Elvira smiled, showing several gold teeth. “The Magician.”
Heloise glanced up in alarm. The dark-haired figure on the card bore an uncanny resemblance to Raven.
The old woman gave her a knowing wink. “We see what we want to in the cards.”
Heloise shifted on the wooden step. Was she imagining Raven in her future? That was ridiculous. She concentrated on the card. The figure’s right hand held a staff raised toward the sky, while his left hand pointed to the earth. Above his head was a sideways figure eight, the symbol of eternity, and around his waist a snake biting its own tail, another symbol of eternity.
“One of my favorite cards,” Elvira murmured. “The Magician is skill, logic, and intellect. He represents the ability to transform the world and have power over it.”
That sounded like Raven, all right. The man turned her world upside down.
“He is the bridge between the world of the spirit and the world of humanity.”
Like Anubis, Heloise thought. And Hades. One foot on earth, the other in the Underworld.
The gypsy’s finger pointed to the card. “His robe is white, for innocence, but his cloak is red, for worldly experience and knowledge.”
Heloise almost snorted. There was nothing pure about Raven. The swine had provided her with “worldly experience” aplenty. The worst of it was, she had an awful suspicion that he’d ruined her for anyone else. Not physically, but emotionally. He’d opened her eyes to a whole new world, tied her to him in ways she couldn’t explain. He’d shown her adventure, friendship, and breath-stealing passion. She couldn’t imagine wanting any other man. The thought was profoundly depressing.
“Is this supposed to represent my future?”
Elvira nodded. “You will soon be offered a situation that contains all the elements needed to bring your desires to life. Those desires may be spiritual, physical, emotional,” she reached over and put her palm on Heloise’s breastbone, “or mental.” She tapped Heloise’s temple with her finger, directly over her scar. “Only you have the ability to make it happen.”
She indicated for Heloise to turn over the last card. “Outcome.”
The old woman raised her brows in surprise, then chuckled. “Strength. Of course.”
The card showed a woman patting a lion, gazing down at it with a peaceful smile. The sky held both a sun and a moon, and above her head hovered the same infinity symbol as in the Magician card. She stood unprotected in an open green field, wearing a white pleated dress suspiciously like the one Heloise had worn to the ball, and a crown of flowers. She looked exactly like the Persephone painted on Raven’s ceiling. Heloise shook her head. It was pure coincidence. She was reading far too much into things, seeing connections that didn’t exist.
“The fact that Strength is a woman shows this card is not focused on pure physical strength. Do you see how the lion is sticking out his tongue? Animals that are preparing to bite do not stick out their tongues. This lion is happy to submit and surrender to the woman.” Elvira’s gaze was shrewd. “The woman offers love and patience to the ferocious lion to tame him. She uses compassion and her wits.”
Without thinking Heloise glanced over at Raven, sitting across the fire. The handsome, elegant lines of his face were outlined in fire glow and shadow and Heloise felt a painful fullness in her throat, a constriction in her chest. Every sense seemed heightened around him; the stars were brighter, the night darker, the scents sharper, the crickets louder. “He’s so beautiful,” she was astonished to hear herself say.
The gypsy shook her head, her eyes dark in her walnut-wrinkled face. “No,cara.He’s as scarred as you. But his scars are all on the inside. It takes a strong woman to love a man like that.”
Her inference was clear. Heloise could be the lion tamer. If only she had the courage to go after what she wanted. Was she that woman? Heloise shook her head. It was stupid to wish it. Raven had no desire to be tamed. She might as well try to tame a jackal.
Elvira tapped the strength card with a long fingernail. “Time does not heal scars. Only love can do that.” She glanced up at the sky and frowned. “Storm coming.”
Heloise had no idea how she knew that. It was cloudless and clear. Perhaps she meant an emotional storm? That didn’t bode well, either.
A woman in a head scarf and red apron approached them and murmured something to Elvira.
“This is Rafael’s aunt,” Elvira said. “She wishes to present this shawl to you.”
The woman nodded and pressed a folded piece of pale yellow fabric into Heloise’s hands. It was fringed, and embroidered with flowers so intricate Heloise squinted in awe at the delicacy of the work.
“Oh no, I can’t accept this!” she stammered. “It must have taken hours to sew.”
The old woman smiled. “Child, what you have given Rafa’s family is greater than any gift. You have brought their nephew back from the dark place he inhabited.”
“Honestly, there’s no need, I didn’t—”
“You will insult them if you do not take what is offered.” The soft tone held a hint of reprimand and Heloise was suddenly reminded of old Doctor Gilbert at home, scolding her for hurting herself as a child.
“Oh, well, of course. Thank you.” She nodded and smiled.
The woman backed away, still bowing and murmuring blessings.