Chapter 10
Grayson
The headache that had flirted with Grayson at the Broken Hen had gone into full-on stalker mode by the time he released the security wards and led an unusually subdued Cass into his condo.
He tossed his keys onto the counter and headed to the couch, where he collapsed with a relieved groan.
He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You okay?” Cass asked, the first words she had uttered since saying goodbye to Sofia and Russ.
What’s it look like? The snappish thought came out of nowhere as he concentrated on breathing through the throbbing ache. “No, my head’s killing me.” He dropped his hands, and as the cushions next to him moved, he braved opening his eyes just enough to see her settling into the couch.
She was watching him with a worried frown. “You need me to grab some aspirin?”
Over-the-counter medicine was not going to be strong enough to keep his head from exploding. “There’s a pain amulet in the hall bath. Can you grab that for me?”
Grayson closed his eyes again as she got up. He focused on a slow and steady inhalation- exhalation pattern instead of the strange simmering irritation bubbling under the dull pain.
When she came back, she took a seat next to him, curled her fingers around his wrist, turned his hand palm up, and set the amulet in it. “Here.”
He muttered his thanks, activated the charm, then pressed it against his forehead.
A soothing wash of magic encircled his head, easing the worst of the pain, and the resulting relief took the edge off his temper.
He dropped his hand to his lap, felt her take the amulet, and listened as she tossed it onto one of the end tables.
The muscles in his neck and shoulders eased, and his breathing deepened.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, but he could hear her typing on her phone.
From the stops and starts, he figured she was texting someone.
Likely Isa or Des. At one point, Cass got up, but he was happy to drift in that semi-aware, hazy state.
He felt her come back but not to sit next to him.
Instead, she settled on the floor in front of the couch, her shoulder brushing his calf.
When the familiar snick of playing cards crept into the quiet, a distant curiosity stirred then floated away.
Eventually, even that small noise dissipated, and he drifted in a sea of quiet.
“Grayson,” she called softly. When he responded with an equally low questioning hum, she asked, “Do you normally get migraines like this?”
Not wanting to jar anything, he kept his eyes closed. “Not a migraine, just a headache.”
“Okay, so do you normally get headaches like this?”
The exaggerated patience in her voice made him want to smile.
And he would have chanced doing just that except he worried the movement would worsen the ache in his head.
“Sometimes. Generally, it’s because of allergies and stuff like that.
” Or if he worked for an extended time on extremely difficult curses.
There was another long pause. “What if it’s not allergies?”
Her question dragged him out of the comfortable haze and invited the lurking curiosity to settle in for a chat.
He opened his eyes and dared to lift his head and look at her.
The afternoon sun was stuck behind half-open blinds, which allowed just enough light to bathe the room in a soft glow.
Fortunately, she hadn’t turned on any lights, and his careful movements weren’t aggravating the stubborn ache in his temples.
“What?” he asked.
Still sitting on the floor, Cass twisted so she could see him, her arm resting on the couch next to him. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her gaze was steady and grave. “What if it’s not allergies? What if it’s something else? Something magic related, not pollen related?”
He tried not to take offense but wasn’t sure he managed. “I think I’d know if I was hexed, Cass.”
She bit her lower lip and looked back at the coffee table, where colorful cards were laid out in a familiar cross pattern. “I don’t think you’re hexed, Grayson.” She tapped a card lying crosswise over a center card.
He carefully leaned forward so he could make out the image. “Erinyes?”
“Seven of swords. Symbolizes deceptions, and it’s covering you.”
He nudged aside the haunting picture of three older warrior women who were clearly related, each armed with lethal-looking swords and wearing various crowns of skulls, snakes, and bone.
The card underneath it held three profiles of a younger black-haired woman.
Illuminated on each forehead were a waxing, a new, and a waning moon.
The center image had tears of fire and held a key and an adder.
All three profiles struck a chord deep within him.
He traced the card with his finger and raised a brow at Cass.
“Hecate. In other decks, this is the Magician card.” She dropped her attention to the card. “It represents you.” She nudged the Erinyes card back into position.
