2. Iris
Iris
Iknew I was a fool for coming here.
Even my familiar, Scarlett, who is usually pretty easygoing, is feeling the eerie vibes of this place.
“Mistress, we should leave,” she says directly into my mind.
“I need answers, Scarlett.”
The fox lets out an indignant huff. She’s the only one who knows how out of control my visions have gotten. I’m not sure I’ve had a full night’s rest in months.
At first, they were visions about the wolves, nothing sinister, just small glimpses of what would happen. But a few months ago is when things really took a turn.
My visions have grown darker, and I’m concerned about their ominous message. It was easy enough to ignore when I just thought they were about me. But the one I saw last night? With my sweet best friend Ember’s neck covered in blood, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Maybe Delphine can help,” Scarlett suggests, and I shake my head.
My grandmother has been more cryptic than usual, like maybe she knows something I don’t.
Usually she would be the first person I go to with any magical problems, but I need someone who can give it to me straight.
Maybe my visions are making me paranoid, seeing things that aren’t there, but either way, it’s what’s landed me in front of this swamp mansion about to deal with a nomad witch whose gift with tarot is legendary throughout the community.
I had to dig deep into my savings to afford her, and I’m not turning back now.
Especially when the witch makes you pay upfront before she’ll even read your cards. I’m here and I’m getting my money’s worth.
Scarlett sniffs the air and crinkles her little nose.
“What is it?” I ask her.
“Men,” Scarlett says with disgust.
Sure enough, three large men in suits approach us. I clutch my wand in my hand, ready to strike if they so much as look at us wrong.
“You’re here to see mistress Izora?” the largest man in the center asks.
“Yes. I’m Iris Fuselier,” I tell them, and they nod.
They create an intimidating formation around us and walk us up the dimly lit cobblestone path. This woman has made a fortune off the paranormal and mortal communities alike and it shows with the grandness of her home.
Scarlett trots next to me, showing the men a little bit of fang, letting them know she’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
We enter the home and stand in the high-ceilinged foyer. There are paintings covering nearly every single wall, and you can just tell they were all expensive, one of a kind, original pieces of art. However, none of them match, the color scheme is jarring—it has Scarlett snickering next to me.
“You can’t buy class.”
I hold in a snort, trying my best to smile, but not show any teeth.
My back is ram-rod straight and I swallow thickly as I watch Izora nearly float down the stairs in all her glory.
She has alabaster skin so white I wonder if she ever leaves her home and dark brown hair that curls around her face, which is mostly covered by thick cheetah print glasses.
The fringed kaftan she’s wearing makes her look like a peacock, and I wonder if this is her everyday attire or just what she wears to show off her affluence to guests.
“Hmm, a Celestial witch. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of you…In fact…No, never mind,” she says to herself more than me. “Come, come. I do not have all night,” she says, waving her hand to the room to the left of the foyer.
With wand-less magic, she opens the massive mahogany cabinet, sending her tarot cards flying in the air as they shuffle themselves.
“Sit,” she demands, and I do as I’m told and Scarlett comes to my feet, still on alert as I wait for the woman’s next direction. “In your message, you said that you are a seer?”
“Well, not exactly. I don’t have the gift under control. It’s why I’m here. I can’t seem to decipher any of the visions, and they’re keeping me up all night.”
I think she’s squinting her eyes at me, but it’s hard to tell through her glasses as she continues to shuffle the cards in the air.
The cards collectively end their shuffling, landing on the table in a neat stack.
“I can’t tell you what the visions are about,” she says plainly, like I’m wasting her time, as if I haven’t given her months of hard-earned money.
“Yes. I’m aware. I’m hoping that I can get some answers surrounding my future.”
“The cards will decide what you should know and what you shouldn’t.
” She grabs the top card of the deck and does not turn it.
Her neon-blue manicured nails split the deck, and she goes to take the top card of the split, but changes her mind, taking the next card instead.
Then she splits the bottom deck again, pauses for a moment, and takes the last card.
She places them all in front of me and I stare at them, feeling sick to my stomach. I know enough about what sits before me in the three cards. Past, present, and future.
“The first card,” she says and with a thick gulp, I turn it.
I stare at it for a long moment. The dark cloaked figure stares down at the five cups strewn about on the ground. Even without Izora speaking, I know what this means for my past.
“Your past is full of loss, your mother?” she asks and I nod. “It was unavoidable.”
I glance down at Scarlett and she looks back at me.
“We can still leave, Iris,” my familiar says, and I give her a sharp shake of my head.
