The Empress (The Tarot Club 1)

Without missing a beat, Arlo’s gaze narrowed on mine as he asked, “Is your room not to your liking?”

He spoke as if this was the most normal occurrence in the world. How much death had they dealt out that the idea of taking a life no longer impacted them? How much torture had they dished out to no longer wince at the mere thought of it?

I grimaced, suddenly feeling wholly out of place. Two men fanned out behind him, both standing a foot behind the chair that Olek sat in, blood dripping from his mouth.

“She insisted on being here,” Dimitri said solemnly, and even though he was standing behind me, I could’ve sworn he was smirking - I could hear it in his tone.

“Very well,” Arlo stepped aside, giving both Dimitri and myself an unhindered view of Olek.

He was the same man from my vision, only he looked a long way away from his domestic bliss, boosting Jeanette up onto the kitchen counter.

“Your father warned you that this was a bad idea.”

I spoke without meaning to, and I saw the whites of his eyes grow wider with fear. He knew what I was, had understood the threat in my words, even if I hadn't meant them as such. Arlo’s eyes gleamed with delight. Dimitri remained stoic and calm, his expression never giving away the true turmoil that simmered beneath the surface.

“Leave my father out of this!” He spat in my direction, the spittle missing my feet, only just.

Dimitri stepped forward and in a move that should not have been elegant, swung his knuckles against the side of Olek’s face, the crunching sound of bones shattering could be heard by all. Olek kept his face turned away, panting heavily.

“Just fucking kill me already,” he slurred, his voice garbled from all the blood.

“You have dishonoured the brotherhood,” Dimitri hissed, “You have dishonoured the very meaning of family,” he leant his head toward’s Olek’s, “and you have dishonoured me.”

Olek didn’t say anything, content to simply glare back at Dimitri, inviting death. It was an understanding between everyone in this room - that such a betrayal could only end in death. Was I ready to watch a man die? I don’t think anyone is ever ready, but you do what you have to.

“Take him to the silos,” Dimitri commanded, the two foot soldiers stepping forward and heaving Olek to his feet, each one of them hoisting him between them by his arms. Olek sagged between them in defeat, possibly understanding. He knew that if he was going to be found out, that this would inevitably be the consequence. He understood the risk, that internal voice whispered in my ear. Yet guilt still rose up fast and true, threatening to drown me in all its ugliness.

I followed Dimitri out of the poolhouse, ignoring the fresh bloodstain left on the carpet. “We are called the Bratva,” Dimitri halted me on the stairs leading out into the garden.

“What?” The word tumbled from my lips, ineloquent by design.

“We are not the mafia, or the mob, or whatever idiotic bullshit you want to label us with,” he stepped closer, leaning in so that his breath touched the shell of my ear, “we are the Bratva.”

And just as quickly as he had crowded me, creeping in close to whisper in my ear, he took three steps backwards, beckoning me to follow. His presence was confusing.

By the time we stepped onto the sidewalk, the white van had already departed, and we were being ferried around by the Cadillac - only this time it was only Dimitri, myself, and the driver. Arlo had opted to remain in residence, arguing that he had business matters that needed attending to. Dimitri neither fought nor questioned the statement, leaving me to believe that such an exchange was entirely normal.

We drove in silence, which seemed to be how Dimitri operated in all things. He typed furiously on his phone, never once looking up at either myself, or even to ensure that the driver was driving us the correct route. In response, I pulled out my own phone, opening up my messages from Zoey. She had finally responded, and her wax reading just offered up more questions than answers. It wasn’t that the answers weren’t there, it was that it simply meant that I had more information to puzzle through. The wax from the mirror saw the candles bleeding into one another - some of it even running over the edges of the mirror. However, the wax from one candle seemed more dominant than the other.

These two are intertwined and rely heavily on one another - although there seems to be a power shift dynamic in the mix, where one looks like they are taking over from the other. The wax running off of the mirror indicates that chaos will be offset by this power shift in the dynamic, and in a way, that shift makes them more vulnerable to outside threats.

That was the first text that came through from Zoey - in direct response to the image I had sent her of the wax on the mirror.

The next text was in relation to the single candle wax on the plate that had belonged to Arlo. The candle had burnt down, leaving a perfect wax circle surrounding his bracelet.

Contained. Doesn’t let anyone in easily. Everything is a practiced front.

The last image that she replied to was Dimitri’s wax from his bracelet. I hesitated for a moment before opening her text, somehow trying to spare myself the truth that was Dimitri - which was absurd because he was a client, and if I hadn’t made my own judgement about him by now, then I really wasn’t a Witch worth the salt she carried on her.

Angel tears. This man is filled with grief. Unresolved issues. Anger boiling over. Turmoil. Pain. Inflicting pain on others.

Still, Zoey sent a follow up text.

You cannot fix this one Cor, don’t try.

I shut my eyes at the truth, ignoring the pang that ached in my chest. Zoey sometimes knew me better than myself. Before I could truly process her messages, we were pulling into the Silos lot. The large steel structures stretched from the earth to the sky, and I wondered if this was an appropriate place to die. But then, was one place truly superior when marking one's death than another? Did it even matter?

The silos themselves were not ancient and crumbling - which was what I had half been expecting. Instead I was presented with six enormous shiny new grain silos. This entire plant seemed to be new, no doubt Dimitri’s doing. He did not wait or slow down for me as he marched towards the third silo. My stomach pooled with dread. Were they going to shoot him? Torture him? Go after his family?