The Witch of Agnesi by Robert Spiller Page A

is not all over my face.”
    “But your skepticism is.” Rhiannon jammed her fists into her hips as if to say—Hah, come back from that.
    “I’ll have you know I’ve had lots of Tarot readings.”
    Rhiannon eyed her suspiciously. “Is that so?”
    “You bet. I’m a regular.” She could feel the loose earth tumbling beneath her feet with every foolish lie.
    “Would you like one more? We have time to kill while waiting for Mister Callahan.”
    In for a penny.
    “Sure, why not?”
    “Ali, bring me my Rider’s deck.”
    The girl returned with an oversized pack of cards and a folding card table. She handed the deck to her mother and set up the table.
    “Ladies, I’m going to bed.” Winston didn’t wait for a response, just disappeared into kitchen.
    “Good night, Uncle Winston,” Ali called.
    Uncle Winston?
    Bonnie heard his footfalls grow faint. She won-dered what the sleeping arrangements were in this strange household.
    Rhiannon handed Bonnie the cards. “Shuffle then cut the deck three times. We need the warmth of your hands and your own personal energy to enter the cards.”
    Bonnie awkwardly shuffled the oversized cards.
    Rhiannon nodded toward the deck. “Tarot suits are different from spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds, but an old hand like you already knew that. You do remember the Tarot suits?”
    “Don’t be such a wicked witch, mother. Missus P is our guest.” Ali offered Bonnie a warm smile. “The suits are wands, cups, pentacles, and swords.”
    “I knew that.” Bonnie refused to meet Rhiannon’s stare.
    The elder witch cracked her knuckles. “Of course you did. I never doubted it.”
    Bonnie set the deck onto the card table and cut it three times as instructed. “Now what?” She regretted the ques-tion, thinking it showed her for the novice she was.
    Rhiannon cupped the deck in her hands looking as if she were readying a card trick. “Now we decide what to ask the cards.”
    The answer came to Bonnie’s mind as if it had been playing solitaire in some dark corner. “What’s become of Peyton Newlin?”
    Rhiannon riffled through the cards. “Interesting choice, both a person and an inquiry. We need a very specific Significator to represent this dual inquiry. Here we go.”
    She chose a card showing a young man holding a staff. He seemed to be battling six other animate staffs. “Seven of Wands, a young man under attack.”
    Rhiannon set down the remainder of the deck and tapped the top card. “This next card shall be what covers him.”
    Bonnie leaned forward. Despite the low wail of her bullshit alarm, she found herself growing interested.
    “What’s that mean?”
    “The main influence touching the person or inquiry, in your case both.” She flipped over a card showing a red heart pierced by three intersecting swords. She laid it directly atop the first card. “Three of Swords.” She leaned on the table and studied the card.
    A heart pierced by swords didn’t seem like it could be any kind of good thing, and Rhiannon’s silence made Bonnie even edgier. “Well?”
    Rhiannon waved her quiet. “Hold your water. The card indicates dispersion, absence, or in extreme cases forcible removal. That makes sense in light of what happened at Knowledge Bowl.”
    The meaning seemed too much of a coincidence.
    “The card actually means that?”
    Rhiannon frowned at her. “You think I’m making this stuff up?”
    A shiver shot up Bonnie’s spine. Get a grip, girl. She told herself the shiver was probably an aftershock of her concussion. “Just go on.”
    Rhiannon turned over the next card and laid it per-pendicularly across the pierced heart. “What crosses him. The Knight of Cups reversed.” The card showed a knight on a white steed holding a golden chalice.
    “This represents obstacles facing the individual. Reversed, the Knight of Cups isn’t the noble figure he ap-pears to be. He represents fraud, trickery, and deceit.”
    “Peyton is being deceived?”
    Rhiannon shook