One

I’ve been on this spirituality, self-help journey for a while now. I’m not sure exactly where Luna’s Twilight Tarot and Healing Arts shop falls on that spectrum of spirituality, but I’m here to embark on the unexpected. Plus, I can’t catch another bus for thirty minutes, and it’s literally two degrees outside.

I bite my lip and glance down at the book clutched in my hand. The glossy pale pink cover that promises this self-help book will be the last one you’ll ever need to truly start living your best life reflects the neon crescent moon hanging above the door to Luna’s Twilight Tarot shop. I flip it open to the last page I read. The crumpled napkin I used as a bookmark drifts to the sidewalk as my eyes roam over the phrases I highlighted while on my lunch break.

Do something unexpected…

Don’t let who you think you’re supposed to be stop you from being who you’re meant to be.

Surprise yourself!

“Getting advice about the biggest moment in my career from a deck of tarot cards sure is surprising,” I murmur, adjusting my oversize bag on my arm as I push open the door. The bell above the wood frame chimes as I step into a dimly lit haze of sandalwood and lavender.

I creep into the open space and let the door swing shut behind me. The walls are a rich, deep navy decorated with framed posters of the moon’s phases and partially clothed women.

“Hello?” I call out, slowly walking to the center of the room where a large antique wooden table holds a variety of crystals. Above the table, the flickering Edison bulbs in the beaded chandelier cast a fire-like glow against the faceted peaks and valleys of each crystal.

I round the table, passing by a seventies-era wood-paneled wall. hand clutches my book while the fingertips of the other glide over rose quartz orbs stacked inside a bronze bowl. There’s an alcove to my left lit with black candles and decorated with dried flowers and framed photos.

This place feels like someone with a mystic-chic Pinterest board went on a caffeinated decorating frenzy.

At the edge of the store, there’s a small room set apart by a beaded curtain.

“Luna?” I whisper, feeling like an intruder even though their website says walk-ins are welcome.

The heater clicks on, and a door, previously camouflaged in the strips of wood paneling, sighs open. Red light pours from the crack in the open door, and warm air blows across my cold cheeks and twirls through the unruly strands of hair that have fallen from my messy bun. Every morning, I promise myself a stylish braided updo from those tutorial videos, yet my disheveled topknot reigns supreme.

A woman’s silky, pleasure-filled moan slips through the parted door as I peer into the red room. My gaze lands on a man’s naked back, every muscled inch sweat-streaked and glistening in the candlelight. The woman moans again, and he moves to the side, revealing her naked body covered by a red silk sheet. She arches her back, her shoulder pressing into the massage table beneath her as the glossy fabric slips down to expose her breasts.

“Yes,” he rumbles, “harness your power.”

I freeze. I should clear my throat or close the door, but I can’t stop staring.

He extends his arm to an area I can’t see through the crack in the door and returns with a single red rose. He brings it to his lips. His voice is low and deep as he breathes against the open petals. “Harness your power.” He murmurs the words against the delicate bud before touching the petals to her forehead.

A cry catches in her throat as he drags the bloom down her nose, over her lips, along the curve of her chin. She arches from the table, her breasts like offerings while he whispers to her. He pulls the rose along the column of her neck before circling each breast and dusting each nipple. With a velvety moan, she jerks and quakes beneath the flower’s touch.

“More,” he breathes, his hand slipping under the silk, between her legs—

My breath is ragged, as ragged and raw as hers, and I must be breathing loudly because he looks up. His gaze meets mine. Candlelight reflects off his light eyes, turning them to fire.

I stumble backward and crash into the table, my giant purse knocking into the crystal-filled bowl.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I curse as the bronze bowl clatters to the ground, and I drop to my hands and knees to crawl after the marble-like orbs.

The man steps out of the room, softly closing the door behind him. “I’m afraid I don’t have any openings this evening.” He stares down at me and combs his fingers through his sweat-damp golden curls.

“Oh, no, thank you.” I shake my head and lean back on my knees, wincing as I pick up the bowl and drop in a handful of clanging crystals. “I’m not here for that.” My gaze slides down his thick chest and sculpted abs to the elastic line of his briefs peeking out above his gray sweatpants.

Oh god .

My mouth goes dry, and my cheeks flame as my attention settles on his massive bulge.

“I—I have a boyfriend,” I say straight to his cock, as if it asked. “I’m sorry.” I giggle the same annoying high-pitched sound I roll my eyes at whenever I watch Netflix’s newest holiday special. This is definitely not the kind of main-character energy I want.

“You certainly seem interested,” he says.

I collect the last few crystals and scramble to my feet to place the bowl back on the table. “I shouldn’t be here. This was all a big mistake. Huge .” I bite my lower lip to keep my nervous laughter from erupting, but it comes out of my nose as a pig snort.

“I think you’re in the perfect place.” He lifts his chin, motioning toward something behind me, and I spin around, the self-help book clutched to my chest.

The woman on the other side of the table is tall, her thick curves draped in layers of fabric that flutter around her like wings. “Thank you, Maverick.” She nods, her tight curls brushing against her deep-umber skin. “I apologize for the interruption.”

“Me too,” I blurt as red light falls across my back, and I whirl around to face him and offer another bumbling apology. But he’s already gone, disappeared behind the wood paneled door, the sound of a lock clicking into place.

