Read Online Bone Orchard by Doug Johnson, Lizz-Ayn Shaarawi - Free Book Online Page B

compass. The four remaining cards were placed in a vertical column to the right, comprising the staff.
    “Do you want a general reading? Or do you want to ask a specific question?”
    “I think a general reading will work.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    Sian turned over the first card. It displayed a garishly dressed young traveler under a golden sky. It looked quite appealing to Kitty until she read what it said.
    The Fool.
    “What does that mean?”
    “It’s upside down,” Sian said. “So I think it means you’ve made a bad decision.”
    Kitty smirked. “You think?”
    “I normally do palms. I’m still getting used to the cards.”
    She turned the second card. This sky was not golden this time, but gray. A yellowed skeleton in black armor rode a pale white horse. A corpse lay on the ground while a priest, a young girl and a baby prayed in vain to the bony buckaroo.
    Death. 
    “Oh dear,” Sian offered. Dylan followed with an awkward titter. Lazarus and Kitty locked gazes.
    “It’s not a literal death though, is it, luv?” Dylan asked. “It’s metaphorical-like, innit?”
    Sian quickly gathered up the tarot cards. One did not get the impression she thought there was any metaphor involved at all.
    “So how’s your tea? ” Kitty reminded her.
    “Oh, goodness. I’d completely forgotten!”
    Lazarus watched in anguish as she picked up the cup and saucer again, oblivious to the fact that she was about to guzzle down the last lemon zinger of her young, betarted life.
    “Always say she’d lose her head if it weren’t attached.”
    Dylan and Sian shared a chuckle and a syrupy, loving glance as they brought the teacups to their lips.
    Lazarus did the only thing he could think of. He pitched a coughing fit. He hacked and spewed a cloud of smoke out across the table. Sian set her cup down on the table and started patting him on the back. Dylan considered sipping his anyway, but opted for etiquette. He rested the cup on his knee to wait out the fit.
    “All right there, mate?” he asked.
    “Sorry, down the wrong pipe,” Lazarus croaked.
    Dylan leaned forward to help pound him on the back and when he did, the teacup tumbled off his leg and splattered over the floor.
    Sian grabbed Dylan’s napkin to blot at the spill. It was the napkin with the help message.
    Fuck, not that one, you silly trollop!
    Ink and tea bled together, forming one homogeneous, illegible blotch. She gasped, baffled by the striations of black in the brown tea stain as she held it up for the others to see. Lazarus buried his face in his hand.
    “What have you done, woman?” Dylan barked.
    Kitty snatched the napkin away so fast it actually left Sian with a friction burn across her palm.
    “I don’t know what happened,” Sian bleated at Lazarus. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”
    Kitty shot a hard stare at him. “Looks like you must have washed it with something, baby.”
    “I’ll have to be more careful in the future,” he replied.
    “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt it’ll happen again.”
    She lifted her own teacup to her lips with a smirk, the porcelain ring hovering dangerously close but miles away. They were magnets of reverse polarity, and Lazarus could feel his plan crushed in the limbo between them.
    When you break a guitar string, do you quit the show? Or do you play even louder so no one can tell?
    “How ‘bout we really get this party going,” he said, springing from the couch.
    “What do you mean, dearest?” Kitty’s smile effectively belied the edge in her voice.
    Lazarus took Dylan’s cup from his hand. “I’ll get something stronger, shall I?”
    Dylan chuckled. “I won’t say no.”
    Kitty frowned. “Are you sure, baby? It’s getting a bit late.”
    As if on cue, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Ten o’clock. Both Dylan and Sian bolted upright in shock. Neither Lazarus nor Kitty batted an eye.
    “Nonsense, darling. We should extend the utmost hospitality to our guests.”
    “Lord, I