Swoon by Malkin Nina

Author:Malkin, Nina [Malkin, Nina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Romance Speculative Fiction, Dating & Sex, Social Issues, Family, Horror & Ghost Stories, Alternative Family
ISBN: 9781439164365
Google: YeOJauI8154C
Amazon: 1416998012
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2009-05-01T06:00:00+00:00

dance against the walls. We sat at a round table, and Anaisa brought forth the carved wooden box that held her deck.

“Will you tell me what you want to know?” she asked. It can help when the reader knows your question, but it’s not mandatory—some people prefer secrecy.

“I would,” I said, “but here’s the thing: So much has been going on, I don’t even know what to ask.”

Frustration surfed my sigh.

“That’s all right,” Anaisa reassured and handed me the deck. “Let’s just see what the cards have to tell us.”

Classic Rider-Waite worn to a powdery finish, her cards bore the hopes and fears of countless inquiries.

I shuffled, I cut, and as Anaisa began to arrange them, just perceptibly chanting the positions of the Celtic cross, we both grew amazed. Not a weepy three of cups or painful nine of swords in the bunch. Every card was major arcana.

“This is…significant,” Anaisa allowed.

“Like I said, a lot’s been going on.”

The curandera sat up tall, pushed at the bridge of her glasses, and steepled her fingers. “Well, all right.”

She surveyed the spread. “There is a boy…”

Isn’t there always?

“And a girl…and tsk-tsk, chica, you have the whole world on your shoulders.”

Nah, not the whole world. Just the whole town.

“Now, this boy, he’s something else.” She inhaled deeply as if to absorb him. “Very sensitive. Very intense.”

There he lay in all his cardboard glory, the Hanged Man. Representing rebirth, sacrifice, and staunch devotion to a cause. Sin in a nutshell. Intense? The seer was about to discover how on target she was.

“But I must warn you—oh!” Anaisa sprang as if goosed. “Excuse me.” She tugged her turtleneck as a flush pinked her cheeks. “Where were we? Oh, yes, this boy…eee!” A smile tried to infiltrate, and as she fought to keep it at bay, it blossomed into a pout. “Ay, Dios mío! Candida, I apologize…I seem to be—” At which point she dipped her head, tulip petals of bob enfolding her face, and threw it back, glasses askew.

Man, just when you thought it was safe to go back to the Bronx. Evidently, Sin was not to be bound by Connecticut’s borders. He was here, having his invisible way with the woman as I sat transfixed. It was a peep show. It was a train wreck. Had he interrupted so Anaisa couldn’t caution me? Or was he just showing off, flexing his muscles, proving himself ahead of my game, no matter that I was across state lines, in a grave, gray sanctum, under the protection of what I’d believed to be a one-woman SWAT

team of spiritual reckoning. Yeah, right. Anaisa had been reduced to a puppet, squirming and spouting,

“Oh my God” in Spanish. Toes pointed in their pumps. An orchestra of jewelry jangled. Perfume reached its zenith. Finally Anaisa went rigid from head to foot for a few endless seconds before slumping, spent, in her chair. Delicately, she righted her Lucite frames.

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