“Sorry for barging in like this,” I say to the woman instead. “And for making a mess.”

“You didn’t barge in. All are welcome here.” Her plump smile is so kind and genuine, my shoulders relax down from my ears, and the hot flush of embarrassment cools from my face.

“What goes on in there?” I whisper, pointing to the wood paneling and the door Maverick and his client are behind.

She smiles, her lips as red as the rose, as red as the room and the energy inside. “Sex magick.”

“Oh.” I nod like I know exactly what she’s talking about.

“But you’re not here for that.”

“ No ,” I say too quickly. “No, I am here to seize the day. Do something unexpected. Surprise myself.” I hold my book up as evidence. “Are you Luna?”

“I’m Eleanor.” She crooks her finger and motions for me to come closer. I round the table, closing the distance between us, and we both lean in. “Luna doesn’t exist.” She laughs, and I join her, although mine is more of a nervous chuckle than anything resembling joy. “But ‘Eleanor’ sounds like someone’s grandma, so I went with ‘Luna’ instead.”

I join in on the laughter now. Hers is so full and rich and real that it’s impossible not to.

“So,” she says, wiping the corners of her eyes with one of her billowing layers, “Hannah, how exactly can I help you?”

I take a step backward, catching my purse as it slides off my shoulder. “Oh my god, you know my name. You’re an actual psychic.”

Her full cheeks lift with an amused grin. “Your badge.” She points to the Posh Pulse Brand Management employee-access ID clipped to the outside of my down-filled coat. “I’m not psychic. I can’t look at you and simply know things, no matter how much I might want to. I’m not that type of seer, but I do connect with the universe. It relays messages through my cards about whatever answers you seek.”

“So, you can tell me my future?”

Her grin returns, sparkling in the depths of her earthy-brown eyes. “Your future is always changing, growing, evolving. Nothing is written in stone.” Eleanor, her feet hidden beneath strips of fabric, seems to float to the beaded curtain. She pulls it aside and gestures to the soft cushions scattered around the low table. “If you want answers about your future as it is now, I can offer them to you.”

I take off my coat and stuff the self-help book into my purse, the top half sticking out like a hot-pink portal to Barbie Land amid the navy and black of the small room. I drape my coat over my bag and sit on a coal-black cushion at the far end of the table while I wait for Eleanor to gather items from the alcove.

Her smile is warm and honest as she drifts back in through the beaded curtain, which washes over her like rain. She places a crystal bowl at the center of the table. In it, two card decks rest on a mound of pink salt. A lighter flicks, and Eleanor sets the end of a stick of palo santo ablaze. The smoke curls around the room, bathing us in its sweet woodsy scent.

“Hannah, what part of your future do you want demystified?” Eleanor asks as she lowers herself onto the cushions across the table from me.

“I’m giving this pitch at work tomorrow. It’s really important.”

She sets the burning wood next to the salt and lifts a deck of silver-rimmed cards from the bowl.

I rub my temples. “Practically everything in my life rests on how I do tomorrow, and I don’t want to mess it up. I can’t mess it up.”

If I do, the last three years of my life will have all been for nothing.

“We’ll start with this deck. card. A message from the universe specifically for you.”

Salt falls like snow against the deep-blue cloth as she shuffles the cards and spreads them in a smooth arc between us, the metallic pentagram decorating the back of each card glittering in the low light.

She looks up from the cards. “Which one speaks to you?”

My hand hovers over them, drifting back and forth like a metal detector. I don’t know what magick is supposed to feel like, but I know this isn’t it. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this is working—” I start to pull my hand back when Eleanor grabs it.

Her eyes widen, and if she didn’t suck in a breath, I would have missed the flash of fear momentarily knotting her brow. Her grip tightens on me as she pulls my palm closer to the cards.

“What are you doing? You’re hurting me.” Her nails dig into my arm, and I try to shake free, but her hand is a vise. “Let me go!”

She keeps her hand clamped around my wrist, her grip cold and unyielding. Her unblinking dark eyes lock onto mine. The room’s temperature seems to drop, and I shiver as a film of white clouds her gaze.

“This one.” Her voice fractures into a haunting symphony of echoes, and the air vibrates with a chorus of unseen spirits as she takes a card from the spread and holds it out to me. “Take it. It’s yours. Take it, Hannah .”

I stare at her, too frightened and confused to think.

She thrusts the card at me like it’ll burn her if she’s not rid of it soon. “Take it and get out .”

I hesitate, fear twisting in my gut. I don’t want to take the card, but she hurls it against my chest with surprising force. My heart hammers, my fingers trembling as I grab the card and my things. Panic surges through me, and I run. The front door’s bell clangs like a gong when I rip it open and rush out into the frigid night.

The cold air slaps my face, shocking my system as I stumble out onto the dimly lit street. Luna’s neon light flickers above me, eerie shadows thrown across the pavement while I steady myself, my breath coming in puffs of vapor.

Standing in the glow of the store’s sign, I flip over the card. It’s blank. And then, as if stirred by an invisible hand, a cloud of silver swirls across the card’s surface. The air around me hums, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Slowly, words materialize in glittering ink as if whispered into existence: See the door and open it.

I stare at the words, my mind racing.

Behind me, the neon lights of Luna’s Twilight Tarot flicker one last time before they go out.