B_ couldn’t let it lie, and there-in lies the root and stalk of all our tragedies. While M_ headed off to meet Razor at the Laird, B_ walked to the Grim Sisters’s trailer and waited her turn sitting on the bench in their stoney garden as someone else watched Gabriella turn the cards.
When B_ closed her eyes she could feel the potency of the cards’ mystery wafting off the Grim Sisters’ porch to settle and swirl around her like a silent desert dust-devil, drawing her toward a transcendent pathway to a future ripe with riches and fat with power. She liked the feeling, how it sent tingles over her thighs and bum, to dance electric up her back to stir the very roots of her hair. She saw her and M_ sitting twin thrones, drinking the heavy wine of conquest as those around them smiled and bowed. They would first sow then reap the harvest of their destinies and soon she would know how. The answer – she knew – lay in the cards.
“You gonna sit there daydreaming all day?” Gabriella’s voice pulled her out of the honeyed stickiness of her imaginings.
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