images of The Wheel of Fortune, Life Experience, and the Queen of Water. They were all immensely powerful cards, and together, they didn’t make any sense. Meredith didn’t have an active enough social life to worry about deteriorating relationships. She couldn’t imagine anything shaking her entire belief system—not when she’d already lost her husband in an accident that never should have happened. As for The Wheel, she didn’t want to imagine anything bad happening to Ava. Her daughter was all she had left.

She cast a furtive glance toward the hallway, ensuring Ava wasn’t sneaking up on her. She’d think Meredith had lost her mind. Pushing her plate aside, Meredith reached for the deck, not bothering with a question. She rapped the back of the cards, clearing their energy and reconsecrating them. She wanted—needed to know if this was a fluke. One card would prove she was being silly.

She cut the stack in half before randomly plucking a card from of the middle. Staring at the colorful artwork on the back, she sucked in a deep breath and quickly turned it over. Then she dropped it. There was no way this was possible, yet the Queen of Water stared back at her.

This had to be a crazy coincidence. Maybe she’d used the deck so many times, it had worn itself into the natural clump a regular set of playing cards did after too much use. She could have become accustomed to the natural indentations on the edges and subconsciously selected it. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

Meredith rose to her feet and ran into her room. On the bottom shelf of her nightstand, several boxes of Tarot rested on the bottom, and she grabbed one of her traditional decks in its original packaging, stiff and untouched. Shaking the box, the cards spilled onto the unmade bed. Instead of going through the ritual, she chose one at random and gasped. The Queen of Cups; the equivalent of water, faced her. Why are you following me? she demanded.

The reading sparked a sudden memory of Ouija boards and the freaky stories associated with them. Once, when she’d been in junior high, her cousin had talked her into using an angel board with her.

Meredith didn’t remember the specific question she asked, but the lights flickered, her cousin’s dog snarled, and the planchette flew off