Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Bennett
O h, for fuck’s sake.
As soon as that woman pulled the thirteenth Major Arcana card, I withheld the loudest groan of my life. I nearly punched the window to her basement apartment, jumped inside, and slapped the cards off the table. Some people were so damn irresponsible with their so-called readings.
But I restrained myself. If I leapt in now, I’d cause more harm than good. Instead I dug my three-inch claws into the thin grassy patch outside the building and stewed in my righteous fury.
As I sat still and sulked, the local wildlife noticed me. A nearby squirrel paused nervously at the sight of my giant body, then scampered frantically up a tree.
Animals could see me. Humans could not.
Most humans, anyway.
I stared at the beautiful young man sitting in the incense-swamped basement. Earlier, he’d met my eyes. He saw me for what I was—a barghest.
And I’d scared the living daylights out of him.
I flicked my tail irritably. It wasn’t my fault that my true form was a preternatural ghostly canine. Why couldn’t I have been a fluffy little white dog instead?
A familiar shiver rolled down my spine. A premonition.
As Peter suddenly glanced in my direction, I leapt off to the side of the window, safely out of view. I didn’t want him to see me and frighten him again.
When I no longer sensed his gaze, I sneaked back towards the window. Peter and his friend rose from their seats. The psychic—if you could even fucking call her that—smiled and stuck out her palm for payment.
I growled. She wanted money for that shite tarot reading?
But Peter gratefully handed over a wad of bills—I counted thirty dollars; bless his soul, he even left a tip—then left her apartment.
My pulse raced. A magnetic force drove me towards Peter. I felt a calling from him, whether he realized it or not. I had to do something, but not while I looked like this.
If my barghest form frightened him, then I’d have to look human.
I took a deep breath and shifted into a more approachable shape. As I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection, I brushed off the sleeves of my brown peacoat and straightened my belt. Tall, dark, and handsome. And human. Much better.
Now armed with hands instead of claws and a mouth full of fangs, I picked up the umbrella I’d brought with me. I didn’t need it in barghest form, but I’d scented rain in the air this morning. Although the sky was clear and blue, I knew a storm was coming. Better to have it just in case.
I leaned casually against the iron railing by the sidewalk, waiting for Peter to exit the building. The quickened beat of my heart was palpable. I’d never felt this way before, like my stomach had twisted into knots. All this over a mere human? What was wrong with me today?
I perked up as Peter’s anxious voice drifted over to my sensitive ears.
“...could it mean? I mean, it’s the Death card. It’s bad, right?”
His friend—Chantelle, I’d overheard—replied, “I don’t believe in this woo-woo stuff, but I gotta admit, capital D Death sounds pretty bad.”
Peter groaned uneasily. “What should I do? That was supposed to help me, but now I feel worse...”
My stomach clenched. I couldn’t keep to myself anymore.
As the two stepped onto the sidewalk, I pushed off the railing and intercepted them. I locked gazes with Peter—gods, his blue eyes were prettier up close.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I began, “but I couldn’t help overhear your conversation, and I wanted to say something.”
Peter blinked. He stared at me, a blush spreading across his pale cheeks. A sudden image came to me unbidden—a fantasy of my deep brown skin brushing against his milky body, the beautiful contrast it would paint—but I thrust it out of my mind.
“O-oh, that’s okay,” Peter said, smiling politely.
I noticed Chantelle’s glances between us, picking up what I hadn’t yet put down. A knowing smirk formed in the corner of her mouth.
“No prob,” Chantelle said cheerfully, giving Peter a subtle nudge towards me. “What’s on your mind, mister...?”
I smiled. “Bennett.”
Peter’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Bennett. Nice to meet you. I’m?—”
“Peter,” I said, smiling wider. “I overheard that, too.”
The blush on his cheeks unfurled like blooming petals. He seemed to enjoy the way his name rolled off my tongue.
“Wow, okay, um, your hearing must be like, really good,” Peter said with a flustered laugh. “What—what was it you wanted to say?”
My smile faded as I recalled the tarot spread.
“Your reading included the thirteenth Major Arcana,” I said. “Death.”
Peter frowned in concern. “Yeah.”
I hated the way apprehension seized him like a mouse in a trap. It affected him deeply. I didn’t want to see him like this—shaken, upset, and worried for the future.
Not when I saw something different—the truth.
Instinct took hold of me. I grabbed Peter’s hand, as if to shield him, and make him feel safe.
“Excuse my language, but that ‘psychic’ was full of shite,” I declared.
Chantelle grinned like she’d won the lottery. “Ooh, I knew it!”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked. The tension in his shoulders visibly dissipated. He seemed ready and willing to believe me before I even explained myself.
“The Death card doesn’t literally represent death,” I said. “It’s not a bad omen, or anything to be scared of.”
Peter furrowed his brow. “But the psychic said?—”
“She’s wrong,” I stated, a small growl vibrating in the back of my throat. “Chantelle was right to judge her.”
Chantelle beamed. “I like this guy.”
“Only amateurs believe the thirteenth Major Arcana is inherently bad,” I went on, still focused on Peter. “The Death card doesn’t represent dying. It represents change. ”
“Change?” Peter echoed. A gleam of hope flitted across his eyes.
“Yes. An upheaval in your life, a different direction, a new future... it’s full of possibilities. If you’re stuck in a rut, or unhappy with your situation, it’s an excellent card to pull.”
The emotional, wavering blue of Peter’s eyes sucked me in. I didn’t want to look away from him.
“I didn’t know that,” Peter murmured, sounding reassured. “Thank you, Bennett.”
“You sure know a lot about tarot,” Chantelle said. “Maybe you can teach Peter another thing or two.”
Peter glanced at her, flustered. “Chantelle!”
This girl knows what’s up, I thought with an amused grin.
“I’m just sayin’, I have a hair appointment in ten minutes, so I gotta go,” Chantelle said, already turning to leave. “But you two should keep hanging out.”
Peter looked baffled. “What hair appointment? You didn’t mention that before!”
“Bye, boys!”
Peter gawked as his friend left. His cheeks were now the color of a ripe peach—and looked just as soft to the touch.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“No!” he blurted. “It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you—actually, it’s the opposite—oh god, that was so weird and embarrassing. Can you please pretend you didn’t hear that?”
I chuckled at his adorable floundering. He wanted to be around me, huh? Easy.
“There’s a puppy cafe down the street,” I suggested, throwing my thumb over my shoulder. “Want to grab coffee? My treat.”
“A puppy cafe?” Peter repeated, as if unable to believe his ears.
I remembered his reaction from earlier.
“You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?” I asked, praying the answer went in my favor. “It’s okay if you are. We can go somewhere else.”
Peter brightened. “Oh, not at all! I love dogs, especially puppies. Who doesn’t love puppies?”
I relaxed with relief. At least he wasn’t afraid of all dogs.
Just me.