“You’re doing a tarot reading? Of me?” He winced when he caught the edge of skepticism in his voice.
Cass’s back went tight, and she shifted away from him, picking up the pile of unlaid cards.
He caught her wrist, stopping her. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t pull away either. “Not everyone is comfortable with readings.”
She was giving him an out, but he refused to take it. “It’s not that. It’s just…” Since he had no idea where he was going with this, he lamely ended with “Why?”
She sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to be about you. There’s something going on, something I can’t see, and sometimes the cards help clear the lens, so to speak.”
Considering she was an Oracle, he’d be an idiot to brush off her concerns. “Okay, so you played with the cards and—what? They just landed on me?”
She twisted her wrist, breaking his grip, and shot him a narrow-eyed look. “I don’t play with cards, Grayson. This isn’t a game.”
Knowing he’d blundered yet again, he held up both hands, palms out in a conciliatory manner. “No, it’s not.”
He dropped his head and rubbed his temples, hoping to ease the lingering ache. Why am I being such a dick about this? Cass hadn’t struck him as a drama queen, so if there was something that worried her, he needed to listen.
Resolved, he lifted his head and took in the ten-card spread. “All right, tell me what we’re looking at.”
Cass searched his face, probably trying to see if he was serious. He waited her out. The tension in her body slowly faded, and she turned back to the cards. “Do you know anything about tarot?”
“Outside the fact that it’s a divination tool, no.”
“Right, so this deck has been in my family for generations.” She fanned out a few cards from the pile she held, showing him the vibrant imagery.
“The Alcmene women descend from a line of Greek Seers, hence the gods and goddesses instead of the typical Major and Minor Arcana titles.” She set the stack of unused cards aside and then went back to the ones lying on the table.
“This layout is a Celtic Cross, and it can either provide in-depth answers to specific questions or help guide you on general ones. Since I couldn’t nail down what’s bothering me, I needed something to help me cut through the noise.
I wasn’t intending to ask anything specific and was surprised when you became the focus. ”
He studied the striking artwork on each card. It was vivid and mesmerizing and, despite its age, didn’t look like it had survived generations of hands and shuffling. His attention drifted back to the Magician card. “Why Hecate’s card?”
Cass’s shoulders went solid, and she tucked her hair behind an ear, a nervous tell he’d spotted earlier, right before they kissed.
What she didn’t do was look at him as she spoke.
“Depending on its position, it can represent someone who doesn’t let emotions rule but uses them to enhance their skills.
This person tends to be detail oriented, extremely good at what they do, and an inspiration to others. ”
He could recognize some of those traits in himself, but no one was that good. “Sounds a little too perfect to be me.”
That brought her head up, and a flash of humor was there and gone.
“Oh, it’s not all rainbows and glitter, because it can also represent someone unsure of themselves and their abilities, leaving them constantly off-balance.
They may be more inclined to talk a big game than actually pull it off, which makes others wonder what they’re up to. ”
“Not sure I like any of those either.”
She gave a soft chuckle. “This card fits you in that you’re steady, you know what you want, and you’re sure of your skills.”
A warm feeling wrapped around his heart. “Okay, I can work with that.” He decided to move them along. “And that one?”
“That one would be our current problem. The Erinyes card tends to signify some kind of illusion or deception.”
“I’m not hexed.” He didn’t know why her continued insinuation irritated him so much.
“That’s not what I said, Grayson,” she shot back with strained patience.
“I said you’re being negatively influenced somehow.
Look.” She got up on her knees and started pointing out the various cards, beginning with the one to the left of Hecate.
“This represents your past—things that are impacting the now.”
The card showed a woman lying in a flower-strewn pool, her eyes half open as if asleep or dreaming, but it was upside down. “Naiads? What’s it mean?”
Cass looked uncomfortable. “It’s the ten of cups, reversed. It signifies a broken family, disharmony, conflict, and emotional turmoil.”
He tensed, not liking how close her interpretation skirted to the truth, but before he could comment, she moved on.
“This one”—she touched the card sitting to the right of his card—“indicates the possible future if we don’t change things.”