The Emperor (The Tarot Club 2)

“Love you.” I crooned down the line in the same sing-song tone we used when we were kids.

“Love you the most.”

By telling the Club first, I could formulate a strategy before Emily Rand swooped in.

The second call was equally as seamless - light - easy, even, and my chest clenched as I wished I would receive the same outcome from my mother.

“You are lucky that I am no longer in Paris, otherwise I would not take your call this time of day.” Marie’s lilting tone was an admonishment that I ignored.

I smiled at her ridiculous berating. Marie had the strangest hang-ups when it came to time.

“I won’t keep you then.” I knew she could hear the teasing in my voice by her huffed response. “I’m engaged.”

“Felicitations.” This time all traces of annoyance were eliminated when Marie spoke, her French somehow accentuated as emotion filled her voice.

“When are we coming to visit you?”

My heart constricted with such joy, and suddenly, the innate need to have them here, in this house - to have them help me plan was chokingly overwhelming.

“Next week?” My voice was quiet and low, but I knew that out of everyone, Marie would understand.

“Oui oui, just tell me what you need us to bring and I’ll be there.”

I couldn’t love them more if I tried. Where Emily Rand left a gaping hole when it came to the concept of family, these Witches seemed to fill those missing pieces in abundance. Well, them and Dimitri.

I called Jesse next, who agreed to fly in next week so she could create handwritten cards for the guests.

Maxine seemed as happy for me as only Maxine could, asking whether the sex was good enough for me to tie myself down to Dimitri for a lifetime.

“I suppose if it gets bad, you can always take a lover.” Her response came swiftly after I awkwardly told her that, yes, the sex was hellfire good. But I didn’t imagine that Dimitri would ever be the type of man to turn a blind eye to me taking a lover on the side. If anything, he would probably kill anyone I showed the smidgen of interest in.

“Have you told Charl yet?” Max’s voice was low and sultry, but that was just the way she was - everything about her screamed sex.

“Not yet.”

“He probably knows anyway.”

I nodded in agreement, even though she couldn’t see me before I hung up the phone.

Brenna was the last of our small clique that I called. It was difficult to like someone like Brenna - she made it that way by being deliberately hostile - superior in her Magick in every way. To most it didn’t matter, but to someone like me - to someone who had no Magickal lineage, her barbs always hit their mark, digging in even long after she was gone.

“The Empress.” Her greeting was deep and throaty. She always answered the phone as if she were doing you a favor by accepting your call in the first place.

“Hello, Brenna.” I grinned into the phone despite her haughty tone.

“What can The Sun do for you today?”

This is what it was always like. Brenna revelled in her title within the Club, arguing that nothing could truly function - flourish - without the sun. Her self importance was laughable at times, but today all I could do was smile, knowing full well she would fly into organization mode where she could flaunt her superiority, and for once, I didn’t mind - she would be an asset when it came to planning this thing with Emily Rand.

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh?” I heard the interest creep into her voice, and I was almost positive she had bolted upright in her seat, finally giving this conversation one hundred percent of her attention.

“I, ah, need your help planning the wedding.” I stumbled over the words, unsure how to ask her. I didn’t often ask for help - never truly needed anything, but I suddenly wanted to include her Magickal rituals in the ceremony - wanted that badly enough that I was prepared to ask Brenna for her help.

“Obviously.” She sighed down the line, but I knew she delighted in the role of Magickal administrator. “When do you need me to come down there?” I heard the faint sounds of pages turning and I half wondered if she were flipping through her diary, no doubt her OCD self-planned absolutely everything.

“Next week?” I hedged the question hesitantly, for the first time allowing myself to wonder what Dimitri would do with a house full of Witches.