Chapter Twelve
Jaci retrieved the carved wooden box that held her cards, tucked between two rosemary plants on the kitchen windowsill.
Returning to the living room and sitting next to Gabriel on the couch, she rifled through the cards until she found the three from the reading the other night, then laid them out on the coffee table:
Three of Knives, with the silver-haired girl sitting in the snow in the middle of a cemetery, clutching a dagger before a white rose dripping with blood.
Death, the pale corpse wrapped in a black serpent, waiting to rise again.
And last, the Ten of Knives, the ultimate betrayal, a woman stabbed with a dagger, bleeding out on white bedding embroidered with black roses.
She did her best to explain their meanings, the feelings she got from each one that nigh