Izora waves her hand at me to flip the next card. I’m not so scared of this card, truly it’s that third card that scares the shit out of me. I flip it over, and unsurprisingly it’s the two of swords, the image of a blindfolded woman on her knees holding two swords across her shoulders.
“Two of swords,” Izora says, looking at me intensely, tapping a long nail against her table.
“I don’t have any major decisions to make,” I say, staring down at the card.
“It’s not about the decision. You’re blind to something, something ancient,” she says, unblinking as she stares at the card. “When the blindfold is removed, you will have a choice to make.”
“Is this me not understanding my visions?” I question her and she gives me a sharp no.
Is she sweating? She looks shaken up, still not looking away from the card.
“They’re tied together, your visions and this secret.”
“Secret?” I question her and she finally looks up from the cards and at me.
“That’s as much as I can share.”
Izora’s posture changes, and she seems far more interested in my reading now as we both look at the daunting final card. She isn’t snippy with me to turn it; she gives me time. My hand shakes as I reach for the card and what I see when I flip it has my heart sinking to the ground.
Deep down I had a feeling it would be this card, but what it could mean needs to be read by Izora, because before me is the death card. A knight in all black riding a white horse sits before me and the tarot card reader is silent.
Her brows furrow as she seemingly is listening to what her cards tell her.
“The void,” she whispers.
“The what?”
Izora shakes her head, deep in thought, as she licks her lips.
“What does it mean, Izora?” I say firmly.
“That something is coming for you, not death, but also the purest form of death ever created.”
My heart ratchets up in my chest as I stare down at the card. “It’s coming for me, not my friends?”
I only paid for three cards, but Izora must take pity on me, or perhaps she’s curious herself.
The wheel of fortune card slaps down on top of the death card and I’m doing my best to hold it together as Izora clicks her tongue.
“Death takes many forms indeed. Fate can not be stopped.”
“What do you mean? Fate can’t be stopped. Is Ember safe?”
She holds her hand up, her wand careening through the air as it lands in her hand. “I’ve given you all the information that the cards are willing to give.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s all you have for me?”
“No. I also have an invoice I’ll send you for the last card.
Gentlemen.” She snaps her fingers and before I know it, massive hands are squeezing my biceps and I’m all but being manhandled out of the mansion.
Scarlett bites the one guy’s fingers clean off and the moment we’re on the porch I grab her in my arms and portal us back to my apartment.
We both pant as we land on my bed, and I’m not sure if I was better off before that reading or after.
One thing is clear. Something is coming for me and possibly Ember.
Scarlett makes an irritated noise, spitting the finger on the floor before frantically pacing along the hardwood. Her chin is covered in blood, which isn’t uncommon for her. She often comes home after a hunt looking like that, but knowing it was a guy’s finger grosses me out.
“I knew going to a swamp witch was a bad idea. You can never trust a nomad. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Plus, she was tacky,” Scarlett tries to soothe me, but it’s not working.
As if the universe knows that I’m struggling, my vision goes blank. This vision is a recurring one, and yet I still don’t know what it means.
I can’t see anything, there’s no smell, no feeling in this place, but this time there’s a woman’s voice. She has an accent I can’t decipher as she speaks. “A worthy sacrifice, indeed.”
I’m trying to look around, but don’t even get a chance as I’m dragged right back into the present.
Scarlett’s bloody snout is right in my face.
“Gross, Scar,” I tell her, lightly shoving her away.
“I don’t tell you that you are gross when you do weird witch things,” she says and I plant my hands on the side of my head, another migraine plaguing me. “What did you see?”
“The same thing I always do. There was a voice this time, though. She said something about a worthy sacrifice.”
“I do not like this. I do not like this,” she says, unable to control her body as she gets the zoomies around the room.
“Scarlett, settle down. We’ll figure it out, alright?”
“Of course. Yes. You are a magnificent witch. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you,” she says.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up for bed? There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”
Scarlett shakes her head, her little fox ears twitching with irritation. “I will go on a hunt. You get some rest.”
I sigh at her but give her a light pat on the head. While Scarlett is an amazing familiar, buzzing with energy and excitement to be helpful, she still has urges as a fox that I’ve learned can not be contained.
She pops out of the room and with a heavy sigh, I fall back onto the bed staring at the exposed beams of my ceiling, wondering what the hell is going on?
What’s the universe trying to warn me about? Can I stop it? Should it be stopped? Visions aren’t inherently a sign of bad things to come, even the death card is not a bad omen.
She said not death, but the purest form is coming for me.
I have no idea what that means, but something tells me I’m sure as hell going to find out.